Black Rose (23 page)

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Authors: Alex Lukeman

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Action & Adventure, #Men's Adventure, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thriller & Suspense, #War & Military, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Spies & Politics, #Espionage, #Thriller, #Thrillers

BOOK: Black Rose
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CHAPTER 60

 

 

The raft was a rental from a company in Geneva that specialized in supplying whatever was needed for tourists with a yen for seeing the Rhône up close and personal. Clouds covered the moon. The château was a dark mass looming out of the night. In their black gear, the three of them were just one more bit of darkness.

The raft bumped up against the rotting remains of the old dock. Ronnie tied off and they climbed up onto the flat area next to the wall of the château. Nick shone a light on the rusted metal of the ancient door. A metal plate in the center held a large keyhole.

"Can pick that lock?"

Ronnie peered into the keyhole. "It's solid rust. Be quicker if I cut it away."

He took the plasma unit from his pack. It was compact and self-contained, good for about twenty minutes, long enough for most uses in the field. Ronnie donned goggles, turned it on and began cutting. The torch made a bright, blue flame, showering sparks as he cut. The metal glowed red on either side of the cut as he moved the beam around the lock plate. After a few minutes he shut down the torch and took off his goggles.

"That should do it."

He stood and used his knife to pry the plate away from the door. It fell onto the ground.

"Give me a hand," Ronnie said.

Nick and Ronnie pulled on the door. Flakes of rust broke away but it didn't move.

"Again," Nick said. This time they felt movement. "Once more should do it."

They pulled. The door came open with a screeching sound of tortured metal.

"They must've heard that in Geneva," Nick said.

"As long as they didn't hear it up top," Selena said. "Are we going in or not?"

They stepped into the lowest vault of the château and brought out their flashlights. The arched ceiling of the vault was made of fitted stones. The floor was of stone. Old barrels and crates and pieces of lumber littered the floor. A thick layer of dust lay over everything. A narrow flight of steps rose at the far end to the next level.

"No one's been here in a long time," Nick said. "I wonder if they even know that door is there."

"They will after we leave," Ronnie said.

"Let's climb. Weapons free."

They charged their MP-5s. The sound of the bolts going home echoed in the stone space.

The steps led to a closed wooden door. Nick pushed against it until it showed dim light from the room beyond. They opened it further and stepped into another vault. This one had been converted into a furnace room. Three low wattage bulbs hung from the ceiling, shedding light enough to see a modern gas fired boiler positioned against one wall. A four inch gas main descended from the ceiling to a large, spoked valve and then over to a meter and control console on the side of the boiler. The panel held more valves and several gauges. They could hear the low sound of the pilot light burning. Pipes rose from the boiler and branched out along the ceiling.

"That's a serious furnace," Ronnie said. "Look at the size of that gas line. I'd hate to see the heating bill."

"Gutenberg can afford it," Nick said. "The next level up should be the ground floor. I don't see steps."

"There's another vault through there," Selena said. She pointed at an open archway on the wall opposite the furnace. They headed over to it. Nick held up his hand.

Wait.

He took a quick look into the next room and signaled them forward.

They entered a wine cellar lit by dim, overhead bulbs. On one side, racks of wine and liquor bottles stood in dusty rows, five shelves high. A wide aisle ran down the middle of the vault, toward another set of steps leading upward. On the other side of the aisle stood a dozen round, steel cylinders, each about four feet high. Nick had seen cylinders like that before. They were the kind used by crop dusters.

He walked over to them. Each one was marked in red.

 

SR

 

Selena came up beside him. "SR. I'll bet it's short for Schwarze Rose, Black Rose. These are full of plague."

"Son of a bitch," Nick said.

"The bastard means to spray that stuff from the air," Ronnie said.

"This ends tonight," Nick said. His lips were pulled into a tight line.

He looked at the steps leading up from the wine cellar.

"If I remember those plans right, those steps lead to the kitchen."

"That makes sense," Selena said.

"Once we're inside it won't take long before they discover us. Anyone that's armed, shoot them. We don't know if there's any more of this stuff except what's down here, so don't kill Gutenberg. We have to try and take him alive."

The muffled sound of automatic weapons came through the closed door to the kitchen.

"What the hell is that?" Ronnie said. "Sounds like a firefight up there."

"Only one way to find out," Nick said.

 

CHAPTER 61

 

 

Albert Halifax settled back in the soft leather and sipped whisky from one of Gutenberg's collection of fine single malts. The glow of a Tiffany lamp on the end table cast a mellow light over his polished wing tip shoes. He was on his third drink. Across from him, Gutenberg sat with a similar glass in a similar chair, waiting for Halifax to come to the point.

The British Chancellor of the Exchequer had arrived unannounced earlier that afternoon, accompanied by his personal bodyguard. The two men sitting in Gutenberg's study were the last leaders of AEON.

Halifax broke the silence. "A thousand years and it comes to this."

"What do you mean, Albert?"

"You know what I mean. Centuries of work undone and all because of an upstart group of Americans no one seems able to eliminate. It reminds me of Shakespeare, done badly."

"Shakespeare?"

"Who will rid me of this turbulent priest?"
Halifax quoted. "Richard the III." His voice was husky with the Scotch.

"It's not over yet, Albert."

"No?"

"No. Besides, it's not just the Americans. The Russians are responsible for most of the events of the past week."

"Russians, Americans, what's the difference? We're next."

"This isn't like you, Albert. Get hold of yourself." Gutenberg's voice took on an edge of steel. "You're safe here. Tomorrow the containers will be taken to the airfield. By the next day, the disease will be released over Moscow and New York and everyone will be too busy to worry about us. I should have done that in the first place instead of sending Schmidt. We only need to be patient a while longer."

"I can't say I'm sorry about Krivi," Halifax said. "Pushy wog. But I must admit, he was useful."

"Look at it this way. Albert. You and I now control all of AEON's resources. We'll find new men to take the place of the others and this time, we'll consolidate the power between the two of us. Lately things had become too..."

"Democratic?" Halifax finished for him.

"Yes, exactly."

Shouts sounded somewhere in the building. Then the sound of automatic weapons.

"What was that?" Halifax said.

Gutenberg stood. "Come with me."

Halifax rose as Gutenberg strode over to a wall of books. He reached up to the fourth shelf and tugged on a leather bound volume near the end. The bookcase swung open, revealing a lighted passage beyond.

The two men stepped inside. Gutenberg pulled on a lever and the bookcase slid shut. They were in a passage three feet wide, lit at intervals by bulbs overhead.

"You devil," Halifax said. "I haven't seen one of these servant passages in years."

"It's quite extensive. We can go anywhere on the first and second floors. There are peepholes in each room."

Intermittent gunfire sounded through the walls. The sounds were muted inside the passageway.

"This way," Gutenberg said.

They moved down the passage until they came to a corridor branching off to the right.

"What about stray rounds?" Halifax asked. His voice was nervous.

"We're safe in here. The walls are stone, nothing's coming through them."

Gutenberg stopped and peered through a small opening in the wall. A lever protruded from the wall. He pulled it down and a section of the wall opened into a dimly lit room. The sound of shooting was much louder.

"Where are we?" Halifax whispered.

"This is the gun room," Gutenberg said.

He went to a large glassed cabinet and opened it with a key he took from his vest pocket. One side of the cabinet held shotguns and rifles in an upright rack. The other side held a second, smaller cabinet with several drawers. Gutenberg pulled open the bottom drawer and took out a German Luger pistol and two loaded magazines. He inserted a magazine into the gun, pulled back on the toggle slide and stuck the pistol in his belt. He dropped the second magazine in his jacket pocket.

"This one's for you." Gutenberg handed Halifax a Walther .380. "It's loaded. I assume you know how to use it."

"Of course."

Halifax managed to sound offended. He reached around Gutenberg and took an engraved over and under shotgun from the rack.

"I prefer one of these."

Gutenberg shrugged. "As you will. Ammunition is right there."

Halifax loaded the gun. "Now what?"

"Now we find out what's happening. My men should have things under control by now."

A sudden burst of fire in the next room sent them scurrying back into the hidden passageway. The door closed behind them.

"That doesn't sound like it's under control," Halifax said.

"If you have nothing positive to say, keep quiet."

Without waiting for a reply, Gutenberg moved along the corridor and put his eye to the spy hole looking into the next room.

He saw two of his men lying on the floor. Both were dead. A man in gray battle dress and wearing a red beret stood over one of the bodies. Gutenberg recognized the insignia on his collar.

"Russians," he hissed under his breath.

"Russians? Why would they be here?"

"They're after me," Gutenberg said. "And if they know you're here, they're after you too."

"What shall we do?"

"Nothing. We wait until they decide we're not here and go away."

The shooting had stopped.

"You might as well get comfortable," Gutenberg said.

CHAPTER 62

 

 

Nick waited at the head of the stairs by the kitchen door. Ronnie and Selena were on the steps behind him.

"Ready?"

He pushed the door open. It moved a few inches and lodged against something soft and heavy. Nick looked through the opening and saw part of a brightly lit kitchen counter. A rack of metal pots hung over it. The shooting had died out. He pushed harder until the door was open enough to slip through. The body of a large man in a white apron and shirt had been blocking  the door. His shirt was red with blood. A large knife lay near his hand. Vegetables were scattered over the floor.

"They shot the cook," Selena said. "Why do that?"

"He's a witness," Nick said. "Whoever it is, they're not going to leave anyone alive in this building."

"They must be after Gutenberg, just like we are," Ronnie said.

"Yeah. You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Russians?" Ronnie said.

"Probably Spetsnaz. Vysotsky's people."

"How many you think?"

"Not too many. Maybe eight or ten. They wouldn't need more than that."

Nick led them over to where the kitchen doors stood open to the rest of the Château.

"Too bad Korov isn't here," Ronnie said. "We might get by without shooting it out."

"You want to try and convince them we're on their side?" Nick said.

"Nah. Just sayin'."

Nick turned to Selena.

"You see movement, don't hesitate. Shoot it."

"What if it's someone like the cook? Not one of the Russians or Gutenberg's men?"

"Hear that?" Nick asked.

"Hear what? It's quiet."

"Exactly. The shooting's over. They've killed everyone they came across. You see someone, they're an enemy. Take them down."

She nodded.

"They don't know we're here. If I were them, I'd be headed this way to check out those vaults. I don't want to get stuck in this kitchen. We'll take it to them."

The doors from the kitchen opened onto a wide hall and staging area with tables where dishes could be set before being taken to the dining room. To the left of the staging area, stairs led up to the second level. To the right, the space was taken up by storage closets. Straight ahead, the passage continued toward the rest of the ground floor. Another body lay facedown beyond the tables. He was dressed in a suit. The stock of an assault rifle stuck out from under his body. His blood made a wide red pool on the floor.

One of Gutenberg's guards,
Nick thought.

They moved past the body and took up positions on either side of the opening where the hall moved on into the rest of the building. Voices sounded ahead, coming closer. They were speaking Russian. Nick held up three fingers and mouthed
on three
.

One. Two. Three.

On three, they leaned around the doorjamb and opened fire.

The first thing Selena saw was three men in gray battle dress and red berets. They carried short barreled assault rifles that looked ugly and efficient. The bullets knocked them down before they had a chance to raise the rifles. Out of sight in an adjoining passage, Selena heard someone start shouting in Russian.

Ronnie took a grenade from his belt, pulled the pin and hurled it down the passage. They ducked back. The grenade detonated and Nick ran forward into the hall. Without thinking, Selena followed. Someone looked around a corner and fired. The rounds whistled by as Nick shot him. She sensed Ronnie pounding along the hall behind her. She felt invincible, strong, adrenaline punching through her veins.

They passed the spot where the grenade had gone off. The walls and floor and ceiling were spattered with blood. Two bodies lay on the floor, blown apart by the grenade. At least she thought it was two. It was hard to tell.

Behind the wall, Gutenberg watched them go by. He recognized Carter.

Those are the people who have been causing so much trouble,
he thought.
Well, they won't be doing it for much longer.

The dining room had a long, polished mahogany table with a gleaming crystal chandelier hanging over it. Vysotsky's men opened fire as Selena started into the room. Bullets ripped into a half dozen oil paintings hung on the wall behind her. A round slammed into her vest and knocked her back into the hall and onto the floor. She gasped for air.

Ronnie and Nick fired into the room. The chandelier exploded into glittering fragments. The noise of the guns was deafening. A door opened on the opposite side of the hall. She rolled to her side and fired at the opening. Someone screamed and fell back into the room.

Then it was over.

The hallway stank of burnt powder and hot metal. The coppery scent of fresh blood seeped into the air. Nick came over to her.

"Give me a hand," she said.

He helped her to her feet. "You're okay?"

"It just knocked the wind out of me. I'm fine."

"I make it nine dead Russians," Ronnie said.

"That figures. Eight enlisted and one officer," Nick said.

"We still haven't found Gutenberg."

"He's probably hiding."

Somewhere a door closed.

"You hear that?" Ronnie said. "It sounded like it came from the kitchen."

They ran back the way they had come and into the kitchen. The body of the cook still lay on the floor. The door to the vault was closed.

"Didn't we leave that open?" Selena asked.

Nick nodded. "Somehow Gutenberg must've gotten past us and gone down into the vault."

"Bad move," Ronnie said. "He's trapped."

"Yeah. Maybe. Or maybe not. Why hide where he can't get away?"

"There could be another way out," Selena said. "Something we didn't see when we were down there."

"Only one way to find out," Nick said. "Let's go see."

In the vault beneath the kitchen, Gutenberg and Halifax stood in front of a tall wine rack.

"Help me empty this," Gutenberg said.

He began pulling bottles off the rack, two and three at a time. They shattered on the stone floor, splashing wine onto his dove gray slacks.

Halifax said, "My dear man, this is hardly the time for a glass of wine."

"Don't be an idiot, Albert. There's an old tunnel behind this that will take us outside the walls. This isn't the first time the château has been under siege. Now, give me a hand."

The two men began throwing bottles onto the floor. The wine spread in a growing pool around their feet. Soon the heavy wine rack was light enough to move. They pulled it away from the wall, revealing a dark, wooden door.

A rusted, iron ring hung from the middle of the door. Gutenberg took hold of the ring and pulled. With difficulty, it began to come open.

 

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