“Nothing in the fridge,” he said, closing the door. He checked the food pantry. The shelves were bare. He opened and closed several other cabinet doors but came up with nothing. He shrugged and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Breakfast of champions,” he said with a wink. He motioned toward the dining table. “Come on. Let’s figure out where they went.”
Alex and Sarafina followed.
The map on the table incorporated only the city. There was a felt-tip pen beside it.
“I thought the castle was a long way from here,” she said.
“A couple hundred kilometers,” Ahmed said as he sat down. He picked up the marker. One hand spun it like a top while he studied the map. “They would have arrived at the castle yesterday, which means they came here afterward. When they left this morning, they were headed someplace else—someplace on this map.” The finger of Ahmed’s free hand tapped an area that had been X’d with the marker. “Right h—” He cut off as he studied the location. His finger traced a route from the nearby train station to the marked area. “Oh, that’s where we are now. Give me a second.” He did a grid search of the rest of the map. The felt-tip pen spun faster while he worked. Alex watched with keen interest.
The pen came to an abrupt stop. The only other mark on the map was a rust-colored circle made by the bottom of a coffee cup. Ahmed sat back and crossed his arms. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said. “Who marks the starting point, but then doesn’t bother marking the destination?”
“Good question,” Sarafina said. “But a better one is who uses a paper map these days?” She settled in the chair beside his and slid the laptop over.
He nudged her with his elbow. “Good thinking.”
Alex gave a subtle nod as if agreeing with the statement. It was both odd and wonderful to see him so actively engaged in what was going on around him, she thought. His tablet was turned off.
Sarafina hit the laptop power button, and the display came to life instantly. It had been in sleep mode. An icon in the upper-right corner indicated they were logged in as GUEST. Google Maps filled the screen. It featured a close-up satellite image of an estate overlooking Lake Geneva. There was a mansion and three outbuildings. A private lane twisted through the surrounding trees. She zoomed out in order to get their bearings, cross-referencing the mansion against their current location. Then she clicked GET DIRECTIONS. It was only four kilometers away. A ten-minute taxi ride.
“Let’s go!” she said, standing up.
Ahmed blocked her path. “No.”
“What do you mean no?” she asked.
“It’s not safe. We need to remain here.”
“But they don’t even know we’re here.”
“Neither does anybody else.”
“But we have to catch up to them. What if they don’t come back?”
“We cannot follow them,” Ahmed insisted.
She hesitated, sensing that he was holding something back. “What are you not telling me?”
He ignored the question. “We must stay here.”
Her hands went to her hips.
He threw a sidelong glance at Alex, and she got the hint. There was something going on that Ahmed would rather not share with her younger brother. Alex must have noticed the gesture as well, because he switched on his tablet and buried his focus into the device.
Ahmed sighed. He rose and led Sarafina to the kitchen. He opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a plastic trash bin.
It was filled with empty ammunition boxes.
“Wherever they went,” he whispered, sliding the bin back into place, “they expected trouble.”
The wind went out of her. She nodded. “You’re right. We need to—”
Alex’s yelp cut her off. His chair crashed to the floor as he rushed to the window and placed a hand on the glass. Sarafina rushed beside him. She’d felt it, too—Jake’s cry of anguish had filled her mind. It wouldn’t have been any louder had he been standing in the room. She embraced Alex and followed his gaze. Their sixth-floor view looked out the front of the building. The city skyline peeked over the rooftops. Ahmed had moved to their side.
“It’s Father,” she explained. “He’s in trouble.”
“W-what?” Ahmed asked. “How do you know?”
“I heard him. In my head,” she said. Alex rocked forward and back on his heels. She tightened her arms around him. “He heard it, too.”
“You mean like before?” Ahmed asked. He sounded shaken. “When we first met him at the institute?”
“Shhh,” she whispered. She could still sense the connection, but the emotional tone had shifted. There was a sudden explosion of fury from her father. Her blood chilled from the intensity. It lasted about ten seconds. Then the connection was lost.
“Oh, God,” she said. “Did you feel it?”
“No!” Ahmed cried out. “I didn’t feel anything. Or hear anything.” His words spilled forth with increasing speed. “How come you felt it but I didn’t? I heard him in my head before, so why can’t I hear him now? What’s the matter with me? Why are you two looking over there? The mansion is in the opposite direction. If Jake is in trouble, I want to help him. But how can I help if—”
“Flip it,” she interrupted, avoiding his questions.
But he didn’t miss a beat. “—I can’t hear him? Why didn’t he go with Tony to the mansion? What did I do wrong? There’s got to be some reason why I—”
“Please, Ahmed!” Sarafina shouted. She choked back tears. “We need you right now!”
The words broke through. Ahmed bit down on his tongue. He balled his fists and paced circles in the room. His breaths were heavy.
Sarafina was thankful that she didn’t have to deal with his questions head-on. Ahmed had been changed by the intense treatments he had received during his two years of “protective care”—following his attempt to blow up the airplane in Afghanistan. He looked at the world from a more logical perspective than before, but he had lost his intuitive nature in the process.
Right now she had her own crushing emotions to deal with. Her daddy’s rage was disturbing. She closed her eyes and allowed her body to sway in motion with Alex’s. The metronomic movement brought with it an unbidden symphony. It washed over her and replaced her thoughts, pushing away her fears. She allowed the music to take her away.
It was Ahmed’s encircling arms that tipped the balance in favor of reality. He’d overcome his touch phobia in order to make the physical contact.
“I’m sorry,” he said firmly. “That. Will. Never. Happen. Again.” His determination anchored her.
“Where is he?” he asked.
She motioned outside the window. “That way.”
“Can you narrow it down?”
She shook her head. “Sorry.”
What happened next surprised them both. Alex pulled from the embrace and walked quickly to the laptop. By the time they joined him, he had scrolled the satellite map to a position north of downtown Geneva. He zoomed in on a magnificent multistory structure. With its numerous wings and offshoots, the complex spread out more than a third of a mile. It was surrounded by parks and greenbelts. It overlooked the lake. A final zoom filled the screen with a 3-D image of the front of the main building. It was stately and immense. The label named it the PALACE OF NATIONS.
Alex placed his index finger on the lowest floor of the building. Then he looked up and captured their gazes.
“Are you sure?” Ahmed asked.
A sharp nod told them he was.
A few minutes later, Ahmed stood by the door. He was ready to leave. He wore a backpack and a ready expression. Sarafina thought he had never looked better.
“They say everything happens for a reason,” he said. “Perhaps that is true. But I was taught that each person is a master of his own fate. I take charge of mine now. And I do so with the belief that it is the right thing to do. Not only for Jake, who needs my help, but for all three of us as well.”
“I’m scared,” she sai
d.
“I understand. But you’ll be safe here. If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t leave.”
But he hadn’t understood at all, she thought. She wasn’t scared for herself or Alex. She was scared for him. She’d sensed the danger surrounding her father. And Ahmed was heading straight for it. What could he do all by himself? How could he even find Jake within the immense complex?
Ahmed turned to go. She grabbed his arm to stop him. He flinched, but he didn’t pull away. He steadied himself and returned her gaze.
The moment stretched.
Alex stood beside her. He reached out and placed his small hand on hers. His intervention was another first. Her grip loosened, but she didn’t let go.
Ahmed smiled. “Can’t you see it, Sara? He has his father’s strength. And his mother’s wisdom. He wants me to go. We must trust him.”
She knew Ahmed was right. The changes manifesting in her little brother weren’t coincidental. Something powerful was at play within him. She dropped her hand to her side. “Please be careful,” she said softly.
“Keep your cell charged,” he said. “I’m only a phone call away.” Then he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. The gesture shocked her. Her face flushed.
To Alex he said, “Take care of her.”
Then he opened the door and was gone.
Chapter 49
Geneva, Switzerland
THE THREE-STORY RESIDENCE was situated on a forested rise overlooking Lake Geneva. A cleared area stretched from the house to the surrounding tree line. Patches of lawn peeked through the melting snow. A private lane curved from the coastal highway, up the hill, through a hundred meters of dense pines, and terminated at the driveway circling the house. There was a lone SUV in front of the detached four-car garage. A helicopter was parked on a nearby pad. Similar residential plots dotted the rolling hills around the mansion. It was like a Swiss Beverly Hills, Tony thought, with four times the acreage per home.
He lowered the binoculars. He was crouched in a dense copse northeast of the house. The elevated position provided him with a panoramic view of the lake and the surrounding snowcapped mountains. The landmark Jet d’Eau fountain was a mile upshore. It shot a powerful jet of water more than three hundred feet into the air. Tour boats crisscrossed in the distance.
He scanned the grounds again and shook his head. Something didn’t feel right. He’d expected an army of defenders. Instead, there were only five. If he hadn’t recognized the chopper as the one from the castle, he would have worried they were in the wrong place.
He spoke into his headset. “Still nothin’?” he asked.
Timmy had moved through the trees in order to get close to the garage. The location also gave him a good view of the other side of the house. He’d taken their only infrared scope with him. “I’m still only seeing six heat signatures,” he said. “Two in the bedroom, with a third posted in the hall. Two more in the kitchen. Plus the guy on the front porch.”
Any way you cut it, Tony thought, that’s six total. Jake and five guards. His pal was being held upstairs under close guard. That’s where it would get tricky. Any alert on the way in and the upstairs guards could take out the hostage. But would they? Or were they still intent on keeping him alive? There were too many unknowns and not enough time. His instincts told him to wait, but the urgency of the situation wouldn’t allow it.
“Damn,” he said to himself. This would have been difficult enough with a full SWAT team. Instead, he was being backed up by an actress, a scientist, and a computer geek—in broad daylight.
He’d considered one tactical approach after another, discarding each in turn. In the end, he’d decided to keep it simple.
“I’m in position,” Marshall said.
Finally, Tony thought. “Sixty seconds,” he said into his headset.
“Ready,” Lacey said. She was in the car on a road behind him.
“Timmy, you’re up.”
“I’ve got movement on the scope,” Timmy said. “One of the guys from the kitchen is heading for the front door.”
“It don’t matter. We’ve got to make our move before they spot Marsh. Do it.”
He watched Timmy break cover and run to the backside of the garage. A moment later, the kid sprinted back to the trees.
So far, so good.
He kept his eyes on the man at the front door, who was smoking a cigarette.
Tony had planned the assault so that the killing would be left up to him. But in his gut he worried that it wasn’t gonna go down that way. Sure, his friends knew that the men inside were part of the same team that had tried to murder them on the mountain. And they were holding Jake. However—justified or not—taking a life up close and personal wasn’t something they’d trained for. He suspected they could if they had to, but it would change them in ways he’d rather not think about.
You never forget the faces of the men you kill.
A trail of smoke rose from the rear of the garage. It thickened quickly. The incendiary charges would make quick work of the wooden structure. Tony raised the P90 submachine gun to his shoulder. He and Marshall each carried one of the compact weapons. With a fire rate of more than nine hundred rounds per minute, it was the ideal “spray and pray” weapon for his friend. But in his own experienced grip, it would be the men guarding Jake that should be talkin’ to God right about now.
The front door opened, and a second guard stepped outside. He stopped abruptly and pointed to the garage. He shouted something in the open door. The first guard threw his cigarette to the ground, and both of them rushed toward the detached structure.
Tony tracked them in the P90’s reflex sight.
Lacey spoke over the comm net. “I made the call. The fire department will be here in five minutes.”
“Going up,” Marshall said from the back of the house.
As soon as the pair of guards turned the corner around the house, Tony opened fire. The two suppressed bursts sounded like muffled firecrackers. Both guards went down hard.
“Hold on!” Timmy’s excited voice sounded in his headset. “Two more heat signatures just popped up out of nowhere in the center of the house. Must’ve come from a basement. One of them’s headed toward the door!”
But Tony was already on his feet and running across the circular drive. The guard saw him from the foyer. He ducked to one side just as Tony squeezed the trigger. The door began to swing closed.
“No!” Tony roared. He charged forward and let loose on full auto. Craters erupted in the door. It flew backward as a dozen rounds hammered into the wood in less than a second. He slid feetfirst into the grand foyer like a ballplayer into home plate. The man behind the door was slumped on the floor. His eyes blinked once. Blood splattered on the ground around him.
There was a flash of movement at the top of a broad circular staircase.
Tony rolled behind the marble fountain centering the foyer, just as slugs stitched a line into the polished stone floor beside him. Chips of granite bit into his back. The weapon above him lacked a suppressor. The gunshots reverberated through the house. Tony rolled back and triggered a burst of his own. But the upstairs guard had vanished. He heard footsteps pounding down the second-floor hall.
“Guard coming for Jake!” he shouted into his headset.
There was a crash of glass upstairs. An exchange of gunfire. A woman’s scream.
Over the comm net Marshall shouted, “Oh my God.”
Tony pushed to his feet and started up the stairs. A woman?
“Halt!” The voice behind him carried a calm authority that froze Tony midstride.
“Drop your weapon. Remove the headset.”
Tony released the P90. It bounced down the three steps below him and clattered to the bloody stone floor. He heard the seesaw of sirens in the distance. The fire department would be here soon. At this point he wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. They’d planned to use the commotion of the fire to distract the guards and cover their exit. The only thing he knew for
certain was that something wasn’t right upstairs. He kept his back to his captor and slowly raised his hands over his head. “I give up. Don’t shoot!”
The shotgun blast shredded the wooden banister beside him. Tony flinched. His ears rang, but he didn’t try to run. If the guy had wanted him dead, he’d already be bargaining at the gates. He was out of options. If his SWAT team had been with him, his last words over the comm would’ve triggered a coordinated—and lethal—response.
But with Lacey and Timmy backing him up—and no idea what had happened to Marsh…
“Remove the headset,” the man repeated. His German accent sharpened the words. “Or I end you now.”
Lacey’s voice whispered over the net, “Two minutes.” It was the last comm he’d receive. He used a hand to drag the headset from his scalp and drop it to the floor.
“Turn around. Slowly.”
It was Pit Bull. He exuded a casual confidence. He held the shotgun at waist level. Smoke drifted from the barrel. He had a golf ball–size lump on the bridge of his nose—where Tony’s third tranq dart had struck him the day before. The swollen skin contorted his intersecting eyebrows into a confused expression. The guard beside him glared at Tony. Tony recognized him as the one who’d been with Pit Bull outside the ski shed at the castle. The man held a machine pistol.
Need to stall.
“We meet again,” Tony said.
“You were naive yesterday,” Pit Bull said. “You should have killed us.”
The words struck a chord. “Trust me, I won’t make that mistake again.”
“Correction: you won’t be making any mistakes again.” Pit Bull raised the barrel toward Tony’s chest. His smile was half formed when something crashed through the kitchen window behind him.
Brainrush 03 - Beyond Judgment Page 18
