The Painted Messiah (31 page)

Together they dropped into the forest.

Whatever ambient light they might have enjoyed was lost inside the woods. They stood in absolute darkness. They were not dressed for the cold, but such was their predicament they hardly noticed.

'Which way?' Ethan asked as he placed his spare clip into one of his guns, stripped the second gun of its silencer and left the weapon in the leaves. There were essentially two directions away from Corbeau's property. They could come out of the forest somewhere along the road or at the lake. Trying to avoid either they would eventually find themselves exposed on both sides.

'Lake.' Kate's voice had regained its certainty.

'Take my hand!' Ethan told her. They had only a few precious minutes to get as much distance as possible from Corbeau's property before his people came out in force, but inside a dark wood time counted differently. Without a flashlight or night vision goggles, they were reduced to feeling their way. Every step forward brought them into some obstacle, tree branches mostly, but rocks and hollows as well. Pushing for speed only made it worse. They had spent a great many nights in the mountains. They had made a good living working in the dark but they had always carried equipment to
help them manage. Suddenly, they were blind, seemingly hemmed in on all sides and forced to move with painstaking care. It was no way to run for your life.

When he unexpectedly discovered nothing in front of him, Ethan took advantage. The first several steps took them over a reasonably level terrain - seemingly the break they needed. The next sent them tumbling through the air. He actually touched ground about twenty feet below his last step, and then dropped again. Hitting a bank of soft clay, he slid another fifty yards or so. By the time he had come to a stop, Ethan understood he had come out of it in one piece. His only concern was Kate. 'You okay, Girl?' he whispered.

'You walked us off a cliff, Boy.' She was close to him. Her tone suggested she wasn't hurt.

'I was hoping you didn't notice that.'

Kate came close, her body touching his, her forehead brushing across his jaw. A moment later her lips touched his. 'We're going to get out of this, Boy.'

'Promise?'

'I promise.'

'Still want to get married?'

'More than anything. When he said you were dead—'

'I know. I had the same feeling when I found out he had you.'

Above them Ethan could hear Corbeau's people setting up a perimeter along the road. Inside Corbeau's dock, the engines of the Pantera and Fountain rumbled. The WaverRunners screamed.

Kate and Ethan were nearly at the lake, but it was too late to matter. Corbeau had them surrounded.

***

They got their first glimpse of the water once the Fountain got to open water and shone its spotlight across the landscape. They settled behind a fallen tree just off the shoreline. On this particular finger of the lake the opposite shore was about five hundred yards away by water, nearly three miles distant by road. In the Fountain's spotlight, Ethan could see that the sleek Pantera carried a driver and two gunmen. Both boats settled some fifty to eighty yards out from shore while the Jet Skis began a sweep along the shoreline. It took only a few seconds of watching them for Ethan to realize that Corbeau expected them try to break out at the road. The boats were simply holding the perimeter.

Kate gestured toward the two Jet Skis. 'You ready to hitch a ride?'

'They'll blow us out of the water if we do.'

'Give me the extra silencer.' Ethan handed it to her.

The Jet Skis sported no running lights and only a single headlight, so they were hard to find, but when the Fountain's light splashed over them, Ethan had only to lose his gun sights in the shadow of the rider and squeeze softly on Kate's '. . . three!'

Their guns spit quietly and the Jet Skis skittered out from under the recoil of the falling riders. Kate fired six more rounds before catching the spotlight on the Fountain. A split-second later, gunmen on both boats opened fire on the shoreline. The assault was terrifying for its intensity, but a Kalashnikov on full auto is good for only a few seconds. The moment the gunfire ceased, Kate popped up and shot the headlights of the Jet Skis. When the second assault from the boats had finished, Kate took the Pantera's spotlight out with three shots and turned the lake to darkness. The gunmen responded with another wild volley, but they had neither sound nor muzzle flash to help them.

Kate reloaded, and they left their cover while the gunfire continued sporadically. They crossed an open stretch of shore and dived into the marsh some twenty yards from the Jet Skis. Ethan heard Kate slip into the frigid water and followed her. He shivered and resisted the urge to shout at the cold. The Jet Skis were still idling as they climbed on the saddles. Ethan changed his gun to his left hand and recalled the hours of shooting on the range with both hands - Kate's idea - because she always wanted a backup. When Kate's engine began to whine, Ethan rolled the throttle back on his machine and felt it rise up out of the water like a living beast. He could not see Kate, but he followed the sound. She was headed, he realized with some surprise, straight at the Pantera.

The gunmen on the speedboat opened fire first. They were shooting at sound. Kate and Ethan aimed at the muzzle blasts. Both men went down, but Kate kept going at the boat, firing until her weapon emptied. Ethan caught the driver with a shot just over the bow with what turned out to be his last bullet. Dropping his gun in the lake, he leaned forward and turned the throttle the last inch.

The Fountain's engines roared in response, but it was a forty-eight-footer and came around slowly. For several seconds, Ethan kept his focus on the lights of the tiny village on the opposite shore. Three hundred yards, two hundred yards, one hundred . . .

He risked one backward glance and saw the Fountain gaining speed, but the race was already finished. He drove the Jet Ski up a grassy bank next to Kate. They sprinted together for the shadow of an old barn. The guns on the Fountain were easily within range but, on a moving boat aiming at moving targets a hundred yards distant, they had trouble. It was all the luck Kate and Ethan needed. From the old barn, there were a number of buildings that provided a fairly decent line of retreat, and soon they were running along a narrow alley safely within the village.

At the two-lane highway, even without weapons, Ethan realized the chase had turned to their advantage. They were in the foothills of Mount Rigi. It was a vast area spotted with tiny villages, isolated farms, open meadows and dense forests. For the space of several minutes they ran for higher ground. It got them the distance they needed and kept their wet clothes from bringing on hypothermia. When they came to a reasonably flat road, they ran flat-out for nearly half a mile. They saw a security light at a barn a couple of minutes later and headed for it. They let the dog bark at the end of its chain while Kate hotwired an old truck. They were rolling when Kate snapped the heater on and finally spoke. 'Nice plan, Boy.'

Zürich

'Tell me you didn't just raid Julian Corbeau's compound,' Jane Harrison said.

Malloy stood up and started pacing in the tight confines of the room. 'Corbeau? When was this?'
'Just after midnight your time.'

He checked his watch. It was four in the morning - still evening for Jane. 'I don't know anything about it.'

'Corbeau is telling the police the CIA just attempted to kidnap him. The Swiss ambassador wants assurances we aren't involved.'

'Any chance this is connected to the painting?'

'You tell me.'

'I have no idea, but if I had to make a guess—'

'Get the product to Starr, T. K., and get out of the country before we get dragged any further into this . . . mess!'

Jonas Starr's Mercedes pulled into a small parking area at the
Rote Fabric
, a defunct ceramics factory the city used for cultural events. The area was quiet at seven- thirty on a Wednesday morning. Both Starr and his driver waited in the car while Starr's two bodyguards got out and headed directly toward Malloy.

They were big men. By their manner he was guessing they were ex-military. They were both carrying MAC-10 machine pistols. 'Hands in the air,' one of them commanded.

When they had disarmed Malloy, Jonas Starr stepped out of his Mercedes. Starr was a tall, thin man with a weathered face. He wore a cashmere coat that could almost let him pass for a Zürich businessman. Only his voice betrayed him. His voice was pure Texas.

'Where is my painting, Mr Malloy?'

'The painting is safe, Dr Starr.'

Jonas Starr smiled. Under different circumstances it might have passed for charming. At the moment
it suggested nothing so much as impatience. 'Unfortunately, my niece isn't.'

'If you would care to tell me who kidnapped her, I might be able to help.'

'As I understand it, your people have instructed you to hand the painting over to me. Now why don't you do that and we can leave here friends?'

'I didn't make my deal with you, Dr Starr. I made arrangements with Dr North and the Reverend Richland. Those are the only people I'm taking orders from.'

Starr glanced at the two men to either side of Malloy, his smile transforming into a snarl. 'I don't think you're in any position to bargain.'

'That's because you don't understand my position.'

Malloy gestured toward the roofline of the building closest to them as five gunmen appeared.

Starr, seeing his position so utterly compromised, shouted indignantly. 'What is this?'

'My guns, gentlemen?'

Starr acquiesced and the guard with Malloy's weapons handed them back. Holstering his Sigma and Glock, Malloy told him, 'You're free to call and complain about this, but the minute you do, your painting disappears into Russia. Once it's there neither one of us is ever going to see it again.'

'Name your price, Malloy. How much is it going to take to get you to walk away from this?'

Malloy smiled. 'How about Richland tells me what he wants me to do.'

'Are you serious?' When Malloy didn't answer him, Starr reached for his cell phone. A few seconds later he
said, 'Jim, I'm standing here with your good friend Thomas Malloy. He tells me he wants you to tell him to release the painting to me.' Starr passed the phone to Malloy.

'Reverend?'

'I understand you ran into some problems, Mr Malloy.' J. W. Richland's voice sounded as if he had just been pulled from a deep sleep, but he was trying to be cheerful.

'The important thing is I've got your painting. I can bring it to you if you want, or I can exchange it for Dr North's life. You tell me what to do.'

'I thought I made it clear to the people you work for, Mr Malloy—'

'I work for
you
, sir.'

'You're to give the painting to Dr Starr! He'll make arrangements for Nicole's release.'

'I can't do that.'

'You want to tell me why not?'

'Dr Starr isn't capable of handling it. He proved that this morning.'

'It's not your choice to make!'

'You're right. It's your choice. Do I bring the painting to New York, or do I use it to try to save Dr North's life?'

'You do what you're told to do, mister!'

'You're not following me, Reverend. Now listen closely. If you go to your friends or if you tell me one more time to give it to Dr Starr, your painting disappears. Now what do you want me to do, bring it to New York or use it to save Dr North's life?'

With a sigh of resignation the preacher answered. 'Bring me the painting, Mr Malloy.'

'And Dr North?'

'We'll do what we can!'

'The painting can save her, Reverend.'

'You don't know that!'

'No, I don't. But I'm willing to bet my life on it.'

'I can't risk it.' 'Risk what -
my
life?'

'You act like I enjoy this!'

'It's Julian Corbeau who has her, isn't it?'

'I can't let a man like that have it.. .'

'Reverend, I can get her out. He'll make the trade. Don't let her die for the sake of a painting.'

'Bring the painting to New York, Mr Malloy.' Malloy tossed the phone to Jonas Starr and walked away.

'Where are you going?' Starr asked him.

'When you write my cheques, Dr Starr, I'll be glad to answer your questions. Otherwise, you can go to hell.'

Lake Brienz

Malloy slipped into a waiting van and was driven to one of the city's underground parking lots. There he found Hasan Barzani's Porsche. Five minutes later he was driving it through heavy traffic toward the town of Brienz. From Brienz he circled the lake and headed up Ax Alp. He parked the Porsche in the woods and started down the mountain toward the contessa's villa. The trail was steep and crooked, sometimes following the contours of the rock, sometimes the course of the cascade. At the contessa's property,

Malloy found Rene raking the yard. 'Is she here?' he asked.