by Steve Berry
Malone was playing his hand quite carefully.
She needed to do the same.
Malone saw the anticipation on Cassiopeia’s face. Ely, Stephanie, and Henrik were in trouble. They’d watched from the other doorway, the one Zovastina had avoided, as she and Viktor followed the water trail and entered the funerary chamber.
“How did you know Viktor was lying to us?” she whispered.
“Twelve years of dealing with random assets. That whole thing with you at the palace? Too easy. And something Stephanie told me. Viktor’s the one who fed them Vincenti. Why? Makes no sense. Except if Viktor was playing both sides.”
“I should have seen that.”
“How? You didn’t hear what Stephanie told me in Venice.”
They stood with bare shoulders scraping against oblique walls. They’d removed their pants and wrung the water from them so as not to leave any further trail. Once through the tomb’s other two rooms, filled with artifacts, they had quickly re-dressed and waited. The tomb consisted of only four interconnected rooms, none of which were large, two of which opened to the pool. Zovastina was most likely enjoying a moment of triumph. But the information about Stephanie, Ely, and Henrik had changed things. True or not, the possibility had grabbed his attention. Which was surely the idea.
He glanced out toward the pool. Light danced in the funerary room. He hoped the sight of Alexander the Great’s grave might buy them a few moments.
“You ready?” he asked Cassiopeia.
She nodded.
He led the way.
Viktor stepped from the other doorway.
EIGHTY-EIGHT
Stephanie noticed that the sickeningly sweet aroma was not as strong in the back passages, but nonetheless lingered. At least they weren’t trapped any longer. Several turns had led them deeper into the house and she’d yet to see another open exit.
“I’ve seen how this concoction works,” Thorvaldsen said. “Once Greek fire ignites, these walls will burn quickly. We need to be out of here before that happens.”
She was aware of their dilemma, but their choices were limited. Lyndsey was still anxious, Ely amazingly calm. He had the countenance of an agent, not an academician, a coolness she admired considering their predicament. She wished she possessed more of his nerve.
“What do you mean by quickly?” Lyndsey asked Thorvaldsen. “How fast will this place burn?”
“Fast enough that we’ll be trapped.”
“So what are we doing in here?”
“You want to go back to that storage closet?” she asked.
They turned another corner, the dark hall reminding her of a corridor in a train. The path ended just ahead at the base of a steep stairway, leading up.
No choice.
They climbed.
Malone steadied himself.
“Going somewhere?” Viktor asked.
Cassiopeia stood behind him. He wondered about Zovastina’s location. Was the dancing light merely a ploy to draw them out?
“Thought we’d leave.”
“Can’t let you do that.”
“If you think you can stop me, you’re welcome to—”
Viktor lunged forward. Malone sidestepped the move, then locked his attacker in a bear hug.
They dropped to the floor and rolled.
Malone found himself on top. Viktor struggled beneath him. He clamped a hand onto the other man’s throat and sank his knee deep into Viktor’s chest. Quickly, with both hands, he yanked Viktor upward and slammed the back of his skull into the rocky floor.
Cassiopeia readied herself to leap into the pool as soon as Malone broke free. At the same instant Viktor’s body went limp beneath Malone, movement out of the corner of her eye drew her attention to the doorway where they’d been hiding.
“Malone,” she called out.
Zovastina rushed toward her.
Malone sprang off Viktor and found the water.
Cassiopeia dove in after him and swam hard for the tunnel.
Stephanie topped the stairs and saw there was a choice of routes. Left or right? She turned left. Ely headed right.
“Over here,” Ely called out.
They all rushed his way and saw an open doorway.
“Careful,” Thorvaldsen said. “Don’t let those things out there spray you. Avoid them.”
Ely nodded, then pointed at Lyndsey. “You and I are going after that flash drive.”
The scientist shook his head. “Not me.”
Stephanie agreed. “That’s not a good idea.”
“You’re not sick.”
“Those robots,” Thorvaldsen said, “are programmed to explode, and we don’t know when.”
“I don’t give a damn,” Ely said, his voice rising. “This man knows how to cure AIDS. His dead boss has known that for years, but let millions die. Zovastina has that cure now. I’m not going to let her manipulate it, too.” Ely grabbed Lyndsey by the shirt. “You and I are going to get that drive.”
“You’re nuts,” Lyndsey said. “Frickin’ nuts. Just go up to the green pool and drink the water. Vincenti said it worked that way. You don’t need me.”
Thorvaldsen watched the younger man closely. Stephanie realized that the Dane was perhaps seeing his own son standing before him, youth in all its glory, simultaneously defiant, brave, and foolish. Her own son, Mark, was the same way.
“Your butt,” Ely said, “is going with me into that lab.”
She realized something else. “Zovastina went after Cotton and Cassiopeia. She left us in this house for a reason. You heard her. She purposefully told us those machines would take a little time.”
“We’re insurance,” Thorvaldsen said.
“Bait. Probably for Cotton and Cassiopeia. But this guy,” she pointed at Lyndsey, “him, she wants. His babbling made sense. She doesn’t have time to be sure an antiagent works, or that he’s being truthful. Though she may not admit it, she needs him. She’ll be back for him before this place burns. You can count on it.”
Zovastina leaped into the pool. Malone had bested Viktor and Cassiopeia Vitt had managed to elude her.
If she swam fast she could catch Vitt in the tunnel.
Malone planted his palms and pushed himself up from the pool. He felt a rush beneath him and saw Cassiopeia surface. She deftly sprang from the warm water and, dripping wet, grabbed one of the guns that lay a few feet away.
“Let’s go,” he said, retrieving his shoes and shirt.
Cassiopeia backed toward the exit, gun leveled at the pool.
A shadow clouded the water.
Zovastina’s head found air.
Cassiopeia fired.
The first explosion startled Zovastina more than frightened her. Water cleared from her eyes and she saw Vitt aiming one of the guns straight at her.
Another bang. Unbearably loud.
She plunged beneath the surface.
Cassiopeia fired two times at the illuminated pool. The gun seemed to jam so she worked the slide, ejecting a cartridge, loading a new round. Then she noticed something and faced Malone.
“Feel better?” he asked.
“Blanks?” she asked.
“Of course. Rounds stuffed with wadding, I imagine, so there’d be enough kick to at least partially work the slide. But not enough, obviously. You don’t think Viktor would have given us bullets?”
“I never thought about it.”
“That’s the problem. You’re not thinking. Can we go now?”
She tossed the gun away. “You’re such a joy to work with.”
And they both fled the chamber.
Viktor rubbed the back of his head and waited. Another few seconds and he’d roll into the pool, but Zovastina returned, breathing hard as she emerged from the water, and rested her arms on the rocky edge.
“I forgot about the guns. They have us trapped. The only way out is guarded.”
Viktor’s head hurt from the pounding and he fought an irritating dizziness. “Minister, the guns are loaded w
ith blanks. I changed all the magazines before we escaped from the palace. I didn’t think it wise to give them loaded guns.”
“Nobody noticed?”
“Who checks rounds? They simply assumed the guns aboard a military chopper were loaded.”
“Good thinking, but you could have mentioned that to me.”
“Everything happened so fast. There wasn’t time and, unfortunately, Malone gave my skull a good pop on these rocks.”
“What about Malone’s gun from the palace? That was loaded. Where is it?”
“In the chopper. He changed it out for one of ours.”
He watched as her mind rolled through the possibilities.
“We need Lyndsey from the house. He’s all that’s left here now.”
“What about Malone and Vitt?”
“I have men waiting. And their guns are loaded.”
EIGHTY-NINE
Stephanie stared out through the open panel into one of the mansion’s bedchambers. The room was elaborately furnished in an Italian style and quiet save for a mechanical whir from outside an open door, which led to the second-floor hall.
They stepped from the back passage.
One of the Greek fire machines whizzed passed in the hall, spewing mist. A pall hung heavy in the room, evidence that the robots had already visited.
“They’re quickly basting this house,” Thorvaldsen said as he moved to the hall door.
She was just about to caution him to stop when the Dane stepped out and a new voice—male, foreign—shouted.
Thorvaldsen froze, then slowly raised his arms.
Ely crept close to her ear. “One of the troops. He told Henrik to halt and raise his hands.”
Thorvaldsen kept his head toward the guard, who apparently was positioned to their right, without a way to see inside the room. She’d wondered about the troops, hoping that they’d been evacuated when the machines started their patrol.
More loud words.
“What now?” she whispered.
“He wants to know if he’s alone.”
Malone and Cassiopeia clambered down the incline in their wet clothes. Malone buttoned his shirt as they descended.
“You could have mentioned that the guns were duds,” Cassiopeia said to him.
“And when would I have done that?” He hopped over rocks and hastened down the steep slope.
Breaths came fast. He certainly wasn’t thirty years old anymore, but his forty-eight-year-old bones weren’t totally out of shape. “I didn’t want Viktor to even sense we knew anything.”
“We didn’t. Why’d you give up your gun?”
“Had to play his game.”
“You’re an odd bird,” she said to him, as they found level ground.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, coming from someone who traipsed around Venice with a bow and arrow.”
The house lay a football field away. He still saw no one roaming the exterior and no movement inside, past the windows.
“We need to check something.”
He raced toward the chopper and leaped into the rear compartment. He found the weapons locker. Four AK-74s stood upright, ammunition clips stacked beneath.
He examined them. “All blanks.” Barrel plugs had been carefully inserted to accommodate the phony rounds and allow the cartridges to be ejected. “Thorough little cuss. I’ll give him that.”
He found the gun he’d brought from Italy and checked the magazine. Five live rounds.
Cassiopeia grabbed an assault rifle and popped in a clip. “Nobody else knows these are useless. They’ll do for now.”
He reached for one of the AK-74s. “I agree. Perception is everything.”
Zovastina and Viktor emerged from the pool. Malone and Vitt were gone.
All the guns lay on the sandy floor.
“Malone’s a problem,” she made clear.
“Not to worry,” Viktor said. “I owe him.”
Stephanie listened as the trooper in the hall continued to bark orders at Thorvaldsen, the voice coming closer to the doorway. Lyndsey’s face froze in panic and Ely quickly clamped a hand over the man’s mouth and dragged him to the other side of a poster bed, where they crouched out of sight.
With a coolness that surprised her, she locked her gaze on a Chinese porcelain statuette resting on the dresser. She grabbed it and slipped behind the door.
Through the hinge crack she saw the guard enter the bedchamber. As he stepped clear, she planted the statue into the nape of his neck. He staggered and she finished him off with another head blow, then snatched the rifle.
Thorvaldsen darted close and retrieved the side arm. “I was hoping you’d improvise.”
“I was hoping these men were gone.”
Ely brought Lyndsey.
“Good job with him,” she told Ely.
“He has the backbone of a banana.”
She studied the AK-74. She’d learned about handguns, but assault rifles were another matter. She’d never fired one. Thorvaldsen seemed to sense her hesitation and offered her his gun. “Want to switch?”
She did not refuse. “You can handle one of those?”
“I’ve had a little experience.”
She made a mental note to inquire more about that later. She approached the doorway and carefully spied into the hall. No one in either direction. She led the way as they crept down the hall toward the second-floor foyer, where a staircase led down to the main entrance. Another of the Greek fire machines appeared behind them, darting from one room into another. Its sudden appearance drew her attention momentarily away from what lay ahead.
The wall to her left ended, replaced by a thick stone balustrade.
Movement below caught her gaze.
Two soldiers.
Who instantly reacted by leveling their rifles and firing.
Cassiopeia heard the rat-tat-tat of automatic weapon fire from inside the house.
Her first thought was Ely.
“Just remember,” he said. “We’ve only got five good rounds.”
They leaped from the chopper.
Zovastina and Viktor emerged from the fissure and studied the scene a hundred meters below. Malone and Vitt were rushing from the helicopter carrying two assault rifles.
“Are those loaded?” she asked.
“No, Minister. Blanks.”
“Which Malone clearly knows, so they’re carrying them for show.”
Gunfire from inside the house caused her alarm.
“Those turtles will explode if damaged,” Viktor said.
She needed Lyndsey before that happened.
“I hid loaded magazines for the pistols and clips for the rifles on board,” Viktor said. “Just in case we needed them.”
She admired his preparedness. “You’ve done well. I might have to reward you.”
“First we need to finish this.”
She clasped his shoulder. “That we do.”
NINETY
Bullets ricocheted off the thick marble railing. A wall mirror shattered, then crashed to the floor. Stephanie sought cover past where the balustrade began, the others huddled behind her.
More bullets obliterated plaster to her right.
Luckily the angle gave them an element of protection. To obtain a clearer shot, the soldiers would have to climb the stairway, which would also give her an opportunity.
Thorvaldsen came close. “Let me.”
She stepped back and the Dane sent a salvo from the AK-74 down to the ground floor. The rounds produced the intended result. All shooting from below stopped.
A robot reappeared behind them from another of the bedchambers. She paid it no mind until the whine from its electric motor steadily increased in volume. She turned her head and spotted the mechanism approaching the spot where Ely and Lyndsey stood.
“Stop that thing,” she mouthed to Ely.
He stuck out his foot and halted the machine’s advance. It sensed an impediment, hesitated, then sprayed Ely’s pants with mist. She saw him wince
from the odor, strong even from her vantage, six feet away.
The thing turned and headed in the opposite direction.
More shots rang out from below as the second floor was peppered with bullets. They needed to retreat and use the concealed passages, but before she could give the order, ahead, on the other side of the railing, one of the soldiers rounded a corner.
Thorvaldsen saw him, too, and before she could raise her gun, he chopped the man down with a burst from the AK-74.
Malone approached the house with caution. He gripped the pistol in one hand, the assault rifle slung over the other shoulder. They entered through a rear terrace into an opulent salon.
A familiar smell greeted him.
Greek fire.
He saw Cassiopeia register the scent, too.
More gunfire.
From somewhere on the ground floor.
He headed toward the ruckus.
Viktor followed Zovastina as they drew closer to the house. They’d stayed concealed and watched as Malone and Vitt entered. Lots of rounds being discharged from inside.
“There are nine militia inside,” Zovastina said. “I told them not to use their weapons. Six robots are trolling, set to go when I push this.”
She produced one of the remote controllers he’d many times used to detonate the turtles. He thought another warning in order. “A bullet into any one of those machines that disables it will trigger an explosion, regardless of that controller.”
He saw that she did not require a reminder, but also she did not react with her usual arrogance. “Then we’ll just have to be careful.”
“It’s not us I’m worried about.”