Odessa Strikes

by Bobby Akart

  Bear was all business. No jokes about spiderman. Nothing about cat burglars. His response reflected the tension surrounding the assault on Castle Bariloche.

  “Roger. Out.”

  Gunner turned to Cam and gestured toward the wall. “Ladies first.”

  Cam powered on her PVAC and reached overhead to place her right hand on the wall. The suction cups on the palm of the glove and four of her fingers, except the middle finger, immediately grabbed the wall. The middle finger of each hand had controls within the tip that sent wireless signals to the left and right suction devices. Training and practice by the two operatives led to being proficient in toggling between right hand release or grip, and right knee release or grip.

  At first, it was slow going, as Gunner and Cam had to remind themselves how to crawl. Just as a baby learns to reach one arm forward and bring the opposite knee forward next, the pair of climbers had to focus on their commands to release and grip in the proper order.

  After fifteen feet of their slow ascent during this refresher course, the two got the hang of it, resulting in a friendly competition between the two operatives, who’d been one-upping each other since they were kids. Cam had always been determined to show Gunner she could hang with the boys, as her mother always said. What she lacked in strength, she made up for with catlike quickness and coordination. It was their penchant for playing outdoors and spending time in a variety of environments that led them to being part of a team completely attuned to one another.

  Dressed in black, with the only ambient light from the crescent moon now obscured by cloud cover, they made quick work of their ascent. There was only one time when Gunner thought he’d seen the silhouette of a guard pass along the corridor above them. He paused to pull his weapon, but the man never looked over the side of the wall. It was doubtful they’d ever expect an assault from the southwest face of the castle.

  They were wrong.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Castle Bariloche

  Argentina

  Gunner took the lead, easing his head and shoulders atop the outer corridor. There was no exterior lighting outside the castle, so he had to rely on movements of shadows and sound. He reached over the ledge and hoisted his body over it. Cam dutifully waited until he gave her the all-clear signal. It took Gunner less than twenty seconds to remove his PVAC and ready the silenced automatic weapon slung over his shoulder.

  The southeast-facing wall of the structure was approximately a hundred yards wide. In the darkness, it was near impossible to see to the two corners with the naked eye. He raised his rifle and used the night-vision scope to illuminate the corridor. It was clear for the moment.

  Gunner reached over the wall and slapped it twice and motioned for Cam to join him. He dropped to a knee and trained his scope on the turret towers at each corner, looking for security cameras. He was surprised not to see any. He was beginning to wonder if the occupants of the castle considered it to be so impenetrable that they chose not to institute the types of security protocols found at Knight’s offices in Austria.

  “Which way?” asked Cam as she moved next to Gunner. She’d pushed their PVACs into an alcove inset in the castle’s wall.

  Before Gunner could answer, he heard the sound of a helicopter’s engine starting, followed by the rotors whipping into a frenzy. Without a word, he began running toward the west of the castle. All he knew of the grounds was that the eastern side was heavily wooded and was adjoined by a steep drop toward the waterfalls.

  Just as Gunner rounded the corner, he ran head-on into a security guard dressed in all black. The man was standing with his back to Gunner, observing the chopper lift off. The collision sent the smaller man flying forward, and the impact on the stone corridor dislodged his weapon from his grip.

  Gunner had lost his balance, but Cam was ready to deal with the stunned guard. In one deft motion, she shouldered her rifle, pulled her knife, and pounced on the man’s back. He made a fruitless attempt to roll over. It was too late, and Cam plunged the blade deep into his throat and twisted it before he could scream. As blood gurgled from his still-breathing body, she finished the kill.

  Gunner moved ahead to get into position to view the clearing near the castle’s entrance. The helicopter pad was partially obscured by tall pine trees that blocked any attempt to get an accurate, clean shot at the pilot or its occupants.

  He and Cam raced toward the towering entrance marked by an arched, cathedral-like stone wall. The helicopter lifted into the air and began its turn to head northward. Gunner and Cam both arrived on the corridor above the entryway at the same time. They immediately unleashed a barrage of bullets toward the chopper.

  Although their silenced weapons barely emitted a spit as they fired, the bullets themselves ricocheted off the skids and the sides of the chopper as it began to speed away. Each of the operatives emptied a thirty-round magazine. Before they could insert a full one, the chopper was racing off into the night.

  Suddenly, gunshots rang out, sending bullets over their heads and ripping into the granite façade of the castle. Gunner and Cam dropped to a knee, using the half wall for cover.

  “I still haven’t seen a way to get in,” she whispered as her head swung back and forth, looking for a target.

  “Let’s go around to the other side,” he said as he slapped her shoulder.

  Cam led the way, moving quickly at a low crouch and allowing her night scope to illuminate the walkway. Gunner walked backwards, matching her pace while watching their backs. When she reached the corner, she stopped. She fell to one knee, turned her body sideways, and eased her rifle around the corner to see if she would draw any fire.

  Nothing happened. This time, she looked through her scope and peered around the corner. Her body was low, barely three feet off the granite surface. She waited and then slowly rose to her feet, never taking her eye off the long walkway.

  “Moving,” she whispered as she disappeared around the edge.

  “Move,” said Gunner. He backed over to the corner, glanced down the walkway, and then joined his partner, continuing to watch both forward and backward.

  The sound of Cam’s rifle spitting out several rounds grabbed his attention. Two men dressed in black pants and sweaters emerged from a small alcove on the side of the castle. The moment they revealed themselves, Cam fired without hesitation, killing them both.

  She kept her rifle trained on the opening and walked quickly, heel to toe, minimizing the sounds she made in the incredibly quiet evening.

  “Three kills.” She spoke into the comms for the first time.

  “Two out here,” reported Bear before adding, “The Den has eyes on the chopper.”

  “Good,” said Gunner as he slipped past Cam to the other side of the alcove. “Going in now. Happy hunting.”

  Bear let out a laugh as he responded, “Roger that. Out.”

  “I expected a bigger security force,” said Cam.

  “Me too, but think about it. Why would they? This place has existed for over eighty years and has never been compromised. They may rotate a dozen guys or so. We killed two on the water, three just now, and Bear’s bagged two more.”

  “That might explain the chopper,” she added.

  “They bugged out.”

  Cam nodded and took the lead, walking past the heavy wooden door through the two-foot-thick exterior walls until she entered a small room. She swung left, and Gunner, who was on her heels, swung to the right. The empty space resembled a break room complete with tables, chairs, and a small kitchenette. It was barely lit by the illumination from the appliances’ LED readouts.

  They moved toward the single door leading into the castle. Gunner reached for the knob as Cam dropped to a knee to lower her profile. The door creaked open, and the orangish glow of a cavernous room greeted them. The walkway outside the break room was surrounded by a concrete railing sitting atop carved-wood spindles. A musty, old smell filled their nostrils together with the sounds of a crackling fire.

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nbsp; Keeping their bodies low and pressed against the walls, they eased out onto the walkway that formed a balcony overlooking the grand hall of Castle Bariloche. Cam was the first to notice the adornments.

  “You’ve got to be freakin’ kidding me,” she whispered.

  The open hall extended two stories below their position and one story up to a ceiling supported by massive wood beams. The glow of the fire and the gas lanterns built into the walls caused the shadows to dance as if a hundred spirits were enjoying a concert led by the ghost of German composer Richard Wagner himself.

  But it was what hung from the ceiling that stunned the two operatives. Two red flags, each three stories tall, were suspended from the ceiling. They were crimson with a large white circle in the center. Each held a black swastika in the center of the circle.

  As Gunner’s shock wore off, he became hyperaware of his surroundings. The air was dank and the castle deathly quiet except for the fire. There was no sound coming from the forced air of a heating system or the steady hum of electronics running. The castle appeared to be devoid of life.

  “It’s too quiet,” he whispered. “This place is not empty. I can feel them.”

  “There’s no security system unless they’re using micro cams,” she added.

  “They never thought they’d need it.”

  Cam’s eyes darted around the grand hall and continued to take in the massive Nazi banners. “Let’s flush ’em out.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Castle Bariloche

  Argentina

  The two operatives moved along the walkway overlooking the massive Nazi banners. Using the pillars holding up the ceiling and dim light for cover, they made their way to the wide winding staircase that connected the three-story grand hall. The stairwell lent the appearance of a severed nautilus shell from above as it descended deeper below the main floor of the castle.

  Slowly, one quiet step at a time, the two moved down the stairwell. There was a similar winding staircase on the opposite end of the grand hall that rose upward into a tower. Gunner and Cam pointed their rifles in all directions in search of any moving target. As they did, they observed the Nazi paraphernalia that decorated the entire space. It was if they’d been transported back to the early 1940s.

  Gunner stepped onto the marble floor first. An air pocket in one of the logs burning in the fireplace shot sparks into the room.

  Crack! Crack!

  The sharp crackle sounded like a tree branch splitting in two.

  He snapped his weapon tight into his shoulder and swung toward the sound. As he did, gunfire opened up from the top level of the grand hall. Bullets ricocheted off the marble floor and skipped across the floor near their feet.

  Gunner flung himself out of the way in an attempt to evade the bullets. He rolled over twice along the marble floor until he landed hard against the wall. He rose to his feet and was joined by Cam.

  The two operatives raced around the spiral staircase in search of cover. Automatic gunfire rained down on them from above, splitting the wood spindles on the staircase while chipping away at the concrete banister rails.

  Gunner and Cam stood with their backs pressed against the wall beneath the staircase. Running feet slamming the marble floor grabbed their attention. Some were coming up the stairs from below while others appeared to be on the marble floor in the grand hall.

  Gunner motioned for Cam to move to a position on her left, and he’d take the right side. They nodded to one another and revealed themselves, squeezing the trigger of their silenced weapons until they found their mark. The chests of the two men racing toward them across the marble floor exploded in a torrent of bullets. One man crashed into a bronze bust of Adolf Hitler, sending it crashing to the floor. The other spun wildly in a circle before face-planting onto a sofa.

  The two operatives wasted no time getting in position to intercept the two guards rushing up the stairs. They timed their appearance at the top of the stairwell perfectly. As the two security personnel were only a few steps away, they were greeted with a barrage of bullets that sent them flying backwards down the stairs until they rolled to a stop.

  Once again, other than Gunner’s and Cam’s heavy breathing from the adrenaline-filled shoot-out, the grand hall was completely silent. Walking sideways, back-to-back, they confirmed their kills in the center of the room. The barrels of their rifles swung from side to side and up and down in search of hostiles.

  They were becoming increasingly comfortable and decided to search some of the rooms connected to the grand hall. First a library and then a dining room were discovered. Both were vacant and the lights were turned off. They made their way toward the red-carpeted stairway that led up into the tower on the north side of the castle.

  Adjacent to the stairway, a large wooden door was slightly ajar, and a flickering light could be seen emanating through the crack. Gunner tapped Cam on the shoulder, and the two separated to flank the doorway. After they were in position, Gunner held his rifle with one hand and kept it pointed forward. He slowly pushed the door open until it revealed a single occupant, an older man sitting in front of the fire, sipping a glass of brandy, with his back to the door.

  “Don’t move!” Gunner ordered as he entered the room.

  Cam moved swiftly to the left to ensure there weren’t any armed guards hiding behind the desk centered in the room.

  “Clear,” she said calmly.

  The man never turned around to acknowledge Gunner and Cam’s presence. He was fully clothed in wool slacks and a turtleneck sweater. It was his customary form of dress although not for the wee hours of the morning. The half-empty crystal decanter of brandy indicated he’d consumed several glasses as he sat alone.

  “My name is Henry Gruber,” he began without emotion in his voice. “I suspect this will be my last day alive. It has been a life I’ve enjoyed without regret.”

  “Who left in the helicopter?” asked Gunner.

  Henry didn’t answer, but he casually waved his right hand with a shrug as if to ask what difference does it make?

  He responded to Gunner, “I know of you and what you have been doing. Your search ends here.”

  Gunner kept his rifle pointed at Henry as he walked toward the bookcases flanking the fireplace. He nodded to Cam to keep an eye on the door.

  Gunner sensed the older man wished to relieve his conscience of his burdens before his death. He tried to pry the truth out of him by striking up a conversation.

  “Why don’t you tell me what it is I’ve been looking for?”

  Henry glanced up at a pendulum wall clock before taking another sip of brandy. It was just after four in the morning.

  “The last Nazi. That is who I am. The grandson of Reichsführer of the Schutzstaffel Heinrich Himmler.”

  “I doubt you’re the last,” growled Gunner. He didn’t like being toyed with, but he managed to remain patient. “Who left in the helicopter earlier?”

  “They’re not who you seek. Everything you seek is here, in Castle Bariloche, in this room and at your feet.”

  The clock ticked closer toward five. Bear whispered into their comms, “Clear outside.”

  Cam stepped into the grand hall and looked for any signs of life. The fire was burning out and the room grew darker. She replied to Bear, instructing him to bring the car to the entrance. She suspected it would take at least thirty minutes for him to arrive, more than enough time to interrogate the old man and search the castle for intel.

  “What are you planning?” Gunner pressed.

  “My life is over. You have seen to that. I have fulfilled my obligation to the Reich by bringing us one step closer to a triumphant return. We have risen from the ashes, just as my grandfather envisioned.”

  “No, Gruber. You’re going to live the rest of your life in a concrete and steel jail cell. I’m tired of fooling with you. On your feet.”

  Henry began to laugh. It was a sincere, throaty laugh that sent chills up Gunner’s spine. It had an element of evil that
he couldn’t quite understand, yet.

  The old man reached over to the side table to take the final sip of his brandy. Instead, his fingers nudged the glass to the side, and he picked up a clear capsule containing white powder.

  “Nooo!” yelled Gunner as he lunged for the old man, but it was too late.

  Henry Gruber shoved the cyanide capsule into his mouth and bit down on it until it burst, spreading the deadly poison into his body as he swallowed hard.

  Within seconds, the head of die Zwölf had died in the same manner as so many of his Nazi predecessors.

  Chapter Forty

  Castle Bariloche

  Argentina

  “Dammit, Cam! I should’ve seen it coming. He was too calm.” Gunner roamed through Henry’s study, running his hands through his sweaty hair. He’d finally taken off the black balaclava. As he strode back and forth berating himself, Cam walked up to the pendulum clock.

  Cam said, “He knew he was gonna die. Obviously, it was planned to be at his own hand. However, I noticed him do something while he spoke to you.”

  Gunner stopped and turned to address Cam, who stood in front of the clock. “What was it?”

  “Maybe it was habit, or maybe he was concerned about time? Regardless, he took a long look at the clock.”

  It was now a quarter ’til five.

  “Like something was going to happen?” asked Gunner.

  “Yeah. Didn’t you get the sense he was stalling as long as he could?”

  Gunner looked around the study. “He definitely was talking nonsense. He was prepared to die, which is why he had the cyanide pill.”

  “I think he wanted to make sure he was waiting for the right time,” said Cam. Then her voice showed her concern. “Gunner, we need to get out of here.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve got a feeling.”

  Gunner shoved Henry and his chair out of the way and looked beneath. He suspected an explosive had been planted in the room.