by David Wood
Stone put on his best “what me?” face. “I’m sorry, but isn’t this what we’re here for? To stop the Dominion from getting their hands on the Spear of Destiny?”
“No, we’re… I mean, yes, but you’re going to blow our cover.”
“We have a cover?” Stone let the mask of innocence slip away. He motioned for her to follow, and headed back to the display case. “Take a look. Tell me what you see.”
She frowned but played along. “You mean security-wise?”
“Not much, right? Shatterproof glass. Probably rigged up to an alarm and maybe drop down doors. Break the glass and get sealed in. Those pedestals are probably weight sensitive, too. Is that enough to stop someone with the Dominion’s resources?”
Avery shrugged. “I guess not?”
“Are you asking me, or telling me?” Stone grinned. “There could be more than meets the eye here. Motion sensors, cameras. But none of that is likely to slow down a determined thief.”
“And that’s why you’re warning museum security?”
“Not exactly.” He glanced at the exit. There was no sign of the attendant. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
“But I thought—”
“Don’t want to blow our cover.” He took her hand and led her away. The oddly familiar gesture caught her off guard, silencing further protests. Stone’s touch triggered a wave of memories. Her father had held her hand like that. Her father, with whom she had shared only a few precious days a year, stolen moments that were now treasured memories more valuable to her than any of the baubles in the Imperial Collection. Before she knew what was even happening, Stone had led her, unerringly, through the Imperial Apartments and out onto the broad expanse of the Heldenplatz, the open grassy area where Adolf Hitler had once addressed a crowd of Viennese Germans to announce the annexation of Austria.
Avery pulled free of his grip and stopped him there. “Not another step until you tell me what’s going on. You saw something in there. One of your patterns, didn’t you?”
Stone nodded grimly. “I don’t think you need to worry about the Dominion stealing that lance.”
“And why not?”
“Because somebody already beat them to it.”
CHAPTER 7
Stone maintained a brisk but inconspicuous pace, giving Avery the impression that he was hurrying toward something, rather than escaping the hornet’s nest he had no doubt poked in the Treasury. She matched his pace and held her questions until they were back in the hotel room.
“Okay, explain.”
“It’s just a hunch, but if you’ll let me use your computer, I should be able to prove it.”
She directed him to her laptop, but instead of letting him take over, she sat herself in front of it and logged in. “What am I looking up?”
Stone regarded her thoughtfully as if trying to decide whether to share a secret. “You said that you have a computer guy, a hacker?”
“Well, I probably shouldn’t have—”
“We need to track all communications going in and out of the Hofburg security department. Email, Internet searches, phone calls. Can your guy do that?”
Avery had no idea whether Jimmy Letson could do that, much less if he would do it for her. She had been exaggerating a little in her claim to Stone. The truth was that she didn’t really know Letson all that well. He was her brother’s friend, a former reporter who had ventured into the untamed frontier of the Internet back in the early ‘90s and never looked back. Letson had helped her half-brother, Dane Maddock, on several occasions, most recently during the incident where she and Maddock had discovered the truth about the real Spear of Destiny. She figured her blood ties to Maddock had to count for something.
To the best of her knowledge, Letson only ever communicated through electronic measures, but he conveyed the impression of the stereotypical computer nerd—a technical wizard, but socially awkward. Surely, he would do a favor for his friend’s sister.
She logged into her user account then opened an Internet Relay Chat client and sent Letson a private message. She wasn’t sure exactly where he lived; presumably in the United States, but that did not exactly narrow it down. It was almost noon in Vienna, which meant that it was early morning where Letson was. Hopefully not too early.
The chat window flashed an incoming message.
I really shouldn’t be talking to you. I know who you work for
Avery grimaced, aware that Stone was looking over her shoulder. She quickly typed her reply.
Come on, Jimmy. I’d never do anything to get you in trouble.
Like you could. I can take care of myself. You should be more worried about your own ass.
Before she could reply, he hastily added:
Watching it, I mean.
Covering it, I mean.
Her grimace slowly softened into a grin.
I’ll be careful.
She quickly typed out her request, glancing back at Stone to see if she had hit all the salient points. He nodded, and she sent the message.
Is that all?
She did not respond to the rhetorical question, but a few seconds later, Letson sent her link to a secure directory that was already populated with more than a dozen files. Some were audio files; others were graphical. As instructed, the files Letson had collected were time-stamped after their visit to the Hofburg.
This will keep gathering data until you tell me to shut it down. It’s passive. Not likely to trigger any alarms, especially not considering the state of their security protocols, but it would probably be best not to let this go for too long.
Avery looked at Stone. Another nod.
Anything else?
Not right now. I owe you one, Jimmy. Hugs!!!
If all I get is hugs, better from you than your brother.
“Hugs,” Stone muttered. Avery could not tell if he was amused or irritated. “Start at the beginning.”
Avery clicked the first and a media player popped up in the corner of the screen. She frowned when she heard voices speaking German but then saw that Stone was listening intently. “You speak German?”
He raised a hand to silence her, but nodded. The file, evidently a phone conversation, went on for several minutes. When it ended, Stone pointed to the next audio file. “Play that one.”
She did, and then spent several more minutes watching him listen to the incomprehensible exchange.
There was a knock at the door, and then it opened and Tam Broderick, looking considerably fresher than she had a few hours earlier, entered the room. “You kids playing nice?”
Avery’s face reddened. How would Tam react when she learned what Stone had done?
Stone was so calm as to be indifferent. “Avery’s been filling me in on her theory about the Dominion being after the Spear of Destiny.”
The way he said “theory” rankled Avery, but she did not comment.
“You think she’s wrong?” Tam asked, arching an eyebrow.
Stone shrugged. “Something about this doesn’t feel right, but I don’t have enough information to come up with something better. In any event, I see no reason not to proceed as if she’s right.”
Tam strode over to join them and peered at the list on the computer screen. “I see you’ve been busy. What is that?”
“We’re monitoring communications from the Hofburg security office,” Stone explained. “I told them that someone was going to try to steal the Spear of Destiny.”
Tam raised an eyebrow, then turned an accusing gaze on Avery. “He did what?”
“It’s an old trick that pickpockets often use,” Stone said. “Blend in with a crowd and shout: ‘My wallet’s been stolen,’ then watch how many people check to make sure they still have theirs.”
Tam’s expression softened. “And in the process they show you exactly where they keep their wallets. Nice. And what have you learned?”
“Their first response to the report of a threat should have been to tighten security. That was this first call. Th
e head of security telling the museum director about our visit. But the museum director isn’t worried about it. He tells the security head to double-check the alarms, but you can tell by his tone that he’s not worried.”
“Why not?”
“Because he knows that the lance in that case is a reproduction.”
Avery frowned again. “Are you sure of that?”
“Not completely, but based on the museum director’s reaction, I’d say it’s pretty likely. This second call is the interesting one though. It’s the director calling one of his assistants, asking him to follow up with the authorities to see if the threat is credible.” He pointed to another file, further down the list. “That one is the call from the assistant. Play it next.”
Avery complied and yet another phone conversation began. Stone listened intently, saying nothing until the short call ended. When it did, he turned to face the others. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to rethink your theory.”
Avery bit back an indignant reply, and instead said simply, “Why is that?”
“The Dominion already has the ‘real’ Spear.”
Stone waited until the prescribed two o’clock strategy meeting to fully elaborate on his revelation, but the intervening time was not wasted. By the time Greg and Kasey arrived, he had a much better idea of the deception the Dominion—more specifically, the Heilig Herrschaft branch of the organization—had already perpetrated.
“First off,” he said, “I want to thank you all for getting me out of that hellhole in Romania. You all took a big risk on nothing more than Tam’s say so, and I want you to know that I appreciate it.” He paused, allowing the sentiment a measure of gravity, then continued. “Avery has already told you that the Dominion has an interest in the Spear of Destiny. From what I know about them, which admittedly isn’t much, that comes as no surprise. But this will. The Dominion is already in possession of the Spear.”
Greg glanced at Tam for confirmation and got it in the form of a nod. “How did they pull that off?”
“It was, or I should say is an inside job. The Spear on display in the Treasury is a replica. That’s not an unusual practice. Most of the priceless artifacts displayed in museums are. It’s the only way to keep insurance costs down. The real Imperial Treasures are kept in a secure vault that isn’t on the tour route.”
“And just how would you know that?” inquired Greg.
Stone shot Tam a quizzical look. “You really didn’t tell them anything about me, did you?”
“You’re entitled to your secrets,” Tam replied.
“I would never have guessed you’d feel that way,” Stone said with a chuckle. He looked back at Greg. “I have some experience with how the insurance industry works.”
“Were you a claims investigator?”
“More like a claims initiator.”
Kasey laughed out loud. “You’re a burglar.”
Avery’s eyes went wide. “You said—” She didn’t finish the sentence but stared at him accusingly. “So all that bull—”
Tam cleared her throat. “Swear jar.”
Avery remained undeterred. “—about seeing patterns was just a smokescreen. Breaking into the NSA wasn’t some crusade to protect the right to privacy, was it? It was just another job.”
“The things I do, and the reasons I do them are two very different things, Avery.”
“You can go back to calling me Dr. Halsey.” She glowered at him but said nothing more.
“To answer your question,” Stone continued. “After Dr. Halsey and I inquired about the Spear and indicated that it might be at risk, one of the assistant museum directors, a certain Emil Zanger, made a call to a Paul Karcher in Berlin, alerting him to the possibility of an audit and directing him to return the Spear to the vault until the coast is clear. The museum director knows the spear in the display case is a fake, but he doesn’t know that the one in the vault is too. Zanger and Karcher are going to switch them back, at least until after the director is satisfied that there’s no threat.”
“Karcher is Heilig Herrschaft?” Kasey asked, though it sounded like a rhetorical question.
Greg leaned forward. “That call from Mexico was just a couple days ago. They moved fast.”
“Based on the tone of this call, I think they’ve had the Spear in their possession for some time. Years, perhaps. Zanger has remained at his post just for this reason, to put the Spear back as needed.”
“If they already had the Spear,” Kasey asked, “why the phone call from Mexico?”
“The message said to retrieve it,” Tam said. “They didn’t specifically say to steal it. Maybe they were just saying that it was time to put it to use.”
Stone went on. “There may be an opportunity here to strike a blow against the Dominion. We know that they’re planning to return the Spear to the vault, if only temporarily.”
“You think that will be our chance to expose Zanger?” asked Greg.
“No,” Stone replied. “This will be our chance to steal the Spear.”
“Steal?” Greg looked to Tam again. “You’re okay with this?”
Tam returned a coy smile. “Can you think of a better way to keep it out of the Dominion’s hands?”
Greg shook his head in resignation. “I take it you’ve already got a plan for how we’re going to do this?”
Stone nodded. “I hope you got some sleep. It’s going to be a long night.”
CHAPTER 8
Greg Johns sat in the lounge of the charter air travel terminal at Schwechat Airport, sipping a cup of coffee and, to all appearances, poring over a sheaf of documents as if trying to draw up a flight plan. The Learjet 60 he had ridden from Bucharest in the early hours of the morning—leased by a CIA shell company and more or less on permanent loan to the Myrmidons—sat hangared nearby. Tam had hired the flight crew to give them all a chance to rest in between stops, but Greg was a licensed and internationally certified pilot, so his presence was not unusual, certainly not enough to arouse the suspicions of the staff. However, Greg was not here to plan his next flight. He was waiting for an arrival, specifically, the arrival of a German industrialist named Paul Karcher.
It had only taken a few minutes of searching to find Karcher, a steel magnate from Berlin. A little more digging uncovered several red flags that supported their suspicion that he was working with Heilig Herrschaft. Stone, who evidently was as adept at breaking into secure computers as he was secure buildings, had used the phone number for Karcher to track the man’s movements and discovered that he was already en route to Vienna, flying aboard the corporate jet, which would allow him to bypass security measures.
Armed with Karcher’s flight plan, Greg and Tam had raced to the airport in order to get eyes on the man, while Stone and Kasey had returned to the Hofburg to arrange a special welcome for the Heilig Herrschaft operative, with Avery coordinating their efforts from the safety of her hotel room.
Greg checked his watch. It was just after seven p.m. and already dark outside. Karcher’s plane should have already landed. He surreptitiously keyed his radio microphone. “Got a twenty on our guy?”
He wondered absently if Avery knew about the old-fashioned ten-code, verbal shorthand designed to facilitate radio communications over an open net. Ten-twenty was radio speak for “advise location.”
Brevity codes had mostly gone the way of eight-track tapes and VHS machines, radios too, for that matter, but Greg had come up in that world, and old habits died hard. Though he was only in his mid-thirties, he thought of himself as an old-fashioned kind of guy. An old school patriot who had grown up on ‘80s action movies and always dreamed of being a secret agent. He had missed the Cold War by a few years but finished his training at the Farm just in time for the War on Terror to kick off.
Avery’s reply sounded in his ear bud. “Karcher is on the ground. You should see him any moment.” Evidently she had understood.
Greg fumbled with his papers some more, then took another sip of coffee, raising his head
just as the doors opened, and three men wearing business suits stepped in off the tarmac. Two of them were grim-faced, burly bodyguard types that appeared to have been sent over from central casting. The third was Paul Karcher, recognizable from the passport photo that Stone had procured during their mission meeting.
Greg was not sure what to make of their newest team member. Tam held Stone in high regard, but everything Greg knew about the man left him wary. Stone had breached NSA security, stolen top secret data about domestic surveillance. That might have made him a hacktivist hero, but Greg knew well how critical such programs were to protecting the United States from terror attacks. The NSA wasn’t interested in the day-to-day indiscretions of average Americans; they were watching for keywords that might presage another 9/11. In fact, it was just such a program that had helped them identify this latest Dominion threat, even if they did not yet completely understand it. Stone’s personal crusade had the potential to deprive the intelligence community of a critical weapon in fighting terrorists.
And then there was the revelation of Stone’s true career—professional burglar. At least Greg assumed he was a pro. It was not at all unusual for staff operations officers to recruit known criminals as assets since they often had unique expertise and connections, and in a worst case scenario, it was a lot easier to sacrifice a dirt bag if an op went south. But Tam’s personal connection to Stone was a twist he had not yet worked out. Tam had risked a lot by going to the black site and facilitating Stone’s escape. While they had been very careful to avoid giving the appearance of direct action on Stone’s behalf, the private contractors running the site would almost certainly have put two and two together, and realized that Stone’s escape right after Tam’s visit was no coincidence. It was Tam’s neck on the line, not his, but Greg was worried for her. And while he was willing to trust Tam’s judgment, that did not mean he had to trust Stone just yet.
