The Secret Crown paj-6

by Chris Kuzneski

  After that, Ulster was putty in her hands.

  33

  The guy’s name was Collins. Until his arrival in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, he had never been a sniper but had volunteered for the position because he thought it would be a lot easier than hiking in the woods all day. For the past two years, he had worked for Kaiser, mostly doing security but occasionally doing grunt work. Like most people in the criminal world, his loyalty only went so far. In their business, the main motivation was money.

  Payne used that knowledge to his advantage. ‘Have you been paid yet?’

  Collins answered over the radio. ‘No.’

  ‘Would you like a big raise?’

  ‘What do I have to do?’

  ‘Simple. Help me get your boss to safety.’

  ‘He’s still alive?’ Collins asked.

  ‘Alive but unconscious. I need help moving him.’

  ‘To where?’

  ‘His ATV.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘You tell us. Any contingency plans?’

  Collins gave it some thought. If he risked his life and Kaiser survived, he would get a huge bonus and a possible bump up in the organization. Both sounded good to him. ‘If the cops showed up, we were supposed to-’

  ‘Shut up!’ Payne ordered. ‘Not on the radio! Never on the radio! Someone might be listening. Tell my partner instead. If he likes it, I’ll like it. Then we’ll go from there.’

  Collins glanced at Jones, who was studying the surrounding tree line with the rifle’s scope. If anyone threatened the bunker, Jones would take him out.

  ‘What’s the plan?’ Jones asked as he continued to search for targets.

  Collins explained. ‘If the cops showed up, we were supposed to meet at the southern end of the gorge.’

  ‘What gorge?’

  ‘The Partnach Gorge. It’s halfway between the bunker and the city. There’s a clearing on the far end where the chopper can pick us up.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘We fly to Austria. It’s just over the mountains.’

  Jones liked its simplicity. ‘Sounds good to me. Can I speak to him?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The pilot.’

  ‘Why do you want to talk to him?’

  ‘Because the plan sucks if he doesn’t show up.’

  Collins nodded in agreement. ‘He’s on a different channel.’

  ‘And what about your girlfriends? Will they know what to do?’

  ‘Just say the word, and they’ll meet us there.’

  Ten minutes later, Payne and Collins were in the cul-de-sac attaching a metal cable to the back of Kaiser’s ATV. The goal was to lift four crates – the van Goghs, the gold, Conrad Ulster’s books and papers, and the family heirlooms stored during the war – with the pulley system and load them into the off-road trailer before Payne carried Kaiser up the ladder. Then they would strap him to the top of the crates and haul everything to the rendezvous site.

  Because of the extra payload – and Payne’s desire to evacuate all the men at once – two choppers would be needed. To accommodate them, Jones ordered the pilot to fly up the mountain to the King’s House on Schachen and tell Baptiste to meet them at the far end of the gorge. If things went smoothly, the choppers would swoop in, pick them up, and then fly them across the border where they could get Kaiser the medical care he needed at a private facility. Meanwhile, Ulster’s chopper would continue on to Switzerland where he would protect the cargo at the Archives until Kaiser was healthy enough to travel.

  ‘Can you drive this thing?’ Payne asked as he double-checked the cable.

  Collins nodded. ‘I drove it up the slope on day one.’

  ‘Carrying what?’

  ‘Most of our gear and some of the men.’

  ‘You any good?’

  ‘At what?’

  ‘Driving ATVs.’

  ‘Yes, sir. I take them hunting all the time.’

  Payne stood. ‘In that case, you’re hired. You drive, and I’ll feed the crates through the hole. Do you think you can handle that?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Piece of cake.’

  ‘Don’t get cocky, Collins. If you fuck up, my partner will shoot you.’

  Collins gulped hard, then started the engine as Payne hustled to the bunker. Per military tradition, he loved busting the balls of his subordinates. It used to be one of his biggest joys in life, but he had been forced to curtail this habit when he took control of his grandfather’s business. During his first week on the job, he had teased one of his assistants – a mild rebuke without profanity – and made her cry. Obviously she had overreacted, but he had felt so bad about the episode that he had censored his comments in the workplace ever since. It was one of the reasons he teased Jones about everything. He knew his best friend wouldn’t cry.

  ‘Are we clear?’ Payne asked from the bunker entrance.

  ‘Clear,’ Jones said, still searching for targets.

  ‘Then let’s roll.’

  As Collins inched the ATV forward, Payne steadied the van Gogh crate from his position on the bunker floor. More cumbersome than heavy, the crate was slowly hauled to the surface as Payne supported it from underneath, just in case the cable snapped or the bottom of the crate broke. Step by step, he climbed the ladder until the cargo reached the top. A few minutes later, all four crates were in the trailer, ready to be towed down the mountain.

  Following the GPS coordinates he had received from his goon, Krueger ordered his men to converge on the site. He didn’t know what type of bunker Kaiser had discovered in the middle of the woods, but if the Ulster Archives were involved, it had to be significant.

  The first man to get there was Zimmermann. From 200 feet away, he could hear the roar of the ATV. He didn’t know what was making the noise, but he knew it was close. Unsure of what to do, he called Krueger on his radio. ‘I can hear an engine, sir.’

  ‘What kind of engine?’ Krueger demanded.

  ‘It sounds like a jeep or some kind of off-road vehicle.’

  ‘Can you see it?’

  ‘Not from where I’m hiding.’

  ‘What about Braun? Do you see Braun?’

  ‘No, sir. No sign of him.’

  Krueger grimaced. ‘I haven’t heard from him since he found the site.’

  ‘Me, neither. Do you want me to search for him?’

  ‘Negative. He can fend for himself.’

  ‘Then what should I do?’

  Krueger stared at his GPS. He was still a few minutes away. ‘Investigate the site, then report back to me. I want to know what we’re dealing with.’

  Made with a heavy-duty, all-steel frame the trailer had a durable mesh floor for drainage and four flotation tyres for the extra-rough terrain. Collins watched as Payne carried Kaiser out of the bunker and placed him on top of the crates. Working as quickly as they could, they used stretch cords with hooks to strap Kaiser to the crates and guard rails so he wouldn’t slide off during his journey down the mountain.

  As they strapped down his injured leg, Kaiser started to groan. It was his first sign of consciousness since Payne had found him on the bunker floor. ‘Where am I?’

  Payne rushed to his side. ‘Hey, man, how are you feeling?’

  ‘Horrible,’ he moaned, barely able to speak. Gauze and tape from a first-aid kit had been wrapped round his head, holding his injured eye in its socket.

  ‘I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t wake up.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He lisped because of his broken teeth. ‘I love you, too.’

  Payne laughed and patted him on his shoulder. ‘Obviously, I wanted you to wake up eventually. But I was hoping it would be later.’

  Kaiser opened his good eye. ‘Why?’

  ‘We need to haul you off the mountain. I’m afraid it’s going to be bumpy.’

  He tried to swallow. ‘Where are you taking me?’

  ‘To the gorge. Your pilot is going to meet us on the far end. Is that okay with you?’

  He nodded sligh
tly. ‘Where’s the … stuff?’

  Payne smiled. Even in his current condition, Kaiser was protective of his discovery. As always, his main concern was the bottom line. ‘Don’t worry, I strapped you to the crate. I figured, you wouldn’t want to leave it behind.’

  Satisfied with the answer, Kaiser closed his eye and drifted away.

  34

  Zimmermann heard bits and pieces of the conversation from his hiding spot near the cul-de-sac. Following orders, he updated Krueger on the information.

  ‘I saw three men at the site,’ he whispered into his radio. ‘One of them is badly hurt. They just strapped him to four crates in the back of a trailer.’

  Krueger responded. ‘What kind of crates?’

  ‘Wooden. Medium-sized. Rope handles.’

  ‘What’s inside?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but they look really old.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  Zimmermann hesitated. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘What is it?’ he snapped, not in the mood for games.

  ‘I think I know where they’re going.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘One of them mentioned the gorge. He said a pilot would-’

  Before Zimmermann could say another word, his head erupted in a fountain of pink mist, thanks to the perfectly placed shot from Jones’s DSR-1 rifle. After passing through his medulla oblongata – dubbed the ‘apricot’ by snipers – the part of the brain that controlled involuntary movement and ensured an instant kill, the bullet blew out Zimmermann’s teeth and struck the radio he was holding against his mouth. A split second later, a mixture of blood, bone and technology covered the forest floor, as if Jones had just shot the Terminator.

  But unlike the infamous cyborg, Zimmermann wouldn’t be coming back.

  Thunder roared from the bird’s nest, high above the cul-de-sac. The rifle blast was so deafening it echoed throughout the Garmisch-Partenkirchen valley.

  Like a sprinter bursting from his starting blocks, Payne reacted instantly, grabbing Collins and throwing him behind the trailer before diving to safety. Whereas most people took several seconds to process violent stimuli, years of training had taught Payne how to shrug off the confusion that followed an unexpected surge of adrenaline and focus on the mission at hand.

  Pulling his gun from his belt, Payne crouched next to the crates, his eyes scanning the surrounding trees for possible gunmen. As he did, he realized Kaiser was unprotected, strapped to the top of the crates like a dead animal. Thankfully, he was unconscious again and lying perfectly still. To most intruders, he would look like a corpse instead of a potential target, so Payne left him alone instead of cutting him free.

  ‘Status?’ Payne whispered into his radio.

  Focused on more urgent matters, Jones didn’t reply right away. ‘One down, approximately fifty feet to the north … Still searching for hostiles.’

  ‘Keep me posted.’

  Twenty seconds passed before he spoke again. ‘Looks clear.’

  ‘You sure?’

  Jones paused. ‘Not really.’

  Payne didn’t smile. ‘Let me know when you’re sure.’

  ‘Ain’t gonna happen. Forest is too thick. Too many blind spots.’

  ‘Recommendation?’

  ‘The sooner you roll, the better.’

  Payne nodded in agreement. Not only was he worried about a team of gunmen attacking the site, it was only a matter of time before the authorities arrived. ‘Will you be joining us?’

  ‘Eventually, but not right away.’

  ‘Gotta take a piss?’

  ‘Gotta cook Hogzilla.’

  The moment Payne and Jones joined a Special Mission Unit, their fingerprints were permanently classified by order of the Joint Special Operations Command. This protected their identities when they were running top-secret missions for SOCOM, such as counter terrorism, unconventional warfare or personnel recovery. But sometimes, classified fingerprints weren’t enough. Occasionally, they were forced to take drastic steps in order to cover their tracks – whether that was to destroy physical evidence (security videos, bullet casings, etc.) or to conceal the identities of local contacts – people who would be killed or arrested if their involvement was detected.

  When done properly, it was quite effective. And a whole lot of fun.

  Normally, the thought of setting a fire in the woods would have been dismissed as overkill, but after weighing the pros and cons, Jones realized he didn’t have much of a choice. If he wanted to keep Kaiser and Ulster out of trouble, he had to torch the bunker before the cops had a chance to investigate it. He reasoned the concrete walls and the lack of ventilation would keep the blaze from spreading to the nearby vegetation, yet it would burn long enough to destroy all the evidence that could be used against them. As an added bonus, he knew the sight of black smoke billowing from the trees would be a wonderful distraction during their escape attempt. When the authorities rushed to put out the fire, the choppers could land undetected in the gorge.

  It was a win-win in his mind.

  While Jones watched over them, Payne and Collins cleaned the site by dumping everything they could find into the bunker. This included camping supplies, the winch and pulley system, and both dead goons. Curious about their identities, Payne searched their pockets and found their wallets – a sure sign they weren’t trained professionals. After memorizing their names and addresses, he threw their wallets in the hole, then started his journey to the rendezvous point.

  Once the ATV and trailer were safely on its way, Jones hustled down the slope and tossed the rifle into the bunker where it would burn with everything else. Next to the entrance, Jones found the two items that he would use to set the blaze. Payne had stacked them neatly by the ladder, as if he were leaving gifts underneath a Christmas tree.

  One was the emergency fuel can for the ATV.

  The other was a box of waterproof matches.

  Let the pig roast begin.

  Even though Krueger was smart, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened to Zimmermann. He had stopped talking at roughly the same time as the rifle blast. After that, no additional shots were fired. Repeated attempts to get him on the radio were fruitless. Obviously, they had taken him out. Much like the other goon before him.

  No longer in such a hurry to investigate the bunker, Krueger replayed the conversation with Zimmermann in his head. What did he say before he was shot? Something about a pilot meeting Kaiser at the gorge? Considering the density of the forest and the slope of the mountain, Krueger knew the far end of the ravine was the closet spot a helicopter could land.

  All things considered, it was a good place for a rendezvous. But a better place for an ambush.

  35

  Partnach Gorge

  Bavaria, Germany

  Located on the Zugspitze, the highest peak in the Bavarian Alps, the Schneeferner is a glacier that formed during the Little Ice Age, an extended period of cooling that ended in the mid-nineteenth century. Since that time, the glacier has been gradually melting. Slowly at first, but now at an alarming rate. To protect the ice in the summer months, local workers lay down more than 60,000 square metres of reflective tarps, hoping to shield the glacier from the sun.

  Unfortunately, the tarps can’t stop global warming.

  As the ice continues to melt, the water trickles down the mountain in tranquil streams that eventually run together to form the Partnach River. For most of its voyage, the Partnach is a peaceful waterway. It meanders at a casual pace, as if it is trying to see all the sights in the Bavarian countryside before it flows through the middle of Garmisch-Partenkirchen, where it divides the city into two separate villages: Garmisch to the west and Partenkirchen to the east. However, during one particular stretch of its journey, the waterway changes drastically, morphing from a gentle, rolling brook into a nasty, roaring river.

  The Partnach Gorge, or Partnachklamm, is a natural channel that was created over time by the force of rushing water. For a span of 2,305 f
eet, the Partnach River surges through a narrow limestone canyon, its walls soaring to the height of 262 feet. Along the way, dozens of waterfalls fill the air with spray, moistening the moss-covered cliffs and cooling the thousands of tourists who explore the gorge every year. Since being declared a natural monument in 1912, a series of tunnels have been carved into the limestone on one side of the river. Originally used by hunters and lumberjacks to reach the mountains above, the sloping path allows hikers to duck behind waterfalls and stroll next to raging rapids with minimal risk.

  Of course, the danger would be much higher today when bullets filled the air like mist.

  As Collins drove the ATV towards the gorge, Payne jogged behind the trailer. Occasionally, he dashed into the woods whenever he spotted something that bothered him – whether that was a flash of colour that didn’t belong or a glimpse of movement in the nearby trees – but he always came back to the rugged trail where he could watch over his injured friend. In Payne’s mind, Kaiser was the number-one priority.

  Forced to move at a sluggish pace because of the terrain, they had been travelling for nearly fifteen minutes when Collins slowed the ATV to a gradual halt. Not a quick, jolting stop that screamed of panic, but a calm, leisurely stop that whispered confusion. Hoping to get a better view of the situation, Payne hopped on the back of the trailer and quickly spotted the problem. Fifty feet ahead, there was a rustic intersection, a place where two hiking paths came together. Payne’s trail was going east and west; the other was going north and south. Unfamiliar with the territory, Payne told Collins to stay put as he ran ahead to investigate a large display case that had been posted at the junction for confused hikers.

  Thirty seconds later, Payne was cursing loudly.

  Inside the glass case was a detailed map of the area, written in German and English. It showed everything – ski slopes, mountain peaks, major roads, museums, theatres, hotels, restaurants and the best places to park. Of course, none of that mattered to Payne since he was desperately trying to get out of town, not looking to enjoy his stay. The only thing he cared about was getting through the gorge as quickly as possible. But everything changed when he studied the map.

  Using the butt of his gun, Payne smashed the case open and ripped the map off the corkboard inside. Then he stomped back towards Collins, anger punctuating his every step.