The Cotten Stone Omnibus: It started with The Grail Conspiracy... (The Cotten Stone Mysteries)

by Lynn Sholes

  The group crept along, taking care to cause as little sound as possible. Ivanov suddenly held his fist up and everyone froze. Then he motioned to a nearby prisoner’s cell, its door agape. They moved inside, cramming their bodies together in the confining space. Cotten stood beside the colonel in the front, with Victor, Alexei, and Krystof behind them.

  “What is it?” she whispered. From behind, Victor’s hand slipped around and covered her mouth. Then she heard voices, at least two individuals, both male. Their words were faint and hard to understand as they echoed off the basement walls.

  “This is one of the most frightening places I’ve ever seen,” the first voice said.

  A pale light appeared from around a corner to Cotten’s right. Two men walked into her line of sight and entered the area containing the torture tables. One carried a lantern and wore a military uniform. The other was dressed in dark trousers and a heavy coat.

  Cotten’s hiding place was just on the outer fringe of the men’s lantern light. If the two turned and came in her direction, she and her friends would be exposed. Cotten felt Victor pull her deeper into the darkness of the cell.

  “This room has been the final place on earth for thousands,” the military officer said. “Starting with Dracul, right through the height of the Cold War. If you listen carefully,” he said with a chuckle, “you might still hear the echo of their screams.”

  She watched them walk around the torture chamber as if they were touring a museum after hours. At one point, they paused thirty or so feet away with their backs to her.

  “The priest is unsure what happened,” the officer said. “I suggested to him that it was the ghost of Dracula who stole his precious cross.”

  “It would have proven a hindrance if we were forced into a confrontation and he still had it,” the other man said. “The crucifix is a powerful weapon. And the priest has had the fortitude to use it against us in the past—in an altercation with the Son of the Dawn.”

  The officer said, “He doesn’t come off as being that strong.”

  “Don’t let his appearance deceive you. Most of the time, it’s a disappointment that so many lack true courage. But, if more had the strength of the good cardinal, it would make our job harder.”

  “I’ve been informed that the distracter has worked,” said the officer. “The Stone woman has dropped her investigation.”

  “So far. But that doesn’t mean we can let down our guard. Remember that the priest is the least of our problems. He only serves as the diversion to keep our target preoccupied.”

  “Are you confident the Koreans can accomplish their goals in the time frame?”

  “The scientist leading the project is driven by hate, the truest form of motivation. We have rarely seen anyone so consumed by it. She will complete her task. But her health is failing. We must make sure she has no further interference until she is finished.”

  “What are you going to do with the cross?” the officer asked.

  “I’ll keep it hidden away.”

  “Just destroy it. There’s an ancient well located near the old castle stables. Dispose of it there.”

  “Excellent.” The man with the heavy coat wrapped himself in his arms. “Thank you, my brother, for the tour. I’ve been most curious about Dracula’s dungeon. But I’ve seen enough. Besides, it’s freezing down here.”

  They turned to leave, and as they did, Cotten saw their faces illuminated before they disappeared around the corner. She didn’t know who the officer was, but she recognized the other man from the ransom photo. He was one of the kidnapped priests.

  A terrifying dagger of fear pierced her soul. Both the officer and the priest were either Nephilim or Fallen. It meant pure evil had found her. Now she understood why John was kidnapped, and who was responsible.

  The Son of the Dawn.

  the well

  “Nephilim or Fallen,” Cotten whispered when the echo of the footfalls faded away.

  “Quiet,” Ivanov said softly.

  The basement was as black as the darkness Cotten felt in her heart. She had been tricked. They knew she would not stand by and let harm come to John. She would drop everything and race to his rescue. And the thing they wanted her to abandon, to leave behind, was her investigation of T-Kup, Calderon, and the Korean connection. Now it became the second most important issue in her life, next to getting John out of this horrible place. But first, she must grab hold of her emotions. She had to somehow make Colonel Ivanov and his KGB friends realize that they faced far more than gangsters in Wolf Castle. In fact, gangsters would be welcomed adversaries.

  But how would they react to her? Certainly, she would sound like she had lost her mind. The simplest explanation for now would have to do. Any lengthy explanation involving God and Satan and Fallen Angels would distract them from their mission. But at some point, she would have to face the priest and the man dressed in the military uniform. And in doing so, she would be confronting her father’s kind and her own—the Fallen and Nephilim.

  Ivanov pushed the cell door forward an inch at a time. After it stood open, he waited in the darkness another few moments before flipping on his flashlight. With caution, he took a step forward. Making his way to the end of the row of prisoner cells, he looked around the corner in the direction the two men had left. Finally, he signaled for the others to follow.

  “Okay,” Ivanov said. “Now we go up to top of tower.” He started to take a step.

  “Colonel, I recognized one of those men,” Cotten said.

  “So did I,” he said. “Major General Nikolai Borodin. Big shot gangster general in former Soviet army. Most corrupt prick of all. I am not surprised he is behind this.”

  “Well, the other man is one of the hostages. He is a Catholic priest. I saw him in the picture of the captives sent to the Vatican by the kidnappers. Now I know he is a traitor, probably responsible for setting up the abduction.”

  “Birds of feather,” Victor said with a huff.

  “Borodin is corrupt,” Ivanov said. “Now, so is priest. Both need to go meet God tonight.” He was about to turn and lead them on, but he paused and looked at Cotten. “What was strange word you said back in cell?”

  She considered lying to him so they wouldn’t lose their momentum. Instead she said, “Nephilim.”

  “It means?”

  “Offspring of Fallen Angels.”

  “Interesting,” he said. Ivanov lifted his brows and nodded. “Will Nephilim die if bullet go through brain?”

  “Yes.”

  He shrugged. “Fuck Nephilim.”

  Motioning the group to follow, Ivanov headed across the torture chamber to a set of wooden stairs, arcing the floor ahead with his flashlight beam. Cotten saw tiny red spots as the light reflected off the retinas of rats caught in the beam. They took one look and scurried to the safety of the darkness.

  The stairs were circular and extended upward for twenty feet or so. The group came to a wooden platform and a large, bulky door. Ivanov pushed, and with a creaking of rusty hinges, it opened. A blast of frigid air rushed in, smacking Cotten and throwing her off balance. She started to teeter on the edge of the steps when Victor’s strong grip grabbed and steadied her.

  “Thank you,” she said and squeezed his arm.

  “Would be bad fall,” he said.

  One by one, they slipped through the door into the darkness of the freezing night. The wind howled across the top of the mountain and raced around the castle’s walls. Crouching below the upper lip of the parapet wall, the group waited for Alexei to unfasten his sniper rifle from his back and open his supply bag.

  Cotten rose just enough to take a quick look over the wall. She saw the main entrance down to her left. It appeared that the drawbridge was in the up position. In addition to the tower they were gathered beneath, she saw three other tall, round towers connected by thick walls forming a lar
ge polygon-shaped fortress. The battlements protected what she estimated to be at least two acres of stone and wood structures. Inside the confines of the fortress the main buildings were capped with steep roofs that would shed the snow. Most of the structures were spotted with dozens of arched windows. A few lights were on behind the windows. Snow-laced wind whipped across the top of the medieval structure bringing a cold, damp edge that cut deep.

  Cotten watched Alexei as he pulled a long, slim cylinder from the bag and screwed it onto the end of the rifle barrel. Then he removed a tubular-shaped device that attached to the top of the weapon. She assumed it was a night vision device of some kind. Alexei grabbed a magazine clip from the bag and pushed it into the bottom of the weapon. Pulling back the bolt, he slowly stood and peered over the top of the stone battlement wall. Sighting through the scope, he scanned the courtyard below. Back and forth he moved in a slow sweeping motion, stopping now and then to examine particular areas. Then he slipped back to his crouching position.

  “Two men on front gate,” he said to Ivanov. “One on back wall.”

  “Start with one on wall,” the colonel said.

  Alexei stood and re-aimed his weapon.

  A moment later, Cotten heard a muffled thud.

  He shifted his aim, and two rapid thuds followed. The three shots, along with the clinking sound of the metal shell casings dropping onto the stone walkway, were swept away in the howl of the wind.

  “Done,” Alexei said, as if he had just swatted an insect.

  “Stay here and cover us,” Ivanov said. “Victor, go down to drawbridge and get ready. Krystof, hostages brought here in limousine. Find it and warm up.” He turned to Cotten. “Ready?”

  As ready as she would ever be, Cotten thought. “Yes.”

  “This way.” Ivanov led her, along with Victor and Krystof, down steps that hugged the inside battlement wall. At the bottom, he motioned for Cotten to follow while the other two headed off in different directions. As she and the colonel rounded a corner of a large structure, they both froze at the sight of a figure walking out of the building and heading across the courtyard.

  “It’s the traitor priest,” Cotten whispered. “I want to follow him.”

  “That would waste time,” Ivanov said.

  “I have to.”

  He shrugged, then waited until the man was past them.

  “I think I know where he is going,” Cotten said.

  “And where is that?”

  “To the well to dispose of John’s cross.”

  “We don’t have much time. Too much delay and you risk friend’s life.”

  Without hesitation, she started after the priest. Ivanov gave out a grunt and followed.

  They hugged the side of the buildings, staying in the darkest of the shadows. Cotten stopped when she saw the priest standing beside the round stone well alongside the old horse stables. She watched as he raised one of the wooden planks covering the opening and held his hand out.

  “Give me your pistol,” she whispered to Ivanov.

  He pulled his gun and handed it to her.

  Boldly, Cotten stepped forward until she was a few yards from the priest. “Stop,” she said with as much authority as she could muster.

  The priest turned around, the gold cross glittering as it dangled from his fingers. Staring at Cotten, he said, “You’re early.”

  rescue

  “Give it to me!” Cotten snatched the crucifix and chain while still keeping the gun aimed at the priest. “You’re too young to be Archbishop Roberti. So I assume you’re Michael Burns.”

  “You’re not really going to use that?” he said.

  Cotten glowered at him as she slipped the crucifix and chain in her pocket. Then she handed the gun back to Ivanov. “No, but my friend will if you don’t take me to Cardinal Tyler.”

  “Drop the weapon.”

  The voice came from behind Cotten and Ivanov. As they turned, Ivanov said, “Borodin, you piece of shit. Why am I not surprised you are big shot here?”

  “Hello, Vladimir.” The General aimed an automatic pistol at the former KGB agent. “You’re up past your bedtime. Now hand over your weapons.”

  “I give you one chance to surrender,” Ivanov said. “You accept generous offer?”

  “Do I look like a fool?” Borodin almost laughed.

  “No,” Ivanov said. “You look like dead man.” He raised his arm as a signal, and in the next instant a pink cloud appeared from the side of Borodin’s head.

  Cotten gasped as she realized what Alexei had done. The sniper’s bullet passed through the general’s head, blowing most of the back portion of his skull away as it exited. Borodin fell to the ground like a puppet whose strings were snipped.

  Colonel Ivanov bent and pried the pistol from the general’s grip. He turned and gave it to Cotten. “Souvenir.” Then he said to Burns, “You want to be dead man, too?”

  Burns held his hands up in a gesture of surrender as he glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the sniper.

  “Take me to Cardinal Tyler.” Cotten raised the gun and pressed the barrel to Burns’ chest. “I’ve never killed anyone in my life,” she said. “But I’m willing to start tonight.”

  Burns backed away, then started walking toward the main building.

  As Cotten passed Ivanov, he grinned at her as if to say he was impressed. “What did he mean by being early?”

  “They didn’t expect me to show up this quickly,” Cotten said.

  “Maybe Nephilim not so smart,” Ivanov said. He cocked his head as the wind carried the sound of an engine cranking and then starting. “Krystof find limousine.”

  Burns headed toward the main building but the colonel stopped him. “No, not that way.” He pointed to the side of the building not far from the steps where they had descended into the courtyard. “We go through side door.”

  With Burns in the lead, the three moved around the side of the building, their feet crunching in the newly fallen snow covering the flagstones.

  “Here,” Ivanov said and motioned to the portico. Opening the door, Burns led them down a hallway. The colonel shined his flashlight at the far end. He pushed Burns and they continued on until the three stood in the middle of the castle’s kitchen. “Where are guards?” he said.

  “You seem to know a lot about this place,” Burns said. “Why don’t you figure that out—”

  Ivanov moved within inches of Burns’ face. “I don’t care if you are devil himself, and according to her, you might be. But I have cut off balls of men who would scare devil out of you. Tell me location of guards or there will be another head on stake.”

  Burns backed away. “Calm down. There are two on the front gate, one inside the entrance to the main hall, one on the back battlement wall, and one upstairs guarding the prisoners. Borodin’s driver and another guard are sleeping in the servants’ quarters.”

  “Odds getting better,” Ivanov said, winking at Cotten.

  Burns turned to her. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

  “I know what you are.”

  “Stubborn little prick.” Ivanov grabbed Burns by the shoulder. “We take back stairs to prisoners’ rooms. Go.” He shoved Burns forward, and they headed across the kitchen to a set of narrow, wooden stairs. “Very quiet,” he whispered as they started up.

  When they came to the top of the stairs, Ivanov said to Burns, “Open door slow. If you see guard, call him to come help you.”

  Burns obeyed. As he opened the door, Cotten saw over his shoulder a hallway lit by a handful of lights along the walls. From her angle she spotted four doors, all closed. A man sat in a chair at the opposite end of the hall. His head leaned back against the wall, and he appeared to be asleep.

  “Call him,” Ivanov whispered to Burns. “Quietly.”

  Burns stepped out into the hallw
ay. “Hello,” he said just above a whisper. “Hey.”

  The guard shuddered awake and sat up with a start. “What is it?”

  “Borodin needs you,” Burns said. “Now.”

  The guard rose, still obviously trying to shake the sleep from his head. He started walking toward Burns. When he was a few yards away, he suddenly stopped and glared down at his chest. A dark bloom formed on his shirt as his arms went limp. Dropping to his knees, he fell over face first onto the hallway floor.

  Ivanov stepped into the light of the hall, a wisp of gray smoke drifting up from the barrel of his silenced automatic. He turned to Burns. “Which room?”

  ___

  Still dressed, John lay on the bed staring at the faint patterns on the ceiling cast there from the fireplace. Suddenly, he heard a scratching at his bedroom door. The lock was being manipulated and the knob was turning. Was it the night visitor again?

  He reached for the small lamp on the bedside table. At the same moment, he saw the door open. A figure stood in the doorway.

  He switched on the light.

  Michael Burns walked in, his hands held in the air.

  “Michael, what’s going on?”

  Then John saw a second figure behind Burns—a small-frame person dressed in bulky clothing. The face was hidden beneath a ski mask.

  He sat up and swung his legs off the bed.

  The figure stepped forward, a pistol in one hand. The other hand reached to pull away the ski mask.

  John’s mouth opened in shock. “Cotten!”

  escape

  John got to his feet and Cotten rushed to throw her arms around him. “Thank God,” she whispered.

  John held her tightly. “How did you find me?”

  “The photo, your hand on your neck.”

  “It was a long shot. I never thought anyone would figure it out. Such a dumb clue.”