Lyndsey stood next to him looking up at the cliff with grave uncertainty. The hour was late and, both being dressed in black, they blended well with their surroundings.
“Okay,” Burke whispered. “I’ll scale the cliff and secure the rope so you can climb up after me. Meanwhile, keep a sharp eye out for guards. They’re all probably roaming the grounds above, but since we don’t know their schedules, we’ll have to take extra precautions.”
Lyndsey raised her pistol, which she had fitted with a silencer. “You mean like this?”
“Exactly like that.” Burke took a quick peek inside his backpack to make sure he had the rope and checked his own weapon. Reaching up, he tested the nearest handhold. It held and he began a tremulous ascent. His groping fingers found one outcropping of rock after another.
A piece of cliff, cracked and weakened by incident or age, gave way. Burke dangled by his left hand. Droplets of sweat ran down his back; his hands turned clammy and slick. His mind whirled. Reaching up with his free hand, he groped blindly, searching for an outcropping of rock, a crack in the cliff wall, anything to give him purchase. His hand brushed against another small outcropping and he clutched at it. It slid from his grip and the rock tore at his fingernails as he clawed the wall.
As his left hand was slipping, the probing fingers of his right slid into a small crevice. Inch by inch and foot by foot, struggling to find footrests for added advantage and searching for handholds in the dark, he continued.
The progress was painfully slow. He heard Lyndsey’s whispered encouragement from below. At last, he felt the building's foundation and knew he had completed most of the climb. A sudden thought sent chills of fear through him. He was not sure of the composition of this part of the house. Was it rough like the cliff wall, or smooth and unclimbable? If so, the treacherous climb had been for nothing and he would have to make his way down the cliff backward, in the dark. Already his muscles were screaming in protest. Flattening himself against the cliff, he reached up with his left hand and ran it over the wall of the house. He breathed a sigh of relief. This part of the house, at least, had been constructed with large, rough stones. He began the last phase with renewed energy and before long felt the ledge of a balcony beneath his grasp.
Burke gripped the sill and, exerting all the strength he could muster, pulled himself up to the railing and over the top, where he collapsed in exhaustion to the floor. He lay there, catching his breath and relaxing tensed muscles. Then he reached into his backpack and unwound the rope, tying it to the base of the railing and dropping the other end down.
The rope tensed and strained as Lyndsey pulled herself upward. Burke kept a worried eye on the old railing, but it held firm and soon Lyndsey was clambering onto the balcony.
She looked at Burke with admiration. “That was quite a climb you made. There were a couple of moments I thought the mission was over before it began.”
“You’re not the only one. For a minute there I was regretting not having left detailed instructions for my funeral.”
Lyndsey pulled up the rope. “I assume we don’t want this thing hanging around.”
“Puns in the face of danger! I’m impressed. But you’re right. The last thing we need is a guard to wander by and notice a dangling rope. I think that's known in the trade as a ‘dead giveaway.’”
Burke stepped across the narrow balcony to the door. From what he could see, the room inside was dark. He tried the handle and was not surprised to find it locked. He extracted a penlight from his pocket and shone it on the handle. Flipping open his jackknife, he stuck the edge of the blade between the door and the jam and twisted it up and to the left. He heard a tiny click, and the door swung open on well-oiled hinges.
“Well, that was easy,” Burke said. “Then again, one would expect this side of the house to be safe from normal intruders.”
“Good thing you’re not normal,” Lyndsey muttered.
“Oh, quiet.”
They stepped through the curtain and stood in a large room, almost identical to the one Burke remembered. They walked across the room to the door and Burke tested the handle. It turned, and they passed through, finding themselves in a long hallway, this one also lined with paintings of various sizes.
“It appears Kotsias is quite a lover of art. Strange how it seems the cruelest of men always seem to have a passion for beauty.”
As they rounded a turn in the corridor, Burke stopped so abruptly Lyndsey almost ran into him. He turned, put a finger to his lips, and pointed down the hallway. In front of them, lounging against a doorway was the dark figure of a man. Leaning against the wall beside him was what appeared to be an assault rifle. The man’s head jerked downward and up, as if he were having trouble staying awake.
Burke removed his silenced USP from its holster, aimed, and dropped the man with a single shot to the head. He approached his victim and grabbed the assault rifle. He slung it over his shoulder by the strap, then searched the man’s pockets in search of extra clips, discovering two and placing them in his backpack.
Then he made the real discovery. In a vest pocket, Burke discovered a folded piece of paper. Opening it, he shone his penlight on it and motioned to Lyndsey. She peered at the paper, trying to make it out.
“It’s a floor plan!”
Burke nodded. “It even marks old Uncle K’s bedroom. And look at this. It shows the main security control room.”
“That sounds promising.”
“Especially since it also shows the places protected by alarm systems. If I’m reading this map correctly, we about walked into one.”
“There’s one on this hallway?”
“No, but it looks like the one we’re in now ends at another hallway that runs lengthwise to this one. The left passage leads to the security control room, and the right is protected by an alarm.”
“Does it say where the right passageway leads?”
“No. I hope that means it’s important. I think our first move is to find our way into the control room and disable these alarms. I don’t fancy the idea of wandering around here with those things still active, even if I have a map telling me where they are. Besides, I somehow doubt we’d be able to get anywhere we need to go without tripping one of them.”
Continuing down the hall, they heard voices talking and laughing. They slowed their pace and soon reached the parting of the ways predicted on the floor plan. Burke peered around the corner and withdrew.
“There are three or four rather intimidating gentlemen lounging around down there, all of them similarly armed to the guy I took out.”
“I take it rushing them wouldn’t be a great idea.”
“No, but we might pick them off from here. There are three of them and two of us. We both have silenced weapons. I’ll take the guy on the left, you target the one on the right.”
“And the third?”
“After our first target, we both go for the last man. We need fast kills. No shots or screams.”
They took up their positions and aimed.
Burke counted. “Three…two…one!”
The first two men dropped without incident. As they were swinging their weapons toward the third man, the door to the control room opened and another guard strolled out, took one look at the crumpled bodies of his companions, and dropped to one knee, unslinging his own weapon as he did so. Lyndsey and Burke fired again in close succession. Burke’s bullet, intended for the kneeling figure, missed by a hair and thudded into a wall at the end of the corridor. Lyndsey’s shot caught the third man high in the chest and he went down, but only wounded. The hallway illuminated in a bright staccato as the fourth guard squeezed the trigger on his automatic. Bullets sprayed the close confines. Lyndsey and Burke threw themselves backward. Burke unslung the assault rifle he had taken and checked it.
“As soon as that kook stops firing, I’m going around the corner with guns blazing. When I go, I’m not stopping, so stay close.”
Lyndsey nodded. Burke noticed the hard set of he
r jaw and the cold determination in her eyes. One hell of a woman, Burke thought.
Burke placed the rifle to his shoulder and waited. The firing stopped, and he was around the corner, his own weapon bucking in his grip as he advanced. The kneeling guard toppled sideways with half a clip in the chest. The wounded guard caught a few rounds, putting him out of his misery. A guard appeared around the corner at the end of the hall and got his weapon halfway up before Lyndsey dropped him.
The rifle stopped firing and Burke dug in the backpack for another clip. Finding it, he ejected the spent one and slammed the fresh clip home. Then he sprinted down the corridor and flattened himself against the wall beside the control room door. Lyndsey ran, bent over, past the open door to take up position on the far side. Bullets riddled the opposite wall, but she made it. Burke reached down, grabbed a weapon from one dead guard, and, replacing the empty clip with a fresh one from the man’s belt, threw it across to her. That too was met with a burst of gunfire and Burke grinned. They were nervous in there. Not that they didn’t have reason to be. None of them had any idea what was going on. They had no way to know it was only two SpyCo agents invading and not an entire SEAL team.
Catching Lyndsey’s attention, Burke gave her the signal to “slice the pie.” This maneuver, employed by SWAT, consisted of stepping inside a suspect room with one foot and using that foot to pivot around in an arch, holding your weapon in front of you. It was the most economical way to scan a room while presenting the smallest target possible to anyone who might be waiting. The only variation Burke and Lyndsey would employ was that, while SWAT teams were interested in preserving life, they had no such inhibitions. Getting out alive would meet and surpass their expectations. Burke held up three fingers and then closed them one by one. As the third finger dropped, they sliced the pie from two opposite directions. Their weapons fired together. Computer screens exploded as automatic weapons fire smashed into them. Switchboards blinked feverishly as if attempting to warn everyone of a crisis already occurring.
The shooting ceased and, glancing around, Burke saw most of the guards lying on the floor, some dead, others alive with their hands clasped over the back of their heads. One man was still standing with his arms raised, terror written all over his face. Burke ran over to him and slammed him up against the wall.
“The briefcase! Where is it?”
The man struggled in Burke’s grasp. “I know nothing about a briefcase.”
Burke punched the man in the face. “Come on, I don’t have time to play games with you. Tell me or you’ll join the others.” He waved a hand at the carnage behind them. The man paled, but said nothing. Burke shook him savagely. “Did you not receive a delivery earlier today?”
The man nodded. “Yes,” he said as if only now understanding what Burke was asking. “Yes, we did. I did not know what it was.”
“Where is the delivery?” Burke said through clenched teeth. “Who was it delivered to?”
“Mr. Kotsias…I think he put it in his safe.”
Burke swung the rifle butt and caught the man on the side of the head. He crumpled to the floor. Burke heard a grunt behind him and turned just in time to see Lyndsey dispatch another guard in a similar fashion.
They turned and ran from the room, with Burke pausing to consult the floor plan. Then he folded it, stuck it back into his pocket, and pointed to the right.
“It looks like this will be the shortest way there.”
Behind them, they heard shouting and running footsteps. Reaching a turn in the corridor, they threw themselves around it as several more guards appeared by the control room.
“I don’t think they saw us,” Lyndsey said. “Let’s not wait around to find out. They’ll split up and search for us soon.”
Burke nodded. “They know this place a lot better than we do and it won’t take long for them to box us in. Kotsias’ room should be just ahead.”
As he spoke the words, a door opened at the end of the hallway and Kotsias himself appeared, clad in red robe and slippers. He caught sight of Burke and Lyndsey and, eyes widening, turned to retreat into his room. He was just slamming the door shut when Burke threw his shoulder against it. Kotsias staggered and grabbed the back of a chair to regain his balance. Burke and Lyndsey burst into the room. Burke shut the door, locked it, and turned to Kotsias with a smile.
“Well, we meet again.”
“Mr. Burke.” Kotsias spat out the words. “I should have killed you last night.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Burke said. “If you hadn’t taught your nephew so well, perhaps you would have succeeded.”
“Andre! He was a traitor. I cannot abide disloyalty.”
“Was? So, you know about him?”
Kotsias’ voice was cold. “I am not ashamed to say I had him killed for his treason.”
“How very medieval of you. Now, I hate to be impolite, but Miss Archer and I are pressed for time. Where’s the briefcase?”
“I will not deny I have it, Mr. Burke. Since you have risked everything by coming here tonight, I suspect you must know it to be true. But you cannot force me tell you where it is.”
“Do you have a safe in this room?”
Kotsias remained silent, his face betraying nothing.
Burke sighed. “I can see you’re going to be difficult. Lyndsey, please keep an eye on Mr. Kotsias. If he moves, shoot him in the knee.” Burke moved about the room methodically, shifting paintings and looking behind furniture.
Kotsias’ voice stopped him. “This exercise is pointless. If you promise to leave my home and let me live, I will tell you where the safe is.”
“Now that’s using good, solid judgment,” Burke said, applauding.
“It is behind the landscape painting above the bed.”
Burke walked over to the bed and removed the painting. He saw nothing but blank wall space. “Very amusing, Kotsias. Any more jokes like that and—”
“I was not jesting, Mr. Burke. The safe is very cleverly hidden. You must first press the button set into the bed post.”
Burke found the button and pressed it. He watched as a portion of the wall slid out and to the side, revealing the gleaming front of a safe.
“Oh, lovely,” Burke said. “A keypad system. I suppose you’re going to refuse to give me the code?”
“Not at all. The code is 9542.”
Burke frowned. “You’re being awfully helpful. Any particular reason?”
“I want you out of my house and realize I will not be rid of you until you have the briefcase. In fact, I know I may not live through the next fifteen minutes if you do not find it.”
Burke turned back to the safe. He reached up to enter the numbers and then stopped. “I think I’ll let you do it, Kotsias. Come over here and type in 9542.”
Kotsias’ lips tightened. “What difference does it make who types it in, as long as it is the correct code?”
“I’m not convinced it is the correct code. I’ve heard of some of these maximum-security safes having a feature that electrocutes anyone entering a false code. Yours wouldn’t be of that nature, would it?”
“Of course not. That’s absurd.”
“Then step on over and type it in. Move!” Burke leveled his USP at Kotsias’ head. “If we get attacked by your guards because you refused to be cooperative, you’ll be the first to go.”
Kotsias stepped to the keypad and pressed buttons.
“9545,” Burke said, as the safe’s door swung wide. “I knew I couldn’t trust you. To be on the safe side why don’t you take out the briefcase and open it up so we can all see what’s inside.”
“With pleasure.” Kotsias reached into the safe and pulled it out. As he did so, he swung the hand holding the case at Burke, catching him on the side of the head. Lights burst inside Burke’s skull, and he was vaguely aware of a shot. Through blurry vision, he saw Kotsias leaning against the bed frame, clutching his side. Lyndsey was still standing where she had always been, looking calm and unruffled.
“He’ll be fine,” she said, regarding Kotsias with unfeeling eyes. “I nicked him.”
Kotsias glared at them, but said nothing.
Burke shook his head to clear the last of the cobwebs. “And now that we have the briefcase, we’d better move out of here. Problem is, we can’t go out the way we came in. The halls will be crawling with guards by now.”
“No, but there’s a window here.” Lyndsey walked to the window and pulled the curtains aside. “I don’t see anyone wandering the grounds.”
“They’re probably all inside and coming for us.”
In complete validation of this statement, a battery of blows assailed the bedroom door.
“Sounds like the cavalry,” Burke said. “The window it is.” He unlatched the window and slid it upward. “You may want to put Kotsias completely out of commission while I secure the rope. We don’t need him opening the door or cutting the rope while we’re hanging in empty space.”
“With pleasure.” Lyndsey delivered an efficient blow to Kotsias’ head and hurried to the window.
The door was still being assaulted and, from the ominous sound of splintering wood, Burke guessed they had but a few moments. He cinched the rope around a bedpost and dropped the rest out the window.
“You go first. Take the briefcase.”
Lyndsey nodded and climbed onto the windowsill, tucking the briefcase under her arm. Burke watched her slide to the ground and clambered onto the sill himself. There would be no time for hand-over-hand. He would have to let the rope slide through his hands, using it only to break his fall. “Rope burn, here I come,” he muttered and dropped from the window.
Halfway through his descent, he heard the door give.
A moment later, he was on solid ground. He grabbed the briefcase from Lyndsey and ran across the lawn to a stand of trees on their right. Glancing back, Burke saw a guard appear at the window. The man spotted them and Burke braced himself for the shot. Instead, the guard snatched a radio from his belt and shouted into it.
Then the shots began.
Assignment- Adventure A SpyCo Collection 1-3 Page 7
