by Steve Berry
He watched as her mind rolled through the possibilities.
“We need Lyndsey from the house. He's all that's left here now.”
“What about Malone and Vitt?”
“I have men waiting. And their guns are loaded.”
EIGHTY-NINE
STEPHANIE STARED OUT THROUGH THE OPEN PANEL INTO ONE OF the
mansion's bedchambers. The room was elaborately furnished in an Italian style and quiet save for a mechanical whir from outside an open door, which led to the second-floor hall. They stepped from the back passage.
One of the Greek fire machines whizzed passed in the hall, spewing mist. A pall hung heavy in the room, evidence that the robots had already visited.
“They're quickly basting this house,” Thorvaldsen said as he moved to the hall door. She was just about to caution him to stop when the Dane stepped out and a new voice–male, foreign–shouted.
Thorvaldsen froze, then slowly raised his arms.
Ely crept close to her ear. “One of the troops. He told Henrik to halt and raise his hands.”
Thorvaldsen kept his head toward the guard, who apparently was positioned to their right, without a way to see inside the room. She'd wondered about the troops, hoping that they'd been evacuated when the machines started their patrol.
More loud words.
“What now?” she whispered.
“He wants to know if he's alone.”
MALONE AND CASSIOPEIA CLAMBERED DOWN THE INCLINE IN their wet clothes. Malone buttoned his shirt as they descended.
“You could have mentioned that the guns were duds,” Cassiopeia said to him.
“And when would I have done that?” He hopped over rocks and hastened down the steep slope. Breaths came fast. He certainly wasn't thirty years old anymore, but his forty-eight-year-old bones weren't totally out of shape. “I didn't want Viktor to even sense we knew anything.”
“We didn't. Why'd you give up your gun?”
“Had to play his game.”
“You're an odd bird,” she said to him, as they found level ground.
“I'll take that as a compliment, coming from someone who traipsed around Venice with a bow and arrow.”
The house lay a football field away. He still saw no one roaming the exterior and no movement inside, past the windows.
“We need to check something.”
He raced toward the chopper and leaped into the rear compartment. He found the weapons locker. Four AK-74s stood upright, ammunition clips stacked beneath. He examined them. “All blanks.” Barrel plugs had been carefully inserted to accommodate the phony rounds and allow the cartridges to be ejected. “Thorough little cuss. I'll give him that.”
He found the gun he'd brought from Italy and checked the magazine. Five live rounds. Cassiopeia grabbed an assault rifle and popped in a clip. “Nobody else knows these are useless. They'll do for now.”
He reached for one of the AK-74s. “I agree. Perception is everything.”
ZOVASTINA AND VIKTOR EMERGED FROM THE POOL. MALONE AND Vitt were gone.
All the guns lay on the sandy floor.
“Malone's a problem,” she made clear.
“Not to worry,” Viktor said. “I owe him.”
STEPHANIE LISTENED AS THE TROOPER IN THE HALL CONTINUED to bark orders at Thorvaldsen, the voice coming closer to the doorway. Lyndsey's face froze in panic and Ely quickly clamped a hand over the man's mouth and dragged him to the other side of a poster bed,
where they crouched out of sight.
With a coolness that surprised her, she locked her gaze on a Chinese porcelain statuette resting on the dresser. She grabbed it and slipped behind the door.
Through the hinge crack she saw the guard enter the bedchamber. As he stepped clear, she planted the statue into the nape of his neck. He staggered and she finished him off with another head blow, then snatched the rifle.
Thorvaldsen darted close and retrieved the side arm. “I was hoping you'd improvise.”
“I was hoping these men were gone.”
Ely brought Lyndsey.
“Good job with him,” she told Ely.
“He has the backbone of a banana.”
She studied the AK-74. She'd learned about handguns, but assault rifles were another matter. She'd never fired one. Thorvaldsen seemed to sense her hesitation and offered her his gun.
“Want to switch?”
She did not refuse. “You can handle one of those?”
“I've had a little experience.”
She made a mental note to inquire more about that later. She approached the doorway and carefully spied into the hall. No one in either direction. She led the way as they crept down the hall toward the second-floor foyer, where a staircase led down to the main entrance. Another of the Greek fire machines appeared behind them, darting from one room into another. Its sudden appearance drew her attention momentarily away from what lay ahead. The wall to her left ended, replaced by a thick stone balustrade. Movement below caught her gaze.
Two soldiers.
Who instantly reacted by leveling their rifles and firing.
CASSIOPEIA HEARD THE RAT-TAT-TAT OF AUTOMATIC WEAPON fire from inside the house.
Her first thought was Ely.
“Just remember,” he said. “We've only got five good rounds.”
They leaped from the chopper.
ZOVASTINA AND VIKTOR EMERGED FROM THE FISSURE AND STUDIED the scene a hundred meters below. Malone and Vitt were rushing from the helicopter carrying two assault rifles.
“Are those loaded?” she asked.
“No, Minister. Blanks.”
“Which Malone clearly knows, so they're carrying them for show.”
Gunfire from inside the house caused her alarm.
“Those turtles will explode if damaged,” Viktor said.
She needed Lyndsey before that happened.
“I hid loaded magazines for the pistols and clips for the rifles on board,” Viktor said. “Just in case we needed them.”
She admired his preparedness. “You've done well. I might have to reward you.”
“First we need to finish this.”
She clasped his shoulder. “That we do.”
NINETY
BULLETS RICOCHETED OFF THE THICK MARBLE RAILING. A WALL mirror
shattered, then crashed to the floor. Stephanie sought cover past where the balustrade began, the others huddled behind her.
More bullets obliterated plaster to her right.
Luckily the angle gave them an element of protection. To obtain a clearer shot, the soldiers would have to climb the stairway, which would also give her an opportunity. Thorvaldsen came close. “Let me.”
She stepped back and the Dane sent a salvo from the AK-74 down to the ground floor. The rounds produced the intended result. All shooting from below stopped. A robot reappeared behind them from another of the bedchambers. She paid it no mind until the whine from its electric motor steadily increased in volume. She turned her head and spotted the mechanism approaching the spot where Ely and Lyndsey stood.
“Stop that thing,” she mouthed to Ely.
He stuck out his foot and halted the machine's advance. It sensed an impediment, hesitated, then sprayed Ely's pants with mist. She saw him wince from the odor, strong even from her vantage, six feet away.
The thing turned and headed in the opposite direction.
More shots rang out from below as the second floor was peppered with bullets. They needed to retreat and use the concealed passages, but before she could give the order, ahead, on the other side of the railing, one of the soldiers rounded a corner.
Thorvaldsen saw him, too, and before she could raise her gun, he chopped the man down with a burst from the AK-74.
MALONE APPROACHED THE HOUSE WITH CAUTION. HE GRIPPED the pistol in one hand, the assault rifle slung over the other shoulder. They entered through a rear terrace into an opulent salon.
A familiar smell greeted him.
Greek fire.
He saw Cassiopeia register the scent, too.
More gunfire.
From somewhere on the ground floor.
He headed toward the ruckus.
VIKTOR FOLLOWED ZOVASTINA AS THEY DREW CLOSER TO THE house. They'd stayed concealed and watched as Malone and Vitt entered. Lots of rounds being discharged from inside.
“There are nine militia inside,” Zovastina said. “I told them not to use their weapons. Six robots are trolling, set to go when I push this.”
She produced one of the remote controllers he'd many times used to detonate the turtles. He thought another warning in order. “A bullet into any one of those machines that disables it will trigger an explosion, regardless of that controller.”
He saw that she did not require a reminder, but also she did not react with her usual arrogance.
“Then we'll just have to be careful.”
“It's not us I'm worried about.”
CASSIOPEIA WAS ANXIOUS. ELY WAS SOMEWHERE IN THIS HOUSE, probably trapped, with Greek fire everywhere. She'd seen its destructive force. The layout was a problem. The ground floor wound around itself like a labyrinth. She heard voices. Straight ahead, beyond another parlor dotted with gilt-framed art. Malone led the way.
She admired his courage. For someone who complained all the time about not wanting to play the game, he was a damn good player.
Into another room oozing baroque charm, Malone crouched behind a high-backed chair and motioned for her to head left. Beyond a wide archway, ten meters away, she saw shadows dance across the walls.
More voices, in a language she did not know.
“I need a diversion,” Malone whispered.
She understood. He had bullets. She didn't.
“Just don't shoot me,” she mouthed back as she assumed a position adjacent to the doorway. Malone shifted quickly behind another chair that offered a clear view. She drew a breath, counted to three, and told her pounding heart to stay calm. This was foolish, but she should have a second or two of advantage. She leveled the rifle, swung around and planted her feet in the archway. Finger on the trigger, she let loose a volley of blank rounds. Two soldiers stood on the other side of the foyer, their guns pointed toward the second-floor railing, but her shots produced the desired effect.
Startled faces stared back at her.
She stopped firing and dropped to the ground.
Then came two new bangs, as Malone shot both men.
STEPHANIE HEARD THE PISTOL ROUNDS. SOMETHING NEW. HENRIK was
crouched beside her, his finger ready on the rifle trigger.
Two more of the soldiers appeared on the second floor, beyond where their comrade lay dead. Thorvaldsen instantly shot them both.
She was beginning to form a new opinion of this Dane. She'd known him to be conniving, with a disappearing conscience, but he was also cold-nerved, clearly prepared to do whatever needed to be done.
The soldiers' bodies flew back as high-powered rounds ripped through flesh. She saw the robot and heard the pings at the same time.
One of the machines had turned the corner, behind the two dying soldiers. Bullets had pierced its casing. The motor stuttered and jerked, like a wounded animal. Its funnel
retracted.
Then the whole thing erupted in flames.
NINETY-ONE
MALONE HEARD SHOTS FROM ABOVE, THEN A SWOOSH, FOLLOWED by an
intense rush of unnatural heat.
He realized what had happened and fled from behind the chair, darting to the archway as Cassiopeia sprang to her feet.
He glanced around.
Flames poured from the second floor, engulfing the marble railing and consuming the walls. Glass in the tall outer windows shattered from the fiery assault. The floor ignited.
STEPHANIE SHIELDED HERSELF FROM THE WAVES OF HEAT THAT rushed past. The robot did not actually explode, more vaporized in an atomiclike flash. She lowered her arm to see fire stretching in all directions, like a tsunami–walls, ceiling, even the floor succumbing. Fifty feet away and closing.
“Come on,” she said.
They fled the approaching maelstrom, running fast, but the flames were gaining ground. She realized the danger. Ely had been sprayed.
She glanced over her shoulder.
Ten feet away and closing.
The door to the bedchamber where they'd first exited the hidden passage was open just ahead. Lyndsey found it first. Ely next.
She and Thorvaldsen made it inside just as danger arrived.
“HE'S UP THERE,” CASSIOPEIA SAID TO THE SCENE OF THE SECOND floor burning, then she yelled, “Ely.”
Malone wrapped his arm around her neck and clamped her mouth shut.
“We're not alone,” he whispered in her ear. “Think. More soldiers. And Zovastina and Viktor. They're here. You can count on it.”
He released his hand.
“I'm going after him,” she made clear. “Those guards had to be shooting at them. Who else?”
“We have no way of knowing anything.”
“So where are they?” she asked the fire.
He motioned and they retreated into the parlor. He heard furniture crashing and more glass shattering from above. Luckily, none of the flames had descended the stairway, as in the Greco-Roman museum. But one of the priming mechanisms, as if sensing the heat, appeared across the foyer, which raised a concern.
If one exploded, more could, too.
ZOVASTINA HEARD SOMEONE CALL OUT ELY'S NAME, BUT SHE'D also felt the heat from the robot's disintegration and smelled burning Greek fire.
“Fools,” she whispered to her troops, somewhere in the house.
“That was Vitt who shouted,” Viktor said.
“Find our men. I'll find her and Malone.”
STEPHANIE SPOTTED THE CONCEALED DOOR, STILL OPEN, AND LED the way
inside, quickly closing it behind them.
“Thank God,” Lyndsey said.
No smoke had yet accumulated in the hidden passage, but she heard fire trying to find its way through the walls.
They retreated to the stairway and scampered down to ground level. She kept an eye out for the first available exit and saw an open door just ahead. Thorvaldsen saw it, too, and they exited into the mansion's dining hall.
MALONE COULD NOT ANSWER CASSIOPEIA'S QUESTION ABOUT THE
whereabouts of Stephanie, Henrik, and Ely, and he, too, was concerned.
“It's time you back off,” Cassiopeia said to him.
That surliness from Copenhagen had returned. He thought a dose of reality might help. “We only have three bullets.”
“No, we don't.”
She brushed past him, retrieved the assault rifles from the two dead guards, and checked the clips. “Plenty of rounds.” She handed him one. “Thanks, Cotton, for getting me here. But I have to do this.” She paused. “On my own.”
He saw that arguing with her was fruitless.
“There's certainly another way up there,” she said. “I'll find it.”
He was about to resign himself to follow her when movement to his left set off an alarm and he whirled, gun ready.
Viktor appeared in the doorway.
Malone fired a burst from the AK-74 and instantly sought cover in the foyer. He could not see if he hit the man but, looking around, one thing he knew for certain. Cassiopeia was gone.
STEPHANIE HEARD SHOTS FROM SOMEWHERE ON THE GROUND floor. The dining hall spread out before her in an elaborate rectangle with towering walls, a vaulted ceiling, and leaded glass windows. A long table with a dozen chairs down each side dominated.
“We need to leave,” Thorvaldsen said.
Lyndsey bolted away, but Ely cut him off and slammed the scientist to the tabletop, jostling some of the chairs. “I told you we were going to the lab.”
“You can go to hell.”
Forty feet away, Cassiopeia appeared in the doorway. She was wet, looked tired, and carried a rifle. Stephanie watched as her friend spotted Ely. She'd taken a huge chance going w
ith Zovastina from Venice, but the gamble had now paid off.
Ely spotted her, too, and released his grip on Lyndsey.
Behind Cassiopeia, Irina Zovastina materialized and nestled the barrel of a rifle against Cassiopeia's spine.
Ely froze.
The Supreme Minister's clothes and hair were also wet. Stephanie debated challenging her, but the odds shifted when Viktor and three soldiers appeared and leveled their weapons.
“Lower the guns,” Zovastina said. “Slowly.”
Stephanie locked her gaze on Cassiopeia and shook her head, signaling this was a battle they could not win. Thorvaldsen took the lead and laid his weapon on the table. She decided to do the same.
“Lyndsey,” Zovastina said. “Time for you to come with me.”
“No way.” He started to back away, toward Stephanie. “I'm not going anywhere with you.”
“We don't have time for this,” Zovastina said, and she motioned to one of the soldiers, who rushed toward Lyndsey, who was retreating back to where the concealed panel remained open. Ely moved like he was going to grab the scientist, but when the soldier arrived, he shoved Lyndsey into him and slipped into the back passage, closing the door behind him. Stephanie heard guns raised.
“No,” Zovastina yelled. “Let him go. I don't need him and this place is about to burn to the ground.”
MALONE NAVIGATED THE MAZE OF ROOMS. ONE AFTER THE OTHER. Corridor to room to another corridor. He'd seen no one, but continued to smell fire burning on the upper stories. Most of the smoke seemed to have risen to the third floor, but it wouldn't be long before the air here became tainted.
He needed to find Cassiopeia.
Where had she gone?
He passed a door that opened to what looked like an oversized storage closet. He glanced inside and noticed something unusual. Part of the unfinished paneled wall stood open, revealing a concealed passage. Beyond, bulbs tossed down stagnant pools of weak light. He heard footsteps from inside the opening.
Approaching.
He gripped the rifle and flattened himself against the stinking wall, just outside the closet. Fast steps kept coming.
