Sign of the Cross paj-2

by Chris Kuzneski

  Payne lifted Boyd’s shirttail and grabbed the Beretta he had stashed in his belt. ‘But doesn’t that go against everything you’re trying to protect?’

  ‘You have no idea what I’m trying to protect! You probably think I’m fighting for Christ or some other fallacy. But I’m not. Those things have no meaning in my world, because I know the truth. I know what happened two thousand years ago. I know who the real hero is.’

  Payne had no idea what Manzak was talking about but figured if he was in a talkative mood, the least he could do was listen. So he said, ‘Are you referring to the scroll? Hell, I know all about it. Boyd’s been so excited he’s been blabbing to everybody that he’s come in contact with. Hell, how do you think we found him so fast?’

  Manzak’s face went pale. ‘Let’s hope that isn’t the case — for their sakes. I’d hate to see the death toll in this country continue to rise.’

  ‘Come on! What’s another exploding bus or two when you’re in the middle of a holy war? Just keep laying the blame on Dr Boyd, and you can keep your hands clean.’

  ‘Actually,’ Manzak said, ‘we’ve ridden that gelding long enough. Just to be safe, I think it’s time to put two new horses into the mix, a couple of Thoroughbreds with a history of violence. Personally, I think the press will find you and D.J. a lot more believable as cold-blooded killers.’

  OK, now things were starting to make sense to Payne. They weren’t just recruited for their ability to track Boyd. They were handpicked because of their violent pasts, making them the perfect scapegoats for any bloodshed that happened during this case. A dead body here, an exploding car there. All of it could be blamed on them.

  Of course, Manzak — or whatever his real name was — needed the backing of a powerful entity to make that happen. Someone with the resources to acquire classified data from the U.S. Defense Department, forge picture-perfect CIA credentials, and manipulate the world media. Someone who would never be suspected, no matter how violent things became or how deeply they were involved in this mess. Someone who was willing to take some awfully big chances because they were desperate and had everything to lose.

  At that moment Payne decided there was only one organization in the world that had the power and the incentive to pull something like this off.

  And they got their mail at the Vatican.

  45

  The metal squealed as Jones shoved his switchblade into the seam, a sound Payne couldn’t hear over the roar of the chopper’s engine. Once his knife was in deep enough, he wiggled it back and forth until the fuel tank popped open. The insulated cap came off next. And he was greeted by the overwhelming scent of aviation fuel until he took off his shirt and stuffed it in the mouth of the fuel tank. Not only would that seal the vapors inside, but he could use the cloth as the wick for his Molotov cockpit — Jones’s version of the original Russian cocktail. From there, all it would take was a single spark to do a hell of a lot of damage. With extra emphasis on the word hell.

  Payne could see all of Jones’s actions in the background, although his adversaries couldn’t. He made sure of it by positioning Boyd and himself at a very precise angle.

  ‘So,’ Manzak taunted, ‘where’s your quick wit now? A minute ago you were teasing me about my clothes; now Otto shows up, and you’re completely silent. How disappointing.’

  ‘Don’t you worry. I’ll be taking some shots at you any minute now.’

  ‘Oh really? And what is it you’re waiting for?’

  Several wisecracks ran through his mind. But instead of saying anything, he simply smiled and let the helicopter provide the punch line for him. The instant flame touched fuel, the chopper erupted, sending fire and metal in every direction. Payne used the tumult to his advantage, whipping out the Beretta from behind Dr Boyd and firing it at the biggest target he could find. His first shot ripped through Buckner’s collarbone about six inches lower than he’d been aiming. He adapted to the conditions and put his next shot through the bridge of his nose, shattering the back of his skull and spraying gray matter everywhere, including on Manzak’s face.

  The sight and taste of Otto’s brain caused Manzak to panic. Instead of shooting back or fighting Payne like a man, he scrambled to his feet and tried to run away, an attempt Payne thwarted by putting a bullet into the back of his left knee. Just like that he crashed to the ground like a bat with a broken wing, an image that seemed kind of fitting.

  In truth Payne was tempted to finish him off right there. Hell, it would’ve been easy, maybe even pleasurable. A quick shot to the dome and he would’ve been done. The only problem was all the questions that still danced through Payne’s mind. They needed to be answered before Manzak could be eliminated. That’s why Payne jumped on his back and frisked him for weapons, finding a knife and a SIG Sauer P226 service auto.

  ‘Hey, Dick! How ya doing? Not too good, huh?’

  Manzak responded with a shriek that rose above the roar of the nearby flames.

  ‘That’s it, let it all out. You got a boo-boo on your knee, didn’t you? Well, you should’ve thought of that before you tried to blow up my friends. You see, that made me very angry.’

  He screamed again, this time directing several vulgarities at Payne.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah. Curse it up. That’s always a good idea when someone’s pointing a gun at you. Oh, speaking of guns.’ Payne glanced at Boyd and noticed that he was sitting on the ground, half-shaken. ‘Hey Doc? Don’t even think about going for Otto’s rifle. I’ve got the peripheral vision of a housefly and two handguns to work with.’

  ‘Fear not. My hands are bound behind me in some kind of elaborate knot.’

  ‘That’s a Payne special. You aren’t getting out of that without a knife.’ Payne glanced at Jones and noticed him giving a thumbs-up. ‘You’re able to walk, aren’t you? Why don’t you stumble over to D.J. and ask him to cut you free? I don’t want to dull this blade before surgery.’

  ‘Surgery?’

  Payne gave him a hard look, one that told him he should know better. ‘Sorry. Doctor/patient confidentiality. It’s between Manzak and me.’

  ‘Ah, yes. How silly of me. Perhaps it would be best if I left the operating room.’

  Payne kept his eyes on Boyd until he reached Jones. At that point he was able to relax and focus on Agent Manzak, who was still writhing in agony underneath Payne.

  ‘You know, Dick, I almost hate to admit this, but I’ve wanted to hurt you from the moment we met. I don’t know what it is about you — maybe it was the way you blackmailed me into helping you or maybe it’s because you just blew up an exquisite automobile. Whatever the reason, I thought you should know I’m gonna enjoy every minute of this.’

  Grinning sadistically, Payne showed him a stick that he’d found on the ground. It was no more than six inches long, yet it was the perfect size for what he was about to do.

  ‘I once talked to a POW who said the most pain he’d ever experienced in his entire life was from a simple piece of wood. Hard to believe, huh? But if you think about it, I’m sure you can imagine some vicious and barbaric possibilities for a stick like this. Can’t you, Dick?’

  Manzak didn’t want to, but his mind naturally focused on the most horrendous things he could think of. His eyes being gouged out. His eardrums being punctured. His anus being violated by the world’s largest splinter. Crippling acts that would scar him for the rest of his life.

  And that was the reaction Payne was hoping for.

  Back when he was training for the MANIACs, he learned one of the most effective ways to get information from a prisoner wasn’t through torture but rather the foreshadowing of torture — the act of planting a psychological seed in someone’s head, then waiting for panic to set in. If done right, some people would literally piss their pants long before they were touched. Of course mere threats wouldn’t work on everyone. But Payne figured anyone who traveled with a bodyguard would crack quicker than Humpty Dumpty in a mosh pit.

  ‘Hey, Dick,’ he said, ‘you’
ve read my personnel file, right? So I’m sure you realize I’m fully capable of making a Dick-kabob. You know that, don’t you?’

  Manzak grimaced and nodded his head.

  ‘Very good! Now all you have to do is keep answering my questions, and there’s a chance I’ll let you live. However, if I get the sense that you’re lying to me or you choose to remain silent, I’m going to show you the Vietnam stick trick. Understood?’

  He nodded again.

  ‘OK, let’s start with some easy ones. You know, just to help you get into the flow of the game… How’d you know that we had Boyd?’

  ‘Your car. We put a sensor under the Ferrari. We were able to follow that.’

  ‘Bullshit!’ Payne threw a savage punch into his kidney. ‘Remember what I said about lying? Now tell me how you found us.’

  Manzak gasped for air, yet somehow managed to answer. ‘I just did.’

  ‘No way! Even if you tracked the car, there’s no way you could’ve known we had Boyd. How’d you know we had him?’

  ‘The airport… we had a man at the airport… When we saw your beacon there, we had him investigate… just to make sure you weren’t leaving the country… He went outside and saw the girl… That’s when he notified us… from the airport… I swear!’

  Payne was tempted to smile — Manzak had broken easier than an antique teacup — but he knew it would ruin the mood. For this to work, he had to maintain the austere glare of an executioner.

  So he said, ‘Where else did you have men? Were you following us the entire time?’

  ‘There wasn’t a need. The beacon did it for us. We just followed you from afar.’

  ‘Dick, Dick, Dick. I find that so hard to believe.’ He took the chunk of wood and pressed it against Manzak’s neck. ‘You didn’t, for instance, have someone in Orvieto?’

  ‘No,’ he cried, ‘I didn’t have anyone in Orvieto. That’s the last place Boyd would be!’

  ‘Man, I’m so disappointed in you. I wanted to christen this stick on an important question. But if you keep lying, I’m gonna have to use it now.’

  ‘I’m not lying!’ he shrieked. ‘I swear to God I’m not!’

  ‘So your men weren’t in Orvieto?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘And you had nothing to do with Barnes’s death?’

  ‘Who the hell is Barnes?’

  ‘Donald Barnes, the American who was killed yesterday in Saint Patrick’s Well. Ring a bell?’

  ‘Yesterday? I swear I had nothing to do with that. That wouldn’t make sense. The police presence in Orvieto was already too high. Why would I want to bring more?’

  It was an interesting question, one that Payne wanted to examine at length. However, he knew the Milanese police were probably on their way, meaning if he didn’t hustle, he wouldn’t have a chance to get to the information he really cared about.

  ‘So, who do you work for? And don’t say the CIA, because I know that’s bullshit!’

  Manzak remained silent, so Payne slammed his elbow into the back of his head. It was his way of helping him reconsider. ‘Don’t make me ask you again! Who do you work for?’

  ‘I’ll never tell,’ he screamed in Italian. ‘Ever!’

  Payne grinned in victory, even though he had no idea what he’d shouted. The truth was, his choice of language revealed a lot. ‘So, is that your native tongue? It sure sounded natural to me.’

  Manzak realized his mistake and tried to wriggle free. Payne stifled his movement by slamming his face into the ground with another blow from his elbow.

  ‘I’m getting bored with this, Dick. I think it’s time for you to make a decision that’s gonna affect our session. Is it time for the truth or the twig? You decide.’

  Once again Manzak refused to speak, and in Payne’s mind, that was the wrong answer. Grabbing the back of his head, he slammed it into the ground repeatedly, accenting every word with violence. ‘The… truth… or… the… twig?’

  Blood gushed from Manzak’s forehead, yet Payne felt no pity for him. He’d tried to kill Jones and Maria with a car bomb and would’ve murdered Payne as well. So in his mind, he wasn’t doing anything immoral. ‘What’s it gonna be, Dick? Tell me now! Who are you working for?’

  ‘I don’t care what you do. I won’t tell!’

  Payne shook his head. ‘You dumb bastard. This could’ve been so easy. All you had to do was answer my questions, and I would’ve let you go. But not now. Now you have to suffer.’

  ‘No!’ he shouted back. ‘It is you that will suffer when you ultimately discover the truth! I promise you, my pain will be temporary. But yours will last forever.’

  Payne considered his words for a moment. Then showed him what he could do with a stick.

  When Payne climbed into the chopper, he looked like a butcher at the end of a long shift. Blood covered his hands and face and leaked from the bulge in his shirt pocket. Jones said nothing, focusing his attention on the nearby power lines and the flashing lights that filled the ground below. Eventually, once they were out of danger, Jones turned toward Payne. ‘Stick trick?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he answered into the chopper’s headset. ‘Molotov Cockpit?’

  Jones laughed. ‘How could you tell?’

  ‘You’re missing a shirt.’

  ‘Very observant of you… Speaking of shirts, what’s in your pocket?’

  Payne shrugged. ‘Souvenirs.’

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘Their identities. Manzak wouldn’t tell me his name, so I borrowed some fingers.’

  ‘You mean the stick trick didn’t work?’

  ‘Actually, it worked too well. The bastard kept passing out on me.’

  ‘That’s been known to happen… So, how’d you leave him?’

  ‘Just like Otto.’

  ‘Otto? Who’s Otto?’

  ‘Oh, that was Buckner’s real name. He was Manzak’s bodyguard.’

  ‘Buckner was his bodyguard?’

  Payne nodded. ‘And get this, he spoke with a German accent.’

  ‘Otto spoke? I didn’t know he could.’

  ‘Well, he can’t anymore.’

  Jones smiled. ‘OK, funny man, any suggestions on where to go next?’

  ‘What are our choices?’

  He checked the fuel gauge. ‘I’d say Switzerland or possibly Austria. We can’t risk farther.’

  Payne clicked the button on his headset and talked to Boyd in the chopper’s backseat. ‘Hey Doc, any suggestions on where we should land?’

  Boyd discussed things with Maria for several seconds before answering. ‘There’s a lovely research facility in Küsendorf that might be able to aid our cause.’

  Payne glanced at Jones. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘What do I think? I think we’d be crazy to fly right there. The odds are pretty good we’re being tracked by radar, and I can’t risk flying underneath it.’

  ‘So what do you suggest?’

  A smile crossed Jones’s lips. ‘Don’t worry. As long as we have some money and a few credit cards, I’m confident they’ll never find us.’

  The squadron of black helicopters hovered over the Bern-Belpmoos Airport (six miles southeast of Bern, Switzerland’s capital city), searching for their sister chopper. When one of the pilots spotted it at the far end of the airfield, he ordered the tower to redirect all current air traffic to other Swiss facilities. Planes, he informed them, shouldn’t be landing in a crime scene.

  A dozen men, each dressed in military fatigues and carrying automatic weapons, circled the craft, then stormed the chopper, searching the cockpit, backseat, and rear hatch for any available clues. Nothing turned up except a cold engine, which meant it had been on the ground for at least twenty minutes. Maybe more.

  The team leader spoke into his headset. ‘The bird is clear. Starting ground surveillance.’

  ‘Be careful,’ the command post warned. ‘These men are clever and quite dangerous. Double-check all leads, then radio back to me. Is that understood?’

 
‘Don’t worry, sir. We’ll find them or die trying.’

  After figuring out a way to get to Switzerland, Payne and Jones realized they had a decision to make, one that was more important than where they were going to spend the night. The sole reason they were in this mess was their agreement with Manzak and Buckner. Now that they were dead, Payne and Jones had to decide if they wanted to stay involved.

  ‘What do you think?’ Payne asked. ‘Have we completed our end of the deal?’

  ‘Technically, I’d say yes. We found Boyd and delivered him to Manzak, just like we agreed. Of course, you did kill Manzak during the exchange.’

  ‘Hey! Don’t pin this all on me. You blew up their chopper. Then stole another.’

  ‘Yeah, but only after they trashed our Ferrari. Come on, someone had to pay for that.’

  Payne didn’t want to think about the car because his gut told him he was going to pay for it. ‘So what do you think?’ Payne asked again. ‘Should we stay involved with this mess?’

  ‘I think we better. At least until we know who’s running things and why they wanted us involved. I mean, if we don’t, we’re gonna have to watch our backs for a very long time.’

  46

  Küsendorf, Switzerland

  (eighty-two miles southeast of Bern)

  Clinging to the southern slopes of the Lepontine Alps, Küsendorf is a village of nearly 2,000 people in Ticino, the southernmost canton (or state) in Switzerland. Known primarily for its scenic views and local brand of Swiss cheese, Küsendorf is also the home of the Ulster Archives, one of the finest private collections of rare documents in the world.

  The manuscripts themselves are housed in a well-guarded chalet. Built as a temporary haven for Austrian philanthropist Conrad Ulster, it eventually became his permanent home. During the early 1930s, Ulster, an avid collector of rare artifacts, sensed the political instability in his country and realized there was a good chance that his prized library would be seized by the Nazis. To protect himself and his books, he smuggled his collection across the Swiss border in railcars, hidden under thin layers of lignite, a low-quality brown coal, and dropped from public view until after World War II. He eventually died in 1964 but expressed his utmost thanks to the people of Switzerland by donating his estate to his adopted hometown of Küsendorf — provided that they keep his collection intact and accessible to the world’s finest academic minds.