The Napoleon Affair

by Ernest Dempsey

  He twisted his gun hand back around to deliver another round, this time into the target's chest, but Bodmer sensed the move and quickly turned sideways, snatched Sean's wrist, and jerked him toward the car.

  It was a move Sean had used a million times, or so it seemed, and unfortunately it was just as effective when wielded by the Swiss Guard commander. Sean felt his weight leave the ground, and for a brief moment he was flying.

  The flight was short and ended with a rough, abrupt landing as his middle back struck the side of the open SUV with a crunch.

  Sean felt the weapon in his hand slip as the pain surged through his body.

  Bodmer went for the killing blow. He wrenched the pistol from Sean's hand, twisting it in a way that would have broken multiple fingers had Sean's grip not already been loosened.

  Bodmer then switched the weapon around to aim the barrel at Sean, who'd fallen to the ground next to the vehicle. Just as the man pointed the gun at Sean's head, he ducked to the left and swung his elbow hard into the backside of Bodmer's hand. The muzzle popped and sent a bullet burrowing into the driver's seat. Then Sean grabbed the barrel and yanked it hard to one side, then twisted back and up.

  Bodmer's grip wasn't loose like Sean's had been, and a series of small cracks sounded amid the chaos as the man's trigger and middle fingers were broken in multiple places.

  He growled angrily, and fire filled the man's eyes as his battle energy and agonizing pain coursed through his veins.

  People continued to flood past the two fighters, oblivious to the conflict as the massive cathedral was engulfed in flames that stretched up into the sky.

  Bodmer tried to drive a knockout roundhouse punch to Sean's nose, but Sean ducked to the right and drove the silencer into his opponent's gut. Bodmer hovered over him for a moment as Sean sat on the ground with his back against the lower part of the open door. The commander's eyes narrowed slightly, a second before the muted puff sent a concussion into his stomach. It was followed by a hollow pain, then a sharp one as the man's body began to react to the bullet lodged against his spinal column.

  Sean felt warm liquid oozing onto his fingers and he quickly withdrew the weapon and wiped it on Bodmer's jacket as the man collapsed in a heap to the ground.

  The commander lay in a fetal position, clutching his gut with both hands as his life spilled out onto the pavement.

  Sean glanced around and saw that no one was paying any attention to him. Every single eye was fixed on the burning church. Sean bent down and grabbed the keys that lay next to Bodmer's head and whispered into the dying man's ear. "Your death for Jarllson's."

  Bodmer's face quivered in agony. He'd heard that a bullet wound to the stomach was one of the most painful ways to go, though he'd never administered such a death before. Now he was experiencing it for himself.

  "That's…not very Christian of you," Bodmer said.

  Sean's expression never changed. "I'm old school." He kicked Bodmer in the face, smashing the man's nose, rendering him nearly unconscious. Then Sean climbed into the SUV. He was about to start the engine when he heard someone calling his name.

  He frowned and clutched the pistol in his hand, ready for an ambush, when he noticed a familiar face wading through the throng of people.

  Adriana was making her way toward him. Tommy was right behind him, to her left, and was also coming his way.

  "Sean!" she shouted.

  He got out of the car, gave another glance at the writhing Bodmer, and then stepped over him, securing the weapon in his waistband to keep it out of sight.

  He stepped toward her and wrapped his arms around her. She looped hers around his neck and kissed him, hard, before turning her attention to the dying commander of the Swiss Guard.

  "Bodmer?" she asked.

  "He'll be dead soon. What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

  Tommy skidded to a stop next to them and then saw the body on the ground next to the SUV. "Oh jeez. I…oh wow. Okay. So, maybe we shouldn't stay right here in this spot."

  "Good idea. I'll tell you once we're in the clear."

  Sean led the other two away from what was now a crime scene and toward the sidewalk across the street.

  They turned at a coffee shop and headed deeper into the city and away from the tragic spectacle at Notre-Dame.

  Sean risked one glance back, partially because he was making sure they weren't being followed and in part because he, too, was curious about the damage to the historic church.

  What he saw was nothing short of devastating. He felt a wave of emotions pound into his chest with the force of five mules.

  The cathedral's entire roof was ablaze. A thick black cloud streamed from the top of the flames and streaked through the previously clear sky.

  Sean gasped. He actually gasped in horror.

  Tommy and Adriana shared a shocked glance and then grabbed Sean by the shoulders.

  "Come on, man. We have to get farther away."

  Sean nodded and spun around, jogging behind them. "You mean we have to get to Berthier's tomb," he corrected. "I figured it out. Bodmer, he was chattering while I was tied up, and he mentioned the name of the tomb. I guessed that was where the ring must be. I didn't get a chance to tell you, but—"

  Tommy veered right at the next street and kept moving as he interrupted. "Yes, we know." Then he slowed to a casual walk and stopped at a white sedan. He put his elbow on the roof of the car and grinned proudly.

  Even Adriana seemed confused. "What are you doing?"

  "Remember I said I needed to make a couple of calls?"

  Adriana frowned and shook her head. "Yeah, I guess."

  Sean wasn't getting any clearer on the subject. "Dude, let's go."

  "I made two calls," Tommy said, putting one hand out wide.

  "So?"

  Tommy sighed and hung his head dejectedly. "Really, guys? What does my wife do? Hello?"

  "So, you called June?" Sean asked.

  "Yes."

  "About a French tomb?"

  "Yes. No. I mean, sort of. Yes." Tommy fumbled through the words and put his elbow back on the roof of the car. "Look, I called in the cavalry."

  Sean inclined his head and then nodded. "Oh, you…" He pointed a bouncing finger at his friend. "Nice. Well played, sir." He stuck out his fist and Tommy pounded it with his own.

  "Thank you."

  "So, where is this tomb? Is it close?"

  Tommy looked less proud than the second before. "Actually, no. It's in Bavaria."

  "Bavaria?"

  "Southern Bavaria, close to the Austrian border. It's out there."

  "The town's name is Tegernsee," Adriana said. "It's south of Munich. Berthier's body was moved there in 1881. We have to assume that any relics interred with him at his original burial place would have been transferred to Tegernsee."

  "That's a big assumption," Sean said. "If someone found the ring…"

  "It's our only lead. Our best lead," she reinforced.

  Sean thought about it for several seconds then nodded. "Okay, lead the way. I've never been to this Tegernsee place before. Sounds interesting. Hopefully, June and her crew can handle Berger."

  "Oh, she'll be fine. She knows what to do." He nodded with a smug expression on his face.

  "Hey!" a new voice yelled. A blonde woman in a red dress was walking toward them with a scowl. "Get off my car!" she screamed in French.

  Tommy jolted away from the sedan and then motioned to the others with his head to start moving.

  "Wait, is that your car?" Sean asked amid the woman's incensed yelling.

  Tommy flashed a cheeky grin. "Um, no."

  42

  Tegernsee, Bavaria

  The little town of Tegernsee nestles close to Germany's southern border with Austria. Founded in the sixth century, this village had long nestled its eponymous lake in a valley teeming with ancient forests of spruce and pine, surrounded by ski slopes that wound their way down from the stratospheric peaks of the Alps.

  At
first glance, it seemed the twenty-first century—along with most everyone else—had forgotten this quiet, conservative corner of Bavaria. The only hints of modernity were the cars, the power lines, and some renovations here and there that reflected more current architectural tastes. Most of Tegernsee, however, looked much as it had more than a hundred years ago, its history pristinely preserved.

  In the winter, visitors flocked to the tiny village to enjoy the sweeping views, skiing and snowboarding, and cross-country skiing. In the summer, snow gave way to flowers, green trees and grass, and sparkling water that glistened in brilliant sunshine. Summer visitors could also find world-class hiking and climbing, or kayaking and canoeing on the lake, and the townsfolk were known throughout Central Europe for the cultural festivals they hosted in the warmer months.

  Still, despite its popularity with tourists, life remained much the same as it has always been for the fewer than four thousand locals.

  Berger looked up through the windshield at a minuscule church called the Wallbergkircherl that sat at the top of one of the mountains high above the town. People who visited the little chapel were treated to a 360-degree view of the surrounding Alps and the picturesque valley below.

  Lucien Berger stepped out of the black sedan and looked around, taking inventory of the plaza surrounding the abbey.

  The twin steeples of the Sankt Quirinus Kirche monastery rose into the sky. The beige stone walls reflected bright sunlight and made the building difficult to stare at for more than a couple of seconds.

  Berger slipped on his sunglasses, and his vision cleared.

  The Sankt Quirinus Kirche had originally been a monastery, but the abbey eventually fell under the ownership of the Bavarian dukes of Wittelsbach, a Bavarian royal family that had at one time produced two Holy Roman emperors and a king of Sweden.

  Berger was somewhat surprised, though not shocked, to learn that the building now housed both a brewery and a high school, a strange combination even for the Germans, whose drinking prowess was renowned throughout the world. He sloughed off the thought and walked across the street to the entrance.

  A café abutted the abbey. Yellow awnings stretched out over the width of the sidewalk, stopping at a small black fence that encompassed the patio dining area. People were happily eating a breakfast of deli meats, breads, crackers, and fruit while they sipped cups of coffee or cappuccino.

  Berger's men parked their cars in various places along the street and fanned out behind him, making sure they set up a perimeter to protect their leader, and to ensure every angle was covered.

  He didn't have to watch to know the men were doing their job. They were trained for this. And today was the day they'd all been preparing and waiting for, for so long.

  Berger stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the church and stopped at the entrance. He hadn't heard from Bodmer yet, which was unlike his second-in-command. The man was always prompt with his check-ins, and the fact that he hadn't bothered to call was disconcerting.

  It was no matter. That's what Berger told himself. He'd seen the reports regarding the Notre-Dame fire, watching the headlines scroll across his newsfeed with great satisfaction. They had struck a blow to the church, one that would ring down through generations.

  In truth, Bodmer and his men had done better than expected. The plan was to burn the place, but Berger wasn't entirely convinced it would go up in flames the way it had. It really couldn't have gone more according to his vision. It was a strong blow that would echo across the entire planet.

  Once the ring was in his possession, Berger would claim that the fire at Notre-Dame was an act of God, a symbolic and catastrophic gesture that change was coming to the true church and that the things of old would be swept away, just as it was foretold in the scriptures.

  He took in a deep breath of the cool mountain air, relishing how fresh it felt and smelled as it passed through his nostrils. He reached out to open the door, but it suddenly opened on its own.

  He squinted as he tried to adjust his eyes to the darkness within. A musty scent wafted over him from inside the building, and he cocked his head to the side as he took a single wary step forward.

  "That's far enough," a female voice said from the shadows.

  "What?" Berger asked, incensed. "Who are you?"

  A blonde woman with pale blue eyes and a striking creamy complexion stepped into the sunlight. She wore a black coat that ran all the way down to her ankles. Her matching boots climbed up to the top of her calves where her tight pants disappeared into the cuffs.

  "Lucien Berger. So, this is what a knight looks like. I thought you'd be…shinier, you know, with armor and all that."

  "Get out of my way, woman," he demanded.

  She pressed her lips together in a tight sarcastic smile and shook her head. "No. You're going away for the murder of Cardinal Jarllson."

  "What?"

  The man twisted his head around and saw that all nineteen of his men were being rounded up and detained by men and women in black uniforms. Some of the Kevlar vests they wore were branded Polizei. Some identified themselves as Interpol. Then there were a handful of others that had no branding whatsoever, just as the woman before him.

  Berger's blood boiled and his face burned pink before settling into a deep red. He watched as his knights were pressed against streetlamps, park benches, and unmarked police cars. They were then cuffed and loaded into vans and other vehicles. Lucien Berger watched as everything he'd built over decades evaporated instantly, right before his eyes.

  His head snapped back to the woman in front of him. "Who are you? You will pay for this."

  June's face curled into a faux pleasant grin. "I don't think so. And before you ask me how all of this was possible, you don't have to look far for the answer."

  Berger narrowed his eyes and then followed her gaze over his shoulder. There, across the street, were Sean Wyatt, his wife, and Tommy Schultz. Berger couldn't believe it. He shook his head in denial.

  "That's impossible. I saw him burn in the fire."

  "Apparently, you saw wrong. Or maybe Sean Wyatt can't die. Honestly, I'm not sure which it is."

  Sean stood on the opposite sidewalk with arms crossed and a proud smile beaming across his face. It was a condescending look, a gloating expression that only served to further anger Berger.

  He spun around to face June and lunged for her. "I will have my revenge, for the order!"

  He produced a pistol from within the folds of his jacket, whipping it around in hopes of catching the woman off guard.

  Berger had no idea who he was dealing with.

  June moved like a wraith, swift and deadly. She stepped forward and to the left so quickly that Berger barely saw more than a blur. Before he knew it, her hand was locked on to his. A sudden and horrible pain shot through his arm, radiating from his wrist as it twisted into an unnatural position. He felt the bone within straining under the force, and he knew that it would break within seconds.

  He tried to counter with his other hand, swinging a fist wildly at her, but she caught it, jerked it around behind him, kicked the back of his knees as she turned his body, and then forced him to the ground.

  Berger yelped in pain as June pushed the hand higher up his back, while at the same time wrenching the pistol from his fingers.

  "You will pay for—"

  "Okay, we're done here," she cut him off as she pressed her knee into the middle of his back and shoved him hard into the ground.

  His cheek and temple hit the concrete with a smack.

  June made quick work of the man's wrists, binding them with zip ties.

  Sean, Adriana, and Tommy watched the display from across the street with something approaching glee. Wagner stood next to them with a more reserved expression, though in his eyes there was a hint of satisfaction.

  "You sure you didn't mind putting her in that position, Schultzie?" Sean asked as they made their way across the road to the church entrance.

  Tommy guffawed. "Seriously? D
id you see what she just did to him? No contest. Besides, she's got plenty of backup."

  Adriana cast him a sidelong glance. "I'm pretty sure June could take you down too, big guy."

  Tommy's face flushed. "Yeah, sure. Okay, guys. Hilarious. Let's talk about how Tommy's wife can beat him up." His tone was goofy and deep.

  "No need to talk about it," Sean quipped. "That's like talking about how all trees are wood. No reason to overstate the obvious."

  "What? Wait."

  It was too late. They'd already reached the other side of the street, where Sean addressed Tommy's wife.

  "Hey, June! Nice work."

  June looked up from where she straddled Berger's back. She grinned and stood, extending a hand to Sean. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

  Sean shook her hand.

  Tommy threw his hands up in the air and let them slap against his hips. "Come on, guys. It was my idea to call her in the first place. How about a little credit?"

  "I loved the way you spun him around and dropped him to his knees," Adriana continued. "Good technique. You learn that with Axis or your previous job?"

  "Previous."

  "Hello?" Tommy interrupted like a five-year-old.

  "So," Sean said, crouching next to Berger's head, "it looks like you're going away for a long time, Lucien. I do hope you'll write."

  The man grunted something, but June casually placed her heel on the back of his head and pressed his face into the pavement.

  Sean chuckled and then stood up as four men in suits approached. They collected Berger and dragged him away toward one of the unmarked black cars parked along the sidewalk on the other side of the road. He didn't struggle, didn't try to get away. He didn't even shout insults. He merely hung his head dejectedly, staring at the ground, probably wondering how or when he'd screwed up and where it had all gone wrong. He was going to have quite a long time to ponder that.

  “I appreciate your help with this,” Wagner offered. “My brothers and I are truly grateful.” He turned so that each person met his gaze. “All of you.” He offered no gloating to Berger, no last words that would give Wagner superficial satisfaction. He was above that.