The Napoleon Affair

by Ernest Dempsey

  Perhaps they were waiting for Wagner to give the command, but that would be foolish. Again, there were too many people around. Not hundreds but enough to make them keep their weapons at bay—for the time being.

  Before Sean could ask what happened next, Wagner continued. "Napoléon went into the reliquary, removed the glove from its case, and then proceeded to take the bones out of their protective shell. It was then that he removed the holy ring from the hand of the Baptist. The priest protested, but Napoléon simply told him he could keep the hand of the Baptist, but that he would be taking the ring with him on his journey."

  The man ended the story and leaned back for a moment, as if releasing a great burden from his shoulders.

  "So, that's what all this is about?" Tommy asked. "Finding the ring of John the Baptist?"

  "Yes. And we must find it so it can be returned to Valletta and Saint John's Co-Cathedral, the ring's rightful home."

  Bodmer's face was stone, but a fire burned in his eyes as he listened to the story. It was obvious he didn't appreciate the implication that his security systems and team were unable to prevent events such as the one Wagner described. Still, there was something else that was bothering him, something that stoked the flames during the entire tale.

  "So, you killed Cardinal Jarllson." He stated the words as if it was the obvious conclusion. To be fair, no one else in the group arrived at that same point.

  "No," Wagner said, blowing off the insinuation. "Don't be ridiculous. We would never harm any of God's holy men unless absolutely necessary, and in this case it was not necessary. Unfortunately, we are not the only order that is looking for the ring."

  Adriana arched one eyebrow even as she saw the gunmen across the street perk up. "Who else?" she asked.

  Bodmer looked into her eyes, then Sean's, then Tommy's, making sure he connected with each for a moment.

  "They are an old order, one that has been around since the First Crusade, even before then. Like us, many believe that they have transformed into a charitable operation, an organization dedicated to feeding the poor, helping the sick, and much more. Those groups are the ones ordinary people see. They put up their signs on the streets, host public events, assist with fund-raisers. Those men are not of the same order."

  "What order is that?" Tommy pressed.

  Wagner was about to answer when Sean caught a sudden movement out of the right side of his eye.

  "Get down!" he shouted.

  Adriana saw the movement as well and reacted a split second before her husband. She flipped the table over and ducked behind it as the two guns on the other side of the street began spitting bullets in their direction.

  Sean ducked behind the metal table a second before the rounds plunked into the surface. The shield was big enough for the two of them to crouch behind, and because of the angle, the shooter across the street on their left didn't have a good viewpoint. The one to the right, however, was another story.

  Thankfully, Bodmer reacted nearly as fast as Adriana, and he dove forward and tipped another table over, effectively giving them a temporary barricade.

  Wagner crouched behind Sean while Tommy and the commander took refuge with the second table.

  Sean drew his pistol, though he knew it wasn't going to be as effective as the weapons the men across the street were using. His usual .40-cal. Springfield would have been fine. It had decent range for a sidearm, and the targets on the other sidewalk would have been manageable. It was close by—stuffed in his rucksack on the ground next to his chair. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to grab it, so the subcompact on his hip would have to do. It was a weapon that was much more useful in closer quarters, say inside a building or for personal defense in a home invasion.

  Even with his expertise, he doubted his ability to take out the gunmen, and he knew his companions were likely going to face the same issue.

  The shooters were firing CZ Scorpion EVO 3s submachine guns. The weapons were compact enough to keep hidden with the right gear, and were more powerful with a greater range than the small arms Sean and the others carried. Apparently, the gunmen also had the automatic versions, which allowed them to spray the patio with bullets.

  Screams filled the air from all around. A woman tried to take cover near Bodmer and was ducking behind the man as she sobbed hysterically. A young man with a goatee and a knitted cap was crouched behind Tommy. He, too, was crying and covering his head, saying something about not wanting to die.

  Most of the civilians on the street took off the second the guns appeared in broad daylight. When the shooting started, their speed quickened, and within seconds the corridor was devoid of pedestrians. A few were still trying to escape past the fountain in the square, but other than that, it had taken less than a minute for the citizens of the small village to evacuate the area.

  The fact that these gunmen were shooting in the middle of the day, surrounded by witnesses, told Sean that they were either desperate, gutsy, or stupid.

  He hoped it was the latter, but doubted it.

  This was a hit.

  The other thing that bothered Sean was that they were trying to shoot at Wagner, too. If they were Wagner's men, why would they be trying to take him out—unless he was about to release information he wasn't supposed to? But if those men were with Wagner, he would have played that hand. He would have at the very least given them some kind of order by way of hand signals or a hidden radio. But Wagner hadn't done that.

  Sean glanced over at the man and saw a tear in his windbreaker. One of the bullets must have struck the guy in the shoulder. To his credit, Wagner wasn't complaining. It almost looked as if he hadn't noticed the injury yet.

  Perhaps the man was well trained. Or maybe it was just shock.

  There was a pause in the shooting, which told Sean the men were reloading. He popped out from behind the table and fired his pistol. One, two, three, four shots erupted from his muzzle before he ducked back down for cover.

  His reply to the initial assault had been meager at best. He'd hit the baby stroller with one of his rounds, but that had only served to push the gunman back behind the park bench for cover as he reloaded. The man hadn't even jumped at the sudden counterattack.

  Whoever these two were, they were trained killers and wouldn't be easily dispatched. They'd been so bold as to allow themselves to be seen for several minutes before opening fire. That brought a new question to Sean's mind: What had they been waiting for? They could have easily picked off every member of the group by simply opening fire right away. That meant they weren't there simply to take Sean and the others out. They were there to get information.

  More bullets thumped into the metal table. Little dimples dotted the underside of it with every successive shot. The metal held true, though, and not one round managed to sneak through.

  They needed to get out of there. The tables were holding up for the moment, but that wouldn't last. As soon as the gunmen changed positions, the group would be exposed again.

  Running out into the street wasn't an option. They would get mowed down the second they popped up from behind the tables. It was doubtful Sean or any of the others would even get one foot onto the sidewalk.

  No, that was an obvious no-go.

  That left retreating back into the café as the only viable option. It was also a risky move, but so was staying put.

  Sean turned to Adriana. "Take them and head out the back. I'll cover you."

  She didn't like the idea of leaving Sean there, but she knew that he had a plan and that once it was set in motion, trying to stop it was futile. She preferred to stay there and take the fight to the gunmen.

  But this was no time to argue. They had minutes, if that, before the cops showed up. Then there would be questions, and she had a bad feeling getting arrested twice on the same trip in the same country wouldn't end well, despite their high-up connections.

  Adriana reached out and snagged the loop on top of her rucksack. She slung it over her shoulders and then shouted at
the others, motioning for them to go to the café through the open door behind her.

  The men looked at her skeptically, then Tommy nodded and waved his hand at Wagner and Bodmer.

  "Go!" he yelled. "I'll be right behind you."

  Tommy stood up from behind the table and fired five rounds, three at the shooter on the left and two at the man on the right. His volley sent them ducking for cover again and gave his charges the moment they needed to escape into the café. Tommy stood there with his weapon extended and flicked his hand at Adriana, a silent order for her to go next.

  "Get to the train station," Tommy said sternly, directing the brunt of his order at Bodmer and Wagner. He didn't even know if the train would be there, but that didn't matter at the moment. It was their only way out of town, something he wished he'd thought of prior to embarking on this journey.

  Adriana gave a nod and darted into the building, firing one shot at each gunman as she made her escape. One of the rounds came dangerously close to an exposed foot as she fired at the man on the right. The boot snapped back as the bullet hit the concrete next to it.

  "Go," Sean ordered his friend.

  "Not until they're clear," Tommy protested.

  "I'm not waiting until they're clear," Sean said with a furrowed brow.

  He popped up and squeezed the trigger again, twice in each direction. The shooters were forced to stay hidden for another couple of seconds, which was more than enough time for Sean to dash into the café.

  Tommy was caught off guard for a moment, but he snapped back quickly and hurried to catch up. He thought maybe Sean would try to give the others more time to escape, but now he realized that wasn't the plan at all.

  Sirens screamed in the distance. From the sound of it, they were still three or four minutes away.

  Adriana led the other two men through the back of the café, past the counter at the coffee bar where, just minutes before, people were relaxing with a hot cup of their favorite caffeinated beverages, chatting about the usual things people talked about at a café. There'd been a couple of people working on their laptops, probably freelancers of some kind, or perhaps developers.

  Now the café was empty. The baristas had taken refuge behind the counter, while most of the patrons were cowering on the floor or under tables.

  Adriana sighed. She couldn't just leave all these people here.

  "Quickly!" she yelled. "Everyone out the back of the building. Go! Go! Go!" She waved her hand like a windmill, ushering Wagner out first. Then she turned to Bodmer. "Help these people outside. You're armed. If you see trouble in the back, take them out."

  Bodmer removed the pistol from his waist and nodded.

  "Let's move!" he shouted in French. "Everyone through the rear exit."

  Some of the patrons were quick to scramble to their feet. They clawed at the floor, all too happy to have a way out of the war zone that had suddenly exploded in their peaceful abode.

  Others were less eager to move. Their fear was evident and for good reason. If they moved, they could accidentally get into the line of fire and catch a bullet. There was no time to explain to them that the same thing could happen if they stayed put or that their odds of being struck by a random bullet were actually higher by not moving.

  Sean saw the issue and helped get the rest of the patrons out. He ordered them to stay on their hands and knees.

  Adriana and Tommy assisted him, also keeping low and out of the gunmen's sights. More bullets punched through the windows, shattering one and sending cracks through another. The rounds plunked into the back wall, sailing over a few customers' heads before finding their end point in the drywall or in the framed pictures.

  "Come on," Sean urged, seeing one older man struggling to keep up with the others.

  Sean stayed low and returned to the door, pressing his back against the wall for cover until he heard the firing cease again.

  Tommy rushed to aid the older man. He looped his arm around the guy's back and helped him crawl to the back hallway, past the bathrooms, and around the corner leading to the rear exit.

  Sean heard the sirens drawing closer with every second. There would be cops everywhere in less than two minutes, if that. He spun around the corner and into the open door. He raised his weapon and squeezed the trigger. His sights lined up just left of the gunman with the stroller. The attacker had just reloaded his gun and was raising the weapon to fire again when Sean emerged from the café.

  Sean missed with the first shot, but he stepped out and into the open, lining up the pistol's sights with the target's chest. He fired again and again, emptying the magazine at the gunman as he stepped forward like an immortal demigod.

  One of the bullets caught his target in the clavicle. Another tore through the man's side. The remaining shots missed, but the damage was done. The gunman dropped to the ground on his knees and twisted around in a sudden snapping motion. He writhed on the concrete in agony while his partner resumed the attack.

  Sean picked up his rucksack and dove back into the café in a single swift motion. He rolled onto his feet and stayed low as he maneuvered into the corridor and into the back of the building.

  When he made it to the rear exit, he stuffed his weapon back into his holster. It was empty anyway, and his reserve mags were in the car. There were more than a dozen panicked people running down the sidewalk away from the center of town. Based on the sound of the sirens, it appeared the citizens were moving toward the oncoming police. They would be safe soon enough. Sean and his companions, however, needed to get out of there. The street was empty, though that didn't help Sean relax. He had no intention of lowering his guard now.

  They split away from the main group and hurried across the street to the train station. A horn honked, signaling that the train was getting ready to leave.

  His eyes shifted to Wagner. The man was running in the back of the group now, between Tommy and Commander Bodmer. The thin trickle of blood from his arm didn't seem to be bothering him much, which was a further tribute to the man's training. He must have been through some intense work to be able to ignore the sting of a gunshot wound. Nerves would be screaming to his brain at that moment, yet the man didn't wince, didn't moan or complain. He simply pressed one finger to the wound to stem the flow of blood.

  "Who were those guys?" Sean asked pointedly. "Clearly, they're not with you."

  "No, they aren't."

  "Then who are they?" Sean demanded. "I thought they were with you. I had my eye on them the entire time we were talking. We believed they were your backup."

  Wagner shook his head and sighed. "No. They are not with us. They are from another order. Those men are with the order that is responsible for the death of Cardinal Jarllson. They are the ones who murdered him."

  Everyone was focused on the man who claimed to be from a secret organization of relic hunters.

  "They are Teutonic Knights," Wagner said, "and they are here for the ring of the Baptist."

  28

  Villers-Cotterêts

  Getting on the train had been easy enough. The group had purchased tickets that would allow for a couple of trips more than they needed, just in case. It was also the way the ticket pricing structure was set up. Sometimes, that worked in favor of travelers. Sometimes, it worked in favor of those running the railways. In this instance, it worked out for Sean and company. They had enough tickets for Wagner to join them, though they soon realized he also had a train pass. As it turned out, Wagner took the train to Villers-Cotterêts as well—the same train Sean and his companions were on. They simply never realized it.

  Sean cursed himself for being so sloppy. He would have to be more attentive to his surroundings.

  They filed into the train and found an empty car near the back. Based on what they'd witnessed on the way in, more people would be piling onto the train as they stopped at each subsequent station on the way into the city.

  Adriana led them to a cluster of seats in the middle of the car and took a spot next to the aisle,
motioning for Wagner to take the window seat beside her. It was a strategic suggestion, as was the selection of seats in the center of the car. With her positioned on the aisle and Sean across from her, the two could watch both ends of the train for suspicious activity. If anyone chose to get on this car, they would know it and have a strategic advantage.

  Bodmer sat in an aisle seat by himself, across from the others, which made him feel a little like a fifth wheel at the moment.

  Tommy took a seat across the row from Wagner. "Did you say Teutonic Knights?" he asked incredulously. "Seriously?"

  "Yes. As I believe I mentioned before, the Teutonic Knights were also on Malta when Napoléon invaded the island and stripped it of its holiest and most precious possession. The Teutonic Knights fought alongside the Hospitallers in their resistance, but it was not enough. In the end, they lost everything. And not just on the island of Malta."

  With slits for eyes, Sean looked across the row. "What do you mean, not just on the island of Malta?"

  "Exactly what I said. The knights of both orders lost everything. The Hospitallers lost their foothold in the Mediterranean and were forced to withdraw deeper into Europe. The Teutonic Knights faced a similar plight. They'd lost Acre, the city in Israel where they were founded so long ago. They adapted, of course, and moved to Europe, initially to Venice. After some years there, they relocated to Marienburg, a small town in Poland—known as Malbork in the local language. Their headquarters and castle were there for over a century. It was there that they established their base of power. The Teutonic Knights were shrewd businessmen, cunning and respected. Over the years, they built up their wealth, their landholdings, and their influence. They controlled most of the region and found themselves in the precarious position of being primary rulers without the title of king or emperor. They, however, were not the only people to make that realization."

  Wagner pinched the wound in his arm and then pressed his thumb back into the blood. It was starting to congeal, and soon it would be a dark scab. He was lucky in some ways. The injury could have been much worse. It could have been five inches to the right, too, which would have put it straight into his chest. They would need to keep that blood out of sight when the conductor came through, otherwise there would be more trouble with law enforcement.