Death and Deception

by Seeley James

  Four more Knights pounded their way up from the ground floor. They were keeping to the formal areas, which meant the service access would buy me a little time. Not much though, since the Knights were pros.

  At the far end of the hall was another formal hall with nice carpeting and a third stairwell with a windowed door. I used my monocular to see around the corner. A Knight pushed Danny ahead of him. They stopped at the third door. The Knight unlocked it, pushed Danny in, pulled the door shut, flipped the handle into the locked position, then left.

  Through the comm, Jenny said, “Danny, are you all right?”

  “Fine.” His answer sounded angry.

  I ran quietly to their door. Unlocking it with the stolen keycard, I was immediately driven backward by Jenny’s bodyweight.

  It took two steps to catch her momentum as she kissed my lips and cheek. I grabbed her arms and pushed her back far enough for my eyes to focus on her. We spoke at the same time.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  “My glorious hero,” she said.

  “Right, but are you hurt in any way?” While I like to be worshipped as much as the next hero, escaping alive was my top priority.

  Danny stepped into the hall and looked both ways.

  “I’m fine,” Jenny said.

  I looked over her shoulder at Danny. “Are you able to run?”

  “I’m ready to fight,” he said.

  “Great. You ready to fight your way into that, Ephialtes?” I pointed toward the sound of Knights charging toward us from around the corner.

  I waved toward the stairwell and pushed Jenny that way.

  She didn’t need an explanation. She saw the exit and ran for it. Danny and I followed. We closed the door quietly. I monitored the hall with my monocular.

  Jenny whispered, “Why did you call him, what was it?”

  “Ephialtes.” Danny answered for me. “The man who betrayed Leonidas to the Persians at Thermopylae. His name came to mean ‘nightmare’ in Greek.”

  “At least the kid knows his military history,” I said. “He gets credit for book learning.”

  Mercury stood next to me, peering out the window. Homes, the boy is a nightmare, but somebody done warned you about helping the meek.

  I said, I’m only doing this because you said there’d be a reward for saving Cherry. I was going to use that money to go find Yuri Belenov and settle my debts with Mikhail Yeschenko.

  Aw, ain’t that sweet. Mercury smiled and tilted his head. Lying to god with a straight face. Not just lying but looking me in the eye when you do it. That takes balls, mortal. Most people save their lies for when they be praying. Hands together, eyes closed, head down, that way. Y’know how they do it, “If you let me win the lottery just this once, I swear I’ll give half to charity. Or ten percent. Maybe five.” Stuff like that.

  I said, I might not have been lying. I might’ve meant it. You don’t know.

  Oh, I know, Mercury said. I’m all-knowing. I know you better’n you know you, You want to save Cherry so her uncle will be grateful and sing your praises. And if the old man likes you, then Jenny will be happy and will sing your praises. Then the Brotherhood and the whole choir will sing your praises. Face it, dude, you’re just like the gods—always craving adoration.

  I said, OK, so I want to be respected. You got me. Now how do I get out of this?

  Mercury said, Get to the kitchen before Hannibal surrounds you, Consul Paullus.

  Then he walked through the wall.

  I rechecked my monocular. Mr. Baldy rounded the bend with a squad of his men behind him. That meant there was another squad coming from the other direction. Which meant they were coming down the service hall I’d just used. That escape route was out. And they were on to my tricks.

  “Down,” I nearly shouted at my companions.

  They lost no time in jogging down the stairs. I tried locking the door from the inside, but the latches weren’t rigged that way. The cement well doubled as a fire escape, always open. I left it and followed the other two.

  Danny reached for the door on the ground floor. I grabbed his hand just in time and pulled him back. I pointed down another flight. We ran down to the basement just as Mr. Baldy opened the door on the second floor.

  He fired three shots at random down the cement well. Ricochets pinged around us. They were as dangerous to him as they were to us. He waited a second, then came sprinting down.

  I took up a position on the last landing, basement level, and waited for him to come into view. Pistols are not accurate weapons, especially in tight confines under stress and in a dimly lit well. Yet I figured I was better than Mr. Baldy and had a 9 mil instead of a .22.

  He sensed my tactic and came into view in a crouch, leading with his Scorpion. I made a bigger target than he, so I bolted.

  Danny and Jenny were in a staging area backlit by industrial nightlights. Two large tables with surfaces of butcher block separated us from an industrial kitchen. Griffith liked to throw big parties. And lock his guests up. And have defenses to stop an army from breaching his doors. What in the name of Mars was Griffith into? Or have modern American billionaires become like Roman Emperors—the less you know the better?

  I nodded at Danny. He grabbed one end and I got the other. We shoved a heavy table against the stairwell door. We grabbed the second table and set it on its side on top of the first, using the heavy wood to block the window. Then we looked for an exit.

  Knowing we were belowground, I thought there had to be a loading elevator or some way to bring in supplies. While we searched for it, I sensed someone in a robe standing in the shadow. I aimed my pistol at her. She gasped and stepped into the light with her hands up. A live-in maid or cook; she was on the far side of middle aged, Latina, and trembling.

  I put my gun away. “Where is the exit?”

  She looked at Jenny, then Danny.

  Jenny asked her in Spanish and got an answer. Jenny said, “There’s a long corridor in the pantry.”

  “Ask her to show us,” I said.

  Jenny convinced the lady to help. Our reluctant guide started off through a warren of kitchen and prep areas. She talked a mile a minute to Jenny but walked like a turtle. We passed a room with a heavy steel door, sealed with a large padlock. When I asked what was behind it, the lady reported no one was allowed inside. I ran the building’s floor plan through my head and estimated it was below the smokestacks.

  Behind us, we heard the tables crashing to the floor. Our barricade was down. Shouts and flashlight beams bounced around two rooms away.

  We rushed our new friend, who picked up the pace. Eventually, we came to what was more of a warehouse than a pantry. At one end was a long, wide underground passage leading to the service house next door. Deliveries were made there, then trusted staff dragged the goods through this tunnel to the main house. Griffith didn’t want delivery people near his castle for fear of a surprise attack.

  Jenny gave our guide a hug and thanked her and asked her not to tell the bad men about us. Not much chance, but our best hope.

  I closed the entry door, slipped my Sabel Visor on, turned off the fluorescent overhead lights, grabbed Jenny’s hand, and strode down the dark passage. The visor’s mid-infrared mode gave me a small window of visibility. Something like a horror movie. Danny tagged along, holding Jenny’s other hand.

  “When we get to the other end of this thing,” I said, “we’re going to face twice as many men. I’m going to lay suppressing fire, you two are going to run for the dock and take the boat. You’re not going to wait. You’re not going—”

  “I’m not leaving without my Brothers.” Danny stopped, pulling back on our linked hands.

  The Sabel Visor requires some light for amplification. There wasn’t any. So all I could see of him was his thermal overlay. He was hot.

  So was I.

  “You’ve already put everyone at risk,” I said. “You need to start taking orders from a veteran. You’re getting out of this compound and g
etting out of here. I’ll get your little friends out for you. Leave this to the grownups.”

  Jenny put her hands between us and shoved us apart. “Danny, haven’t you figured it out yet? He’s right. Leave it to him.”

  Behind us, back in the pantry, we heard the noise of the Knights. They hadn’t found our passageway. Even if they did, as long as the maid didn’t squeal on us, they couldn’t investigate with full force. They’d have to split up. We had a chance. A slim one.

  Of course, Mr. Baldy was the kind of guy who would shoot into empty space first and turn the lights on afterward.

  “Did you find Cherry?” Danny asked.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Where is she?”

  “Well. She had an appointment.”

  CHAPTER 25

  I grabbed Danny and Jenny by the arms and started marching them to the far end. It opened into a large shipping and receiving area with a platform elevator big enough for a truck. The top was sealed from the elements. At the back of the area was a wooden staircase. Next to that was an electrical breaker box.

  The breakers were labeled neatly. I turned off the obvious ones: Underground Passage; Loading Dock; and Service Lift. With the visor, I owned the dark. Nothing else looked like it would shut off their communications. I pushed my companions against the wall and told them to stand still, then I crept up the stairs to a door on the ground floor. Opening it a quarter inch, I used my monocular to look around the room. It opened to a kitchen. No one was there.

  I had the other two to join me. We tiptoed through the kitchen-dining room combination and into a room full of monitors. All the chairs were empty. Which was creepy. There should be guards. I counted three displays of six monitors each. Cables and computers were neatly installed for a clean and professional look. Beside each workstation were three red buttons. One for the main house, one for the service house I stood in, and one for the dock and beach. Which explained why they were so quick to catch the Brothers upon arrival.

  We circled around the other way and found another room that looked like a break room. A Settlers of Catan game lay on a table next to warm coffee mugs. An open paperback rested on the arm of a chair. They’d just left.

  A small gun safe stood open at the back of the room. I handed a Smith and Wesson to Danny. Using hand signals, I told him to guard the monitor room with his life. Jenny grabbed a Beretta. I positioned her by the front door.

  I checked the monitors. It quickly became apparent why the house was empty. Everyone had been called into the search for us at the main house. They were scouring the grounds, going floor to floor, room to room, and bush to bush. A control screen listed thirty-three cameras. None in the service halls and none in the bedrooms. No wonder I’d gotten away with running around so much. I flipped through as many camera locations as I could.

  Then I found Cherry. She sat at a conference table in her plaid flannel shirt. A wall-mounted big screen dominated one end. A professional video-conferencing mic sat in front of her. Checking out the monitor controls in front of me, I moved the camera to look at the screen she faced. A well-dressed man with a hint of Euro-fashion in his suit addressed her. They were deep in a conversation. The logo in the corner looked familiar. I zoomed in closer. Cour Pénale Internationale was written next to a graphic of the scales of justice surrounded by olive branches. A moment later, the name cycled to the English version, International Criminal Court.

  Based in the Hague, Netherlands, they’re responsible for trying war criminals and crimes against humanity. Why was Cherry talking to them from Griffith’s house? He was harboring a mass murderer, Mr. Baldy. Was she turning him in?

  I zoomed back out and panned the room. Off to one side of Cherry sat Griffith, dressed for success in a Kiton suit. His arms were crossed but his face appeared pleased. Mixed signals I couldn’t figure out. He glanced at his watch, made a short call, then rose. He touched Cherry’s shoulder in a familiar and friendly way. She gave him a glance I couldn’t analyze because her back was to the camera. She returned to her video conference right away. She didn’t appear angry or scared or anything. It was as if she were delivering an accounting report.

  A few minutes later, movement on the monitor in the driveway caught my eye. The big iron gates swung open and three armored Ford Expeditions entered the grounds. They pulled up to the front walkway. Griffith and eight of his uniformed guards trotted from the house and climbed in. They drove away, into the dark unknown.

  Somewhere in the house behind me, I heard kicking and muffled screaming. The kind of sound someone makes when trying to scream through a gag. I ran to where Danny stood. He’d heard it too. We both pointed to a closed door beyond the kitchen.

  Jenny backed us up by covering the hallway.

  Using hand signals again, I gave Danny orders. I would take point, he covered me from three feet back. I gave him my soldier stare until he nodded.

  The door was not locked. I crouched—so Danny wouldn’t accidentally shoot me in the back—and threw the door open. Two uniformed guards were wrestling Fiona-the-blonde. She was bound with rope from head to foot and gagged. They were holding her upright. Next to her was a large coffin-sized box made of heavy cardboard. Two more boxes lay next to the empty one.

  I sprang forward, stabbing one guard with a dart while the other staggered back and aimed a pistol at me. Danny fired at the guy and missed. But he distracted the guard long enough for me to grab another dart and launch at him. The guard squeezed off a shot that buzzed my ear just as I hit his thigh with the dart.

  The instant the two men were still, Danny pulled a serious knife out of his pocket and started cutting through Fiona’s ropes. I opened the other coffin-boxes. In them were Mark and the other Brother, whose name I still didn’t know, also bound and gagged. Mark thanked me for rescuing him. When he did, Fiona gave me an odd once-over without offering thanks.

  I checked the rest of the house. With any luck, the walls would muffle the guard’s pistol shot to anyone outside. But inside was another story. I sent Jenny to watch the screens for signs of guards coming this way or Cherry in trouble.

  After clearing the attic and the second level, I returned to Danny. He was freeing the last of his companions.

  I nodded at the cardboard boxes. “What were those for?”

  “The crematorium,” Mark said.

  Danny looked at the boxes as if seeing them for the first time. In that instant, the depth of his misguided adventure sank in. He looked at me, colorless and wide-eyed.

  I felt Jenny at my side.

  I said, “Get your crew through the hedge on the north side, go around the neighbor’s house, make your way to the beach. By then, I’ll have a diversion that should clear the dock. Get in your boat and for the love of Minerva, get out of here.”

  This time, he followed orders. He and his Brothers filed past me.

  I turned to Jenny. “Follow them. Take your boat two houses south of here. I’ll be on the beach in ten minutes.”

  “Where are you going?” Jenny asked.

  “I know where Cherry is.”

  “She turned down the rescue,” Jenny said. “Maybe she doesn’t need to be saved.”

  “I promised the old man I’d bring her back.” I kissed her forehead, then turned her around. “And I’m the one who can, so I have to.”

  She said, “‘He who can, must?’ I don’t like that expression.”

  CHAPTER 26

  The first time I reviewed the videos of Griffith’s stronghold, I had figured out most of the floor plan. The bedrooms and living areas were easy to guess and confirm. What remained a mystery was the center of the building—until I saw Cherry in the video conference room. On the ground floor, Griffith had a grand salon. Larger than a living room, it could host cocktails for well over a hundred. Upstairs, he had a gym and private living rooms and a theater. I’d guessed the basement held a massive wine and cigar bar. Maybe a man cave the size of a nightclub.

  But after seeing Cherry, I realized
the basement was the nerve center. While it held a kitchen, laundry and serving area the size of any other mansion, it also hosted the crematorium. Maybe there were torture chambers and interrogation rooms nearby. Even with that space accounted for, there was a large gap in square footage.

  I figured it had to be a secure communications area. It would be surrounded by a Faraday cage to block electromagnetic fields. No one could use a cellphone, recording device, or bounce signals through the room. It keeps your enemies from listening to your phone calls. Sabel Security had several such secure rooms. So did the CIA, NSA, West Wing, and virtually every embassy in the world.

  Why would a hedge fund manager need one? And why would a hedge fund manager have a secure link to the ICC? Especially since that group should charge him with crimes against humanity for his association with Mr. Baldy.

  There was an alarm for each camera on the security system. I clicked the one for the front gate. The Knights were drawn forward, away from the dock and beach. I waited until I saw Danny and his crew sprinting down the dock and zipping away in their powerboat. Jenny followed them out into the darkness of Lake Michigan. Then I slammed the red panic button to draw the Knights to where I stood. Once I saw them on the move in the monitors, I ran to the breaker box and flipped everything off.

  I switched on my Sabel Visor and flew down the wooden stairs into the pitch-black basement. From there, I ran down the underground tunnel. Before I arrived at other end, I stopped to catch my breath and quiet my approach. Thinking like my adversary, I figured Mr. Baldy would split his forces. Twelve remained at the main building while the rest surrounded the service house.

  The pantry was silent, but all the lights were on. Repeating the breaker box trick would draw more attention than I needed. I crept along, doing my best not to clatter pots and pans to the floor. I passed the crematorium and found myself in a dead end.

  In a quiet place, footfalls are noisy. So is the cloth of your pantlegs rubbing against each other as you take a step. One of the many reasons I wear tight pants. The noise coming toward me swished like someone trying to keep their pants from rubbing. I holstered my Glock and readied a dart and flattened against a wall.