The Secret Crown paj-6

by Chris Kuzneski

  Stunned by Kaiser’s decision to run, the goon wasn’t prepared to hit a moving target. Barely taking the time to aim, he fired again. This time he missed by several inches.

  It was a mistake he wouldn’t make again.

  The sound of the second blast fuelled Kaiser’s panic. In the military, he had been a supply sergeant, not a member of the infantry, so he wasn’t used to firefights. Outside of a shooting range, he hadn’t fired a gun in nearly a decade, and the last time someone had taken a shot at him was in an urban environment, not in the middle of the woods. Back then, he had escaped in his Mercedes. Out here, he had to do it on foot.

  Halfway to the bunker, Kaiser realized his mistake – and it had been a big one. With a gunman trying to kill him, he wouldn’t have time to use the ladder. Instead, he would be forced to leap through the narrow hole while running at top speed. Making matters worse, he wasn’t sure what was going to greet him at the bottom of the bunker. His men had been working on a pulley system when the first shots had been fired, so there was a very good chance he was going to land on some kind of equipment, whether that was a toolbox or part of the winch.

  Then again, that sounded better than the alternative.

  Because if he stopped to use the ladder, he was fucked.

  31

  When it came to maths, Kaiser was a genius. It was one of the reasons he was great at his job. Whereas most of his rivals used calculators to determine their prices, Kaiser was able to do complex equations in his head. In a fraction of a second, he was able to crunch several numbers – the street value of his goods, the cost of shipping, the risk involved and about twenty other variables – and work out the true worth of a deal. His speed and accuracy were so renowned, his customers rarely haggled for a better price because they knew Kaiser couldn’t be fooled.

  Unfortunately, the maths skills that had made Kaiser so much money over the years weren’t very effective when he was running for his life and screaming in pain. If they had been, he would have known that the diameter of the hole was far too narrow to leap through while sprinting at top speed. And yet when Kaiser left his feet, he thought his body would slip cleanly through the gap, and he would land safely inside the bunker.

  But he was wrong. And it wasn’t even close.

  Making matters worse, the goon pulled his trigger about the same time Kaiser went airborne. This led to a series of traumatic events that ravaged Kaiser’s body in several different ways. In a span of about two seconds, the gunman’s bullet hit Kaiser in the centre of his back, just before he slammed stomach-first into the far side of the hole. From the force of the impact, his torso lurched forward and he smashed his already damaged face into the hard ground, knocking out some teeth in the process.

  Unconscious from the blow, Kaiser slumped backwards through the hole and crashed awkwardly onto the equipment that littered the bunker’s floor. When he landed, his left leg was pinned underneath him at a severe angle, so much so that he ruptured his patellar tendon and tore every major ligament in his left knee with a sickening snap.

  The sound was so loud it echoed through the chamber.

  Although the goon couldn’t see the fall or hear the snap from his position in the trees, he knew Kaiser had been seriously injured during the chain of events. No one – not even a soldier half of Kaiser’s age – could have survived everything that he had gone through without suffering several devastating injuries. In fact, the goon was so confident that Kaiser was unconscious and defenceless at the bottom of the hole that he rushed forward to finish the job.

  And as he did, the goon smiled in triumph.

  Payne heard the rifle blasts and zeroed in on the sound. As far as he could tell, the weapon had been fired somewhere near the bunker.

  Wasting no time, Payne hustled through the foliage, trying to make as little noise as possible. Despite his size, Payne was able to move with great stealth, an ability often compared to the Apache warriors of the Old West, who were able to stalk their enemies without being heard. Genetically speaking, Payne knew his relatives had come from Central Europe, not the American south-west, yet he took it as a great compliment since the Apache were considered one of the fiercest tribes in Native American history.

  When he reached the edge of the clearing near the cul-de-sac, Payne spotted a man wearing green and brown camouflage. He was holding a rifle in his hand and moving slowly towards the entrance to the bunker. From his current position, Payne couldn’t see the man’s face. Then again, even if he could, he realized he didn’t know what most of Kaiser’s men looked like. Sure, he had spotted them in the woods when he had first arrived at the site, but that had been at long distance. Truth be told, he couldn’t have identified any of them in a police line-up.

  Obviously, that was a major problem when looking for targets.

  Not wanting to kill a friendly, Payne decided to creep closer.

  The goon stopped a few feet short of the hole and carefully peeked over the edge. Until that moment, he didn’t know what he would see. Perhaps a crevasse or a natural spring. Maybe even a grave. He certainly hadn’t been expecting a bunker. The instant he saw the concrete floor, he knew he had made an important discovery, something he had to report at once.

  From his jacket pocket, the goon pulled a two-way radio and called Krueger, who was still making his way up the slope.

  ‘Come in,’ the goon whispered in German.

  A few seconds passed before Krueger replied. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I found something big.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Some kind of building.’

  Krueger paused. ‘Did you say building?’

  The goon nodded. ‘It’s underground, like a cave or something.’

  ‘You mean a bunker?’

  ‘Yeah! A bunker. A very old bunker.’

  ‘How old?’ Krueger demanded.

  ‘I don’t know. I haven’t gone in yet.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s a bunker. I’m not going down there without backup. I shot some guy and he fell inside. I have no idea if he’s dead or alive.’

  ‘Give me the coordinates. I’ll be there soon.’

  Payne couldn’t speak German, so he had no idea what had been discussed during the brief radio conversation. However, based on the goon’s reaction when he peered into the bunker, Payne could tell that he hadn’t been there before and wasn’t one of Kaiser’s men.

  That meant he needed to die.

  From his current distance, Payne figured he had a 99 per cent chance of a killshot with his Sig Sauer. The problem was the noise it would make. Sometimes noise was a good thing. It could lure the enemy to a particular spot where they could be eliminated by an explosive or a well-placed sniper. Originally, that had been the plan he had discussed with Jones. Lure the enemy to the cul-de-sac, and then mow them down.

  Unfortunately, a major part of the equation was missing. He needed Kaiser’s radio to coordinate the attack.

  Without it, Payne couldn’t risk attracting any attention to the area – especially one where he would be pinned against a cliff with no way to escape. Furthermore, if Kaiser was hiding in the nearby woods, there was a decent chance the advancing troops might spot him during their charge towards the bunker, and if that happened, Payne probably couldn’t save him.

  For the time being, the noise wasn’t worth the risk.

  Thankfully, Payne knew many ways to kill quietly.

  The goon leaned forward, hoping to see the man he had shot in the back, wondering if he was dead or if he would require another blast from the Remington. Just to be safe, he raised the tip of his rifle and pointed it in the hole, looking forward to pulling his trigger one more time.

  A few seconds later, the goon was a goner.

  Moving with incredible stealth, Payne sprinted across the clearing and grabbed the goon by the neck before he knew someone was behind him. Without hesitation or remorse, Payne twisted the goon’s head so hard and at such an awkward angle t
hat the vertebrae in his neck popped like corn in a microwave. Instantly, he became dead weight in Payne’s arms.

  But just to be sure, Payne twisted his head the other way – even harder.

  Not wanting to leave the body in plain sight, Payne inched forward and was ready to dump it down the hole when he noticed a battered figure on the concrete floor beneath him. At first glance, he couldn’t tell who was unconscious in the shadows of the bunker, but once his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Payne gasped in horror.

  The bloodied man was Kaiser.

  32

  After using a tree to lower himself to the access trail, Jones glanced into the cul-de-sac below and spotted a hulking shadow gliding across the clearing towards an unsuspecting target. Jones had been on enough missions with Payne to recognize his stride and his tactics, and knew the man near the hole would soon be dead.

  A broken neck later, Jones was right.

  Strangely, during the ten seconds of action, the sniper didn’t take a shot even though he had more than enough time to shoot the man by the bunker. In Jones’s mind, that meant one of three things: Kaiser’s sniper was working with the enemy, he had been killed and replaced, or he was a reluctant shooter. Jones hoped for number three, but prepared for one and two by raising his weapon and picking up his pace along the narrow path.

  The bird’s nest was up ahead, and Jones could see the sniper. He was lying on his stomach, perfectly still, just as a sniper should be. Leaves and branches provided adequate cover, especially for an unwary intruder, but to an experienced soldier like Jones, who used to hunt snipers for a living, the shooter stood out like a neon sign.

  Looking through his scope, the sniper eyed his target in the crosshairs. Someone as big as Payne would be tough to miss with a DSR-1, a bolt-action sniper rifle that was used by the GSG 9, the elite counter-terrorism unit of the German Federal Police. Loaded with a five-round magazine of .308 Winchester cartridges, the expected accuracy of the DSR-1 was within .20 inches from a distance of a hundred yards.

  ‘Don’t even think about,’ Jones growled as he aimed at the sniper, who was ten feet away. ‘Let go of your rifle and put your hands behind your head.’

  Not wanting to die, the sniper cursed to himself and did as he was told. The instant he released the DSR-1, which was supported by a bipod for maximum stability, the barrel tilted skyward. For the time being, it was no longer a threat to Payne or anyone else.

  ‘Now slowly turn on your side and look at me.’

  Once again, the sniper followed orders. Only this time, his reaction was much different. As soon as he saw Jones, recognition flashed across his face, and he breathed a huge sigh of relief. ‘Thank God!’

  Jones stared at him. ‘For what?’

  ‘For you,’ he said in perfect English. ‘You’re one of Kaiser’s friends.’

  ‘You know me?’

  The sniper nodded. ‘You flew in yesterday. You and the big guy.’

  ‘What big guy?’ Jones asked him, still trying to decide with whom the sniper was working.

  He tilted his head to the right. ‘The guy down there.’

  ‘The one you were about to shoot?’

  ‘What? I wasn’t going to shoot anyone! I swear! I was using my scope to identify him. That’s all! I didn’t even know you guys had returned.’

  ‘From where?’

  ‘How should I know? Kaiser never tells us anything! All I know is three of you left this morning. The big guy, the black guy and the fat guy. But I don’t know where you went!’

  Jones scowled for effect. ‘Which one am I?’

  ‘What?’ he said, as his voice squeaked. ‘You’re, um, the …’

  ‘Never mind.’

  ‘Can I put my hands down?’

  ‘Not yet. Why didn’t you shoot the guy near the bunker?’

  ‘What?’ he asked, confused.

  ‘You had plenty of time to kill him but didn’t take the shot. I want to know, why?’

  ‘Why? Because I watched him kill Kaiser. After that, I didn’t know if I should keep fighting or I should run away. Why keep shooting if I won’t get paid?

  Jones’s face flushed in anger. ‘Kaiser’s dead?’

  He nodded. ‘The guy shot him in the back, and he fell in the hole. That’s what the guy was staring at when your friend killed him.’

  Jones glanced below. Payne was no longer there. ‘Where’s your radio?’

  ‘It’s in my pocket.’

  ‘Get on your knees, and hand it to me slowly.’

  The sniper did as he was told, then waited for further instructions. ‘Now what?’

  ‘Now you have a decision to make, the most important decision of your life.’ To emphasize how serious he was, Jones took a step closer as he continued to point his gun at the sniper’s face. ‘You fight with us, or you jump from the cliff. Your choice.’

  *

  Instead of using the ladder, Payne leapt into the bunker and rushed to Kaiser’s side. Lying on the floor, he was unconscious and bleeding heavily from his mouth and face. His eye was dangling from its socket. His left knee was torn to shreds. But he was still breathing.

  Experienced in basic field medicine, Payne knew his first order of business was getting his patient away from potential danger, so he carefully dragged Kaiser into the back passageway. From there, he turned on a flashlight and went through his mental checklist for trauma victims. Instructors at the Academy had taught him the ‘A, B, C, D, E’ approach to field medicine. Clear airway. Check breathing. Check circulation. Determine disabilities. And expose all wounds.

  Breathing was fine. Pulse was steady. The patient was unconscious, so Payne couldn’t check for movement in his limbs. But he could search Kaiser for bullet holes.

  Using a pocket knife, he gently cut Kaiser’s shirt open and was relieved to find top-of-the-line, hard-plated body armour – the kind worn by presidents and mafia dons, not security guards. Of course, in Kaiser’s business, it made sense to have the best. And in this case, it probably saved his life because rifle blasts tend to cut through soft vests like rocks through a window.

  Just then, Payne heard a muffled voice coming from the outer room near the bunker entrance. He instantly sprang to his feet and crept to the edge of the passageway where he listened patiently. No footsteps. No movement. No breathing of any kind. Only a muffled voice that sounded suspiciously familiar.

  ‘Come in. Over.’

  Payne peeked around the corner and spotted Kaiser’s radio on the floor, close to where he had fallen. Although he doubted it was a trap, Payne grabbed the radio as fast as he could then dashed back to the passageway before he answered Jones’s call. ‘Where are you?’

  Static filled the line.

  Payne repeated his question. ‘Where are you? Over.’

  Still nothing. Not even a squeak.

  Suddenly, Kaiser’s condition made a lot more sense. His radio didn’t work in the bunker, so he had been forced to run things from outside. Which ultimately exposed him to gun fire.

  Wasting no time, Payne moved forward until Jones heard his question.

  ‘I’m in the nest. Where are you?’

  ‘Tending to our friend,’ Payne said, not wanting to broadcast Kaiser’s name.

  ‘He’s alive?’

  ‘Unconscious, but stable.’

  Jones breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Good to hear.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘Conscious and angry. I’m ready to fuck some boys up.’

  Payne smiled. ‘What are you working with?’

  ‘A DSR-1. Standard optics. Plenty of ammo.’

  ‘How many team mates?’

  ‘One down, four in play.’

  ‘Who are we facing?’

  ‘Don’t know, don’t care.’

  ‘You say that now. You’ll change your mind when the cops show up.’

  Jones nodded. ‘Good point.’

  ‘Out of curiosity, what’s the penalty for justifiable homicide in this country?’

/>   ‘For you, nothing. For me, they lynch me in Berlin.’

  Payne laughed at the comment; Jones was joking. The two of them had spent a lot of time in Germany – mostly shuttling in and out of American military bases on their way to foreign missions – and had never experienced any racial problems. If anything, German people went out of their way to prove Nazism was a thing of the past. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but right now I’m more concerned about our friend than I am about you.’

  ‘First, you want to split up, and now this. I’m starting to re-evaluate our friendship.’

  Payne ignored him. ‘Where’s the sniper you replaced? Is he nearby?’

  ‘Why? Do you want his phone number?’

  ‘Actually, I need his help.’

  ‘With what?’

  ‘Our escape.’

  ‘Yours and his, or yours and mine?’

  ‘All of the above.’

  Jones smiled. ‘In that case, I’ll let you talk to him.’

  Ulster’s confusion worked to his advantage for the first ten minutes or so. The truth was he honestly didn’t know why Payne and Jones had sprinted out of the King’s House on Schachen in such a hurry or why they thought his life was in danger. All they had told him was to lock the door and keep an eye on Heidi until they returned. Obviously, something big was going on, but he didn’t know what it was since he hadn’t heard the shots while he was inside the house.

  Unfortunately for Ulster, Heidi was twice as confused and three times as feisty. Hoping to get as much information as possible, she peppered him with question after question – about Payne and Jones, the real reason they were in Bavaria, and everything else she could think of – which put a man like Ulster in an uncomfortable situation. He was an educator at heart, someone who enjoyed sharing his knowledge with the rest of the world, as could be seen from his life’s work. At first, he answered her questions openly and honestly because he really didn’t know where Payne and Jones had gone, but after that, she touched on some topics he knew he shouldn’t talk about. He tried to change the subject and tried to bite his tongue, especially when the spotlight focused on Ludwig, but she eventually wore him down.