“Look, I’m not trying anything on, okay?” Tom pleaded. “Someone needs to watch our backs. I’d rather it was you two, who I know I can trust.”
Viktor and Dominique exchanged a glance.
“Okay,” Dominique conceded.
“Fine.” Viktor gave a grudging shrug. “But you’ll take Grigory and the others with you. That’s the deal.”
Squatting on their haunches, their eyes expectant and alert, AKs at the ready, Viktor’s men exuded a menacing but at the same time reassuring presence.
“Done,” said Tom, grateful, in a way, to have them along.
“Let’s make sure we stay in contact.” He patted the radio in his pocket. “First sign of trouble,
you
let
us
know.”
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“The same goes for you.” Dominique’s voice was stern. “I know what you two are like. No heroics. Go and see what you can find, and then we meet back here to decide what to do.”
“Okay. And take this.” He handed over a business card. “It’s the number for the FBI agent who helped us out in St. Petersburg. If anything happens, call him. He’ll be able to get some people up here.”
After a final weapons check, Tom, Archie, and Viktor’s three men headed off, the sharp hiss of the wind slithering through the trees alongside them and occasionally coiling around their ankles. Above them the slanted curtain of snow ripped itself on the sharp branches overhead, dropping to the ground in narrow ribbons. About half a mile on, Archie gave a low whistle and pointed ahead of him. As the old man had predicted, the ruins of a cottage lay in a small clearing, its brick foundations grimy with age, poking through the snow like tree stumps blackened by fire. And next to them, disappearing into the side of the mountain, was an opening just large enough to stand up in. An opening that, judging from the large pile of earth and rubble below it, staining the snow like a pool of spilled black ink, had only recently been excavated.
“Someone’s already here,” Archie whispered, scanning the trees that encircled them. Tom edged warily across the clearing and knelt to examine the footprints leading to the entrance.
“I’d say there’s six or seven of them. No more.” With Archie at his side, he padded silently to the side of the entrance and peered in. “It’s Renwick, it must be. He’s the only other person who could have got this location from the painting. But if he’s had to dig out this lot by hand, I doubt he’s been inside very long.”
“We should radio the others,” said Archie. “Tell them what we’ve found.”
“I suppose so.” Tom didn’t sound convinced.
“Or . . . ?”
“Or
what?”
370 james twining
“Or, we could have a quick look inside ourselves. See if he’s still down there.”
“If we told them, they’d only want to come in with us,” said Tom, nodding. “You know what Dom’s like. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”
“Besides, if it is Renwick down there, I’d rather we had the bastard to ourselves.”
“I agree.” Tom clenched his jaw. “There’s five of us, seven of them. That’s not bad odds.”
“Plus, they won’t be expecting us,” Archie added.
“You’re
right.
Let’s
end
this
now.”
CHAPTER NINETY
4:56 p.m.
Where are you going?” Dominique asked Viktor, the
expression on her face mirroring her surprise. “To take a look at what is happening up there.” “But Tom said to wait here.” “Do you always do what Tom tells you?” asked Viktor
with a smile. “It depends.” “You don’t trust me, do you?” “I don’t know you.” There was a pause. Viktor appeared to be considering
what to say. “Here,” she said eventually, reaching into the leather holster strapped under her arm, “know how to use one of these?” She held out a .38.
“Yeah.” Back when she’d been living rough, a boyfriend had taught her how to handle a gun. Luckily it was a skill she’d never had to use. Until now, at least.
“It’s loaded,” Viktor said as she handed it to her. “Maybe that’ll help you trust me a bit more.” Dominique snapped the gun open, checked the barrels, then flipped it shut again. It was loaded as Viktor had promised. “It takes more than a loaded gun to make me trust someone,” Dominique observed wryly.
372 james twining
“Not in Russia.” Viktor smiled. “Now, if we stay out of sight down here in the trees and follow the side of the path, we might be able to find a place where we can take a look over the edge.”
Despite Dominique’s reservations, there was something about Viktor’s reckless energy that Dominique could not help but like. Perhaps she recognized similar traits in herself.
“Okay.” She slipped the gun into her jacket. “Let’s take a look.”
They set off, the snow thick where it had drifted, the steep embankment that led up to the path above them marked by occasional animal tracks.
The sounds of machinery grew ever louder, accompanied now by the throaty roar of at least one engine, maybe two, and the occasional shout or burst of laughter from the crew excavating the mine entrance.
“Get back,” Dominique hissed, pulling Viktor farther back into the trees as she heard someone approaching.
A man appeared above them. Visible only from the knees up, his ghostly silhouette seemed to hover in the air. He was wearing a white alpine-commando-style ski outfit, with a submachine gun slung casually over his shoulder.
Peering up at him through the branches, Dominique could just about make out the glowing ember of a cigarette in his mouth. He took a final draw on it, the tip flaring and momentarily staining his cheeks red, before plucking it from his mouth and flicking it away. The butt sailed through the air and struck the branches above where they were crouched, exploding in a firework of orange sparkles that melted into the air. A name was called and, grumbling, the man turned and floated out of sight.
They continued around the side of the mountain, keeping the edge of the path above them in sight at all times, until, the noise fading slightly, they felt that they had moved a safe distance beyond the main center of activity.
“I’ll go first,” Viktor volunteered. Digging the points of her boots into the snow and using the branches of the surrounding trees to pull herself up, she quickly scrambled her way
to
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a position from which she was able to get her head just above the edge of the path for a clear view of what was happening.
“What can you see?” Dominique called in a low voice. Viktor reached for her binoculars.
“I count . . . twenty people. About half are armed like that man we just saw. The others must be operating the machinery, judging from the way they’re dressed.”
“I’m coming up,” Dominique replied.
A few moments later, Dominique pulled herself into position at Viktor’s side. Viktor handed her the binoculars.
Some of the men were standing around in small groups, talking and smoking. Others, dressed in hard hats and thick blue jackets with reflective strips sewn onto them, seemed to be overseeing the excavation efforts, as Viktor had suggested. A large digger and a bulldozer were attacking the side of the mountain. Already they had exposed a wide tunnel, the spoil having been dumped on either side of the entrance in hulking ramparts of soil and rock. Two generators powered several lights that washed the whole scene in a yellowish sodium hue.
Suddenly a shout went up. A man raced toward the entrance and then signaled to the armed men. Though they couldn’t make out what had been said, from the way the men began to check their weapons, Viktor and Dominique had no difficulty in interpreting the signal.
“They’re nearly through,” Viktor whispered. “Get on the radio to Tom. Let him know.”
“Okay
,” said Dominique, reaching into her pocket. She depressed the call button and whispered softly, “Tom, are you there? Come in, Tom.”
There was nothing but the muffled hiss of static.
“Come in, Tom,” she called again.
Still nothing.
“He’s not answering,” she said.
“They must be out of range.”
“Not likely,” Dominique said bitterly. “These things go for miles, and we’re still all on the same side of the mountain. No, if I know Tom and Archie, they’ve probably found a way
inside
and
used
it.”
374 james twining
“In that case, we’ve got to get down there and warn them.”
“Agreed,” said Dominique. “Hold up. Who’s that?”
“Which one?”
“The man on the left. Fur hat. Next to the light. He seems to be in charge.”
Viktor took the binoculars from her and adjusted the focus. “I don’t know. I don’t recognize him.”
“What’s he doing?” Dominique squinted.
“I’m not sure,” said Viktor. The man had removed his coat and was now unfolding a white sheet that he had taken from a bag at his feet. “It looks like he’s getting changed or something.”
“Changed? Into what?”
The sheet, once unfolded, turned out to be a white coverall. The man pulled it on over his clothes, boots included, then fixed a mask and respirator over his face. Finally he pulled the hood over his head and tightened the drawstrings to form an airtight seal against his skull.
“They’re all putting them on. Look.” All the armed men were getting changed into similar outfits.
“It looks like some sort of NBC suit.”
“NBC?” Viktor frowned.
“Nuclear, Biological, Chemical—standard military issue to avoid contamination in the field.”
“Contamination!” Viktor dropped the binoculars from her face and locked eyes with Dominique. “Contamination from what? I thought we were here for the Amber Room.”
CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
5:03 p.m.
From the symmetrical tool marks that inscribed the walls, the mine looked as though it had been dug out the old-fashioned way, with picks and shovels. Large wooden frames had been positioned every fifteen feet or so to buttress the roof, age having buckled and colored them until they seemed almost to have petrified and become part of the mountain itself, gray and heavy.
Tom paused and aimed his flashlight at the ceiling where blast marks had scorched the stone. “Do you see that?” Archie nodded. “Looks like some sort of explosive was sunk in there—dynamite, probably—to collapse the roof.” “Yeah,” Tom agreed. “They certainly didn’t want anyone wandering in here by mistake.”
They carried on, the mine shaft rising at a slight angle, Tom and Archie leading, Piotr and Grigory bringing up the rear; Yuri had been posted at the tunnel entrance as a precaution. Their flashlights sliced the air jaggedly as they walked, the beams fading as they disappeared into the distance until eventually the darkness swallowed them whole. Occasionally the light would catch their breath as they exhaled, and the air would momentarily
flare
like
car
headlights
burning
through
mist.
376 james twining
Their breathing, even the rustle of their clothes, was amplified and bounced back at them off the tunnel walls, as if they were walking down the nave of some huge, silent church. Every so often their feet would crunch on frozen animal droppings or the occasional rabbit or bird carcass, presumably brought in there by a fox or some other enterprising creature.
Then, unexpectedly, a thin strip of light appeared in front of them. A strip of light that grew taller and taller as the shaft leveled out, until they could see what looked like a large rectangular yellow window set against the blackness of the tunnel.
“That must be it,” Tom whispered excitedly, flicking his light off. They edged carefully toward the light, covering the remaining fifty or so feet silently until they could see that the tunnel emerged into a large, naturally formed chamber. Tom heard Archie gasp behind him as he stepped gingerly inside.
The chamber had been lit with four battery-powered spotlights. A massive Nazi flag hung down from the roof, perhaps thirty feet long and twenty feet across. A Nazi flag with one crucial difference: the usual swastika had been replaced with the now familiar symbol of the Black Sun, its twelve jagged rays extending into the room like skeletal fingers clawing their way out of a grave.
“Christ,” Archie whispered as his eyes settled on the two objects positioned directly beneath the flag. “They’re here. They’re still bloody here.”
Tom shook his head, hardly believing what he was seeing. It was an incredible sight. Two missing freight cars from a mysterious train, hauled up an Austrian mountain and hidden deep inside it. Two hulking shapes, squat and solid and functional, like silent extras from a wartime newsreel—except this time rendered in color, rather than black and white.
“They don’t look like they’ve been opened yet,” whispered Tom, pointing excitedly at the thick iron bars that had been rammed through the hasp of each door.
“Renwick must be down here somewhere,” Archie warned. “Let’s deal with him first.”
They
slowly
made
their
way
around
the
two
cars,
pausing
the black sun 377
on the other side where another, much bigger tunnel—the one the cars had presumably come down—disappeared off into the darkness.
“That must lead to the main entrance,” Tom said. The muffled drone of an engine confirmed his suspicion.
“Look.” Archie’s gaze had settled on a tight bundle of slender tree trunks positioned against the wall by the tunnel entrance. He walked up to them and kicked the nearest one. It made a dull clang.
“Railway tracks,” Tom said, kneeling for a closer look. “And sleepers. See, they’re piled all the way down the tunnel.”
“Presumably, when the mine was active, there was some sort of spur off the main line that ran beside that path we’ve just walked up,” Archie said.
“They must have moved the cars up here, lifted the track behind them, and then collapsed the roof.”
“We should check out that tunnel,” Archie suggested. “See how long we’ve got before they break through. Make sure Renwick isn’t hiding from us down there.”
They set off down the tunnel, treading warily, guns leveled at the darkness ahead of them, the glow of the chamber receding behind them until it was a tiny window of light in the distance. But as the light receded, so the noise of the digging at the main entrance grew, until they could feel the earth shaking beneath their feet to the muffled beat of the machinery on the other side of the sheer wall of stone and earth that confronted them once they reached the end of the tunnel.
“They’ll be through any time now,” Tom called over the noise.
“Maybe that’s what scared Renwick off,” said Archie.
“Possibly,” Tom said skeptically. “Doesn’t seem like him, though—to come so close and then give up. Maybe he’s gone to get reinforcements.”
“Well, he’s not here now. And I don’t know about you, but I’d like to take a look inside those carriages.”
Tom smiled. “We both would. But I’m not sure there’s much point if we can’t get it out.”
“I thought you said you were going to call that FBI guy, Bailey, once we knew what was
going
on?”
378 james twining
“That was the deal, but—”
“Before you call in the cavalry, don’t you want to check there’s something here?”
“What about the people on the other side of that?�
� Tom nodded toward the collapsed mine entrance. “We don’t want to get caught in here when they break through.”
“Why don’t we leave Piotr down this end? As soon as they look like coming in, he can run back and tell us. We can send Grigory up the other end to keep Yuri company and make sure Renwick doesn’t sneak in behind us.”
“That should work,” Tom agreed. “But we’d better be quick.”
After some rapid instructions, mainly communicated through hand signals, Piotr and Grigory left to take up their sentry positions. As soon as both men were out of sight, Tom and Archie turned their attention to the two freight cars.
They were of standard construction, wooden panels slatted horizontally into a rectangular frame, with angled crosspieces at regular intervals for extra reinforcement. Apart from the obvious effects of age, both cars looked remarkably intact, although the left-hand one seemed to be on the losing end of a long fight against rot and woodworm, and a thick beard of rust coated both undercarriages. Against the flaking orange-red paint on the sides, two sets of faded white letters and serial numbers were just about legible. They both stepped forward to the side door of the first car, a large panel almost a third of the length, that slid back along a set of metal runners.
But just as he was about to pull back on the door, Tom noticed that the holes in the woodwork that he had previously assumed to have been caused by woodworm and rot were far too symmetrical to be the product of any natural process. They
were
bullet
holes.
CHAPTER NINETY-TWO
5:20 p.m.
Asudden chill ran through the pit of Tom’s stomach and he knew it wasn’t the cold. Archie, too, from the look he flashed him, had registered the locked door and the bullet holes and was asking himself the same question. Were the carriages empty when those holes had been made, or had the doors been locked for a more sinister reason than simply to ensure they didn’t fly open in transit?
Tom grasped the top of the iron bar that had been jammed into the hasp but, corroded by years of disuse, it wouldn’t budge. He tugged it from side to side, slowly gaining a bit of play, until it eventually slid free with a shriek that set his teeth on edge. He threw the bar to the ground with a clang and then folded the clasp back, the hinge stiff and cold. It required the combined efforts of both of them to tug the door open. Finally, with Tom pulling and Archie pushing on the massive iron handle, the door scraped back one foot, then two, protesting furiously all the way.
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