The 3rd Cycle of the Betrayed Series Collection: Extremely Controversial Historical Thrillers (Betrayed Series Boxed set)

by Carolyn McCray

  “I think I’ll be fine, if I just ice it. I just don’t want to have to walk all the way to ground transportation.”

  “You realize if you leave here without a doctor looking at it first, we are released from all liability.”

  “I know, I know, but I’ve got an appointment to keep.”

  “Va bene,” the manager said. “Get him a cart.”

  Unlike Heathrow or JFK, the Marco Polo airport got the cart to him within minutes. Vanderwalt kept up the ruse until he was seated in the electric cart and on his way.

  They passed by the two men in horribly stereotypical Asian tourist gear. Matching khaki pants, one in red polo shirt, the other in blue, with cameras hanging around the neck.

  Please guys. Dig a little deeper next time.

  At the cart whizzed past them, Vanderwalt gave a little wave and there was nothing the spies could do about it.

  It would look a little obvious if they ran after the cart.

  Feeling pretty confident he was shaking his tail, Vanderwalt started looking forward to the rendezvous.

  * * *

  Brandt walked out of the bedroom, buckling his belt. That was a mistake, he realized as Lopez whooped.

  “Huh? Huh?” Lopez pressed.

  “I don’t kiss and tell,” Brandt admonished as he looked around the suite to find half a dozen room service carts that had been demolished. “I see you indulged in your second favorite sin.”

  Lopez had no shame though. He lifted his shirt and patted his bare belly. “At home, Maria is getting as big as a house. She eats everything in sight. There’s barely a warm tortilla leftover for me.”

  Davidson, threw a napkin in Lopez’s direction, “Poor, poor Lopez. His baby mama is eating him out of house and home.”

  Rebecca exited the bedroom behind him. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” Brandt said glaring at the two men. “Nothing at all.”

  His wife looked around the room. “Sallah isn’t up yet?”

  She had a point. The old man was nowhere to be seen. He pulled his sidearm, as the other men did the same. They moved in formation to the Foremen’s door. Brandt jerked the door open as Lopez and Davidson swept in.

  Brandt had half-expected to find the window open and the man gone. Instead, Sallah was sleeping peacefully.

  “Dude, he’s really old.” Lopez said, shaking his head and holstering his gun.

  “Get him up,” Brandt ordered Lopez, as he and Davidson walked back into living room.

  “Any word on Bunny?”

  Davidson gave a sad shake of his head. “No real improvement. They’re not quite sure how long she can last like this.”

  Rebecca frowned. “I am so sorry, Sam.”

  “I told Stark to hang tough, but I’m not sure, if I was in his place, I could.”

  “We all know Stark loves her. He will come through.”

  Davidson gave a weak nod and took another bite of cannelloni.

  Lopez and Sallah joined them.

  “Alright, are we ready to do this?”

  No one objected, so they moved out.

  The time for luxury and rest was over.

  It was time to get down to brass tacks.

  * * *

  Rebecca walked out of the hotel, refreshed and feeling very optimistic about their chances of finding Noah’s Ark. Even thinking that sounded a bit ridiculous, but this was kind of her life. Not even the pouring rain could dampen her spirits.

  Brandt headed down the street with the rest of the men following. At the corner though, she pointed to one of the gondolas that was lined up at the curb like a water taxi.

  “Please?” she asked. Rebecca knew that they were on a mission and not a romantic holiday, but the gondolas were practical as well. Traveling by canal would probably get them there faster than walking.

  Brandt frowned at first, but then headed back to join her. “Fine.”

  He said it like they’d had a long drawn-out discussion about it.

  She took the gondolier’s hand and stepped into the narrow boat. Brandt joined her and indicated for the rest of the men to take the next boat. That was about as romantic as Brandt got. Rebecca was going to have to take it.

  She curled up under his arm, as the gondolier swished the oar back-and-forth in a mesmerizing pattern. The boat rocked gently on the water, as they slid past rows and rows of beautiful homes.

  All of the colors were muted, but in the most pleasing way. There were turquoises and burgundies and greens. Life here seemed so simple. The lapping of the water, the friendly shout outs to other gondoliers, all calmed her nerves.

  She knew this wouldn’t last forever, so she tried to soak it all in. Once, long ago, she’d had a somewhat calm life. Then she’d met Brandt and realized how much more there could be to life. To work for something more than yourself, for all of mankind. She stopped studying history so much, and began living it.

  Next her babies came and she realized the fulfillment of motherhood. Which was great, but how she’d missed being out in the field, especially with Brandt.

  So she lay there in her husband’s arms, soaking up Venice.

  Soon they would be on the run again. Soon she would be back with her babies. All of this would just be a memory. She had to enjoy it while she could to store these memories away for when the twins want to watch Dora one more time.

  “Here,” Brandt stated. “Let us off here.”

  Feeling bittersweet, Rebecca accepted Brandt’s hand and got out of the gondola.

  Another memory complete.

  * * *

  Brandt spotted Prenner sitting at an outdoor café. He wasn’t even positioned towards the bookstore, yet Brandt knew that the point man hadn’t missed anything. Prenner had an Italian newspaper spread out in front of him.

  Giving Davidson a nod, he didn’t have to give the command. The sniper knew what to do. He would go up. Brandt thought if the kid ever sleepwalked, he’d head straight up a tree. Sleepclimbing.

  He would be their eyes in the sky.

  As the group joined the point man, Prenner folded up the paper to make room for the group. Sallah sat next to Prenner and Lopez flopped down on the other side. As a matter of fact, he was already ordering a cappuccino, biscotti, and a thinly cut roast beef sandwich.

  “Anything noteworthy?” Brandt asked.

  Prenner shook his head. “All quiet.”

  Rebecca pulled a chair over and sat down. “Do we have a plan?”

  Brandt checked his watch. “Vanderwalt should be here in fifteen minutes.”

  He sat down as Rebecca ordered drinks for the table. Brandt was surprised when Sallah ordered coffee, black. That seemed a little strong for the soft man. It turned out they had at least one thing in common.

  Casually, Brandt glanced across the canal to the bookstore. It looked the same as it had earlier. Quiet. Boring. A little lady walked out of the shop with two bags heavy with books.

  For all intents and purposes, the shop look like exactly what it should be, a rare editions bookstore.

  However, Brandt trusted Vanderwalt’s intelligence. If the Book of Noah existed, it was in that shop.

  Brandt scanned the crowd. No one seemed out of the ordinary. His team seemed to be the only operatives in the theater.

  But he knew he couldn’t trust that, not dealing with religious fanatics or their enemies.

  CHAPTER 17

  Vanderwalt took three taxis, jumped on and off a gondola, circled the block four times, and still wasn’t sure if he was being followed.

  Most people would think him paranoid, however he had learned in his profession that you could never be too paranoid. Just because you were paranoid, didn’t mean they weren’t after you.

  After the airport, the Chinese could’ve recruited any number of surveillance companies in Italy to follow him.

  The number of mercenary companies had tripled since the Iraq and Afghanistan wars.

  He hadn’t caught anyone following, but he still had that ni
ggling feeling that he was being watched.

  At some point he had to make the rendezvous.

  Taking a deep breath, he rounded the corner headed to the café where Brandt’s team was waiting. He noticed immediately that Davidson was absent, more than likely already set up in his perch. That made him feel just a little bit better, knowing that Davidson was somewhere overhead with the best possible vantage point of the bookstore.

  “Hey, mates and my lady,” Vanderwalt said as he leaned over and kissed the back of Rebecca’s hand.

  Everyone knew Vanderwalt, except for the elderly man known as Sallah.

  “Nice to meet you,” he said to the Foremen.

  “I take it that you have an entry strategy?”

  That was Brandt for you, always to the point.

  Whitehall could learn lesson or two from the sergeant.

  So Vanderwalt got down to it. “I figured that it would be you and I, and Rebecca to go in. Lopez is to acquire the getaway vehicle and Prenner to guard Sallah and be our backup muscle if we need it.”

  Brandt shrugged. “Pretty much what I was thinking. Let’s go get a non-conical gospel.”

  As he made room for Rebecca to get out of her seat, Vanderwalt said. “Yes, let’s.”

  * * *

  Davidson lay flat on his belly sweeping his scope back and forth, surveying the area out in front of the store. He had already calculated the number of gondolas that went by every five minutes. He also counted the number speedboats, which were forbidden in the smaller canals. However on a large one like this, they were permitted.

  To be thorough, Davidson also counted the pedestrians on the sidewalk in front of the store. It happened to be three per minute.

  These numbers had stayed steady the whole entire 20 minutes time he was on the roof. The only change had been when Rebecca, Brant, and Vanderwalt went into the shop. Still something felt off, but he could not put his finger on it. So he swept further to the left to check the side canal, it too had lazy traffic. He swung to the right. That canal was equally boring.

  Then, why were the hairs on the back of his neck still standing up?

  Pushing his scope aside he leaned over the roof looking down at the café. Prenner and Sallah were nibbling at some of the biscotti Lopez had left. The corporal was really slowing down. All joking aside, something bad was about to go down.

  And Davidson had no idea what.

  * * *

  Brandt wandered the bookstore trying to act like the bored husband of a wife who was way too into religious books. Vanderwalt was playing her student, a perfect scenario for Rebecca.

  The old woman at the counter seemed mildly distracted, but Brandt couldn’t see why. He guessed even old shopkeeps had their bad days.

  Her eyes did light up, however, when Rebecca mentioned the Book of Enoch. Not many people knew the ancient Hebrew name for Noah.

  The white haired woman, however, insisted that she had never seen the book nor had it.

  Vanderwalt was very calm and soothing, yet probing.

  He mentioned the store in Hammerfest and the admission by that owner that the Book of Enoch was at this Venice location. The old woman tried to wave off Vanderwalt’s certainty, making it seem as if rumors were to blame.

  Brandt walked up and down the aisles, making sure that he always kept an eye on Rebecca and Vanderwalt.

  He also made regular glances over at the front door, but it stayed closed with average looking pedestrians walking down the street. He wasn't quite sure what leverage Vanderwalt had over the woman, because right now this seemed to be going nowhere.

  Vanderwalt would press, the woman would deny.

  Then Rebecca said, “Man will decide the flood.”

  The woman took a step back from the counter with a sharp intake of breath. Her white hair seemed to fly out around her face a little more than it already had.

  “How did you know this?” the woman hissed.

  “I've been there,” Rebecca stated. “I've seen Noah’s tomb.”

  “You could not.”

  “Oh, but I have,” Rebecca replied as she threw a thumb over her shoulder. “I have one of the Foremen with me.”

  Brandt wasn't quite sure how this episode was going to play out, but he didn't have any better play.

  “We don’t have much time,” Vanderwalt urged. “The Chinese found something. We’re not sure what, but they are certainly after us.”

  The woman took another step back. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

  Rebecca cocked her head like she always did when she felt like she was winning.

  “Oh, I think you do know exactly what we need,” Rebecca countered.

  The woman sighed, “I sold it.”

  “To whom?” Vanderwalt asked “And when?”

  The woman began to cry. “Just three days ago. I didn't know. How could I know? Another man came in and gave me the credentials of a Foremen. I didn't even take payment really. I took it in exchange for a piece of the ark. He still is to deliver it to me.”

  Brandt’s back stiffened. Sallah.

  Gunfire came from across the street before Brandt could even turn around and charge out the door.

  Fury raged through his veins. He knew he never should have brought the damned cultist along. And now Prenner was going to pay the price.

  By the time Brandt got to the door and looked across the street at the cafe through the pouring rain, Sallah was already being sedated with a chloroform rag by an unknown attacker.

  Prenner had retreated inside the cafe laying down cover fire. There were already three dead on the sidewalk.

  Brandt had to make some quick calculations in his head.

  Should he let the attackers take Sallah? The guy had betrayed them from the beginning. However, if somebody wanted to kidnap him, it indicated that the Foremen might still have a great deal of value.

  Or did he send Prenner along with the kidnappers? Which greatly increased the chance that they were going to get Sallah back, but put Prenner’s life in danger.

  As angry as Brandt was at Sallah, he couldn't allow that emotion to cloud his judgment.

  “Go!” Brant yelled.

  Prenner dropped his gun and charged out of the café, tackling the man holding the rag to Sallah’s face. Three attackers rushed from the adjoining buildings and took Prenner down. They carted both Prenner and Sallah off and into one of the buildings.

  Prenner had six other weapons besides the rifle that he dropped. Actually make that seven, if you counted Prenner himself. He was a black-belt in every recognized martial art in the world. Brandt hadn’t had to impress upon the point man how important hand-to-hand combat was. It was already a part of Prenner’s make-up.

  He was only captured because he wished himself to be captured.

  Davidson had not fired, so he must not have had a good shot or a few of those dead on the street were his.

  Brandt made a whirling motion with his finger to retrieve Davidson and Lopez. Rebecca and Vanderwalt were at his back.

  “What are we going to do?” Vanderwalt asked.

  “That depends a lot on Lopez.”

  “No,” Vanderwalt said in horror.

  Brandt turned around to find Lopez cruising towards them in a gondola.

  The corporal put his hands up. “Don't start. We’re in Venice, so just roll with it.”

  Brant didn't have time to argue. He just got the others in the gondola as Lopez worked the oar as fast as he could. They actually got up to a pretty good speed as they rounded the corner of the canal.

  Davidson jumped down from the roof and ran alongside the canal. He didn’t bother to jump into the gondola since he could run faster than they were boating.

  “Wait for it….” Lopez said.

  He took them around to a non-descript boathouse door which opened to reveal one of the sleekest speed boats that Brandt had ever seen. A Riva he believed.

  “Well?” Lopez said with a smile that asked “How awesome is this?”


  The team transferred over to the speedboat, which Lopez stroked like a lover. “I couldn't exactly have parked this baby out in front of the book store, now could I?”

  No, he could not have, certainly not as the engine revved. The sound filling the boat house. Brandt grabbed hold of the boat’s railing. He knew what happened after all the revving.

  All the going.

  * * *

  Davidson clung to the side of the boat, his head snapped back by the force of the acceleration. Lopez took a turn at full speed. But hey, why should it be any different than when he was driving a car?

  The wake of the boat sloshed water onto the walkways that were already saturated by the heavy rains. The canals were already high due to the runoff, so Lopez was basically flooding the street with each twist and turn.

  The sound of the speedboat echoed off the buildings making it almost difficult to hear your own thoughts. You know, the ones that you had besides sheer panic.

  Damn it. Davidson had known that something was wrong. He should have acted on it. He should have taken up a more neutral position. Somewhere he could have covered the bookstore and the café.

  That had been a pretty efficient smash and grab though by the Foremen. Certainly easier when the sniper was pointed in the wrong direction.

  He almost felt sorry for the kidnappers though. Prenner was a beast. He was all quiet and stoic, kind of like Brandt, until battle was engaged and then the beast was unleashed.

  Right now they had absolutely no idea where the assailants had taken Prenner and Sallah. Right now they were just trying to get outside the zone where their communications were jammed.

  And, of course, Lopez was an over-achiever.

  They were going fast, but who knew if they were going in the correct direction.

  Davidson had to steady his lower lip at the idea of losing Prenner. It seemed impossible.

  It all seemed impossible. Malvern was already gone. Bunny was at death’s door. Prenner couldn’t be in jeopardy as well. That was just too much.

  The thought seemed to overload his ability to compartmentalize.