Reciprosity

by A. J. Ragland

  “Yea, Iv’e been known to be.” I winked. “I need to confirm that cavern access. If it’s there and I can get into the castle through that old wine cellar it may make the entire operation far more simpler, and probably less deadlier—for them.” Not that I had any qualms about killing the ones responsible for the Cassine slaughter. “I need to check it out now. Tonight will be too late to discover it’s just a dead-end.”

  20

  Ten minutes later I was over the side and swimming to shore. Rory had given me the all clear when the few hikers on the footpath were past and no others were in sight. Aila had given the all clear for other boats sailing nearby. The water was cold but refreshing in my skivvies. The waterproof LED flashlight trailed behind me, the cord tugging a little at my neck. My cell phone was wrapped in a ziplock baggy and stuffed down my underwear.

  I reached the gravel depression running beneath the footbridge in twenty seconds and dashed toward the jagged face of Christoph Ridge. Oak and birch trees clung to the rocks by gnarled roots covered in mosses and lichens. The gravel was sharp against my bare feet as I scrambled up a slight incline to an area Rory described. I took out my phone and punched a pre-programmed number that conferenced me with the team. I described what I saw.

  It took me ten minutes to locate the crevice behind a heavy layer of clinging ivy. It took another ten to tear away enough growth to find the scar-like opening between the rocks. It was about three feet wide from the base to shoulder height, then narrowed to about a foot wide above my head.

  “Okay, here I go into the mouth of the beast.” No one laughed.

  I crouched and slowly duck-walked and scooted my way through, scraping bare skin as I went. In a brief moment of claustrophobic panic I thought I would be trapped there, becoming part of Christoph Ridge. Then my outstretched right had, no longer rubbing against stone, met emptiness. I kept moving until I was finally standing in a black open space. I could feel cool damp air rushing past me, drawn to the warmer air outside. It was eerily quiet and I waited for my eyes to adjust before switching on the flashlight.

  “I’m in.”

  Virna said, “Luke, we can see you moving in infrared. Your number is now 007 in white.” I smiled. “The GPR shows a stair structure about seventy meters ahead.”

  “Okay, but let’s drop the metrics from this point forward.”

  Rory concurred. “We see you as well on the iPad. I’m rotating the image so that our view is over your right shoulder and above.”

  I slowly directed the beam around in an arc from left to right. There was a rocky pile on the left, perhaps from when the cave opening collapsed. The beam stabbed into the darkness and I continued the rotation, seeing nothing until it revealed the cavern face on my right. I directed the beam to the ground in front of me. It was mostly dirt and gravel and clear of larger debris. I swung the light as I slowly walked forward, occasionally directing it upward for fear I might crack my skull on a low hanging something or other.

  I had taken nearly a hundred paces when Virna shouted, “Stop, Luke, and turn off your light. Number twelve is moving in your direction on the wine cellar level—toward the door.”

  Overhead lights suddenly blazed to life, blinding me in the process. It took a full five seconds before I could focus on my surroundings. I was standing in an awe-inspiring and a little intimidating space. The cavern was massive, nearly the size of an American football field but oval in shape. The wooden stairs were directly on my right and snaked upward along the reinforced walls to a height of maybe two hundred feet. There were landings every twenty steps or so, ending on a balcony-like catwalk near the ceiling—where a new light source suddenly appeared. If I were standing on the ten-yard line at my end of the field, the new source of light was sixty-yards away and eighty feet high at the apex of the stairs.

  Rory urged me to run. “Get under the bottom landing before you’re seen.”

  “And mute your phone,” Aila added.

  I did as instructed and crouched beneath the bottom landing. I didn’t have a direct line of sight but I could see the new light reflecting off of the reinforcing ceiling structure. Then I heard number twelve speak over a radio.

  “All clear. False alarm.”

  A few seconds later the sound of a heavy door closing echoed through the empty cavern. I stood up and flipped my phone off of mute. Then the lights went out, plunging me back into darkness.

  Virna said, “Luke, please get out of there. You’re mostly naked and unarmed.”

  I said, “What unarmed? I have my wit and charming good looks. Plus I have an idea. Stay tuned.”

  I needed to learn how the alarm was triggered. I had made it all the way to the stairs before the lights came on and I knew I hadn’t tripped a wire. And the ground was too uneven and littered with debris for a pressure plate. That left a motion or sound sensor—or IR CCTV. I ruled out CCTV because they would most certainly have seen me. Sound sensors were notoriously unreliable, particularly with all the tourist activity. Plus, Virna and I just spoke out loud on the phone and the roof didn’t fall in, so to speak. That really only left motion sensors. It was time to test my theory.

  “Stand by everyone.”

  I stepped out further into the cavern and jumped up and down. Nothing. I walked in a tight circle. Still nothing. Maybe there was a delay.

  “Virna, do you see Twelve doing anything?”

  “No. He’s stationary. Maybe sitting at a desk. The IR shows other heat signatures near him. Alice says they’re most likely electronic equipment.”

  “Okay. I’m going to do a little more scouting.”

  I flipped my flashlight back on and directed the beam along the stairs as far as it would illuminate.

  “Luke!” Virna said with alarm, “what are you doing? Number twelve is moving.”

  “Nothing, I only turned my... Oh shit it’s a light sensor!”

  I dashed back under the landing and switched off the flashlight and muted the phone just as the overheads blazed back on. Number twelve appeared a few seconds later. I still couldn’t see him from my vantage but a moment later he was back on his radio.

  “There’s nothing here. I think the system is glitchy.”

  This gave me a new idea. Over the next ten minutes I and Mr. Twelve repeated the routine three more times with the same ‘glitchy’ conclusion.

  My idea worked. Number twelve had had enough and said, “I’m turning this alarm off until we can get someone from our IT to come fix it.”

  I waited until he had ample time to disarm the sensor, then I switched my flashlight back on and waited. After five minutes I knew I had won. I switched the phone on.

  “What’s Twelve doing?”

  Virna replied, “He’s moving up to the ground level. Now, get out of there, please.”

  “Not just yet, sweetheart. I need to take a look at that door.”

  “Don’t risk it.”

  “Not a risk. Just keep an eye on all the players.”

  I dashed over to the landing and took the first step, and then the second and so on until I was certain there were no pressure plates. After that I made a mad dash up the 120 steps and ten landings and along the balcony to a recess in the rock wall. The door was built of sturdy oak with iron rivets and massive steel butterfly hinges. The old brass latch handle had aged to a dark patina with a slight hint of brass where hands had grasped it over the decades. I ran my light over the door frame and latch, looking for signs of sensors. I found none but that didn’t mean there weren’t any.

  “Any movement in the wine cellar?” I asked.

  Virna sounded near panic, “No. Please don’t open it, Luke.”

  “Got to, babe. This may be the best way in and out.” I Held the phone and flashlight in my left hand, grasped the handle with my right, and depressed the old latch with my thumb. “In for a penny, in for a pound.”

  There was a slight clink of metal as the bolt withdrew from the latch and I gently pulled the heavy door open. I could hear Virna exhaling
on the phone.

  “No lock or alarm, everyone. Just a very old door.”

  I peaked my head into the wine cellar.

  Ten minutes later I climbed back into the boat and we headed back to Rory’s and Aila’s dock. It was nearly four o’clock in the evening and I wanted to sleep for a few hours and then eat and make our final plans. My goal was to enter the castle at two in the morning, exit with my cargo at three, and be at the GCE terminal by five. Takeoff was scheduled for six.

  Rory assured me there would be no other boats on the loch after dark, particularly since a heavy rain was forecast, starting around six. The tourist and townsfolk would be sleeping at two in the morning and most likely all of our numbered targets would be inside the castle, sheltering from the elements. Many sleeping, I hoped. Especially number zero.

  At midnight I opened my toolkit and began my prep. Black nylon tactical suit and boots. Shoulder harness with my silenced Phantom 9mm and my trusty .44. A utility belt with a stun gun for up close and personal. Light-weight night vision goggles that look like ski glasses. A dozen zip-tie handcuffs on my utility belt. Two-way ear plug headset with matching sets for Rory and Aila, who were standing nearby silently watching me. Muted cell phone in the left leg pouch. Flashlight on my left shoulder. Six throwing blades in a scabbard on my right thigh. First aid kit, water bottle, and a roll of duct tape in my waist pockets.

  “And a partridge in a pear tree,” I added to loosen up the mood.

  Aila asked with a straight face. “Are you going to kill all of them?”

  I had considered just that and was keeping the option open. But my first objective was the most important—number zero. I would subdue whomever stood in my way if possible, but if push comes to shove, well, you get the picture.

  “Not if I don’t have too,” I responded as I stashed the final item of my ensemble. A hood, and it wasn’t for me.

  My partners were dressed in heavy rain gear. Rory held the special iPad. Aila would pilot the boat. I pulled on a long rain coat to hide my appearance as we stepped out of the building and hurried to the boat docked fifty feet away. I was lugging my duffle bag in one hand and Rory and Aila were carrying my tool kit. There would be no return to the Loch Lomond Expeditions offices and their cozy home. The rain was coming down in great sheets, blowing from the north, and it was cold.

  The Nord Star 28 had a spacious deck cabin with additional space below deck. Aila brought the beast to life and skillfully maneuvered past many other boats along the multiple docks until we were on open water. The windscreen wipers barely improved the view but they both knew the loch so well they claimed they could reach our previous anchorage with only the instruments and their instinct. We were towing a small skiff that I would use to reach the shore in a mostly dry condition. I took out my phone and called Vera.

  “We’re on our final approach. Can you see us on TAG?” I knew the Looking Glass cameras would be useless in the cloud cover.

  “Yes, we see you, Luke. I’ll be with you all the way so let’s switch over to the two-way radio and get everyone on the same frequency. Gio is beside me. And Alice, if you can believe it, seems to be enjoying the exercise.”

  I ended the phone call and placed it back in my pocket on mute. Then Aila, Rory and I switched on our two-way coms and tested them. They worked flawlessly and had unlimited range via our uplink. They would be able to alert me if nosey neighbors came sniffing.

  Fifteen minutes later Aila killed the motor and dropped the anchor. I looked through a window and couldn’t see a thing except the bow light. It was time. I shook their hands, just in case I didn’t make it back and exited the warm cabin into the storm. The wind mostly blew me toward the stern. I waited for the gust to subside then climbed over the transom and dropped down into the rocking skiff.

  The small craft was large enough for three and had a small outboard motor and emergency oars. The motor had an electric starter and popped to life instantly. I released the mooring line and guided the skiff forward, keeping the Nord Star on my left because Aila said she was pointing it directly at the landing spot I had swum to earlier in the afternoon.

  The moment I passed the bow of the larger craft I was in total darkness. Rory was guiding me via my white player dot on the iPad screen. I pulled down my NV goggles. They were good up to twenty feet and I wanted to make sure there wasn’t a greeting party on the shore. The water was very choppy and Rory warned that the tide may be high enough to carry me over the gravel beach beneath the footbridge.

  It scared the crap out of me when the flat-bottomed skiff abruptly struck the face of the cliff just before Rory yelled in my ear to stop. Luckily I was going slow enough not to damage the skiff beyond a couple of dents. I flipped on my flashlight and looked over my shoulder. I could see the faint outline of the bridge. Apparently I had sailed right under it. The goggles were useless without a heat signature so I pushed them up on my forehead. I killed the motor, stood up in the swaying skiff and stepped onto the rising ground that led to the cavern entrance. I tied the boat to a tree root.

  “Okay, the turkey has landed,” I joked.

  Virna was quick on the uptake. “We can all see the second dumbest animal in the world, Luke.”

  “Good. I’m hunting the first. Out”

  21

  I made it to the cellar door at the top of the cavern stairs without incident. Virna’s previous assessment was that most of the eighteen numbered players seemed to be gathered in three separate areas of the castle. Possibly sleeping quarters or barracks of some sort. And there were six players roaming the ground level of the estate.

  “Ten is on the cellar level,” Virna cautioned over the two-way. “Seems to be stationary about three meters on your right. Sorry, call it ten feet. Three and Four are patrolling just above you on the ground level. Zero is stationary in his bedroom on level three.”

  “Roger that,” I replied in the widely understood lexicon for Virna’s benefit.

  “Who’s Roger?” she asked.

  Smart ass. “It means I received your message…”

  “Just jerking your chain Romeo.”

  I could hear Aila and Rory giggling.

  “Okay, folks. Not funny.” Actually it was but I didn’t want to give wife-to-be the satisfaction.

  I knocked on the wooden door with the butt-end of my Phantom, loud enough to draw Ten’s attention. Then I flattened my back against the rock wall where I would be hidden when the door swung out.

  “He’s coming your way, Luke.”

  “Copy that.”

  “What happened to Roger or Romeo?”

  “Same thing that’s gonna happen to you. Hush.”

  A moment later the latch clinked and the heavy door swung open. The cavern lights flared and Ten walked past me holding a coffee mug. He stopped at the balcony railing and peered over. I took two steps forward and grabbed him in a chokehold. His mug fell into the cavern before he passed out. I checked his hands to see if he was wearing one of the eagle rings. He was and I wrestled it off and dropped it in my vest pocket. Ten was also wearing a police style radio and hand mic on his shoulder. I switched it off. At this point I had two options. Drag him back to his guard post, gag and bind him, and risk having him found by a relief guard. Or option two, toss him over the balcony. I chose the unfortunate accident.

  Three seconds later, Aila said, “Luke, number ten’s marker just fell into the cavern.”

  Virna beat me to the response. “Ten had an unfortunate accident, Aila. Stupid man slipped and fell over the railing.”

  I confirmed, then said, “Making my entrance now.”

  The old wine cellar was empty. I mean completely empty, except for a desk, a chair, a radio and an alarm panel on the wall. No endless rows of wine racks loaded with bottles. No barrels. No nothing. It was eerie.

  The room dated back centuries with an arched coffered brick ceiling, draped with cobwebs. It was about the size of a three-car garage. At the far end a warn stone-slab stairway spiraled upward wi
thin the circular walls of a tower.

  Rory said, “The stairs lead to the base of the original castle keep tower. It’s located at the northwest corner of the castle and rises through all four levels with access to each. It’s not as tall as the clock tower.”

  “I remember from the 3D plans,” I answered. “Everyone, I’m going silent from this point on, so don’t be alarmed if I don’t respond to your updates.”

  I approached the stairs and began climbing. I only made five steps before Virna alerted me.

  “Number seven coming down the stairs from level two. Seems to be in a hurry.” I waited. “Definitely heading your way, Luke. Just past level one.”

  I hurried back down and around the left corner, out of sight. I could hear Seven’s footfalls drawing near. I could hear labored breathing just before a large man jogged past me toward the cavern entrance. His left hand was up near a radio and hand mic on his shoulder. I waited until he was at the doorway, then I silently dashed after him.

  When I reached the opening his back was to me. He was peering over the railing. I suddenly realized I had forgotten to kill the cavern lights. I put a single round in the back of his head before he could send out an alarm. His large mass slumped forward, halfway over the railing. I switched his radio off and added his signet ring to my collection. Then I helped him the rest of the way over the railing and watched him fall. He hit the ground in a cloud of dust beside Ten.

  “Virna’s voice crackled, “Shooter seven is out and the pass line bet loses.”

  I knew she was trying to be funny with he craps analogy but I didn’t feel like smiling. These Guardian Eagles killed a lot of people in Italy and they deserved to pay for it. But the way these first two victims paid didn’t seem sporting.

  I could hear Ray’s voice in my head when we were on that Mexico mission back in ninety-nine. Stop dwelling, Luke, and get on with it. Shoot the bastard and rescue the girl. He had been at a remote monitoring station watching everything via my body-cam then.