Rise: Luthecker, #2

by Keith Domingue

  Winn glanced at Chris, dismissing his words before turning his attention back to the map of Trans Dniester Moldovan Republic, which was spread out on the small metal table. Yaw gave Chris a playful shove for his comments, and then both men concentrated on Winn.

  “We are traveling as tourists,” Winn began. “We will be staying at the Tiraspol Hostel on Kitskany Street. We will take a train from the airport. I’ve already made the arrangements.”

  “How did you do that already?” Yaw asked.

  “They have a Gmail account.”

  Both Chris and Yaw looked at Winn.

  “The details I’m about to tell you are available on Wikitravel,” Winn answered before Chris or Yaw could ask.

  “We’ll exchange U.S. dollars to the local currency, the Transnistria ruble, at the airport in Chisinau. When we cross from Moldova into Trans Dniester, our paperwork will be checked by Transnistrian officials; these are bored men looking for trouble, so don’t give them an opening; have everything at the ready. They may ask for bribes, but that is illegal, so they won’t press for too much. Still, if it makes it easier, we may part with some cash if we have to. Also, there may be some Russian peacekeeping soldiers who will do a stop and search along the roads, so we are bringing plain wooden training sticks only. No aluminum combat sticks. We’ll tell them that we’re furniture craftsman, should they ask.”

  “Will they buy that?” Yaw asked.

  “They’re just sticks. What can they say? If they take them, we’ll improvise at the hostel and make more.” Winn turned back to the map.“Once we’re checked into the hostel, we’ll do a reconnaissance walk, tourists simply checking the sights, and take a look around. Russian is the primary language, but most of the young people are international and speak English as do many of the store owners.”

  “You found all of this out on Wikitravel,” Chris asked.

  “In less than twenty minutes.”

  “Did I mention this was nuts?” Chris said.

  “What about security?” Yaw asked.

  “According to what I’ve researched, physical dangers are minimal as long as we keep off the radar of the authorities. That means no photos. We don’t want any attention. There’s little to no military action going on, despite the amount of gun running. They are trying to build their tourist industry, but don’t be fooled—this is a lawless land.”

  “So nothing is as it seems. Kind of like us,” Yaw said.

  “As long as we stay out of trouble.”

  “Which we won’t exactly be doing,” Chris said.

  “We’ll set up an escape route before we make our move. I’m hoping that Nikki and Alex will be able to be able to help us somewhat in that department, once they’re free. There’s an Internet café not far from the hostel, on 25th October Street, should we or Nikki need it.” Winn looked up from the map. “And as a footnote it’s located right next to an Andy’s Pizza.”

  “So we got a place to stay and how we’re gonna find our way around, and we’re gonna go out for pizza; but how are we gonna find Parks?”

  “Drugal said that Parks is a King there, correct? Well there’s a 16th century castle with considerably-sized grounds that’s been recently renovated to the tune of over one hundred and fifty million dollars, right in the center of Tiraspol. Kings don’t hide in their own Kingdom, and my guess is we’ll find him, along with Nikki and Alex, there,” Winn said, as he tapped the map with his finger for emphasis. “We’ll cover more details on the flight. Now gather your things, our ride to the airport will be here any minute,” Winn concluded before folding up the map and stuffing it into his backpack.

  He watched as Chris and Yaw picked up black-canvas duffle bags—large, filled, and heavy—and made their way out of the storage unit and into the alley. They reminded Winn of soldiers going off to war. He then picked up his own duffle bag, feeling for his Kali sticks that were nestled at the bottom, before he placed the thick strap over his left shoulder, the shoulder that didn’t hurt. He took one last look around the storage facility before clicking off the light. He stepped out of the unit behind the other two and rolled the steel garage door closed behind him.

  24

  Altered Path

  Two-Good glanced through the window of his room and noticed that the two guards who’d stood in the courtyard only moments before were gone. He took note of the full moon that helped illuminate the centuries-old cobblestone square below, and he searched the courtyard once again. He saw no trace of the men anywhere and stepped away from the window.

  Two-Good had decided on his course of action. He justified his choice by noting it had nothing to do with what Alex Luthecker had shared on the jet; Two-Good believed that his destiny was his to create. His choices were his own.; he had decided on his own what his path would be. Two-Good believed that his destiny was his to create, his choices his own.

  Two-Good walked away from the window and sat on the edge of his bed, trying to remember the layout of the castle with as much detail as he could.

  The “Hoptx Ctapt” or “North Star” castle, as it was known before Mr. Parks purchased it from Ivan Barbolin, had originally been built in the 16th century, its design influenced by the infamous Soroca castle, an historic fortress in the Republic of Moldova that dated back to the early15th century. The North Star fortress had been built to defend the Moldovan state against the Crimean Tatars, a Turco-Mongol ethnic group that had periodically sacked the more affluent parts of the Medieval Moldovan state during the early 16th century. With its forty-foot high walls made entirely out of chalk stone, the North Star castle had fended off large armies numbering in the thousands while containing garrisons inside the grounds of less than five hundred soldiers. Up until the mid-16th century, before siege artillery made castle forts obsolete, the North Star, thought to be named after the brightest star in the sky, had been considered impenetrable.

  Shaped in a perfect square, with walls one hundred fifty feet in length at their base, it had bastion towers in each corner that circumscribed a large cobblestone courtyard in its center. The castle consisted of four levels, along with a basement that ran underneath the entire courtyard. The underground chamber was the largest level by far, and contained a vast array of tunnels, along with boiler rooms and generators that powered the entire castle. The basement level also contained prison cells.

  The prison cells, used in the early days of the castle to hold and torture enemy combatants, had been completely renovated by Mr. Parks. Original to the design, there had been close to two dozen cells, but Parks had eliminated all but four, with one located at each of the four corners of the castle, directly beneath the bastion towers. Two-Good had believed they were decorative and not intended for use—Lucas Parks, after all, rarely kept enemies alive for long, but that had all changed with the capture of Nicole Ellis and Alex Luthecker.

  The forth level, or top circumference of the castle, was Mr. Parks’ private quarters. Two-Good had only been allowed to visit the floor once, briefly, when they had first arrived. He had caught glimpses of palace-like opulence that included a private kitchen, dining area, along with an elaborate top-of-the-line media and game room. The master bedroom alone, with its priceless sculptures and Picassos on the walls, Two-Good guessed was at least two thousand square feet. Two-Good had noticed that much of the art on the walls had been offset by medieval weaponry—swords and pikes and chains that dated back to Genghis Kahn, for example, dotted the wall above the master fireplace.

  The level below Parks’ quarters, or third level, contained multiple libraries and Mr. Parks’ private art gallery, priceless works from all over the world—much of the collection rare, stolen or illegal. It was only visited when in the company of Mr. Parks or with his expressed permission.

  The second level, where Two-Good was housed, was as high in the castle as anyone could go without permission from Mr. Parks. The floor contained twenty-eight guest rooms, along with quarters for the immediate staff needed for day to day operations, including the
lead chef and Mr. Parks’ bodyguards and closest subordinates, of which Two-Good was known to be the closest.

  The first floor level was the “showcase floor,” where Mr. Parks would entertain. It had a grand marble entrance lobby, main dining hall and master kitchen, movie theater, and gymnasium. It also housed several legitimate art galleries, with artwork worth millions, as well as several plush conference rooms for business.

  However it was the basement level, where Nicole Ellis and Alex Luthecker were being held, that Two-Good tried his best to recall. It was likely that Ms. Ellis and Mr. Luthecker were being held in opposite corners of the basement, as far from each other as possible, and unaware of the other’s location. Two-Good had been separated from Luthecker the moment they had exited the aircraft and had not seen the soothsayer since. He was less concerned with the whereabouts or fate of Luthecker, however, as he was of Nicole “Nikki” Ellis.

  Alex Luthecker had been right about one thing—David Two-Good did not kill women. And Two-Good knew which cell Ms. Ellis was being held in. Getting to her would not be easy, but Two-Good had a plan.

  A direct route to the basement would cause suspicion, even with Two-Good’s status in relation to Mr. Parks. There was simply no reason for Two-Good to be on the basement level, and there were security cameras and personnel everywhere. And if Two-Good was to make contact with either prisoner without Parks’ expressed permission, Parks would be less than forgiving. As such, Two-Good had to access the basement of the North Star castle via unconventional means. Two-Good knew of a way. And that would be through one of the castle’s many “murder holes.”

  “Murder holes, crude defense mechanisms built into many medieval castles, were strategically placed holes in the stone floors that led directly to the halls, entranceways, and common areas on the level directly below. When a castle was under siege and the estate had been breached by foreign armies, defenders of the castle could drop objects or hot liquid onto unsuspecting invaders from the higher levels to the lower ones as the enemy passed by underneath. The North Star castle had several such murder holes, and instead of sealing all of them, the renovators had converted many into air vents. Two-Good knew where the North Star castle murder holes were, and more importantly, he knew exactly where the holes led.

  Two-Good finished getting dressed, making sure the shoulder holster that held his Glock 9mm was properly in place before stepping out into the hallway. He looked up and down the hall and noted that all the guest-room doors were closed. The hallway was empty and quiet. It was 3:25am, and other than the basement level and first floor entrance, the castle should have no personnel wandering about.

  Two-Good took a deep breath for courage and made his way down the hallway with the most natural stride possible. He slowed as he reached the corner, aware of the security camera positioned near the ceiling. He paid the camera lens no mind as he passed through its view, knowing that the guard manning security would recognize him and see no cause for alarm.

  Two-Good chose the stairs instead of the elevator, again something that should cause no alarm for security, and as long as he did not run into any guards, he should be able to descend to the first floor event free.

  It was when he attempted to access the basement that he knew things could get tricky.

  There was a murder hole turned air vent at the northeast corner of the castle—entrance side. It led to the northeast corner of the castle—basement level—next to the cell that held Nikki Ellis. The vent outlet should be at the far end of the hall, and Two-Good felt he should be able to remove the grate and drop through vent before the security personnel in charge of guarding Ms. Ellis noticed. He would then have to use the advantage of surprise and authority to neutralize the guard and free Ms. Ellis from her cell. It was getting her free from the castle and the castle grounds that would prove most difficult.

  Two-Good knew he might fail, and his attempt to free Lucas Parks’ prisoner could lead to the death of Ms. Ellis and himself. In fact, he knew death was the most likely outcome. But he also knew that she was destined to die regardless. At the very least, he felt, he would provide her a chance, however small, and she would not die at his hands.

  Two-Good realized the truth about his life—and the pattern of brutality and mistakes that defined it—and he found his choice to set her free strangely liberating. It was his hope that saving this one individual would erase the Karmic debt created by his choices—set in motion long ago with the murder of his brother. He silently prayed to the gods of his grandfather that saving Nikki Ellis’ life would be enough to save his soul.

  Two-Good turned the corner and walked past the security camera without looking at the lens. He approached the stairwell door, held his breath as he opened it, and stepped into the stairwell.

  The stairwell was empty. Two-Good quickly hustled down the switchback of steps that led to the ground floor. He exited at the first-floor hallway. In order for him to reach the murder hole that led to the basement level, Two-Good would have to pass through the main lobby and entrance to the castle. Two-Good knew that Mr. Parks always had a security guard posted at the large oak entrance doors and that the post rotated among many security personnel. He hoped his rank would allow him to bluff his way past; otherwise, his plan would end right then and there. He took another deep breath and entered the main lobby.

  “Good evening, sir; can I help you?” the night guard dressed in a black sport coat and carrying an AK-47 said to David Two-Good as he walked by the castle entrance.

  “Can’t sleep. Stupid time change gets me every time. Just trying to walk off some energy,” Two-Good replied, not slowing down as his footsteps echoed on the polished marble floor.

  “I understand, sir.” The guard watched Two-Good closely as he continued through the lobby and disappeared into the main hall.

  Two-Good stopped when he entered the conference room and took a moment to wipe beads of sweat from his brow. And that’s when he spotted the murder hole vent.

  The floors of the North Star castle hallways were made of stone, and those that led to the conference room had a strip of carpet, five-feet wide, running down the center. The carpet under Two-Good’s feet stopped at a vent in the floor that had been a murder hole centuries earlier.

  Two-Good approached the vent and squatted. He pulled a Swiss Army Knife from his pocket, a gift from his grandfather, and snapped open the small screwdriver blade. There were eight screws holding the square vent in place, two for each side. Two-Good took a quick look around to assure himself that he was alone before beginning work on the vent screws.

  He stuck the blade into the slot of the first screw and twisted it with all his strength. Finally, the screw loosened, and he could twist the small metal head and remove it with his fingers. He repeated the process seven more times in roughly five minutes, and by the time he was done, he was dripping with sweat. He then used the knife-edge of the Swiss Army Knife’s main blade to pop the vent free of its mooring and carefully pulled the metal grate free, surprised by its weight.

  He quietly placed the grate aside and peered into the murder hole. The stone floor was two-feet thick, with the hole beneath the vent mounts cylindrical in shape. The hole was barely three feet in diameter, and Two-Good could see light from the basement level bleeding through the slits of the ceiling grate from the floor below. Two-Good knew that the mounts for the ceiling grate were inaccessible, and the only way to remove it would be by force. He sat on the floor and braced himself before swinging his legs around and dangling in the murder hole. He then climbed into the hole, which was barely wide enough for the large, barrel-chested man to fit through. He used his hands to support his weight and kicked at the vent cover with both feet, smashing down on it with his boots three times before the thin metal frame gave way. It happened so fast that his body dropped through the hole. He barely caught himself, dropping down to his armpits, his arms reactively splayed on either side of the hole. His head and chest were now on the first floor, and his feet dangled from the
basement ceiling like a character out of Saturday morning cartoon. He took a deep breath for strength and, using all of it, he pulled his hands toward his body and pressed himself back up, walking his hands like a gymnast before lowering himself through the hole. He dangled for a moment before letting go and letting himself drop eight feet to the basement floor.

  He landed on the hard stone with a clatter, rolling after he hit. He winced from pain in his left ankle before quickly getting to his feet and pulling his 9mm free, doing a quick sweep of the area with his weapon as he gained his bearings.

  He was relieved to find that he was alone and quickly holstered his weapon and straightened out his shirt. He did a quick assessment of where he had landed on the basement level. As he suspected, the murder hole was located near one of the castle’s boiler rooms, and the constant hum of the generators and electrical equipment had masked the noise created by his entrance. Two-Good knew the cell that contained Nicole Ellis was straight down the hallway from the boiler room area, just around the corner on the northeast block of the castle.

  Two-Good stepped from behind the boiler room and walked down the hallway toward the northeast corner of the basement. He couldn’t help but notice the torch mounts still on the walls and wondered how many people in centuries past had been led to their torture and death down this very walkway.

  He saw the guard before he saw Nicole Ellis in her cell. He searched his memory for the man’s name, and it came to him as the guard got to his feet.

  “How are you tonight, Todd?” Two-Good asked.

  “I’m good. What are you doing here, sir?”

  “Just checking on the prisoner,” Two-Good responded.

  “No one said anything to me. You’re not supposed to be down here.”

  Two-Good replied by removing his Glock 9mm from its holster and pointing it at the very-surprised Todd.