The Secret Crown (2010)

by Chris Kuzneski

  ‘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.

  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 slightly. ‘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.’