by Trevor Scott
She patted the bed. “Better get some rest. Could be a long night.”
●
The small plane flew over the peaks of the Austrian Alps, Franz Martini in a seat just behind the pilot, his eyes on the snowy mountains below, and his assistant, Jack Donicht, sat in the seat next to his boss, trying his best to keep down his lunch. He hated to fly, and only Martini’s order had made him come along.
“What’s the matter, Jack?” Martini said, his gaze now on his assistant. “Having a schnitzel attack?”
Donicht’s eyes were closed. “You could say that. And why couldn’t we drive?”
Martini plopped his head toward the outside. “The roads are terrible. Besides, we want to make sure Conrad doesn’t decide to take off back to Germany before we get a chance to talk with him. I’m sure he had something to do with the murder.” He was thinking about the Interpol liaison, but at the same time wondering about Anna Schult. He was sure that man’s murder had something to do with Gustav Albrecht’s kidnapping and the Teutonic Order. Same with the triple murder at the Donau Bar. They were all connected, and he knew it. He only questioned the motive. Why? A simple question that wouldn’t go away.
24
Herr Doctor Wilhelm Altenstein had spent most of the day locked in his room, trying his best not to interact with the other men. They were animals, he was sure. Crude and unrefined. He had no idea what Hermann Conrad had in common with any of the men. And Altenstein had only come across the woman one time. She was beautiful and seemed somehow familiar. He couldn’t remember why he thought that, though.
When it came time for the grand dinner in the great hall on the first floor, he was more than a little apprehensive. After all, what could he say to these men that would do anything to further the examination of nanotechnology and its wonderful applications? These knuckle-draggers were no more likely to understand his work than a family of monkeys.
It was with that apprehension that Altenstein descended the stairs and entered the great hall—all of the men were in place along a huge table, but something had changed. They were all dressed in fine suits, the table made up with expensive China and more forks than even Altenstein knew what to do with, his angst shifting from his presentation to his own inadequate social training.
He thought about his own off-the-rack tweed suit, the leather elbows worn from years leaning on a lectern.
What stood out in the room was a man in a rumpled suit sitting at a table by himself, like a child would at a grown-up meal.
At the head of the main table was Hermann Conrad, impeccable in a gray Armani suit with a blood-red silk tie. To his right side was the woman, in a matching red dress with spaghetti straps trying to hold back the tide of her breasts flowing toward freedom. There was only one chair open, the one to Conrad’s left, where his benefactor nodded his head for Altenstein to go.
Reluctantly, Altenstein came around the table, all eyes on him. He was carrying his laptop, which he set on the table in front of him and plugged into the power and the projector.
“Welcome to Marienburg, Herr Doctor,” Conrad said. He rose and introduced each person at the table, starting with his girl friend and ending with the man on Altenstein’s left. Each man rose and nodded his head at the professor when named. There were men from Germany, Austria, the Czech Republic, Poland, Slovakia and Hungary. Twenty total, not including Herr Conrad, the woman and himself. Conrad also neglected to introduce the man who sat alone.
Maybe he had been too hasty judging these men. Perhaps they were financiers. Even men of distinction could act crude at conferences. He had seen this himself with professors—the most anal of people.
“Please, Herr Doctor, the presentation,” Conrad said, raising his glass of champagne and sipping.
Altenstein rose and started by introducing himself and the nature of his work. His slide presentation included a graphic 3D movie of nanotech probes moving about in a space of liquid that could represent body tissue.
“The nanoprobes attack cells based on the programming you give them,” Altenstein said. “Under the recent direction of Herr Conrad, me and my graduate assistant coded for hair color of mice and found that we could make the nanos attack either those mice without pigmentation, or those with any pigmentation.” He switched to a movie of actual nanos attacking cells. “This was shot with our digital camera attached to a nanoscope.”
Although the men seemed mesmerized by the images, Altenstein knew this could get boring to the average observer. So he added, “These little nanoprobes kicked some major cellular ass.”
The room erupted with laughter. There. Got them back.
Conrad rose from his chair and raised his glass toward Altenstein. “Gentlemen.” All of the others, with the exception of the woman, got to their feet and raised their glasses. The man in the corner table by himself stayed in his chair also. Conrad continued, “To Herr Doctor Altenstein. The greatest man in science, and a man who will go down in history with the New Order as a visionary without equal. They will be reading about you in books for years to come, Wilhelm. Prosit! Cheers!”
All of the men drank freely, finishing the champagne.
Now Conrad turned to the man in the corner and said, “What’s the matter, Herr Albrecht?”
The man in the corner looked sick but said nothing.
Conrad lowered his hands and the men sat down again. “Now,” Conrad said. “I have an update for Herr Altenstein and I hope Herr Albrecht will listen closely to this.” He paused and scanned the eyes in the room. There was great anticipation in them. “My researchers have taken Doctor Altenstein’s original theories and put them to work. We have a way now to. . .” He searched for the right words. “To move our Crusade to the next level. As you all know, having been Brothers in the Old Teutonic Order, that venerable organization has strayed from its original mandate. Whereas our Brothers in the past had done everything in their divine power to rid the world as they knew it at the time from heathen hordes and the non-believers, today’s Order is nothing more than a band aid for a gunshot wound. But now we have the power to bring back respect for the Teutonic Knights.”
Albrecht seemed to slump in his chair even more.
Conrad wet his lips with water. “The face of Europe has changed,” he said. “Turks and Arabs have taken over our cities. Sand niggers and kabob merchants. Bunch of fuckin’ smelly rag heads in their tea joints and hemp houses. Well, my friends, that will change now. We have the power to fight back. We fight back with Nanocide.”
The room burst with cheers, the men raising fists into the air and slapping hands.
Conrad settled them down and then said, “My scientists have developed a nanotech protocol that attacks the body at the cellular level, first attacking the autonomic nervous system, paralyzing the victim, and then moving on to the lungs, the heart and the brain. The victim can understand for a moment what is happening, but can’t do a damn thing about it.”
More whoops and hollering.
Altenstein’s eyes centered on the woman Conrad had called Alexandra. She looked shocked and as horrified as he felt. Then he looked across at Albrecht, the man at his own table. Tears streamed down the man’s face.
Conrad pounded on the table to get their attention again. “Now, with this new development by Herr Doctor Altenstein, we can take this nanotech protocol and specify who lives or who dies. More specifically, we can kill damn near every Arab and Turk in central Europe without collateral deaths.” He went on to describe how he would do it, targeting consumable products. If the nanoprobes were taken by anyone other than those targeted, they would simply come out in their waste without harming them. He had already purchased production facilities that would include his little nanos in key items purchased by these groups.
When Conrad had finished, Miko Krupjak stood up, raising his glass toward his boss. “We toast a man with vision. Our new Grand Master of our New Teutonic Order. Prosit!” They all drank and Conrad smiled at the gesture. Miko continued, his gaze now upon
the man at his own table, “Herr Albrecht. As we speak, the warehouse in Vienna is being raided and stripped. The contents of the Old Order’s bank accounts have been transferred to our New accounts. And a message has been sent to all of your priests telling them they are no longer affiliated with the Teutonic Order. They will have to find a new order. Perhaps the Benedictines or Jesuits.” He laughed and the others at the table joined in.
Altenstein lowered his head. What had he done? He only wanted to bring this new technology to the world to cure diseases. Maybe win the Nobel Prize. And then, most probably, get rich on his discoveries—living a life much like his benefactor, Hermann Conrad, already enjoyed. But this. He was devastated.
●
“Did you hear that?” Toni Contardo said to Kurt. “Hope you got that recorded.”
“I did,” Kurt said.
They were currently in their room at the gasthaus, about to take off to the castle when Conrad and Miko gave their speeches. One of their bugs was working. Thank God for that, she thought.
“Let’s go,” Toni said, checking her 9mm automatic and then adjusting her Kevlar body armor. They were both wearing black from top to bottom.
They got out to Toni’s car and she started toward the castle. These bastards were sick. What if they decided to go after Italians next?
Kurt turned on his headset and switched to the pre-determined channel. “I’ll try to get Jake on this,” he said. “Tell him what’s up at the castle of doom.”
●
The two of them had been in place for hours, and now Jake and Anna huddled together, a down sleeping bag wrapped around them. She was shivering and Jake tried his best to get her warm by rubbing her down.
The half moon was up now to just above the castle, lighting up the grounds around the massive structure. That would help them in one way, but hurt Jake’s approach to the castle. He would have to move now along the trees to the south and climb to the second floor on a corner drain pipe. He checked out his target window with his NVGs.
On his headset Kurt was explaining to Jake and Anna what was going on inside the castle.
“Gotcha,” Jake whispered into his mic. “You hear all of that,” he spoke softly into Anna’s ear.
She nodded but it seemed more like a shiver.
“We’ll go in a little early,” Jake said. “These people are sick bastards.”
“Our job is to get Albrecht back,” she reminded him.
“That’s changed now. But I can do both. First I’ll get Albrecht, and then I’ll help Toni and Kurt bring in the lot of them.”
She smiled and Jake kissed her on the lips.
“I need to start moving into position,” he said softly. He got out from the sleeping bag and then set the spare rifle closer to her.
He hoped she would still be able to shoot while shivering. Then he remembered that she had been able to shoot with her heart racing during Olympic competition, and he was reassured. Slowly, he stepped through the deep snow down the side of the mountain.
●
Alexandra got to the master suite in the south of the castle and paced back and forth. She couldn’t believe her own ears downstairs. Sure she had guessed that Conrad was up to something nefarious, but not this. This was much more diabolical than any sane individual could comprehend.
As she had left them there in the great hall, having lost her appetite with a headache, she could hear the men all the way back to her room laughing and joking about their grand scheme. These people were crazy. Crazy but dangerous. Two men had taken Albrecht to his room and locked him in there. Altenstein had, like her, not wanted to eat after those revelations, and retired to his room. The man looked just as shocked as she had, so she would have to help him as well.
First she changed into clothes that she could move in—black slacks and a sweater. Leather boots zipped up to just below her knee. And her leather coat, the pocket specially made on the inside left.
She went to her suitcase and found her cell phone. Hiding among her socks, she retrieved her 9mm Heckler and Koch subcompact handgun, checked the 10-round clip, and set it aside. Then she found her sound suppressor tucked inside a shoe. She took a bottle of water and added some to the silencer to cut the sound even more. Then she screwed it to the end of her gun and slid it inside her jacket.
Now she was ready.
Moving to the door, she opened it a crack and looked down the hallway. Standing on the balcony overlooking the foyer, the man named Jiri took a drink from his bottle of beer and set it on the table next to him. Then he fiddled with his Uzi.
Damn it. She needed this one alive. Looking back in her room, she thought again about her suitcase. No help there. The fireplace poker. Perfect.
She stepped out into the hallway and Jiri immediately saw her. Then she waved for him to come to her. Reluctantly, his head swiveling about, Jiri did as she said. Moving back inside the room, she waited.
When Jiri entered the room, the metal bar struck him in the back of the head and the man collapsed to the floor. Alexandra felt for a pulse. Still alive. She tied him up with cords from the drapes, shoved a nylon in his mouth, and then wrapped a cord from his mouth to his hands and down to his tied feet. He wasn’t going anywhere.
She took his Uzi in one hand and went back to the hallway. Seconds later, she had slipped into Herr Altenstein’s room and found the man on his bed, his hands over his eyes and mumbling to himself.
“Wilhelm,” she whispered loudly. “We must leave this place.”
Altenstein looked up at her, surprised. His eyes became wider when he saw the Uzi. “You? Where have I seen you before?”
“I don’t have time for this. Let’s just say I work for your government. Get your shoes and coat on and let’s move. Now.” She looked back out into the hallway as he did what she said.
Coming up the stairs was Miko. When he got to the top, he looked around, trying to find his partner Jiri. She closed the door and locked it.
●
On the south corner of the castle, Jake Adams had been able to keep away from the cameras and the motion sensors. Just outside a French door a man lit a cigarette, only steps away from Jake. With one fluid motion, Jake kicked the back of the man’s leg while simultaneously putting him in a sleeper hold. Looking closer, Jake saw it was the man who had tried to kill him in the Donau Bar. Grago struggled in Jake’s arms. Not even thinking, Jake made one quick twist of his entire body, snapping the man’s neck. His weight crumpled beneath Jake and he slowly pulled the limp body back around the corner of the castle.
Now Jake crouched against the wall next to the corner drain. He made sure his gun was secure in its holster and started climbing the pipe. Just as he reached the corner balcony, his hands on the rails, an alarm sounded. The shock made him lose his grip with one hand, and he dangled for a moment by the other arm.
Through his mic he heard heavy breathing. “Jake, I must have tripped a motion sensor.” It was Kurt coming around the front.
Jake struggled and grasped the rail with his second hand. “Time to move in then,” Jake said a little too loud.
He swung his legs over rails and a shot rang out in the still night. Then the window next to him smashed.
25
Still somewhat in shock from seeing Jake break that man’s neck, Anna had been focusing her attention on Jake hanging from the railing, when she caught movement in the snowy garden below. Then the alarm broke the silence.
Next came the shots, and she turned her gun toward the man on the snowy surface, his gun pointed toward Jake.
She didn’t hesitate. The light crack of her rifle echoed about the air and the man below dropped to the snow holding his right leg. The important thing, though, was he had dropped the rifle.
Now she watched Jake slide into the French doors. “Nice job,” she whispered into the mic. She kept her eyes open for more problems.
●
Jake found himself in the dimly lit master suite, his gun following his eyes around the room. L
aying close to the door was a man, hog-tied and blood seeping from the back of his head, a fireplace poker a few feet away. What the hell?
He spoke into the mic as he felt for a pulse. “Where are you?” The guy had a pulse.
No answer.
Suddenly, gunfire burst from the front of the castle. Then more from just down the hall from him.
“I’m inside,” Jake said. “Second floor.”
“A little busy here,” came Kurt’s reply.
Moving to the door, Jake saw a salvo of flashes from a room a few doors down, aimed at the staircase. He ran the plans for the castle through his mind and realized the shooter in the room could hold off anyone trying to come upstairs from that position. But who was it? He had a shot and an angle.
Time to help out.
Just after the next volley from the room toward the stairs, Jake waited a second for return fire and then he leveled his gun around the doorframe and shot three times at the man on the stairs. The man dropped to the steps, the gun bouncing down the marble and firing a couple of times.
Silence.
Jake yelled, “Down here.” He waved for the shooter to come to him.
A set of eyes peered from the darkness of the room down the hall. Then the door swung open and a woman in a leather jacket ran toward him carrying an Uzi, followed by a man who looked very scared.
When they got into the master suite, Jake closed the door behind them and pointed his gun at the woman.
“Who the hell are you two?”
The woman was pissed. “Who the hell are you?”
“Jake Adams. I’m here to get Gustav Albrecht. Where is he?” He opened the door and shot a couple of times.
“You’re Jake Adams,” she said with disbelief. “I thought you were taller.”
“I get that a lot. Now, who the hell are you?”
Before she could answer, the mic crackled. “Jake. I’ve got a shot on those two through the French windows.” It was Anna.
“No, Anna. Don’t shoot.”