by David Wood
Kasey was still mentally stuck on one detail. “You guessed?”
“An educated guess,” Stone said, a hint of irritation creeping into his tone. “I was right. Does it matter?”
“When you’re taking chances with my life? Yeah, it matters. We could have hidden out in one of the file rooms. Waited for the guards to clear out.”
Stone stopped and turned back. With the goggles on, she couldn’t judge his mood. “I don’t take chances. Maybe ‘guess’ was the wrong word, but it’s easier than trying to explain that I had a high degree of confidence in my logical deduction. Now, I trusted you with my life last night. You need to trust me.”
Kasey was tempted to argue that she did not in fact need to trust him, but he had not been wrong about the passage. “They’re going to find that hole, you know. They’ll know where we went.”
“Which is why we have to keep moving.”
She let out a low growl. “Fine.”
The passage opened up into a much larger cavern. The walls were pocked with niches hewn into solid rock. A warning from Stone to watch her step prompted a look down, and Kasey saw that the floor was riddled with open pits. Kasey looked down into the nearest of them. The bottom of the twenty foot vertical shaft was strewn with old rags and other detritus. It was only after she looked away that she realized what she had just seen. Skeletons.
“I can see why this place isn’t on the tour route,” she muttered.
Stone did not reply.
A narrow slit in the far wall led out of the cavern. Kasey followed Stone into it without hesitation, but after a few steps, the walls and ceiling seemed to close in around her. The sides of the passage scraped her shoulders, and she felt compelled to hunch forward. Stone, still forging ahead, was bent nearly double.
“Just so you know,” she said, “I am not having fun.”
“Are you claustrophobic?”
“I didn’t think I was until now. Are you sure this leads somewhere? Or is this another guess?”
“This passage wouldn’t be here if it didn’t lead somewhere,” Stone replied.
“That was a dungeon back there. Those pits had bodies in them. It’s an old-fashioned maximum security lock-up. What if this just leads to some kind of medieval super-max?”
“I don’t think that’s very likely.” His voice, muffled by the close quarters, sounded funereal. Then, ominously, he stopped.
“What?” Kasey tried to look past him, but his body almost completely filled the passage, blocking her view.
“Another dead end,” Stone admitted.
“But you said—”
“It used to go somewhere. Now it’s blocked. Something’s covering the end of the tunnel. Back up. Give me some room. I’ll try to push it out of the way.”
There was not enough room to turn around, so Kasey wriggled back a few steps, feeling the confined space all the more acutely. Stone backed up as well, then charged forward, once more using his body like a battering ram. There was a muted thump.
“It moved.” Stone repositioned and braced himself against the obstacle, exerting steady pressure instead. There was a faint scraping sound as the object blocking the passage slid a few inches, and then a few inches more. Stone took a moment to catch his breath and then threw himself into the effort again, not relenting until he had opened a gap at least a foot wide.
He stuck his head into the open space, then forced himself the rest of the way through. “Come on.”
Kasey slipped through the gap with an almost frenetic urgency, but the relief she expected to feel after escaping the constricting confines of the passage was denied her. What lay beyond the gap Stone had forced was yet another ominous subterranean chamber with no outlet immediately apparent. The room had been carved from bedrock, the barrel-ceiling curving down to meet the floor like an inverted half-pipe. A quick visual sweep revealed an irregularly-shaped floor plan with too many niches and corners to count. Everywhere she looked, she saw box-like shapes arranged with only a semblance of orderliness. Behind her, a stone pedestal with yet another box stood slightly askew, the obstacle that had blocked the passage. Most of the chests were rectangular, but several of them were damaged, permitting a glimpse of their contents or in some instances, spilling them out onto the floor.
More skeletons.
“Ugh. They’re coffins.”
“It’s a burial crypt,” Stone confirmed. “Come on. There has to be a way out.”
“What if our way in is the only way out?”
He shook his head and made a vague gesture at the funerary containers. “These coffins are too big to fit through that little tunnel.”
“But if they sealed the main entrance—”
Stone started forward, deftly threading the narrow aisles between the coffins. “Crypts were used to preserve the bodies of nobility and the wealthy. They’re like very exclusive cemeteries. There are dozens of coffins in this room alone. People visit their dead, pay their respects. There has to be access from the surface.”
“I don’t see fresh flowers anywhere,” Kasey retorted. “I don’t think anyone’s paid their respects to these people in about a thousand years.”
“Only a few hundred years actually,” Stone admitted. “But unless you’d want to take your chances going back, we should keep looking.”
Kasey had no argument for that and resignedly trudged along in Stone’s footsteps. They skirted along the left edge of the chamber, venturing down passages that ended—dead ended, Kasey thought morbidly—in cul de sacs, or looped back to the main chamber. It was like a suburban neighborhood for the dead. Her hopes brightened a little with the discovery of a tunnel that led to a flight of steps hewn into the rock, but at its summit, they found yet another labyrinth of burial niches.
“How big is the place?” she wondered aloud. “There must be thousands of coffins down here.”
“That’s a good sign,” Stone assured her. “It means this place was in use for a long time.”
“I’m unclear on the part where it’s a ‘good sign.’”
Stone didn’t answer.
Another staircase and another level of the crypt, but Kasey was grudgingly forced to accept that Stone’s instincts were correct. Many of the coffins on this level were in surprisingly good shape. Some were ornate with elaborate gilt scrollwork or murals—the skull and crossbones motif was particularly popular—painted directly on the wood panels. Several of the coffins were open, revealing mummified bodies in repose, adorned with brittle rags that might once have been silk finery and grinning skulls capped with a weird tangle of hair, like something from a Grateful Dead album cover. Wigs.
Kasey wished she had a little of Avery’s expertise on matters of history. Vienna was full of images of people in wigs—statues and portraits of famous composers, actors putting on historical plays in city parks. How long ago had these people lived? Two hundred, three hundred years?
Stone let out a triumphant whoop and Kasey found him pointing to something that was most definitely not two centuries old. A brightly colored plastic chain was stretched across their path, bolted to the walls on either side. A placard hung from the chain, the message displayed on it visible only to someone approaching from the other direction.
“This place is on the tour route,” Stone said. He stepped over the largely symbolic barrier and continued on, moving at a jog. Kasey allowed herself a sigh of relief and followed, feeling a little bit lighter with every step.
There were more indications of recent activity, including tastefully understated informational placards on easels identifying some of the occupants of the necropolis. Other coffins were marked with numbered paper tents, like exhibits at a crime scene.
Stone raised a hand, warning her to slow down. “We’re probably going to come up in an old church or something,” he whispered. “I doubt there will be any alarms, but there might be a night watchman. Or the police. If they’ve figured out where we went, there’s a good chance they already know where the tunnel ended. Th
ey might be waiting for us out there.”
Kasey’s burgeoning good mood started to sputter like a damp wick.
Stone spoke again, but not to her. “Tam, do you copy?”
There was a scratch of static in Kasey’s ear bud, then a voice, but not the voice of her boss. “Stone?” It was Avery. “Are you clear?”
“We’re in an old crypt.”
“That would be the Michaelergruft. The Crypt of St. Michael’s Church. It’s right next to the Hofburg. I didn’t realize they were connected.”
“Let’s hope no one else realizes it,” Stone said. “What’s happening in the palace? Has anyone left?”
“What?” There was an uncertain pause. “No. I don’t think so. Half the place is still locked down. People are going in, but not out.”
“Good. Hopefully, that means they either don’t know about the passage or aren’t able to call out.”
Stone continued forward, creeping up another staircase, and Kasey followed. They emerged into a groined vault, partitioned off by a wrought iron gate. Through the bars, Kasey could make out the pews of a church nave and, lining the walls of the expansive structure, dozens of statuary images, angels and saints, looking ghastly in the green glow of night-vision technology.
They crept through the deserted church to an exit door, which Stone eased open. “All clear,” he whispered. He took off his goggles, stowing them in the duffel bag containing the Spear, which Kasey was only too happy to hand over. She doffed her own goggles as well. After more than half an hour of staring into the green display, her natural night vision was completely shot forcing her to grope her way through the door like someone struck blind. Outside, the city lights provided enough ambient illumination for her to make out the distinctive baroque architecture of the historic Austrian capital.
“Where are we?”
“St. Michael’s Church is northeast of the Hofburg,” Avery intoned. “You should see a building with three domes. That’s the Old Castle wing. If you skirt around the north side, you should be able to find familiar ground.”
“I don’t think we want to go that way,” Stone said calmly.
“Good point. Okay, there should be road directly opposite the palace entrance. Take it and head north a few blocks. I’ll guide you the rest of the way.”
“Thanks.” Stone turned to Kasey and offered his arm. “Are you up for a stroll through scenic old town?”
Kasey cast a dubious eye in his direction. “Like anyone would believe we’re a coup—”
A loud noise, like a balloon popping, cut her off. At almost the same instant, something flashed through the air beside her and struck Stone in the chest. His cry of pain and surprise was almost drowned out by a series of staccato crackling sounds. Stone went rigid and dropped in a heap on the damp pavement.
Kasey whirled to face the source of the unexpected attack, and found a tall, broadly built Caucasian man with a Taser in one hand, twin wire leads connecting the less-than-lethal electrical weapon to the darts protruding from Stone’s chest, and a more traditional matte-black SIG P226 semi-automatic in the other. The latter was pointed right at her.
Without a nanosecond of hesitation, Kasey spun on her heel, turning in the direction of the wires. The maneuver brought her in close to the man, so close that he couldn’t bring the handgun to bear on her, but just to be sure, she threw a rising arm block to ward off the pistol. She followed up by driving an elbow into the man’s gut.
Her lightning quick reaction allowed her to score the first blow, but the big man’s quick response was indication enough that she was outmatched in every other way. Her blow staggered him back, but even as he seemed to be retreating, he brought his arms together, enfolding her in a bear hug. She twisted out of his grasp, throwing two more completely ineffectual punches, and then something slammed into the side of her head and for a moment, all she could see was stars.
She retreated blindly, knowing even as she did, that her opponent had a gun and that she was the proverbial fish in a barrel. Sure enough, as the stars started to fade, she saw her opponent thrusting the pistol in her direction.
“Stop!” The man spoke in clear English, with just a trace of a southern drawl. “I don’t want to shoot you.”
“Good!” She charged again, ducking under the gun barrel this time, and aiming a sweep kick at his knee.
As if anticipating that move, the man pivoted on one foot, turning into her kick and blocking it with his shin. Instead of folding under his weight, his braced leg turned her kick, staggering Kasey off balance. He pounced on her before she could recover, tackling her to the ground, pinning her down. She tried to wrestle free but was simply no match for his strength and size. He got hold of one wrist, then the other, and then she felt hard plastic bands pulling tight, binding her arms together.
The man rolled off her and retrieved his weapons from where they had fallen. He holstered the pistol but kept the electric stun gun in his left fist. “Sorry about roughing you up, sweetheart. You’re a hell of a fighter. I’ll give you that.”
“Cut me loose,” she snarled. “And I’ll show you a fight.”
“Tempting, but I got no beef with you. Hell, we’re on the same side.”
Realization dawned. “You were at the black site. You’re with EmergInt.”
The man gave an almost guilty shrug. “I may be a contractor, but I work for the Company, same as you.” He turned to Stone, one finger poised on the Taser’s firing stud.
“Then you already know that Stone is in our custody. You have no legal right to take him.”
“And you have no legal right to stop me. My contract with your agency says that we’re to keep him until he talks. You got a problem with that, take it up your chain of command.” He depressed the trigger and sent another five-second long jolt of electricity into Stone’s motionless body.
“Stop it!” Kasey protested. “He’s already out cold. You don’t have to torture him.”
The mercenary laughed. “If you think a little zap qualifies as torture, you might be too soft for this line of work, sweetheart.”
Kasey took a breath, trying to dial back her anger. “What’s your name, cowboy?”
The man let out a chuckle. “Bill Sievers. Pleased to meet you.”
“Bill, I’m Kasey. Listen to me. Stone isn’t just our prisoner. He’s an asset, working with us to stop a very real, very immediate threat to America. You do care about America, don’t you?”
Sievers ignored her. Working one-handed, he slipped Stone’s wrists into the loops of a pair of plastic flexi-cuffs, and snugged them tight. Only then did he eject the spent cartridge from the Taser, reloading and holstering it. He then slipped his hands under Stone’s body and heaved the limp form onto one shoulder. As he rose to leave, he glanced over at Kasey.
“It’s been fun, Kasey. Next time you’re in Bucharest, look me up. We’ll go a few more rounds.”
Kasey flexed her arms violently, trying to break free, but the flexi-cuffs on her own wrist did not give. She narrowed her eyes. “Count on it.”
CHAPTER 10
Ignoring a red traffic signal, Greg turned the car on to the Ringstrasse. He floored the accelerator to reach the relatively open far lane but once there, the car’s momentum sent it skidding onto the tracks of the Ring tram. He glimpsed a flash of yellow in his headlights and cranked the wheel hard to the right, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with a trolley moving against the clockwise flow of traffic. A few irate drivers honked at him, but once the vehicle was back under control, it was only a matter of a few seconds before they were well away from anyone who had been inconvenienced by his hasty intrusion.
The car with only one working taillight was less than two hundred yards ahead of them, but aggressively switching lanes to get around slower vehicles. If he was going to keep up, Greg would have to do the same, which meant there would be no covert pursuit. He was going to have to run the other car down, maybe force it to stop, and doing so would put a lot of innocent people
at risk.
“What’s the play?” he asked, without looking over at Tam.
She did not immediately reply, and Greg knew she was probably thinking the same thing he was, weighing the potential for a disastrous outcome against the even greater threat of allowing a Dominion operative to slip away. “Don’t lose him,” she finally said. “If he gives you a free shot, take it.”
“He’ll make us,” Greg warned.
“He already knows we’re here.”
Greg nodded, keeping his gaze locked on the distant red light as he swerved from lane-to-lane, braking and accelerating to find gaps in the persistent river of cars and occasionally riding up onto the concrete bed where the tram rails were laid. With each passing second, he felt the initial rush of adrenaline ebb, replaced by the confidence borne of experience. The extensive training in tactical driving he had received came back by degrees and as the trees lining the roadside flashed by, he began to see the situation as a problem to be solved, a game to be won. Nevertheless, in the back of his mind, he knew that victory would require something more than just holding his own. He would have to force the car to stop, run it off the road, and somehow avoid causing collateral damage in the process.
The Ringstrasse curved to the right, heading east, past the University, the State Opera House, and the Vienna Stock Exchange. Greg did not know much about architecture, but the whirlwind tour felt like some kind of crazy time travel experience.
The illusion was shattered when the fleeing car made a sharp right turn onto the broad four-lane highway that ran parallel to the Wien River, and he spied brightly lit modern towers of glass and steel on the far shore, bridges spanning a river crowded with tour boats and commercial vessels. The black ribbon of asphalt ahead was a sea of glimmering red lights, staring at him like glowing eyes, and for a moment, the cyclopean stare of their prey was lost. Greg knew he was still there, somewhere ahead of them, and bore down harder on the accelerator.
“There’s a lot of places he can go from here,” Greg said. His tone was matter-of-fact, but it sounded like an admission of failure in his own ears.
