The Lance (The PROJECT: Book Two) (23 page)

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

Greenwood's voice made the hairs on the back of Selena's neck stand on end. She'd always heard about that. There was something primal in the harsh rhythm of the old language. Barbaric. Threatening. Frightening.

Still chanting, Greenwood went to the table in the center of the room. The chanting stopped. He opened the box. Selena saw a flash of diamonds and gold in the torchlight as he lifted the lid away. Greenwood took something from the box.

Greenwood said, "Bring her."

Four men moved away from the circle and came over to where she hung helpless. Each man took a key and unlocked one of the iron cuffs that bound her, grasping an arm or a leg. Selena struggled. The men lifted her naked body and brought her to the pole in the center of the room. Two men kept her arms and legs imprisoned while the other two bound her with leather thongs to the rings embedded in the pole. Then they returned to their places in the circle.

Greenwood stepped forward and held up a long, tapered blade in front of her face. It was brown and rusted with age, notched and pierced and wrapped in gold.

The Vienna Lance.

Greenwood spoke to her in German. Something moved in his eyes, as if more than one person were looking out at her.

"My name is Gruenwald," he said, his voice guttural and wet. "My father was Master of the Council before me, as Himmler was before him, as my son shall be after me. Tonight, the Reich is reborn. Your blood will open the passage."

Greenwood took the Lance and made a deep cut in Selena's forearm, opening a vein. The ancient blade dug into her flesh. She clenched her teeth against the pain. Greenwood picked up the emerald cup and caught the blood running down. The point of the Lance gleamed red in the flickering light of the torches. Selena twisted in her bonds and hot blood ran down her arm, down her side, draining into the cup.

When the cup was almost full, Greenwood stepped away. Blood continued to flow down her arm and over her breast. It ran down her side, down her leg, dripping on the floor. She was getting dizzy. She fought it.

"Bind her wound," Greenwood said. "We don't want her to die yet."

Smothers taped a compress over the bleeding vein. He wasn't gentle. Greenwood went to the edge of the circle of the black sun. He dipped the Vienna Lance into the chalice of blood and began to draw the blood along the circle. He moved counter-clockwise, chanting in the grating rhythm of the Old Germanic tongue as he moved.

The air turned freezing cold. Selena blinked, blinked again. A darkness was forming in the room, a thin, black cloud near the ceiling. It had to be an illusion, brought on by the wavering light of the torches, the loss of blood. She fought to stay conscious.

She wasn't going to give up, no matter what. But she hoped the others had figured it out and were on the way. She didn't think she had much time left.

CHAPTER
SIXTY-FOUR

There were thirteen steps. At the bottom, a short corridor paved with stone led to an arched door of thick, heavy oak. The hinges were of hammered iron, the black iron handle shaped like a snarling wolf's head. The door looked medieval. There was a faint sound beyond the thick door, a rhythmic chanting, harsh and guttural, rising in pitch.

Nick shifted the selector switch on his MP-5 to semi-auto.

"Lamont, you pull the door open, we go in. On three." He signaled with his fingers. The door opened and they stepped into the room.

The first thing Nick saw was a group of men dressed in white robes, standing in a circle in a stone room lit by flaming torches. The room was freezing. The next thing he saw was Selena, naked and slick with blood, bound to a pole set in the middle of the room. A man stood in front of her. He was chanting. His back was toward the entrance. There was a strange darkness hovering around him. He raised both his hands high over his head. Between them he held a long, dark blade, pointed down toward Selena.

Nick's bullet took him somewhere between his shoulder and spine, spinning him away from Selena. The blade flew from his hands and clattered against the polished floor.

An older man in the circle reached for something inside his robe. Lamont shot him in the chest. He staggered and crumpled over, the front of his robe bright with blood. The rest of the circle froze in place.

Nick slung his MP-5 and ran to Selena. He reached up and cut her bonds. She slumped into his arms. He caught her and laid her down. Ronnie and Lamont kept their weapons trained on the others.

Blood oozed from under a crude bandage on her arm, dark red against her pale skin. He felt her pulse. Strong, but erratic. Lying on the floor not far away, the man he'd shot groaned. Nick recognized Greenwood.

"Ronnie, get me one of those robes."

Ronnie walked over to the Vice-President. "Take it off."

Earlston drew himself up to his full five foot nine. "Do you know who I am?"

Ronnie put the muzzle of his gun on Earlston's forehead and pressed.

"I don't give a shit if you're the Queen of England. Take it off."

Earlston stripped off the robe. Ronnie tossed the robe over and Nick wrapped it around Selena. Her face was white. She opened her eyes.

"Nick."

"You're okay now. It's all right."

"It took you long enough." She closed her eyes.

He picked her up and carried her across the room, sat her down in a fancy carved chair. That was when he noticed the Nazi flags. He looked around the room, at the swastikas, the torches, the words on the wall. He looked at Selena, pale in the light of the torches. He wanted to hurt someone. He wanted to hurt someone badly.

One of the robed men started toward the figure groaning on the floor.

"Don't move," Lamont said.

"That's my father, he's hurt."

"Tough shit. Don't move."

"You wouldn't dare shoot us."

Lamont looked at the speaker. Admiral Lang, Chief of Naval Intelligence.

"Do you know who we are? Do you understand what is going to happen to you if you harm us? I am your superior officer. I order you to drop those weapons, now."

Ronnie and Lamont looked at each other and began laughing. Lang looked confused.

Selena opened her eyes. "Take care of this, Nick. I'm fine." Her eyes were clear.

He walked over to Lamont. They stood with their backs to the open door.

"Nick, what are we going to do with these shitbirds?"

"Damned if I know."

"
You will do nothing. Drop your weapons. You and the schwarze."

The voice came from behind them, from the passage beyond the door. Whoever was there couldn't see Ronnie, standing to the left of the doorway.

People who point guns expect the target to freeze. There's only a fraction of a second to react. Training took over. Nick and Lamont rolled in opposite directions away from the door and the line of fire. Nick came up kneeling with his pistol in his hand.

Ronnie opened up toward the hall, bouncing rounds off the walls of the passage at the unseen speaker. Shots came through the open door.

Selena dived for the floor. Lang pulled a pistol from under his robe and shot Ronnie. The bullet knocked him off his feet and back against the wall. He fell to the floor. Carter shot Lang twice, the .45 bucking in his hand. The circle of robed men scattered and more pistols came out. The room echoed with gunfire.

Ronnie's armor had stopped the round. He raised his weapon from where he lay and began firing. Lamont fired. Carter fired at anything moving in a white robe. Bits of stone flew and the air filled with rounds whining and ricocheting off the walls. The slide locked back on Nick's pistol.

Sudden silence. The flames from the torches flickered and danced, casting strange shadows on the walls.

The room stank of gunfire and blood. Empty shell casings littered the marble floor. Ronnie climbed to his feet, holding his side where the round had punched his armor. Lamont took a quick look around the door frame, ducked back, and looked again. He moved into the doorway, his MP-5 held up by his cheek.

"Clear," he said.

The floor of the room was carpeted with white-robed bodies. The stone walls were chipped and pockmarked. Nick ejected the empty magazine from his .45. He fed in a new one, racked the slide and walked over to where Greenwood lay on the floor. He felt sudden goose bumps all over. There was something nearby. Something to be feared. He looked around but saw nothing.

Greenwood lay in a spreading pool of blood. He looked up, his face contorted in rage. Nick thought about killing him, but Greenwood was already dead. He just didn't know it yet.

"It is not over," Greenwood said. He coughed and blood bubbled from his lips as he spoke. "We are everywhere. You will never defeat us." Suddenly he was watching something over Nick's shoulder. All the color drained from his face.

"No," he said. "Oh, no."

Something colder than ice brushed Nick.
Something dark. Something foul. Greenwood shuddered.

"NO!" he screamed.

He died. Suddenly the room was warm. Whatever it was Nick had felt was gone. He took a deep breath.

He reached down and picked up the Vienna Lance, damp with Selena's blood. It twisted in his hand and cut his palm. He swore and hurled it against the wall. The brittle iron broke with a sharp, snapping sound and the Lance fell in pieces to the ground.

Ronnie and Lamont walked among the bodies. Smothers lay on his side, clutching his abdomen and moaning. Senator Blackfriar had a sucking chest wound and lay on his back laboring for breath, staring at the ceiling. Greenwood's son crawled across the floor in a trail of blood, clutching his stomach. A strange, mewling whine came from him. The rest were dead.

Lamont had a deep gash across his cheek. He touched it, blotted it with his sleeve.

"Let's go." Carter holstered his pistol.

Selena stood up. "What about that?" She gestured at the bodies.

"Leave it. We'll let Rice handle it. We've got to get out of here."

Then he remembered Rice's comment about Dysart never coming to trial. What would happen if this got out? He looked at Ronnie and Lamont.

"This can't go public," he said.

They nodded.

"Take Selena upstairs and go get the car. I'll finish up here."

"You sure?" Lamont said.

"You go ahead. I'll be right behind."

Lamont and Ronnie helped Selena to her feet. They went up the stairs.

Nick moved around the walls and snuffed all the torches except one. The hiss of escaping gas grew loud. He found an adjustment, turned the remaining torch down to a tiny flame and left it burning.

He went into the hall. A man in black uniform lay on the stones, his weapon beside him. His lifeless eyes were open, cold and blue. On his collar he wore a silver oak leaf insignia.

Nick closed the door to the Nazi chamber and the soft whisper of gas. He hurried up the stairs, past the basement and up to the first floor. He ran into the library and took the laptop from Greenwood's desk. He ran to the front of the house and out the door, past the silent cars and the Italian fountain. As he reached the street Lamont pulled up in the car. 

In the back seat, Nick held Selena close. She shivered, waves that rippled across her.

They were blocks away when the explosion lit up the night.

CHAPTER
SIXTY-FIVE

On the way in, Nick called Stephanie and briefed her. She was waiting for them in front of Nick's building. He gave her Greenwood's computer. Maybe it had the proof  the President needed. Rice had to get things under control, fast. Before anyone figured out what had really happened.

It wasn't the first time Nick had showed up at his building looking like anything but a normal tenant. The security guard eyed Selena in her bloody robe and Nick in his black gear. He shook his head without saying a word as they made for the elevator.

The apartment was furnished European style. Simple wood and glass and clean Scandinavian accents. Nick sat Selena down on a wide couch of brown leather and cleaned the wound on her arm. It was a brutal gash, deep and red. He put antibiotic ointment on it and bandaged the cut. It would do for now. He got up and poured her a whiskey. She was pale, still wrapped in the robe with the black sun embroidered on the breast.

"Here, this will help." He poured one for himself. It was two in the morning. The night was quiet, cold and dark. No traffic on the street ten stories below. No garbage trucks. No Nazis.

She drank, coughed, drank more.

Nick sat down next to her. She clutched the glass in both hands. She had the thousand yard stare. Watching something a long way off.

He watched her and thought about Megan. He'd wanted to keep Megan safe and had thought he could. That illusion had vanished in flame at the end of the airport runway. After Megan, he'd never wanted to feel pain like that again. Hadn't wanted to risk letting anyone in. Looking at Selena, he knew what he had done.

"It's okay," Nick said. "It's over. You're safe."

"What was that in the room?" she said.

"I don't know."

"It was evil," she said. "And the look in Greenwood's eyes. He was going to plunge that spear into my heart." She shuddered.

Nick put his hand on her arm. "I saw you hanging there—I didn't know if you were dead. All that blood. I wanted to kill him. All of them."

"You did," she said. "Give me another." She held out her glass. He got up and poured two more. He set his down and went into the bedroom and came back with a Turkish robe of blue cotton.

"Put this on." She slipped into it, the sleeves too long for her arms. Nick stuffed the Nazi robe in the trash.

She pulled the robe tight. Her color was coming back as the whiskey worked into her system. She was going to be all right, but she'd live with tonight for the rest of her life.

He cleared his throat, said, "I've been kind of stuck the last few months."

"What do you mean?"

"Words come hard for me. About you. About Megan. What I'm trying to say…if you had died tonight I couldn't have handled it. I had to see that. I've pushed you away because I didn't want to admit I cared that much. But I do. I'm sorry."

She reached up and touched him on his face. "It's as much my fault as yours. You scare me sometimes. Your dreams, all of it."

"Selena..."

"It's all right, Nick. It doesn't matter now."

She was right. It didn't.