The Sacred Weapon: A Tom Wagner Adventure

by Roberts, M. C.

  Tom strode along the sterile corridors. He felt a little ill at ease, as he always did when he visited a hospital, not least because of the unpleasantly strong smell of disinfectant filling his nose. He turned a corner and a uniformed officer came to meet him. The officer didn’t look particularly happy to see him, but Tom knew the guy. That would make his job easier.

  “I’m here to have a little chat with the hijackers from yesterday. A couple of their buddies tried to fill me with lead this morning. I want to rough them up a little and see if I can’t get some information about who’s behind this.”

  The officer looked at Tom and let out a loud sigh.

  “Yeah, I heard what happened, Tom. But you won’t be questioning the suspects today.”

  Tom lowered his voice. “I know it’s not exactly by the book and that I’m not running the case, but I need a few minutes. Those guys—or rather some friends of theirs—have caused me a lot of trouble. I’d like to find out what it’s all about.” He looked hopefully at his colleague. “It won’t take long, and I promise I won’t harm a hair on their heads.”

  “You don’t understand. If it were up to me, you could dangle them out the window with an IV tube to get something out of them, but it’s not going to happen. They’re dead.”

  Tom narrowed his eyes to slits. “What? No way. I mean, okay, one of them took a meal trolley in the back and a few passengers sat on him after that, and I might have broken the other guy’s nose and arm. And when I dragged them to the front of the plane, maybe I put a shoulder or two out of joint, but that’s it. That’s not going to kill anyone,” said Tom.

  The cop took a deep breath. “You didn’t kill them. Their injuries didn’t kill them. We don’t even know how they died—we’ll have to wait for the autopsy for that. The fact is, someone got in during the night, and by the time the doctors came for morning rounds they were both dead. The shittiest part is that they also got the guy guarding the room.”

  “What!? They killed one of ours? Who the hell are these guys?”

  Tom leaned against the wall and hammered it with the palms of his hands a few times. Cogs began to turn in his head. This whole thing was getting out of control. Guerra, the hijackers, the tattoo, the chase and the shooting that morning . . . and now more bodies. That phone must have meant a lot to someone.

  “They’re already working on it. You know the drill. They don’t have a clear lead, though—this was done by professionals. We have no clear shot of their faces. Looks like they knew exactly where the cameras were.”

  “Do we know any more about the hijackers? I mean, more than that their passports were fake?” Tom asked.

  “A couple of small-time crooks, a bit of smuggling and a couple of burglaries is all we’ve found. They were both from Tunisia, but there’s no sign of a terror link. Not like with the other hijackings lately. Those were all radical Islamists.”

  Tom thanked the cop, took out his phone and tapped Noah in his contacts.

  “Miss me already?” Noah said, clearly annoyed.

  “The two hijackers I sent to the hospital yesterday are dead,” Tom said evenly.

  “Tom, what did I tell you not even an hour ago?”

  “Oh, come on. Have a little faith. I didn’t kill them. Someone got in during the night and beat me to it.”

  There was silence at the end of the line. Then Noah said, “Okay. New plan. I’ll call in a favor from some friends in the US. Maybe they know something about Guerra or the hijackings.”

  “CIA?” said Tom.

  “No. The CIA guys don’t know their ass from their elbow. I prefer to talk to the grown-ups, the NSA.”

  “You’ve got contacts in the NSA? I’m impressed.”

  “What did you think I was doing for ten years in Mossad? Picking my nose?” Noah’s sardonic undertone was unmistakable. “Now I’m interested; I’ll do what I can. I suppose this stays between you and me?” Noah asked rhetorically.

  “You suppose right,” Tom said, and laughed. “Call me when you find out more. I’ve got to get to this security job at the Hofburg.”

  “Just be happy they didn’t dump you with the neo-Nazi demonstration. Just about anyone who can stand and carry a gun is on the street. Between the UNESCO conference, the charity race, and this big demonstration, we’re seriously short-staffed. They even asked me if I could go out in the field today, at least for a while.”

  “There’ll be more going on at the demonstration than with these UNESCO bores, at least.”

  Tom signed off, and his mind immediately returned to the two hijackers. Shit, he hadn’t sent Noah the photo of the tattoo. He quickly corrected the oversight, and on the way to his work car in the hospital’s underground garage his cell phone pinged. It was a message from Noah: “I’ve seen that symbol before. I’ll check the FBI tat database and get back to you ASAP.”

  13

  Hotel Park Hyatt, Vienna

  Nikolaus III, Count Palffy von Erdöd and president of Blue Shield, the UNESCO-allied organization dedicated to protecting the world’s cultural heritage, sat at the luxurious hotel bar. He was taking his pipe out of its case when he remembered that smoking had now been banned essentially everywhere, and he sighed in annoyance. His idea of freedom was something different from this. He glanced at the flat-screen TV in the corner. A news broadcast was on, but there was no sound.

  The world was a madhouse. Notre Dame was burning, countless aircraft had been hijacked in recent weeks, shark alarms were ringing off Malta, and a right-wing populist chancellor held the reins in Germany and wanted to ship every last Muslim out of Europe—the sooner the better. A boy had been murdered in Turin, some lunatics had used Stephansplatz as a racetrack, and last—but far from least—there was the reason he was in Vienna: the holy relics that were being stolen all over Europe. The count gazed through the elegant lobby of the five-star hotel, once a bank, and saw Hellen approaching. He was grateful for the distraction. He stood up and walked through what had formerly been the cashier’s hall, now transformed into an elegant lobby with a sophisticated interplay of wood, leather, metal and copper that harked back to its banking heyday. Palffy had only gone a few steps when Hellen noticed him.

  “Well, how was your vacation, my dear? Did you finally manage to get a little closer to your goal? You’re putting all your spare time into that one thing. You need to take a little time for yourself, you know, and get some rest. I’m sure your parents don’t like to see you so obsessed,” he said. His tone was more conciliatory than accusing.

  “My family . . .” Hellen drew a breath. “My mother, in particular, has been wanting to see me standing at a stove, surrounded by children, a dog and a banker husband, for years. Let’s leave them out of the conversation, Nikolaus. Besides, you know perfectly well how important this is to me. And not only me. You yourself know what it means—not least for Blue Shield.”

  Hellen took a seat at a table near the bar and ordered a Kaisermelange, coffee fortified with an egg yolk and a shot of cognac. Briefly, she described to the Count what had happened at Glastonbury.

  He frowned, thoughtful. “This is not a game anymore. Someone is evidently on the same track as you . . .”

  “. . . and whoever it is will stop at nothing,” Hellen said, completing his sentence.

  He was taken aback for a moment, but the scientist and art lover in him quickly returned. “Do you really think you’ve found a tangible clue at last?”

  She sipped at her coffee and allowed the distinctive taste of the Viennese specialty to unfold. “Yes. I’m certain of it. And if I’m interpreting Father Montgomery’s last message correctly, I finally know where we need to look. I want to leave as soon as possible.”

  Hellen shifted nervously in her chair. It was clear how much this meant to her.

  Palffy seemed intrigued. “This would truly be a sensation. It would also mean Blue Shield getting a little more attention from UNESCO.”

  Hellen grinned. “Ah, so my flight of fancy is suddenly interesting.�
��

  “Touché. But let’s put that aside for now. Our first priority has to be the issue we are currently facing, with all these stolen relics. Blue Shield’s primary responsibility might be protecting cultural heritage in war zones, but that does not mean we should close our eyes to current events. The Shroud of Turin clinched it for me. I’ve had enough.”

  “What do you want to do?” Hellen was surprised. She had never seen her mentor so resolute.

  “At the UNESCO conference today, we have to make it clear that we need a task force dedicated to Blue Shield. If not, we shall never see any of these artifacts and relics again.”

  Palffy’s voice had grown louder. He was so upset that even the waiters were looking at him in surprise.

  “A task force? What exactly what do you mean?”

  Palffy leaned a little closer to Hellen and lowered his voice again. “I have in mind a unit perfectly equipped for the task at hand—perfect in that it will have both the necessary expertise and also the right technical equipment . . . and the right armaments.”

  “Armaments?” Hellen’s eyes widened.

  “My dear, our enemies are not exactly shy and retiring. The international grave-robbing mafia and the dealers who fence art and cultural property are well-armed themselves. These days, we find ourselves dealing with terrorists and teams of mercenaries who earn a great deal of money with treasures that do not belong to them, while we sit and watch and do nothing. We need someone from an elite unit who has been trained to fight.”

  “I see your point,” Hellen said, nodding.

  “And then we can finally tackle all those projects that no one will finance for us because they are too ‘exotic.’ You know what I’m talking about.” Palffy was wearing his most mischievous smile now and gave her a wink.

  “I certainly do. That legendary leather portfolio you have, stuffed with vanished treasures and artifacts, projects no normal politician or non-profit lobbyist would understand or endorse, let alone actually support,” Hellen replied. “My Glastonbury project should probably have a place of honor in that portfolio too,” she added, gazing at Palffy steadily.

  “I’d be a fool to deny that now, my dear.”

  “But, as usual, the money is where it will probably fail. It will be very difficult to push through,” said Hellen.

  “We have to try, and we have to keep trying. Our chances have never been better.” Palffy paused for a moment, then went on, “Perhaps I should go with you to Switzerland after all, so you’re not traveling alone. You were already in danger in Glastonbury. Your family would never forgive me if something happened to you, too.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be in no danger there. It’s just an art auction, and there’ll be hundreds of other people. Nothing can happen. Besides, I’ve been invited as an official UNESCO expert. You have enough on your plate here,” said Hellen.

  Palffy nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe you’re right.” He looked at his antique gold Patek Philippe pocket watch and waved the waiter over. “Please charge all this to my room and have my car brought around.” He looked at Hellen. “Time for us to go. We should be at the Hofburg a little early to check out the lay of the land and gather our allies.”

  14

  Josefsplatz, behind the Hofburg, Vienna

  The boom gate swung open as the patrol car turned into the parking area on Josefsplatz, the plaza to the south of Vienna’s Hofburg complex. Guerra and four other men climbed out, all wearing Vienna police uniforms. Guerra opened the trunk and the men took out their weapons. Guerra shouldered a small black sports bag.

  The area around the Hofburg was swarming with police, and nobody gave them a second glance. Security had been ratcheted up to the highest level and the authorities were on high alert for the UNESCO conference. One of Guerra’s men stayed with the car to make sure the gate to the parking area stayed open; the other four marched to the rear entrance of the Hofburg itself. One stopped at the entrance to the Redoutensäle, the Hofburg’s magnificent concert and conference halls, while the other two followed Guerra to the chapel courtyard, where the entrance to the Imperial Treasury was also located.

  Built over the course of seven hundred years, the complex of buildings making up Vienna’s Hofburg sprawls across an area of almost fifty acres, making it the largest building ever built in Europe for non-religious purposes. Some five thousand people live or work there, and together with the adjacent park and public square at Heldenplatz, it attracts twenty million visitors every year.

  There were countless ways to enter the Hofburg and even more ways to disappear from one moment to the next in its labyrinthine hallways, with their countless levels, courtyards, corridors, entrances and exits. For the Austrian police, overseeing all of it was routine, but still a major undertaking.

  The conference was already underway, and Tom, bored as ever, was standing with several colleagues outside the Grosser Redoutensaal, the great hall where the conference was being held. He paced slowly back and forth, his mind still on Guerra and the hijacking. None of it made any sense. Stopping by one of the huge windows, he looked out over Josefsplatz and saw four uniformed police officers cross the plaza in the direction of the Hofburg chapel. It took a moment or two, then it hit him like a thunderbolt. That one looked like . . . Guerra!

  Impossible, Tom thought. Three of the men disappeared into the corridor that led to the chapel. Tom snapped into mission mode, grabbing his young colleague Jakob Leitner by the arm and pulling him aside.

  “Come with me. We have to check something, fast. I spotted some suspicious activity down below.”

  The young man looked at Tom, perplexed, but didn’t dare contradict him. Tom took the lead and Leitner followed. Tom’s mind was racing so quickly that he didn’t think to radio in that he was leaving his post. They ran downstairs, Tom hoping desperately that he was wrong.

  The man at the Imperial Treasury ticket counter looked up in surprise when three police officers entered in tactical gear, carrying machine pistols. To the left of the ticket desk was a small museum shop where a few tourists were searching for kitschy souvenirs of their visit.

  “Security; we need to check the area. There’s been a bomb threat against today’s conference in the Hofburg,” said one of the policemen.

  The man behind the desk nodded indifferently and pointed the way to the Treasury. Guerra and his men took the stairs to the second floor and entered the museum area.

  “Room 11,” said Guerra calmly. “There’ll be one staff member moving through the exhibition. Unarmed, of course. There are a few cameras, but none actually at the lance.”

  The three men strode unerringly through the museum. The exhibition seemed almost empty; only a handful of visitors gazed into the cases, and they did not even notice the three men enter.

  When Tom and Leitner reached the chapel courtyard, they were met by terrified tourists running toward them.

  “Damn,” said Tom. “I hate it when I’m right.”

  15

  UNESCO conference, Grosser Redoutensaal, Hofburg, Vienna

  The sound of an explosion came from outside the conference hall, quickly followed by a second blast that rocked the interior of the Hofburg and shook the hall violently. Glasses fell from tables and windowpanes shattered. A sudden dead silence followed, lasting for several seconds. Then the main entrance opened and one of the Cobra officers shouted into the hall.

  “There’s been an explosion on Josefsplatz and another at the Imperial Treasury. We are evacuating the hall. Do not panic. Please leave all your belongings behind and exit calmly. There are police officers in the lobby who will lead you safely outside.”

  “An explosion at the Imperial Treasury?” Hellen looked at Palffy. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  Palffy nodded. “They’re after the Holy Lance. It would be a perfect fit with the other stolen relics.”

  “We can’t let them take it. We have to do something,” Hellen said resolutely.

  “But what, exactly?
The Austrian police are here. They will take care of it,” said Palffy.

  “As you know, I have some familiarity with the Austrian police myself—unfortunately— and to be honest, it doesn’t make me optimistic.” Hellen shook her head. “They can’t even look after us, let alone the Holy Lance. I have to stop this,” she said, and ran downstairs.

  Palffy couldn’t have stopped her even if he’d wanted to, but the passage that led to the chapel courtyard was badly damaged. Smoke poured from the entrance. There was no way through. Hellen turned and ran in the direction of the plaza at Michaelerplatz, planning to reach the treasury from the Spanish Riding School side.

  16

  The Imperial Treasury, Hofburg, Vienna

  Tom hadn’t been to the treasury in years and had no idea what anyone might want to steal from it, but he could vaguely recall that the exhibition had two entrances.

  “Tom, we have to wait for backup. There’s only two of us and we have no idea how many we’re up against.” Leitner, a few paces behind, was still young and had not yet been on many assignments. Tom could hear the fear in his voice.

  “I counted three of them, and we’re not going to sit on our asses and wait. This is what we’re trained for. We have no idea what they’re after in there, but it doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, it’s our job to stop them.”

  Leitner looked desperately at Tom, then summoned up his courage and moved forward to where Tom stood, just outside the exhibition entrance. Around ten yards ahead was the second door, where visitors to the exhibition would exit. A few fearful tourists ran from each door, terrified by the explosion and trying to leave the treasury as quickly as they could.

  “They’re not after hostages, at least,” Tom noted drily.