by Matt James
Now completely concealed, he sprinted toward the front of the train, stopping between the first and second transport cars. He spotted Emma through the gap between them. She had moved away from the engine and joined her brother further out on the other platform.
Jack needed to get closer, but he needed to do it without being seen. Traversing the couplers between cars was one option, but if he made too much noise, he’d be a sitting duck. Jack backed away from the rear of the first car and looked it over. It was different. This one was a classic passenger car, whereas the other five were solid with no windows.
He headed back to the gap between the first two cars and waited for Emma and Gunter to move away. When they did, Jack made his move for the rear door. Grasping it, he prayed it was unlocked.
It was!
No noise. No noise. No noise.
He pulled open the sliding door and was happy to hear only the slightest of grinding sounds. Like a ghost, he slipped into the car and closed the door. The first thing he realized was that the windows were covered with heavy blankets. Only a soft light shone through the layers. In the low illumination, Jack saw that the car’s seats were missing, and it was packed with metal cases, instead of places for people to sit.
Jack set his sword down atop one of the cases but kept his pistol handy. Then, he quietly lifted a lid and inspected the bin’s wares. There were five framed paintings inside. Each one of them was packed accordingly and separated from its neighbor. They were all the same size, roughly three-feet-squared. It made sense that they were stored in this manner. The lack of light would preserve them.
Also, the Fuhrer was a nut for the stuff.
Most didn’t know this, but Hitler had been a very accomplished artist, and was responsible for hundreds of works of art over the years. He had sold them for a living before getting into politics and continued to paint while he was in office. His artwork was incredibly valuable. Jack had even seen a few of his paintings before and was surprised at how good they were.
Curious, Jack carefully lifted the first painting out of the container and looked it over. It depicted a serene mountain landscape, something that would make Bob Ross proud. Snowy hills dotted the horizon with a quaint log cabin situated at the center of it all. It was masterful, yet straightforward. Jack angled the creation so he could read the artist’s name.
“Adolf Hitler,” he whispered.
He gazed at the framed work with fresh eyes, then looked around the car. He slid the painting back into place and opened the case behind him. It was, likewise, full of artwork. This time, Jack didn’t pay attention to the art itself. Instead, he went straight for the signature and found that Hitler had also created it. The next bin contained more of the same thing.
The entire car was, sort of, like Hitler’s private art gallery, and to someone like Jack, a man who appreciated World War II history more than most, it was a priceless discovery. He’d never forget this moment in time.
But he still had a job to do.
Emma’s muffled shouts turned his attention away from the artwork. There was still something that Jack didn’t understand. He pictured Emma’s face—her piercing eyes. Then, he visualized the train, a vehicle that had not been operated in decades, pulling away.
There’s no way.
Jack turned and looked at the door.
“How are you getting this stuff out of here?”
“Find him!” Emma shouted, seething with rage.
It drove her mad that the only person that stood in her way had somehow survived what should’ve been a fatal fall into an icy river. It must’ve been Jack that lit the fires. There could’ve been no one else.
“We’ve searched everywhere!” Karl called back, helping Jurgen walk. “We can’t find him!”
Gunter stepped up close, voice soft. “We’ve searched this place top to bottom, and still, we’ve found nothing.” He tipped his chin toward the entry tunnel leading back to Auschwitz. “Maybe he ran?”
Emma shook her head, calming some. “No, not this one. He’s different.” She took a deep breath. “Get the rest of the men down here. We need to get started immediately.” Gunter nodded and headed off but was stopped. “Also, tell Piotr to lock down the access point and rejoin the hostages. Tell him that we’ll contact him once we’ve discovered the mountain passage.”
“We’re still paying him?” Gunter asked, looking unhappy.
Emma nodded. “If we’re to make this work, we need him to remain on our side while we’re down here,” she placed her right hand on his shoulder, “even if it means that he’ll have to wait a little bit longer than originally agreed upon.
“And if he refuses?”
“Tell him we’ll double his offer—six hundred million dollars.” Emma continued before he could argue. “Remember, brother. This isn’t a short-term venture.” She smiled. “This is it. After this, we’ll have everything we’ve ever dreamed of.”
“So,” he said, “the bunker?”
“Yes, the bunker. It will be our home for as long as this takes.”
Gunter wasn’t comfortable with the idea of living underground for months on end, but they had all agreed that it was the only way for their plan to come to fruition.
Emma watched as her brother hurried over to Karl and Jurgen. He took the injured man’s arm, quickly speaking to Karl as he did. The other man nodded and hurried off the platform and back down the tunnel, disappearing within seconds.
Until the rest of Emma’s team arrived, it would be just her, Gunter, and Jurgen. They’d need to be on high alert too. Jack Reilly was proving to be a capable adversary—as well as an annoyance.
12
Jack was shocked at how they were going about this. He figured that they’d, at the very least, try and get the antiquated train moving. Jack didn’t know whether or not the near-century-old engine could even pull the weight, and it looked as if Emma wasn’t going to waste the time and take the chance either way.
They’re moving in.
It was a ballsy move for sure. Emma’s plan was never to rush in, grab a handful of cash, and then bolt. She was set to play the long, long game. They were going to live in the bunker directly beneath Auschwitz, just as the Nazis had planned to do all those years ago. They could take their time and scout ahead for an exit to the surface. And when they did, they’d finish their plan and sell off both treasures to the highest bidders.
It also meant that Jack wasn’t leaving anytime soon.
“Just wonderful,” he said, leaning against the wall of the train car. “Guess I’ll have to cancel my appointment with my barber.”
The more Jack thought about it, not moving any of the treasure was a brilliant thing to do. Transporting it, just hours after a team of gunmen took over a place as widely known as Auschwitz, would’ve been the wrong move. There’d be too much attention on the camp as it were. Add in the mystery of the vanishing mercenaries, and BOOM, you’d—
“Piotr,” Jack said, realizing what was going to happen.
The older man, who had, apparently, reacquired his key, was going to cover for Emma for as long as it took. He’d been the museum’s trusted director for nearly four decades. No one would suspect that it was him—that he was the inside man. It was his word against no one. All he’d have to do was reseal the office wall beneath the Death Block and go about his life.
Emma probably has her buyers on standby, Jack thought.
Once she emerged with even a pocketful of the treasure, they’d immediately start selling it off piece by piece. The mountains were a perfect location too. At nearly 125 miles away, Emma’s people would be able to move freely between here and there without anyone noticing a thing. Then, when the fortune was gone, they could quickly abandon the vault and slip away with their engorged bank accounts bursting at the seams. Jack was witnessing a unique, and incredibly ballsy, heist. Stealing and selling a treasure that no one knew existed.
But Jack knew.
And he was about to be severely outgunned. If
he made his move now, it was only Emma, Gunter, and a still recovering Jurgen that he would have to deal with. He had to catch up with Karl regardless—preferably before he reached his comrades aboveground. This was the only time Jack would have to reach the surface. He needed to warn someone. If the rest of Emma’s team made it down before he could call for help, it would be all but over. Locking the only way out was a problem.
So, as soon as Jack decided to abandon the treasure for a more pressing matter, he flipped the switch and made his move. Silently, he reacquired his sword and backtracked out of the train car and onto the empty half of the platform. He could still hear Emma and Gunter speaking, along with a third person. If Jack had to guess, Jurgen was retelling what had happened back at the book pile.
Jack climbed down onto the tracks and stayed low until he was out of sight and further down the tunnel. He turned his attention to the only thing standing in his way—Karl. Jack kept his flashlight off and crept forward in the dark. The tracks beneath his feet guided him forward, but it was slow-moving. He needed to stay quiet, or all Karl would have to do was spray a volley of bullets back at him. He’d more than likely miss Jack, but there was a one hundred percent chance that the gunshots would alert Emma and the others.
Absolutely no gunfire, Jack decided.
He slid his pilfered Glock into the back of his pants and gripped his Persian scimitar in both hands. He felt like an ancient warrior from out of time. Blade versus bullets. It was a battle he’d assuredly lose if he were noticed. He was literally bringing a knife to a gunfight.
Well, technically, it’s a sword, he thought, squinting.
Jack nearly stepped off the railroad tie and twisted his knee. His mind wandered too far toward the conflict ahead and off his current dilemma. He couldn’t see shit. Jack was also beyond exhausted, and his body ached all over. Karl, the man who had coldcocked him, was somewhere just up ahead, and, this time, Karl was going to feel more than only Jack’s forehead in the bridge of his nose.
He gripped the hilt of his sword harder and zeroed in on the sound of fumbling feet and crumbling stone. Jack stopped and ducked as a beam of light suddenly swept across the tunnel. All he could do was get down on one knee and dip his head as low as possible. Hopefully, his dark hair and jacket concealed him.
Jack waited to be shot, and when it didn’t happen, he peeked up and saw that the light wasn’t focused and controlled. It was wildly flopping around the tunnel. It was still a ways off too, and over his head. Within the chaotical moving aura was a figure climbing atop a mountainous pile of rubble.
“Karl,” Jack whispered, standing.
This was his chance.
Jack rushed forward just as his quarry disappeared through a hole near the ceiling. Now on the other side, Karl wouldn’t be able to hear or see Jack’s approach. Jack would gain some serious ground. But if he were to use the scimitar, as he had planned, he’d need to be within an arm’s reach of Karl.
The passage through the blockage also confirmed Jack’s hypothesis from earlier. Emma’s team had, indeed, forced their way through the cave-in with a controlled blast. One of the men on her squad wasn’t just a gun for hire. One of them was well-versed in the art of blowing crap up.
Probably ex-military, Jack thought.
He’d met a slew of “soldiers of fortune” over the years. Most had been washouts. Some couldn’t handle civilian life, or they had too spotty of a record to get a job in any type of law enforcement. So, they went the “private security” route and did jobs under the table in places like the Middle East.
He had thought about pursuing the same career once, but ultimately, he decided to move back home when his grandmother finally started to slow down. She didn’t mind living alone, but it had become all-to-clear that she wouldn’t be able to do so for much longer—and no way was Jack going to allow her to move into a nursing home. Though, eventually, she did. Her extensive care, and Jack’s new career, made it impossible for him to go at it alone.
Quickly, yet cautiously, Jack clicked on Jurgen’s flashlight and scaled the mass of stone. He targeted the largest, most-secure boulders he could, skipping entire sections altogether. Unlike Jack’s stealthier path, Karl’s noisier trail took him from Point A to Point B in a quick, straight line. Jack’s path forced him left and right and then left again. It was much slower, but it was infinitely quieter.
Finally, he made it. When he did, he covered the lens of his Mini Maglite with his hand and waited. Karl could still be seen, or rather, his light was still visible. He had continued forward, stopping near where they had left the handcarts.
After another thirty seconds of inaction, Jack extinguished his light and continued down the other side. The descent was awkward and clumsy. He did it all while keeping his eyes on Karl’s beam. It had yet to turn back to him.
Jack stepped off the lowest boulder and clipped a smaller stone with his toe. It clattered to the ground and made Jack nearly piss himself. Luckily, Karl’s light was still facing forward. Actually, it didn’t move at all.
“Dammit,” he whispered, crouching, and watching.
Still, even with the noise, the beam of Karl’s light didn’t waver. He was still next to the second handcart. Confused, and a bit unnerved, Jack slowly crept forward. He stopped in front of the first cart and listened. Nothing. The tunnel was silent. He leaned right and spied the light, noticing something he didn’t like.
Karl wasn’t holding it.
The mercenary had set it on the second cart’s platform. He looked around. Is he taking a piss? Swiftly, Jack clicked on his own light and showed it around the tunnel. Karl was nowhere to be seen. It meant that he had known that Jack was incoming. He set a trap.
Jack searched every inch of space around the two handcarts but didn’t find a thing. No sign of Karl anywhere. He threw up his hands in frustration and turned around, facing the rear of the second cart.
“Where is this prick?”
A shape slithered out from beneath the cart and launched itself into the air. It took a second for Jack to put two and two together. Karl had, undeniably, set a trap. He had hidden beneath the cart and waited for Jack to lower his defenses.
Unable to get his sword up in time, Jack took Karl’s full momentum, including his shoulder, in the sternum. The jolt knocked both Jack’s weapon and flashlight away. Each of them clattered off into the darkness. The Mini Maglite landed against the rocky wall and tilted upward. It, combined with Karl’s light, gave Jack and his combatant enough to see by.
Before Karl advanced any further, Jack crab-walked backward away from him and stumbled to his feet. Both men were still armed, and Jack was thankful that Karl seemed to be okay with using his bare knuckles and not his gun. Jack didn’t want to do anything to change his mind. So, he also lifted his fists instead of going for his pistol.
No guns, Jack reminded himself. He still needed to incapacitate Karl without any bullets being fired. Emma and the others were still in range of the report.
Jack stretched his neck side to side, never once taking his eyes off Karl. The thicker man grinned.
“What’s so funny?” Jack asked.
“Having a rough day?” Karl poked.
Jack stepped forward and pointed at Karl’s nose. “How’s the face?”
Karl’s smile turned into a scowl, and he bull-rushed his opponent. Jack met him halfway, stalemating the German for a moment. Regrettably, Jack’s fatigue gave in, and Karl drove him backward. He was about to go down and decided, that if he did, he’d bring Karl with him.
But his opponent righted himself.
No!
Jack gripped the man’s shirt, and he leapt into the air. With his chest in the bigger man’s face, Jack bearhugged Karl’s head and wrapped his legs around his waist. He speedily locked his ankles around the small of Karl’s back and rode him like a bucking bronco.
The mercenary’s muffled shouts of anger turned into moans of pain as Jack started rotating elbow strikes into Karl’s exposed temple
s. Everything about his unconventional method of attack worked up until Karl drove Jack’s back into the rocky wall. Jack hit hard, but he didn’t let go. He got in another pair of elbow strikes just above Karl’s left eye before he was dislodged and tossed aside.
The thicker man stumbled away and tripped on one of the elevated railroad tracks. Jack scrambled to his feet, ducked his head, and drove himself into Karl’s midsection. The already off-balance oaf was forced backward, right into the rear platform of the second handcart. The jarring blow knocked the flashlight from its perch.
Just in the nick of time too.
As Jack stepped back to catch his breath, Karl drew his pistol and pulled the trigger. Jack evaded the bullet, and before Karl got off a second shot, they were cast into near darkness when the bulb shattered. Now, the only thing left was Jack’s small Maglite, but it was too far away and too low of a lumen count to be much help.
Jack took two more steps to his left and then dove for where he last saw Karl. Hands out in front of him, he clawed for the weapon but found only his adversary’s face in its place.
That’ll do.
Now, instead of trying to disarm his foe, Jack attempted to blind him. He dug his filthy fingers into Karl’s eyes and was happy to hear the man howl in protest. In the dim light, Jack saw Karl’s gun hand swing toward him. Keeping his left hand engaged, he swatted the weapon away with the back of his balled right fist. Jack grabbed the back of Karl’s head and pulled him toward him by his hair—like the German was his lover.
He didn’t kiss him, though.
He did quite the opposite.
Jack, once more, smashed his forehead into the man’s face. The blow staggered Karl, but it didn’t knock him out. Dizzy in his own right, Jack shook his head and backed away from the bleeding, wailing mercenary.
Karl fell to his hands and knees and grabbed for his discarded pistol. Jack halted his attempt by kicking him as hard as he could, right in the head. His boot caught Karl just above his left ear, and he instantly crumpled in on himself. Hands on his hips, Jack stood slightly bent over at the waist and took a handful of deep breaths. He felt ten times worse than he had just minutes earlier.