“Yeah,” Tommy said, “but this isn’t a church.”
“No, but that is,” Sean said, pointing up at the triangle below the bishop’s figure. “Or at least it’s the symbol of one.”
“Right. Now how does that help us?”
“Look at the design just below the pinnacle of the triangle. What does that look like to you?”
Tommy and the others thought for a moment before he responded. “The three interlocking circles? Looks like some sort of ancient symbol from…” Then it hit him. “Britannia.”
“There you go,” Sean said. “And where did King Arthur come from?”
“Great Britain,” June answered, suddenly mesmerized by the idea.
“Come back to Peter for a second,” Sean said. “What is the connection to all of this?”
“The sword,” Tommy said in an absent tone. “The legend suggests that when Peter was executed by Nero, his sword was taken to Britain by Joseph of Arimathea.”
“The one who gave his grave to Jesus,” Adriana said.
“The very same. There are other legends, too. One says that he took the Holy Grail to Britain to be its guardian. Another suggests that he was the one who brought Christianity to the isles and became the first abbot of Britain, founding the first abbey.”
“Wait,” Sean said, holding up his palm. “If he founded the first church of Britain, maybe that’s where we’re supposed to look next.”
Tommy looked as if he was going into a trance. “As the story goes, Joseph took the sword of Peter and the Holy Grail to Britain and founded the abbey at Glastonbury. I can’t believe I didn’t make that connection before now.”
“What connection?” June asked.
“Glastonbury Abbey…it’s where King Arthur and Queen Guinevere are buried.”
“You mean supposedly buried,” Sean said.
“Right. But come on. It can’t be a coincidence. Can it?”
“And I thought you said we’re not looking for the grail,” Adriana added.
Frustrated with all the comments, Tommy held up both hands. “Okay, hold on. Nobody said anything about looking for the grail. I’m just putting it all out there. At this point, we don’t know what is right or wrong.”
“Sounds like we need to pay Helen and Mac a visit in France,” Sean said.
“Good idea,” Tommy agreed. “Right now we’re grasping at straws. That codex might hold the key to figuring out this whole thing.”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Schultz, your friends won’t be in possession of the codex much longer,” a new voice said from behind. It was oddly familiar.
The four spun around simultaneously and were met by the man who’d accosted them in Aachen, the one who’d posed as a waiter. He was standing several feet away with both hands tucked inside his jacket pockets.
Tommy took a step toward him.
“You should know every one of you has a gun aimed at your head right now,” the man said. “I would prefer not to spill your blood.”
“He’s bluffing,” Tommy said.
“Am I?”
Tommy and the others glanced around at each other. Red dots danced on their foreheads.
Sean scanned the buildings across the street for the shooters but couldn’t immediately see any of them. He doubted they’d be in buildings with closed windows. More likely, they were hiding in some of the trees or bushes.
“Leave the McElroys out of this. They’re just doing their jobs,” Sean said. “They don’t know what that codex means.” He didn’t let on that none of them really knew. Not yet, at least.
“Whether they know or not doesn’t matter to me. You are involved with something more powerful than you could ever imagine. We cannot allow that.”
“I’m sorry,” Sean said, “but you know our names. We still haven’t caught yours. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we know something about you. Just not who you are. You look like a Billy.” Sean turned to Tommy. “Wouldn’t you say that’s about right, Schultzie? Billy. Or maybe Steve?”
“I don’t know, Sean. He strikes me as one of those with a gender-neutral name like Chris or Kelly.”
“Your sense of humor won’t get you out of this. This is your last chance to walk away.”
“Wait,” Adriana interrupted. “You just want us to walk away?”
“We are not here to kill you,” the blond man said.
“Sorry if I’m a little skeptical of that statement seeing as you have guns pointed at our heads,” Sean said.
“Consider this your last warning, Mr. Wyatt. Leave this place. Let go of this quest. It will only end in death.”
“And our friends in France? I guess you’re going to let them off with a warning, too?”
“Your excavation site, along with the artifacts, will be destroyed. Your friends will be unharmed, provided they do as we say.”
“So what happens if we leave and then decide to come back around?”
The blond took his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms. “Then we won’t be so forgiving.”
Sean noticed the spotter loitering by a black sedan on the other side of the street. The man had a bandage wrapped around his head.
“Is that your friend over there? Last time I saw him he was out cold on his back.” Sean waved emphatically to the guy. “Hey over there! How’s the head?”
The man shifted uncomfortably and then stiffened, visibly irritated.
Sean turned his attention back to the blond. “He always this friendly?”
“Leave Germany, now, Mr. Wyatt.”
“Yeah, you keep saying that, but I’m not sure we’re going anywhere. We’re here on vacation, and there’s nothing you can do about that. Besides, we kicked your tail before. We can do it again. And just like before, you and your men in the trees and bushes aren’t going to kill four Americans in public. Well, I mean she’s a dual citizen,” he pointed at Adriana. “But you probably knew that. Anyway, there are too many witnesses here. Seriously, you really need to pick better spots to threaten us. Maybe somewhere isolated. I don’t know, like a wooded meadow out in the country or something?”
The man started to respond, but Sean cut him off.
“And I have to ask, how did you guys get hooked up with the North Koreans? You don’t really look like Dear Leader’s type. I mean, maybe that’s your thing.”
The puzzled expression on the man’s face told Sean all he needed to know. These guys weren’t working with the North Koreans. They knew about the murder, surely. And they were well aware of the folder containing the DNA testing results. But they had no idea who was behind the murder of the research scientist.
“He has no idea what you’re talking about,” Tommy said. “You know, for a group of bullies with matching tattoos, you guys aren’t very good at whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing.”
Before the blond could retort, four figures appeared behind the Americans. Their sunglasses concealed their eyes. Their hair was black and short, all cut in a similar fashion.
Sean felt the men approach from behind and immediately sensed the danger. The blond’s expression changed to one of immediate concern.
The way Sean saw it, there was only one way to play this rock-and-a-hard-place situation. “They’re standing right behind us, aren’t they?”
One of the men reached out and grabbed June by the arms. She shrieked, and the result was a gloved hand clapped across her mouth.
Tommy spun around to defend her, but another man leveled a gun at his chest and waved a warning finger.
One of the four North Koreans stepped forward. He was slightly taller than the others, with broad, strong shoulders and a thick neck. “Give us the medallion,” he said in an even tone.
“Funny you should ask for that,” Sean said. “We actually left it in our hotel room. If you’ll wait here, I can run back and get it real quick. Won’t take long.”
“You don’t have a hotel room,” the man said. “We followed you here from Aachen. This was the first place you came. Now, m
edallion.” He held out his palm. “Or we shoot her in the head right here in front of you.”
His English was good, good enough that Sean wondered if he’d been educated somewhere in the States.
“No,” Tommy started to step forward, but the man aiming a gun at him brandished it menacingly.
“Take it easy, buddy,” Sean said. “Fight another day.”
Sean reached in his pocket and produced the medallion.
“It’s okay,” Sean went on. “These idiots don’t know what to do with it.”
“You’re interfering with something you cannot comprehend,” the blond said to the North Koreans. “Leave here now, or we will be forced to take you down.”
Sean gave a nod of the head toward the blond. “He likes to talk about their little group. Honestly, I’d listen to him. They’ve got guns pointed at all of us at this very moment.”
The leader of the North Koreans glanced down at his jacket and saw the red laser dot flickering on his chest. He looked back up with only a mild twinge of concern in his eyes.
“It would appear we are in a stalemate,” he said.
“Sure would,” Sean said. “So if you guys want to walk out of here in one piece, put down your weapons and play nice.”
“Please,” Tommy said with more desperation in his voice. “Do what he says. Let’s talk about this.”
Sean knew better. There would be no talking it out with the North Koreans. They were here to get what they wanted or die trying. It was the way they worked. He’d seen it once on a mission for Axis. They were relentless. If these four died, they’d be replaced by eight more the next day.
The only question was, why were they here and what did they want with the sword of Peter?
No one said a word for nearly a minute. Eyes flashed from one person to another. Tommy looked around nervously. Sean and Adriana kept their cool, sizing up the closest man to them in case things went hand to hand.
June didn’t struggle much, but Sean could see the desperation in her eyes. At least he thought it was desperation.
A bicycle bell rang from across the plaza. The noise caused the man with the gun to waver momentarily, his gaze shifting ever so slightly.
June saw the movement and seized the opportunity. She opened her mouth and bit down on her captor’s hand. He screamed as her teeth sank through the leather glove, gnashing all the way to bone.
The gunman spun around to face her.
She jerked her elbow back into the man’s face, crushing his nose, and then dropped to the ground as the guy with the gun fired. The bullet smashed into the rathaus wall, missing her by inches. Tommy charged forward and clotheslined the shooter with his forearm. The force of the attack was so strong, it took the gunman’s feet off the ground and flipped him over, sending him crashing face-first into the floor.
The leader and the other North Koreans leaped into action.
The latter rushed at Adriana, who matched the man’s attack with equal speed. He jumped, leading with his left boot, which she deflected easily to the side. Using his momentum against him, Adriana twisted her body and swung her elbow into his midsection as he was still flying through the air.
The man grunted and rolled on the ground several feet away.
Meanwhile, Sean dealt with the leader.
He opened the battle with a series of quick jabs that the North Korean blocked easily. The man countered with a roundhouse that caught Sean on the cheek and sent him retreating one step backward.
“Good one,” he said, rubbing the wound with the back of his hand. “Whoever you are.”
He rushed at the man again, taking two steps and firing a left foot at the guy’s knee.
The opponent chopped down on Sean’s leg and swung the bridge of his other hand at Sean’s throat to end the fight right then and there. Sean anticipated the counter and ducked to the side as the hand zipped just by his neck. He bounced back up and retaliated with a chop of his own to the man’s temple.
The blow was devastating. The leader stumbled to the side for a moment, disoriented. Sean stalked toward him and snapped a sharp kick up into the man’s abdomen. The leader dropped to his knees, and Sean drove a hammer fist down onto the man’s face.
Bleeding and dizzy, the leader wavered, barely able to keep his balance in a kneeling position.
Sean stood over him and grabbed the back of his hair. He tugged on the fistful of hair, forcing the man to look him in the eyes.
“What is your name?” Sean said through clenched teeth.
The man resisted, so Sean pulled harder on his hair. “Tell me your name.”
The man sniffled and spat. “Han-Jae. And you’d better kill me now. Or I will kill you and all your friends. You have no idea who you are dealing with.”
“You know, Han, I’ve been hearing that a lot lately. And you know what, I’m not worried about it.”
Sean raised his palm above his shoulder, ready to deliver the killing blow. “When your nose is driven into your brain, they say death is almost instantaneous, Han.”
He brought the bridge of his hand down hard and stopped it right in front of the man’s flaring nostrils, mere centimeters away. Then he formed a fist and rubbed the man’s head hard and shoved him over.
Sirens blared suddenly from all corners of the plaza. Police rushed into the area with weapons drawn. They shouted orders in German for everyone to get down on the ground.
The Americans complied, getting down on their knees with their hands over their heads. The North Koreans struggled to obey, having been beaten down in the fighting.
As a cop with a handlebar mustache wrapped handcuffs around Sean and forced his face into the cobblestone, Sean looked around for the blond guy.
He and his bandaged friend were nowhere to be seen.
12
Cologne
Han-Jae and one of his men were shoved into the back of a squad car. The German cops said something to them that neither man understood. Not that it mattered.
There was no way Han-Jae was going to let the police take them in. If that happened, there’d be no getting back to Pyongyang. It was understood that if he or any of his men were captured at any point, the general would disavow any knowledge of anything surrounding their mission.
Not that any of the European authorities would be able to connect them to Pyongyang. Han-Jae and his men had fail-safes in place to not only protect their identities but also their country of origin. If any investigator searched too deep, all they would find would be some ordinary guys from South Korea.
In this instance, the charges would be troublesome. They’d been caught with weapons and in the middle of a fight with some Americans.
Then there was the matter of the other man at the scene—the blond man who seemed to have a quarrel with the Americans. Han-Jae watched as the driver of their car finished giving instructions to the other driver from the car behind them. Right now wasn’t the time to figure out who the blond man was or what his connection to the others might be.
All that mattered for the moment was escaping.
Han-Jae had learned many useful tricks growing up in the slums of Pyongyang. He’d become an expert at unlocking doors without keys. While he’d never been arrested in North Korea—which might as well have been a death sentence—Han-Jae took a keen interest in learning how to pick many kinds of locks. He spent countless hours breaking into safes, unlocking multi-pin vaults, and even handcuffs.
The general encouraged all of these practices because he knew that a spy who could access high-security locations without a key was an incredibly useful asset.
As a safety precaution, Han-Jae always carried a small tool—no larger than a paper clip—built into his watch. It looked like an ordinary watch stem, like a million others. This stem was far from ordinary.
Before their car’s driver got in, he’d already started removing the stem with a quick push and twist with his fingers. Ever so carefully, he slid the stem out of its housing, revealing a short pin attached
to the knob.
His partner glanced over at him. He barely noticed the subtle movement of Han-Jae’s wrists as he worked the pin into the handcuffs.
Han-Jae’s focus was intense. He stared straight ahead as the cop finished his conversation with the other driver and walked over to the open driver’s side door. He got in and slammed the door shut. A quick glance in the rearview mirror told him his prisoners were still there and keeping quiet, though for one uncomfortable second he locked eyes with Han-Jae’s cold, vapid stare.
The cop started the car and eased it out onto the street, followed immediately by the second car holding Han-Jae’s other two men.
Han-Jae felt the cuffs go limp against his wrists. He lowered them to the seat without making a sound. The cop flashed another quick look into the back. The prisoners remained perfectly still.
Next, Han-Jae reached down slowly to his shoe. With his fingernail, he pressed in on the raised heel of his boot. The button built into the heel was almost invisible, it had been so well concealed.
The button popped out revealing a small, razor-sharp knife. He grasped it in his fingers and returned his hands to their previous position.
As they started crossing a bridge, the cop looked back into the mirror again. This time he saw Han-Jae flashing a toothy grin.
Suddenly the prisoner twisted his body, laying his torso across his partner’s lap. The cop’s eyes widened as Han-Jae kicked out with both feet, smashing his boots into the window.
On the first kick, the window didn’t give. On the second, it shook. The third kick burst the reinforced glass out of its rails and onto the road outside. Fresh air blew in through the window, but it only lasted a second.
The cop spun the steering wheel and pulled the car over onto the side of the bridge. The other car slowed to a stop behind them as Han-Jae’s driver angrily shifted into park and got out.
He was shouting something in German as he stepped around and opened the door. The next move he made would be fatal. The cop reached in to grab Han-Jae by the collar, but the prisoner’s hand moved out from behind him in a quick slashing motion. The cop’s wrist sliced open in an instant. Before he could even scream, Han-Jae reached out and grabbed the cop’s shirt, yanked him close, and shoved the blade tip into the man’s throat.
The Sean Wyatt Series Box Set 4 Page 36
