The Secret Crown paj-6

by Chris Kuzneski

  ‘I can respect that. It doesn’t mean I like it, but I can respect it.’

  ‘So,’ Jones said, ‘about that favour of mine …’

  Raskin cracked his knuckles. ‘Fire away.’

  ‘I’m staring at a receipt from 1886. I was hoping you could tell me a little bit more about the store itself. What business they were in and so on.’

  ‘What country?’

  ‘Germany.’

  Raskin opened a database on one of his screens. ‘What city?’

  ‘Munich.’

  ‘Munich,’ he mumbled as he dragged a chunk of data from one screen to another with his mouse. ‘Please tell me you have a name or address. Otherwise, this is going to take a while.’

  ‘Actually I have both. The store was called Hauser and Sons, and it was located on a road called Briennerstrasse. It’s the oldest road in Munich.’

  ‘Whoop-dee-fuckin’-doo. The age of the road doesn’t help at all. But do you know what would help? If you could spell that for me. That would help a bunch.’

  Jones laughed and spelled Briennerstrasse. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Just give me silence, so I can do my thing.’

  The sound of typing filled the line for several seconds. Every once in a while, Raskin would curse at one of his databases, but it was usually followed by some sort of taunt that let the computer know who owned its ass. To Jones, it was like a progress bar on a computer screen. When the taunts increased, it meant Raskin was getting closer to the end.

  ‘So,’ Raskin eventually said, ‘do you want the good news or the bad news? Because I have a little bit of both.’

  ‘No games. Just tell me.’

  ‘Hauser and Sons was a family-owned jewellery store that opened in 1845. It stayed open until 1933 when the National Socialists – i.e. the fucking Nazis – took control of Germany. After that, the city of Munich changed dramatically. As you know, the Allies bombed the shit out of the city during World War Two. I’m talking seventy-plus air raids, not to mention a ground assault. By the time we took control of Munich in 1945, the city was mostly rubble.’

  Jones cursed under his breath. He had been confident the receipt would lead them to Camelot. Now he’d have to go down below and admit his mistake to everyone. ‘What about the Hausers? Are any of them still around? Maybe I can-’

  ‘Hold up! I’m not done. The best part is yet to come.’

  ‘Sorry, my bad. Please continue.’

  Raskin collected his thoughts. ‘As usual, our government felt guilty about blowing up a city, so Uncle Sam rebuilt Munich with American tax dollars. Which, on a personal note, didn’t sit well with my grandparents since they were Jewish. Seriously, do you know how many holiday meals were ruined by stories about the past?’

  Jones smiled. ‘You’re Jewish, I’m black, let’s move on.’

  ‘Anyway, it didn’t take long for Munich to start thriving again. In 1955 Hauser and Sons opened a new store at a new location, which is still open today.’

  ‘Please tell me you’re serious.’

  ‘Of course I’m serious. I just sent the address to your phone.’

  ‘That’s awesome! I can’t wait to rub this in Jon’s face.’

  ‘Wait. So you two really are fighting?’

  ‘Not fighting. Just competing, like we always do.’

  Raskin smiled. ‘In that case, I gotta ask: is he pissed at me?’

  ‘At you? Why would he be pissed at you?’

  ‘Because of his ringtone.’

  Jones burst out laughing. ‘You changed his ringtone?’

  ‘Of course I changed his ringtone. Twelve times on three different phones. You’re telling me he still hasn’t figured it out?’

  ‘Nope. He’s clueless.’

  Raskin grunted in frustration. ‘I have to admit, I’m kind of insulted by his confusion. Who else does he know who could pull a hack like that?’

  ‘Actually, he thinks it was me. Well, at least he did until yesterday.’

  ‘What happened yesterday?’

  ‘I was flying a chopper when you switched his ringtone to “Little Bunny Foo Foo”, so he knows I couldn’t have done it. Great song, by the way. It totally pissed him off.’

  Raskin grinned in triumph. ‘Speaking of which, the next time you take Petr Ulster’s chopper, you really should get permission.’

  ‘Permission? What are you talking about?’

  Raskin groaned at his mistake. He didn’t want Jones to know too much about his cyber-stalking, for fear it would upset him. ‘To change Jon’s ringtone, I’ve been forced to track his phone. Because of that, I know you guys spent the night at the Ulster Archives.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I was bored, so I ran a search on Petr’s latest projects. You know, just to see if he was working on anything exciting.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And I noticed his personal chopper had been reported stolen.’

  ‘When?’ Jones demanded.

  ‘About an hour ago.’

  ‘By whom?’

  Raskin quickly pulled up the information. ‘No name on the report, but it was filed by the Bavarian State Police in Munich. They’re tracking the beacon as we speak.’

  ‘Son of a bitch! Can you stop it?’

  ‘Of course I can stop it.’

  ‘Then stop it! Immediately!‘

  Raskin typed furiously for the next several seconds. This time, there was very little cursing. ‘Okay … done! The beacon is toast.’

  ‘Thanks, man, I appreciate it. I really do. But I gotta go.’

  ‘Why? I told you, I stopped the beacon.’

  Jones opened the secret hatch. ‘I know you did, but we’ve been sitting still for the last hour. Whoever was tracking us knows where we are.’

  67

  Using the camera feature on his phone, Payne started taking pictures of the artwork and blueprints that hung from the walls. He knew from experience that missions, particularly those in uncharted territories, were prone to interruptions, so he compiled as much documentation as he could while he still had the chance.

  His foresight proved invaluable when he heard the sound of footsteps in the tunnel. Worried, he pulled his weapon and headed for the door. ‘Be quiet. Someone’s coming.’

  Ulster dismissed the warning. ‘It’s probably David.’

  Payne listened closer. ‘Then why is he running?’

  Heidi and Ulster immediately tensed and looked to Payne for further instructions. Unfortunately, he didn’t have many options. They were in a windowless room with only one exit, which led to a concrete tunnel with no protection. The best they could do was stay put and hope for the best. With that in mind, Payne swung the door until it was nearly closed. The gap was just wide enough to keep an eye on the hallway.

  Then he pointed at the desk. ‘Turn off your lights and stay low.’

  They quickly followed his orders.

  As the footsteps got louder and louder, Payne calmly aimed his Sig Sauer into the hallway. For the next few seconds, shot discipline would be essential. The only way he would fire was if he saw men with automatic weapons or explosives. Otherwise, violence wasn’t warranted. Still, it was wise to take the necessary precautions. In the darkness behind him, Heidi and Ulster crouched near the floor, the two of them huddling together for support. Hearts pounding, palms sweating, they prayed the noise in the hallway was Jones and there wasn’t an actual threat.

  Only half of their prayers were answered.

  ‘Jon!’ Jones called as he ran towards the room.

  Payne recognized his voice. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Someone tracked Petr’s chopper. We gotta go!’

  If anyone else had sounded the warning, Payne would have asked for additional information before he gave the order to abandon the site. But he trusted Jones far too much to question his judgement. ‘You heard the man. Let’s go!’

  Heidi stood up and started to complain. ‘We’re leaving? Why are-’

  ‘Now!’ Payne growl
ed. ‘Or you’re on your own.’

  She looked to Ulster for support. ‘Petr? It’s your helicop-’

  Ulster, like a father quieting his child, put his fingertip on her lips. ‘Hush, my dear. It’s time to go. Not another word.’

  Heidi wasn’t happy, but she scurried out the door.

  Payne fought the urge to smile. ‘Follow DJ. He’s got the lead.’

  Ulster glanced around the room one last time, disappointment etched on his face. There was so much more he wanted to learn about Ludwig and his final years as king. Ulster hoped he would have a chance to return someday soon to finish his historical research. If not, he would always be filled with regret. ‘Will you be locking the door?’

  Payne nodded. ‘I’ll even let you hold the key.’

  Ulster thanked him, then lumbered towards the others.

  Meanwhile, Jones was already approaching the vertical shaft that led to the fake stalagmite. Although the deep water of the Venus Grotto would temporarily slow them down, he realized it was the fastest route to the chopper. Plus, he wanted to grab their personal belongings and the map, which had been stashed by the control panel, before they left the castle grounds. No sense in giving anyone else a head start in finding them or Ludwig’s secret room.

  Jones waited for Heidi’s arrival before he climbed the ladder. When he reached the top, he made sure they were safe, then signalled for her to join him. One by one, they popped out of the stalagmite and jumped into the Grotta Azzurra. As usual, Payne was the last one out. He made certain the hatch was secure while the others headed for the shore. According to his watch, it was already past ten. That meant the Linderhof gates were officially open. An influx of tourists would make things messy, especially if gun play was involved. Payne hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but he didn’t know what they were facing since he hadn’t been fully briefed.

  Less than a minute later, they were gathering their things and rushing towards the door. As an ex-employee, Heidi knew where supplies were stored in the bowels of the grotto. To protect the map and the black swan envelope, she placed them in a clean plastic bag and handed it to Ulster – not to avoid the responsibility, but because she assumed she would be driving the golf cart back to the chopper. Nevertheless, Ulster thanked her for the sign of respect.

  ‘Okay,’ Jones said as he hustled towards the secret entrance, ‘keep your eyes open. If you see anything suspicious, call it out. Understood?’

  Soaking wet, they nodded in agreement.

  Jones continued. ‘I’m out of the door first. Stay here until I give the all clear.’

  With gun in hand, Jones cranked the handle that held the door in place. There was a soft click followed by a loud rumble as the giant boulder turned on its centre axis. Jones knew exactly what to expect this time, yet he couldn’t help but smile. It really was a cool special effect, the type of thing that was commonly used in movies but rarely seen in real life. The fact that it was over a hundred years old made it even cooler.

  When the boulder stopped moving, Jones peeked through the resulting fissure. He hoped to see their golf cart and a deserted path. Instead, he was greeted by a four-man hit squad. They were armed with semi-automatic pistols and sound suppressors. Ordered by Mueller to follow the chopper’s beacon, the squad would have entered the grotto a lot sooner had they been able to figure out the secret door; now that was no longer an issue. They were standing in a semi-circle in front of the opening, all of them poised to shoot.

  Schultz, the lead goon, stepped forward. ‘Raise your hands!’

  Jones cursed under his breath. He was severely out gunned, and he knew it. Even if he killed their leader, the other three would mow him down in less than a second. Things would have been different if he had been alone. He would have bolted back inside the grotto in the hope of losing the goons in the darkness, but he couldn’t risk it with Heidi and Ulster standing behind him. Without instructions, they wouldn’t know what to do or where to go. So Jones decided to stand his ground as long as possible, hoping to give Payne a chance to hide them inside.

  To buy some time, Jones replied in Spanish. ‘No hablo Ingles.‘

  Unfortunately, Schultz spoke Espanol a lot better than Jones did. ‘!Levante sus manos!!Deje su arma!‘

  Jones grimaced. His tactic had backfired. So he decided to switch to Russian. He had learned some on a recent trip to Saint Petersburg. ‘

  .’

  Schultz wasn’t stupid. He had been willing to give Jones the benefit of the doubt with Spanish, but he knew damn well Jones wasn’t Russian. ‘Stop stalling. I know you and your friends can speak English. Your pilot told us that and more.’

  Jones glanced over Schultz’s shoulder and spotted Baptiste in the back of the golf cart. His hands were tied, and his face was bloodied. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I want you to raise your hands and drop your gun.’

  To buy more time, Jones decided to press his luck. ‘Are you sure about that? Because if I raise my hands first, I’m liable to drop my gun on my head. And between you and me, scalp wounds are rather messy.’

  Schultz smiled, then calmly pulled his trigger. A silenced round whizzed past Jones’ ear and burrowed into the rocky mound behind him. ‘So are bullet holes.’

  Jones quickly dropped his gun. ‘Good point.’

  ‘Now take three steps forward, then kneel.’

  ‘Big steps or baby steps?’

  Schultz didn’t answer. He simply readjusted his aim. His new target was a spot between Jones’s eyes. From close range, it would be tough to miss. With Schultz’s patience wearing thin, Jones decided to follow his orders. As things stood, he had already bought Payne more than enough time to hide their friends in the grotto and to plan an attack.

  If the goons went inside, Payne would kill them.

  If they didn’t, Payne would escape through the tunnel.

  Either way, Jones had done his duty.

  The rest would be up to Payne.

  68

  Payne refused to take any chances with Heidi and Ulster. Instead of stashing them in the darkness of the grotto, he ordered them to hide in the secret tunnel. He knew the concrete would protect them from gun fire, and in a worst-case scenario, they could exit through the fake tree stump and escape through the castle grounds. Surprisingly, neither of them complained. They jumped in the water and swam towards the Grotta Azzurra where they would enter the stalagmite.

  Meanwhile, Payne eyed his surroundings and planned his assault. Unless the goons had recently toured the Linderhof, he knew he had the tactical advantage inside the grotto. Thanks to the man-made cavern and the special effects, it would be like fighting a war in an amusement park. To tilt the terrain in his favour, he hustled to the control panel and turned on the waterfall. Within seconds, water gushed from its spout and splashed into the lake. Next he turned on the wave machine and turned off the underwater lights. Suddenly the dark water resembled an angry sea, its waves crashing against Ludwig’s boat and the nearby path.

  Payne smiled at the sight. Back in the Special Forces, he had spent many nights in similar conditions, sneaking onto foreign shores and taking out targets. He had enjoyed it then, and he would enjoy it now. About the only thing missing was Jones by his side. And yet, somehow Payne knew that his best friend was fine and that they were still working in unison.

  Jones would lure them in, and Payne would take them out.

  Just like old times.

  Near the bottom of the control panel, Payne spotted a large dial that looked like the volume control on a stereo. Hoping to limit his opponent’s communication, Payne turned the knob. Instantly the soaring vocals of Richard Wagner’s Tannhauser, one of Ludwig’s favourite operas, filled the grotto. Payne grinned and cranked the volume even louder. In a confined space, the music and the darkness would conceal his movement until he was ready to strike.

  Now all he had to do was wait.

  The goons entered the grotto completely unprepared. No flashlights. No maps. No advanced su
rveillance. They just stormed into the darkness en masse, a cluster of three soldiers on a well-lit path. Apparently they hadn’t been briefed on the shootout in the gorge; otherwise they would have thought long and hard about a frontal assault against a highly skilled soldier.

  Of course, that was the problem with most goons. They weren’t trained to think.

  Payne crouched in the dark lake, allowing his body to rise and fall with the surging tide. He was close enough to the path to be accurate, but far enough away to be unseen – until his muzzle flash lit up the cavern like a lightning bolt. If he’d had more time to work with, he would have picked them off silently, using his bare hands and his blade. Unfortunately, Jones was in immediate danger, so the clock was ticking.

  He was forced to make his move now.

  For Payne, the first shot would be the easiest. He raised his Sig Sauer above the waterline and aimed at the lead goon’s throat. Because of the undulating waves, Payne knew his aim might be affected vertically. If he shot high, he would hit the face. If he shot low, he would hit the chest. If his aim was true, he would hit the jugular. No matter what, the goon would go down. After that, Payne would have to swing his weapon to the right and get off two more shots before the last goon spotted Payne’s position in the water. If that happened, things would get interesting.

  The blaring music masked the blast as Payne pulled his trigger. The bullet caught the lead goon under his chin and killed him instantly. He collapsed on the narrow path, effectively blocking the two men behind him. Payne wasted no time and fired at the second goon. The rising water pushed his aim high, but not high enough for the guy to survive.

  Just like that, there was one goon left.

  His name was Faust, and he was smarter than the others.

  He quickly fired a shot towards Payne’s muzzle flash, then jumped into the dark lake even though he wasn’t a good swimmer. For Faust, it had been a spur of the moment decision, one that helped him survive since the lit path had been a shooting gallery and his team had been the targets. Another moment and he would have been killed like his colleagues.