Black Order (44 page)

Monk clapped the large man on the shoulder. He would have to trust the Nazi. Monk could not fly the bird himself, not one-handed. Still, with the giant’s allegiance now centered on his sister’s survival, Monk thought it was a safe bet.

Anna sat in the back with Lisa. Painter slumped between them, head hanging. He had only been lightly sedated. Painter mumbled occasionally, nonsensically, warning about some impending sandstorm, lost in past fears.

Ducking his head under the blades, Monk circled around the helicopter. On the far side, Khamisi stood beside Mosi D’Gana, the Zulu chieftain. They clasped each other’s forearms.

Mosi had shed his ceremonial gear and now wore khaki fatigues, cap, and an automatic rifle over one shoulder. A holstered pistol hung from a black belt. But he had not totally abandoned his heritage. A short spear with a wicked blade was strapped to his back.

“You have the command,” Mosi said formally to Khamisi as Monk approached.

“My honor, sir.”

Mosi nodded and let go of Khamisi’s arm. “I’ve heard good things about you, Fat Boy.”

Monk joined them. Fat Boy?

Khamisi’s eyes widened, a mix of shame and honor shining in them. He nodded back and stepped away. Mosi climbed into the helicopter. He would be joining the first-wave assault. Monk had no choice. He owed the chieftain.

Khamisi crossed to Paula Kane. The pair would be coordinating the ground assault.

Monk searched beyond the swirling plume of sand and dust. The forces had gathered quickly, coming in on foot, on horseback, on rusted motorcycles and beat-up trucks. Mosi had spread the word. And like his great ancestor Shaka Zulu, he gathered an army. Men and women. In traditional pelts, in worn fatigues, in Levi’s. And more were still coming.

It would be up to them to keep the Waalenberg army occupied, to secure the estate if possible. How would the Zulus fare against the superiorly armed and experienced security forces of the estate? Would it be Bloody River all over again?

There was only one way to find out.

Monk pulled himself into the crowded rear compartment. Mosi settled into a seat next to Major Brooks. They sat on the bench facing Anna, Lisa, and Painter. One other newcomer, a half-naked Zulu warrior named Tau, was also strapped in the back. He half twisted to keep a short spear thrust at the throat of the chopper’s copilot.

Head Warden Gerald Kellogg sat next to Gunther, bound and gagged. One eye was swollen and purpling.

Monk tapped Gunther on the shoulder, and waved a finger to get the bird in the air. With a nod of acknowledgment, Gunther pulled on the collective, and the chopper leaped into the air with a roar of the engines.

The ground dropped away. The estate stretched out ahead of them. Monk had been informed that the estate was equipped with surface-to-air missiles. Weaponless, the slow-moving commercial chopper would be a flying bull’s-eye.

That would not be good.

Monk leaned forward.

“Time to earn your keep, warden.”

Monk grinned wickedly. He knew it was not a pretty sight, but it came in handy now.

Kellogg blanched.

Satisfied, Monk reached forward and lifted the radio’s mouthpiece to the warden’s lips. “Connect us to the security band.”

Khamisi had already obtained the codes. Hence Kellogg’s black eye.

“Stick to the script,” Monk warned, still grinning.

Kellogg leaned a bit farther away.

Was his smile really
that
awful?

To reinforce the threat, Tau pressed the point of his spear into the soft flesh of the man’s neck.

Static squelched from the radio, and Kellogg passed on the message as instructed. “We’ve recaptured one of your prisoners,” the warden told base security. “Monk Kokkalis. We’re flying him over to the rooftop helipad.”

Gunther monitored security’s response over his headphones.

“Roger that. Over and out,” Kellogg said.

Gunther yelled a bit. “We’ve been given the all clear. Here we go.”

He nosed the helicopter forward and sped toward the estate. Ahead, the mansion came into view. It looked even more massive from the air.

Swinging around and settling into his seat, Monk faced Lisa. Beside her, Anna leaned against the window, eyes squeezed closed in pain. Painter hung in his straps and groaned. The sedative was wearing thin.

Lisa helped settle him back.

Monk noted that she held Painter’s hand—and had all along.

Her face found Monk’s.

Fear shone bright in her eyes.

But not for herself.

2:56
P.M
.

“Is the broadcast rod raised?” Baldric asked.

Isaak nodded at his console.

“Ready the Bell for activation.”

Baldric turned to Gray. “We’ve fed your companions’ DNA codes into the Bell. It will modify its output to denature and selectively destroy any matching DNA while remaining harmless to all others. Our version of a final solution.”

Gray pictured Fiona hidden up in her room. And Monk was being flown in right now.

“There’s no need to kill them,” Gray said. “You’ve recaptured my partner. Leave the others alone.”

“If I’ve learned nothing in these past days, I’ve learned it’s best to leave no loose strings.” Baldric nodded to Isaak. “Activate the Bell.”

“Wait!” Gray yelled, stepping forward.

Ischke had retrieved his pistol and warned him away with it.

Baldric glanced back, bored and impatient.

Gray had only one card to play. “I know how to break Hugo’s code.”

Surprise softened Baldric’s stern demeanor. He lifted a delaying hand toward Isaak. “You do? You can succeed where a series of Cray computers has so far failed?”

Doubt rang in the man’s voice.

Gray knew he had to offer Baldric something, anything to stop him from switching the Bell on and irradiating his friends. He pointed to the monitor, repetitively cycling through the runes. The computer shuffled and sought a combination that offered some mnemonic cipher.

“You’ll fail on your own,” Gray promised.

“And why’s that?”

Gray licked his dry lips, scared, but he had to stay focused. He knew with certainty that the computer would fail because he had already solved the riddle of the runes. He didn’t understand the answer, but he knew he was right, especially considering Hugo Hirszfeld’s Jewish heritage.

Still, how much could he give away? He had to bargain to the best of his ability, balancing between the truth and the answer.

“You have the wrong rune from the Darwin Bible,” Gray said truthfully. “And there are
six,
not just
five,
runes.”

Baldric sighed. Disbelief deepened the lines around his mouth. “Like the sun wheel you drew before, I suppose?” He turned back toward Isaak.

“No!” Gray called out firmly. “Let me show you!”

He searched around and spotted a marker on one of the computer stations. He pointed and waved for it. “Pass me that.”

Brows pinched, Baldric nodded to Isaak.

The marker was tossed at him.

Gray caught it and knelt on the floor. He drew on the gray linoleum tiles with the black marker. “The rune from the Darwin Bible.”

He drew it.

“The
Mensch
rune,” Baldric said.

Gray tapped it. “It represents man’s higher state, the godlike plane hidden in all of us, our perfected selves.”

“So?”

“This was Hugo’s goal. The end result sought. Yes?”

Baldric slowly nodded.

“Hugo would not have incorporated the
result
into his code. His code leads to this.” He tapped the rune harder. “This doesn’t belong in the code.”

Slowly understanding dawned…as did the old man’s belief. “The other runes in the Darwin Bible…”

Gray drew on the floor, illustrating his point.

“These two runes make up the third.” He circled the two double-pronged runes. “These represent mankind at his most basic, what leads to the higher state. As such, it is these two runes that must be incorporated into the code.”

Gray wrote the original series of runes. “This is the wrong sequence.”

He crossed them out and inscribed the correct set, splitting the last rune.

Baldric stepped closer. “And this is the correct series? What must be deciphered?”

Gray answered truthfully. “Yes.”

Baldric nodded, eyes squinting as he considered this revelation. “I believe you are right, Commander Pierce.”

Gray stood.

“Dank u,”
Baldric said and turned back to Isaak. “Activate the Bell. Kill his friends.”

3:07
P.M
.

Lisa helped lift Painter out of the helicopter as the rotors wound down. The Zulu warrior Tau shouldered his other side. The sedative she had given Painter was short-acting. It would wear off in another few minutes.

Gunther supported Anna, her eyes glazed. The woman had dosed herself with another numbing injection of morphine. But she had begun coughing up bloody sputum.

Ahead of them, Monk and Mosi D’Gana stood over the dead bodies of a trio of helipad sentries. Security had been caught off guard, expecting to be accepting a prisoner. It had only taken a short spat from a pair of pistols equipped with silencers to commandeer the helipad.

Monk switched places with Tau. “Stay here. Guard the chopper. Keep an eye on the prisoner.”

Warden Kellogg had been pulled from the helicopter and dumped on the roof. He was gagged, his hands cuffed behind his back, his ankles tied. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Monk waved Major Brooks and Mosi D’Gana to take the lead. They had all reviewed the house schematics from Paula Kane and calculated the best route to the subbasement level. It was a ways to go. The helipad was situated near the back of the mansion.

Brooks and Mosi led them toward the rooftop door to the manor house, assault rifles held at shoulders. The pair moved as if they’d worked together before, synchronized, efficient. Gunther also carried a pistol in his fist and a stubby-nosed assault rifle across his back. Bristling with armament, they reached the door.