The Secret Crown paj-6

by Chris Kuzneski

  Payne stared at him, trying to gauge if he was serious. ‘What’s your problem? Normally you’re the one twisting my arm to fly halfway around the world to do stuff like this, not the other way around. Is something wrong?’

  Jones blew on his hands and rubbed them together. ‘Besides the temperature?’

  ‘Yeah, princess, besides the temperature.’

  Jones shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I guess I’m just not feeling it. When I saw all those crates, I thought we were onto something. Now I’m not so sure.’

  Payne patted him on the shoulder. ‘Do me a favour and hang in there a little bit longer. Don’t ask me why, but I have a feeling things are about to change.’

  ‘In what way?’ Jones asked as he opened the door.

  Payne took a deep breath before he stepped inside the house. ‘Honestly? I don’t know. But I can smell it in the air. Something big is going to happen.’

  Schneider, one of Kaiser’s guards, spotted movement on the slope but decided not to call it in until he knew what he was dealing with. The woods were filled with animals of all shapes and sizes, and his colleagues had given him a hard time when he had sounded the alarm a few days earlier and it had turned out to be a deer. And not even a big deer. It was small and cuddly and looked like Bambi. Ever since then, his friends had called him ‘Aesop’ – the Greek storyteller who had created the fable about The Boy Who Cried Wolf in the mid-sixth century.

  Needless to say, they found it funnier than he did.

  Positioned a quarter of a mile from the site, Schneider crouched behind a thick beech tree and waited. Whatever was heading his way was heavy. He could hear twigs snapping and leaves rustling as it moved. In some ways he hoped it was a boar. He had seen Hogzilla in the bunker and had been amazed by its size. To see something that big running across the forest floor would be a sight to behold – and something he could tell his wife. She knew he had been working on a job near Munich for the past week but nothing else. In many ways, it was similar to his former career in the armed forces. Whenever he had called home, he was allowed to tell her personal things – how he was feeling, what he had for dinner, and so on – but nothing that would reveal his location or jeopardize the success of his mission.

  But spotting a pig the size of a Volkswagen? As far as he was concerned, he could talk about that all night without getting into trouble.

  Unfortunately for Schneider, the giant boar didn’t materialize. Instead he spotted a man, wearing bright-orange camouflage, heading his way.

  ‘Shit,’ he mumbled as he pushed the button on his radio. ‘Sir, I’ve got a situation.’

  A few seconds passed before Kaiser responded. He was positioned near the bunker, watching his men assemble the equipment. ‘What’s wrong, Aesop? Is Bambi back?’

  ‘No, sir. A hunter, carrying a Remington 750.’

  Kaiser swore under his breath. A few more minutes and they would have been ready to test the winch. Twenty more minutes and the gold would have been on its way down the mountain. ‘Where are you?’

  Schneider looked at his GPS unit and radioed his coordinates.

  Kaiser wrote them down. ‘Can you handle this, or do you need help?’

  Schneider shook his head. The last thing he needed was for his friends to bail him out. If that happened, he’d never hear the end of it. ‘No, sir. I got this.’

  ‘Good,’ Kaiser said. ‘Stick with the script, and you’ll be fine.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And Schneider? Call me when you’re done.’

  27

  Other than a few royal touches – like an upholstered toilet seat and an intricate wooden chandelier – the five rooms on the ground floor of the King’s House were spectacularly unimpressive. Simple wood panelling, made from Swiss pine, covered the walls, and most of the furnishings were plain and antiquated. Jones was so under-whelmed by the decor he compared it to a granny house, the type of place that had more cats than furniture.

  His opinion instantly changed the moment they walked upstairs. Named the Turkische Saal by Ludwig, the opulent room filled the entire second floor and was protected by a velvet rope. Payne, Jones and Ulster crowded against it, gawking at the room for more than thirty seconds before Heidi stepped over the rope and started her lecture from the right-hand corner of the room.

  ‘This is the Turkish Hall, inspired by One Thousand and One Nights, a collection of folk tales from the Islamic golden age that included ‘Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves’, ‘The Seven Voyages of Sinbad the Sailor’, and ‘Aladdin’s Wonderful Lamp’. In English, the story collection is often called Arabian Nights.’

  Heidi walked to the edge of the colourful oriental rug that covered the wooden floor. Besides the periphery of the room, the only part of the floor that wasn’t covered was the very centre. A giant hole had been cut in the rug so it could be slipped over a large golden fountain that looked like it belonged in a hotel lobby instead of a Swiss chalet. The sound of its trickling water could be heard throughout the hall.

  She continued. ‘This is where Ludwig threw elaborate birthday parties for himself, all with an Arabian Nights theme. Sometimes his servants sat on the floor, smoking hookah pipes, while others played Arabian music or pranced around in the nude. Meanwhile, Ludwig lounged on the luxurious couches that line the walls, often wearing outfits from Arabia.’

  She moved deeper into the room, careful not to step on the rug as she pointed out a series of golden vases that were nearly as tall as she was. Each of them was stuffed with colourful arrangements that resembled tiny palm trees. ‘From where you are standing, it’s probably difficult to see what these are made of. Instead of using flowers, which would have had to be hauled halfway up the mountain, the king used peacock feathers. Aren’t they just lovely?’

  Ulster nodded, then raised his hand as if he were on a high-school field trip and needed permission to speak.

  Heidi looked at him and smiled. ‘Did you have a question?’

  Ulster shook his head. ‘Actually, my dear, I was hoping for a favour.’

  ‘A favour? What kind of favour?’

  He glanced over his shoulder, paranoid. ‘Normally I wouldn’t think to impose, but considering the scant crowd and my passion for the subject matter, I was wondering if I could remove my footwear and tiptoe across the room for a closer look?’

  She winced, unsure. ‘I don’t know …’

  He raised his hand again, this time to swear the truth. ‘I promise my socks are clean.’

  She giggled at Ulster’s enthusiasm. He was like a little kid. ‘Fine, but if we hear anyone coming, you have to hustle behind the rope. I could get in a lot of trouble.’

  ‘I’ll be careful, I promise,’ Ulster assured her as he dropped to the floor to remove his boots.

  Meanwhile, Payne backed up towards the stairs. ‘Don’t worry, Heidi. I’ll stand guard. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.’

  ‘Thanks, Jon. I’d appreciate that.’

  ‘See how that works? When you’re nice, I’m nice,’ Payne teased.

  Heidi smiled. ‘I’m not the least bit surprised. My dog is like that, too.’

  Jones laughed loudly. ‘Jon is like a dog. That’s funny.’

  ‘Not as funny as the animal he compared you to,’ she insisted.

  Jones stopped laughing. ‘He said what now?’

  Heidi winked at Payne, who was slightly embarrassed. ‘Actually, I better stay out of it. I’ll let you guys discuss it among yourselves.’

  Jones looked at him seriously. ‘You think I’m an animal?’

  ‘Heidi,’ Payne said, hoping to change the topic, ‘before you run off, can I ask you a question about the room?’

  ‘Sure,’ she said, grinning ear to ear.

  ‘You said Ludwig used peacock feathers because he didn’t want to haul fresh flowers up the mountain. Why didn’t he get them out of the garden?’

  ‘What garden?’ she asked.

  ‘Isn’t there a famous garden up here?’


  ‘Oh, you mean the Alpengarten auf dem Schachen.’

  ‘Gesundheit,’ Jones cracked.

  Payne ignored him. ‘If you say so.’

  She explained. ‘The Alpengarten auf dem Schachen is an alpine garden maintained by a botanical society from Munich. The garden has over a thousand types of exotic plants from as far away as the Himalayas.’

  Payne nodded. It was the garden that Ulster had mentioned earlier, the one that led him to believe that this house might be the gartenhaus that Ludwig had referred to in his notes. ‘Why didn’t they get the flowers from there? Isn’t it close by?’

  ‘It’s real close, but it wasn’t built until after Ludwig’s death. Don’t quote me on this, but I think it was built around 1900. I can find out a specific date, if you’d like.’

  He shook his head. ‘Nope, that isn’t necessary.’

  ‘You got that right,’ Jones whispered to Payne. ‘No garden means no dice. We’re looking in the wrong place.’

  Schneider stepped out from behind the beech tree and stared at the man walking towards him. In his hands, Schneider held a Heckler amp; Koch G36, a German 5.56 mm assault rifle. It was the preferred weapon of the Bundeswehr, the unified armed forces of Germany.

  ‘Halt!’ Schneider ordered in German.

  Weber, one of Krueger’s men, stopped and threw his hands in the air.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Schneider demanded.

  ‘I’m hunting deer,’ Weber lied. ‘Have you seen any?’

  Schneider ignored the question. ‘You have entered a restricted area. You must turn back immediately or I am authorized to place you under arrest.’

  ‘For what? I have the proper licence to hunt,’ Weber claimed.

  ‘Not for here, you don’t.’

  ‘Why? What’s going on? Is everything all right?’

  ‘Everything is fine. We are merely conducting military drills on the mountain. This area is restricted because it isn’t safe for civilians.’

  Weber cleared his throat and spat on the ground. ‘It isn’t safe for you, either. Not with hunters roaming around.’

  Schneider raised his weapon. ‘Sir, don’t make me use force! I’m asking you to leave.’

  Weber grinned. ‘But I don’t want to leave. I want to stay.’

  ‘Sir, if I call for backup, you’ll be sor-’

  Before another word could be said, Weber’s partner emerged from a clump of trees behind Schneider and slit his throat, using a nine-inch hunting knife with a serrated edge.

  Blood gushed from Schneider’s neck as he gurgled and slumped to the ground. As he fell, he squeezed his trigger and fired several wild shots from his G36. Although he didn’t hit his targets, the sound of automatic gun fire and the strafing of the nearby trees echoed through the mountain air like warning drums in a primitive culture. The sound was so loud and distinct it could be heard inside the bunker and as far away as Mount Schachen.

  Within seconds, a firefight had erupted in the Alps.

  Within minutes, Payne and Jones would enter the fray.

  28

  Payne and Jones were standing on the front porch of the King’s House, waiting for Ulster to put on his shoes and join them downstairs, when they heard the distant chatter of gun fire. To experienced soldiers, the sound was unmistakable – like a musical instrument to a symphony conductor. In a heartbeat, they knew Kaiser’s men were under attack.

  Jones sprinted to the helicopter while Payne pulled the Sig Sauer from his belt and opened the front door. ‘Petr! Stay here! Kaiser’s in trouble.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Ulster yelled from upstairs.

  ‘We’re taking the chopper! Stay here until we come back!’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Heidi shouted from the Turkish Hall.

  Wearing only one shoe, Ulster nearly stumbled down the steps as he tried to get more information. ‘What kind of trou-’

  Payne cut him off. ‘Stay here! Keep an eye on Heidi!’

  ‘Of course,’ Ulster said while holding his shoe. ‘But-’

  ‘Now lock this door!’

  Payne slammed it shut and leapt off the porch. By the time he landed, Ulster and Heidi were already gone from his thoughts. For the next few minutes, the only thing that mattered was getting to the bunker as quickly as possible. Not to protect the gold or the van Gogh crate, but because lives were on the line and he could save them.

  Jones reached the helicopter thirty seconds before Payne and ordered the pilot to start the engine. Baptiste, who only took orders from Ulster, was going to argue until he saw the gun in Jones’s hand. Baptiste swallowed hard and started flipping switches.

  As the engine whirred to life, Jones coolly searched the back compartment for equipment but found nothing of value. ‘Do you have a rope?’ he yelled.

  ‘For what?’ Baptiste shouted.

  ‘Our exit.’

  He turned in his seat and stared at Jones. ‘Your what?’

  ‘Our exit. You can’t land where we’re going. We’re gonna have to jump.’

  Baptiste laughed. ‘You’re joking, right?’

  Jones flashed his gun. ‘Does it look like I’m joking?’

  ‘You’re going to jump out of my chopper?’

  ‘Only if you have a rope.’

  Baptiste pointed to the other side. ‘Try over there.’

  Jones scurried around the back and opened the far hatch. Inside was a wicker basket. It was stuffed with a loaf of French bread, a hunk of cheese, two salamis, an assortment of fresh fruit, a bottle of wine, and a red-and-white chickened tablecloth. ‘What the hell is this?’

  ‘A picnic,’ Baptiste said.

  ‘A picnic? Why did you pack a fucking picnic?’

  Baptiste shrugged. ‘Petr gets hungry.’

  Jones slammed the hatch in frustration. ‘My friend is going to die unless you have a rope. Do you have one or not?’

  ‘Next compartment back.’

  Jones flung it open and grabbed a large coil of black rope. Made with sure-grip synthetic fibres, the low-stretch rope was perfect for rappelling. One end was already equipped with a sturdy metal clasp that could be attached to the chopper’s floor. ‘How long is this?’

  ‘About a hundred feet.’

  Jones pulled out the coil, which weighed over fifty pounds, and tossed it onto the back seat. Then he searched the compartment for additional equipment, anything that could help them get to the ground in one piece. ‘What about gloves? Or belts? Or harnesses?’

  Baptiste shook his head. ‘This isn’t a rescue chopper.’

  Payne arrived in time to hear the comment. ‘Well, it is today.’

  Jones pointed to the hook in the centre of the floor, which Payne could reach while standing outside the chopper. ‘Attach the clasp. I’m almost ready.’

  Payne did as he was told, then hopped into the back. As he did, he could hear Jones rummaging through the hatch on the other side. ‘What are you looking for?’

  ‘A snack,’ Jones shouted.

  Payne cupped his ear and leaned in closer. ‘A what?’

  Grinning from ear to ear, Jones hopped into the chopper. He held his gun in one hand and the picnic basket in the other. Payne stared at him like he was crazy.

  Jones grinned even wider. ‘Don’t worry. I have an idea.’

  ‘What kind of idea?’

  ‘I’ll tell you when it’s time to jump.’

  Krueger cursed when he heard the gun fire. Obviously something had gone wrong with his plan because his men had been told to avoid interaction at all costs. Their job had been simple. Spy on Kaiser, figure out what he was doing, then report back to Krueger so he could coordinate their attack. His men weren’t supposed to confront Kaiser or do anything that might attract attention. This was supposed to be a surveillance mission. Nothing else.

  From his position at the bottom of the mountain, Krueger called his men on the radio. ‘What happened?’ he growled in German.

  One of his men responded. ‘We were spotted by a guard with
an assault rifle. We managed to take him out quietly.’

  ‘Did you say quietly? There was nothing quiet about it! I could hear it down here!’

  ‘Blame the guard, not us. We used a blade. He used a gun. He got off a few rounds when he fell to the ground.’

  Krueger took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. ‘Did anyone get hit?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘What are we up against?’

  ‘Too early to tell, sir. But so far we’re winning.’

  Krueger shook his head. His men were so short-sighted. ‘Winning?’

  ‘Yes, sir. They’re down one man, and we’re up one gun. This G36 is a serious weapon.’

  ‘Maybe so, but we lost the best weapon of all – the element of surprise.’

  His goon grunted. He couldn’t care less. ‘What do you want us to do?’

  ‘Find Kaiser and send me his coordinates. I’m on my way.’

  The bunker was positioned near the base of a cliff and surrounded by ancient beech trees that were a lot taller than their rope was long. Hoping to survive their descent, Payne and Jones searched for a clearing near the site, somewhere they could land safely when they rappelled out of the chopper. The best they could find was a grove of fir trees, approximately a quarter of a mile from the bunker. Not only were the evergreens significantly shorter than the beeches, but they hoped the fallen pine needles underneath the trees would cushion their fall. Due to the slope of the mountain, they realized they would have to hit the ground and roll, or risk breaking a leg.

  Fighting strong gusts of wind, Baptiste held the chopper in place just over the tops of the trees. To make sure the weld would hold his weight, Payne yanked on the hook with all his strength before Jones tossed the coil of rope over the side. Both of them watched it unravel until the far end disappeared into the thick blanket of branches.

  ‘Did it hit bottom?’ Payne asked.

  Jones shrugged. ‘Can’t tell for sure, but I think it’s close.’

  Payne nodded. It wouldn’t be the first time they had jumped blindly from a chopper. Then again, a picnic basket was something new. ‘Do you mind telling me what that’s for?’

  Jones plucked a grape from its stem and popped it in his mouth. ‘Here’s what we’re facing: no gloves, no belts, no harnesses. Rough wind, blind drop, unknown enemy. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to lose as little skin as possible.’