They rounded the navy dockyards and passed a frigate being towed into position for repairs. The harbour was empty of most of its normal traffic and they made good time. The Opera House loomed on the left, its curved shells bathed in a pink midnight glow, evening sessions ended and the crowds mostly gone.
A giant ocean liner, the Morning Princess, lay like a long angular swan at the passenger terminal along the western sea wall, its cabin windows ablaze with light. Ada felt a stab of envy for the partygoers inside. She promised herself that when tonight was over and her grandfather was safe, she would plan a sea cruise. But she would need someone to enjoy it with. Would it be Alex? She felt for the phone in her pocket. She had to send him a warning.
Twist began guiding the yacht to a mooring near a set of steps where tourist cruisers berthed during the day.
Zina got up and smiled. 'Excuse me, my dear. I must prepare myself. We have a short trip ahead. I promised to take you to see George, and I will.' She disappeared down the cabin steps.
Under the rumble of the motors and with Twist distracted by his task, Ada saw her chance. She walked quickly to the rear side of the deck away from Twist, tugged the phone from her pocket and switched it on, holding the face against her leg to hide its glow. The ten seconds before the screen came alive felt like ten minutes of agony.
She glanced quickly at Twist. Still occupied. She opened the message app, found Alex's number, typed "Zina on way" and tapped the send button, then shoved the phone back into her pocket. She turned and saw Zina standing behind her, but with her gaze directed to the sea wall as Twist manoeuvred alongside. Had she seen anything? No. Ada put her hand back into her pocket quickly and switched the phone off.
Zina turned and gazed at her, a query in her eyes. 'You seem unsteady on your feet, my dear.' She waved her arm toward a small set of steps. 'After you. Tread carefully. And please remember, I'm armed.' She lifted a Glock pistol from her jacket pocket and then replaced it. 'Mr Twist has a limousine waiting not far away.'
Ada had no desire to speak. She knew where they were headed but could think of no way out of the dilemma. Best to assume an air of defeat and let Zina think she'd won. The expectation of finally seeing her grandfather buoyed her spirits, but would it be their last meeting? Zina's actions seemed to have no logical intent except the end of all those who stood against her. Ada felt a numbness overcome her. Was she being escorted to her death?
The yacht steadied and the motors fell silent. Ada made her way cautiously up the steps and waited. The nearby Museum of Contemporary Art was releasing groups of noisy locals and tourists from a late night show onto the promenade. All Ada needed to do was to take one of strollers by the arm and ask for help, but who knew what fresh disaster that might bring? She had to play along. Was Alex even now reading her message? If so, what could he do to help her? Nothing. But the message would at least warn him, if he felt she was to be trusted. However he took the message, he would at least now be doubly alert, and that was all she could hope for.
Zina fell in beside her and Twist followed close behind. Any observer would think they were just a group of joyless companions on their way home after a dull evening. At the Pitt Street lights under the expressway, Twist skipped ahead, clicked a remote device and opened the back door of a long, silver limousine with dark windows and the Argentum logo on its side. Ada followed Zina in and sunk down into plush upholstery. She realised again how weary she was. When would she be able to sleep?
As if reading her mind, Zina took her hand in an attempt at motherly concern and leaned forward to speak. 'We have promises to keep, Mr Twist, and miles to go before we sleep. Take us to the castle.'
Ada pulled her hand away from Zina's cool grasp. 'You're not the Zina I used to know,' she said. 'I'm not impressed by your smart remarks. Just take me to my grandfather. That's the last thing I'll ever ask you for.'
'Let's allow the future to find its own path, Ada. Never say never.'
Twist chuckled and urged the powerful vehicle away from the curve and up the rise, and then swung left into Elizabeth Street. Within minutes he pulled into a no parking area beside the St James station entrance. What parking officer would object to a vehicle that carried with it such a look of authority?
Ada stepped out under Twist's hawkish gaze. He carried two workmen's orange fluoro jackets under his arm. 'Put this on,' he said, and handed her one. He slipped the other one over his own thin shoulders. Ada did as she was told and followed Zina down through the station entrance.
'Unfortunately my underground castle has no easy access,' Zina said. 'This is the least objectionable route. Another access is available at ground level by ladder. I've used it once and it's not pleasant. I have no desire to subject you to such a strenuous and dusty descent.'
'Don't expect me to thank you for your concern.'
'Have I surprised you, my dear? A brilliant hiding place, don't you think? You may be familiar with it from many years ago, in your childhood. No doubt you've forgotten. It's been so long since you were a child.'
They passed few people along the walkway. Had Alex passed this way moments before? Was he only moments behind? What thoughts were in his head? What was he feeling right now about her? She felt the beginnings of tears of frustration prick her eyes. She was so impatient to see him and to hear his voice. But she had to stay calm and alert and stop wishing she'd done things differently. What was the point? And what was her grandfather thinking right now? They would all meet before long and then she would know the answers.
Alex stood at the end of platform two and examined Ada's map. Down the metal stairway in front of him, along about thirty metres, then the first of three metal doors about twenty metres apart. They all opened into the adjoining unused tunnel. Once in there, another thirty metres, around a slight bend and there was the old command centre room used during the war years to coordinate air traffic and ships, and now empty. Except for Ada's grandfather. And who else? Someone had to be guarding the old man.
He took out his phone and switched it to vibrate mode in case Ralph rang when he was in the unused tunnel. Any sound would travel a long distance. He was about to pocket the phone when the new message icon updated. He tapped it. Ada. "Zina on way".
What the hell did that mean? And why a text message? Was she afraid to talk to him directly? Zina was on the way here? That was useful information, if it was true. He could feel the anger rising again. No time for that. He had to think clearly. If Ada knew Zina was on her way here, then Ada had to be with Zina. And if so, she was working against him. But if she was, why had she sent him a warning? None of it made sense. He couldn't be more careful than he'd already planned to be, so what advantage was the message? It could only mean that she was looking out for him. Had he been wrong about her? If she hadn't rung him directly then maybe she hadn't been able to. His head was going around. Staying calm and thinking it through wasn't working. Nothing had changed. He had to press on. As Ralph had said, George was the innocent in all this and had to be rescued. That's why he was here.
He started down the metal stairway.
'Don't do it, mate,' said a rough, slurred voice behind him.
Alex whipped round, startled. A middle-aged man, swaying slightly, reached out a pleading hand.
'You're young,' the man said, face full of concern. 'You've got your whole life to live.'
Alex understood. He took out his wallet and held up his media card. 'Just checking the rails,' he said, smiling.
The older man nodded shakily. 'Sorry mate,' he mumbled. 'Been to my kid's birthday party.' He gave a salute and ambled off.
Alex watched him go. He had to stay sharp! That could have been Tursunov who had come up behind him without warning. He was an idiot. He looked again at the man shuffling down the platform. Would he have a child one day? Maybe. Who would the mother be? Not the woman who'd lied to him! He shook his head. Why the hell was he thinking about such things?
How many minutes had he wasted? What time was that train due?
He hurried down the stairway and counted his steps along the narrow path beside the tunnel wall. At about thirty paces in the fading platform light he found the first door. He pushed hard on the handle. Locked! Or stuck. He pushed hard again. No luck. He would have to try the second door.
He felt a sudden rush of air behind him. A train was approaching the station. It would stop well behind him at the platform end but he would have to wait until it left before moving up to the next door. If the driver saw movement on the track ahead he would report it. Alex pressed himself inside the door alcove and waited for the train to move off. As its full length passed it stirred a cloud of dust that almost choked him. He cursed loudly. Nothing was working out smoothly. He pulled the torch from his rucksack, switched it on and continued along the narrow path until he reached the second door. He pressed down hard on the handle. Open! He slid through quickly and closed the door behind him.
The unused tunnel was suffused with the blue glow of low-level lighting, probably for use by occasional workmen. Alex put the torch back in his rucksack and took out his father's Colt pistol, then he moved quietly along the left wall toward a bend about thirty metres ahead. He saw several large rats scurry across the tracks and disappear into a drain. Approaching the bend he heard footsteps farther ahead on a smooth surface. The footsteps sounded unhurried, casual.
He moved closer to the turn, conscious of the sound of his own steps on the tunnel floor. About twenty metres ahead was a platform with what he assumed was the command centre room at the end nearest him. The heavy metal door to the room was shut. The blond haired Tursunov stood outside the door, his back to Alex, smoking. His upper right arm was wrapped in a heavy bandage. Alex smiled grimly. Score one for Ada. He could hear no sounds from inside the room. A metal chair was pushed up against the wall beside the door, and on the chair was a gun.
Alex moved back out of view. He had no desire for a shootout with Tursunov. This time the Russian might get lucky. He had to get the gun. He had to either wait until Tursunov went into the room or moved farther down the platform. Alex knew that once he moved quickly, the Russian would hear his steps echo along the tunnel walls.
Tursunov obliged suddenly by beginning a slow stroll down the platform away from Alex. The room was about thirty metres off, including the metal stairway up onto the platform. Alex had to wait until Tursunov was at least an equal distance away to be sure he could beat the Russian in a sprint to the chair. When he was near the chair he could force Tursunov to halt by showing him the Colt. If Tursunov beat him to it then it was a shootout, with both of them in the open, unprotected.
Alex switched his rucksack around to cover his chest and gripped the Colt tightly. Tursunov walked. Slowly. Twenty, thirty, forty metres. Alex moved. He sprinted toward the end of the platform, his shoes crunching on the gravelly surface. By the time he'd reached the metal stairway and was on the platform, Tursunov had heard him and was now charging back toward him. But Alex was nearing the chair and Tursunov was still twenty metres off. The Russian stopped, knowing he'd lost the race, and stood waiting like a cat, his eyes glinting behind red-rimmed glasses.
Alex tried the door handle. Locked. He picked up the Glock from the chair and pushed it into the back pocket of his jeans. He looked toward Tursunov, who grinned, took a key from his pocket and dangled it in front of him.
'This what you want, lying journalist?'
'Throw them to me,' Alex said.
'Or what?'
'Or I'll do to you what you tried to do to me.'
Tursunov sneered. 'Lucky boy. Your woman saved you.'
His woman? She was his then. Was she still his? And where was she now? On her way with Zina? He had to eliminate the Russian as a threat before Zina arrived with Twist and possibly others. The only way to do it was to shoot to disable. A bullet in the upper thigh aimed to miss the arteries seemed a suitable response to the man who had fully intended to kill him less than twelve hours ago. Could he do it? He had no choice. His gun club practice sessions gave him confidence that he could hit his mark. A flesh wound would require no tourniquet and he could leave Tursunov where he lay. With a wounded arm and no gun he was relatively harmless.
And then what? Take George to street level, deliver him to Ralph and then return here to await Zina? Those were the logical moves. Anything else, including calling the police, would still leave Ada in danger. Even if she was working against him he did not want to see her injured, or worse.
He raised the Colt, aimed and fired. The bullet skimmed the Russian's thigh and did no damage. So much for his practice sessions. But Tursunov was so surprised by the shot that he dropped the keys and lurched backward onto the platform surface. Alex hurried over, gun at the ready, and scooped the keys from the floor. By the time the Russian realised he was not bleeding it was too late. He'd lost. He snarled, tried to rise, then thought better of it.
Alex heard banging and a voice from behind the locked command room door. With the gun still trained on Tursunov, he walked back to the heavy metal door and unlocked it. A tall man with grey hair and a beard stared back at him in surprise.
Alex grinned at him. 'George Byron? I'm a friend of your granddaughter. We need to leave here. Quickly.'
At the platform entrance gates Ada looked about her for any sign of staff but the area seemed deserted. Twist held the turnstiles open and she followed Zina through and down onto platform two. She knew where they were headed and the memories of ten years ago came flowing back. This time she was with someone she feared, not someone she cared for. Her grandfather had no way of knowing she was nearby, determined to rescue him by any means, unless Alex had already reached him. Had he? Or was he behind? She unintentionally looked back, but all she saw was a man, clearly drunk, who grinned at her and waved her on.
She saw that Zina was watching her.
'What are you hoping to find, Ada? An angel to swoop down and carry you away? Sorry, no angels in my ancient castle. In a few minutes you can speak with your grandfather. I apologise for the discomfort I've caused him but he's been well looked after. If you hadn't stolen my code none of this would have happened. I hope you're proud of yourself, my dear. Well, our long day is almost at an end. Stay close.'
Ada chose not to answer. What would be the point? Zina's words were fanciful, her conversation almost rambling. Was Zina becoming unbalanced? No, she was weary and reading too much into Zina's words. Their long day was almost at an end? What did that mean? The words were ominous.
The platform screen showed the next train due in ten minutes. Plenty of time to reach the command centre room in the unused tunnel. She followed Zina down the metal steps and onto the track. Twist stayed close behind.
As they reached the first door Twist scuttled ahead of Zina in the semidarkness and struggled with the handle.
'It's locked, ma'am.'
'Go ahead and try the second door, Mr Twist. We'll wait here.'
Twist unclipped a small torch from his belt and switched it on. He trotted ahead, opened the second door and beckoned them on.
Ada followed Zina through and into the unused tunnel. It was just as she remembered: a musty smell and dim lighting. She saw at least two rats skitter along the rails and disappear into the darkness. Twist swore with disgust and she knew he'd seen them too. On the opposite wall was a ladder with protective supports that led up through the tunnel ceiling into the darkness. This was the engineers' ladder that she remembered from years ago that exited at ground level behind a cafe.
Around the bend ahead was the old command centre. She ached now to be with her grandfather. He'd been so much in her thoughts over the last twenty-four hours that seeing him at last would be an enormous relief. But what was to happen to them? What was Zina's plan?
A terrible thought had begun to fester at the back of her mind since she'd joined Zina on the yacht at midnight. Would Zina let them go? It was almost inconceivable that she would not, but forever after she and her grandfather would be a threat to Zina and those s
he represented. Was she planning to commit the worst crime of all against those who were almost family? Nothing had happened to suggest that she would, but Ada felt her insides turn cold. She wanted Alex beside her and to feel his warm arms around her.
Twist led the way toward the bend in the tunnel. Before the bend he stopped suddenly and held up a hand, gesturing to move backward. Ada thought she could hear voices, and she was sure she recognised them. One was her grandfather. And the other... Alex? He'd been ahead of them all along! Did he get her message? If so, he would be expecting Zina.
Twist turned to Zina, his face taut with anger.
'Byron and Marlowe are standing near the open doorway. Nikolay is lying farther down the platform. He may be wounded. Marlowe probably has his gun.'
Ada tried to edge forward to catch a view of the command centre doorway.
Zina stood in her way and laid a hand on her arm. She spoke softly. 'A fascinating development, my dear. Who would have thought it? Who revealed the location of my secret dungeon to Mr Marlowe? It can only have been you. I'm proud of you. What an impressive piece of deductive logic. Your little deceit has almost worked. Later, you must tell me how you did it. During our conversation this evening you never once gave the game away.'
'Does it matter how I knew?' said Ada. 'We're here now and you can't keep me from my grandfather. You have no choice but to give him up. You've got your code. Leave, and take your thugs with you.'
'Little Ada, how you've grown. You speak like a woman in command. But you're not in command here. I am. And I'll leave when matters are resolved to my satisfaction.'
Ada watched Zina turn away from her as if an old connection had just been severed and would never be repaired. Her throat tightened with fear.
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