The Loch Ness Legacy tl-4
Page 21
When he saw Brielle staring at him, he said, “Really. It’s not as bad as you think.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re certainly not a kvetch, as my mother would say. All right. Let’s see if we can find this thing.”
They made their way inside the palace, and every step Grant took required concentration so that he could keep up with Brielle’s pace. The rooms were numbered, leading them in a counterclockwise path to the gallery where MacNeil had told them they would find the trophy.
They passed through ornately decorated dining rooms, drawing rooms, and bedchambers, not even pausing to give the appearance that they were interested in the splendor of royal accoutrements. They exited the King’s Closet and entered the Great Gallery.
A few tourists wandered along the red carpet splayed across the length of the gallery, which featured over a hundred portraits of what Grant thought of as “men in tights.” Light filtered in from windows along the inner courtyard, but each of them was obscured by a display set up to show off a distinct part of Scottish history. A TV at the other end was playing a video where several people watched.
The stag head was at the far end of the hall, its antlers reaching toward the ceiling.
“There it is,” Brielle said and walked toward it. Grant followed for a moment, then stopped.
A solo man turned away as Grant had passed, his long hair obscuring his face. Something about him seemed familiar, and suddenly Grant recognized him as the man driving the Range Rover in Cambridge. He turned and saw the man crouch on the ground as if tying a shoe.
Liquid flowed from his hand onto the carpet. The man had a lighter in his hand.
He was going to set the room ablaze. With the amount of wood in the room, half the palace could go up in no time.
“Fire!” Grant shouted. His reaction time felt like it had slowed to a glacial rate, he ran at the man and tackled him just as the lighter flicked on. He caught the guy in the back, sending the lighter flying before it touched the liquid.
As Grant rolled on the carpet, his face pressed against his adversary’s jacket, the smell of alcohol stung his nose. The arsonist hadn’t finished pouring the solution from his flask, and Grant’s tackle had caused the remainder to soak the man’s clothes.
An elbow caught Grant in the solar plexus, causing him to double over in pain. Grant lashed out with a fist but hit only air as the man dodged the weak thrust. The guy twisted away and sprang to his feet.
Grant wasn’t as quick to get up, but he managed to block a kick before it smacked his head. A roundhouse punch did get him in the temple, and Grant realized that he was about to endure something that had never happened before.
For the first time ever, he was going to lose a fight against a single opponent.
* * *
Brielle was already halfway down the gallery when she realized that one of the women watching the video was Marlo Dunham, dressed in trousers instead of a skirt, but otherwise looking exactly the same as when they’d last seen each other in Laroche’s mansion.
Then Brielle heard Grant shout “Fire!” She whipped around and saw him launch himself at another man. In a split second, they were on the floor throwing fists at each other.
She’d seen Grant wade into a fight with three other men and come out without a scratch, but it was obvious he wasn’t himself, taking hits left and right. She was about to go help him when he struggled to his feet and seized his foe in a headlock.
“Get…her!” Grant yelled.
Brielle turned back around to see Dunham fumbling with the bottom of the stag head where it was mounted to the pedestal, searching for the secret latch.
Brielle sprinted toward her. Dunham threw open the latch, and the stag head swung to the side on hidden hinges. Before she could extract anything from the interior, she saw Brielle approaching and took a bottle from her purse, upending the contents onto the floor in an arc between them. She flicked open a lighter and threw it onto the rug.
Flames leapt into the air in a wall that spanned two-thirds of the gallery, and Brielle had to jump back to keep from getting burned. The two other visitors who’d been staring dumbfounded at the events in the room ran screaming. It gave Dunham enough time to stick her hand into the trophy and withdraw a small notebook from its cavity. Her eyes went from Brielle to the notebook and back as if she were deciding what to do next.
Brielle wasn’t going to wait to find out. She went around the inferno intending to give chase, but Dunham hurled the journal past Brielle into the fire.
Brielle wanted Dunham badly, but the journal was more important. If it were destroyed, then Zim would win. She couldn’t let that happen.
Brielle turned and raced toward the fire.
* * *
Grant was just about spent. He’d managed to stop the long-haired man from going to Dunham’s aid, but the effort was sapping his strength rapidly.
His opponent finally slipped from his grasp and ran toward the flames that were now spreading across the carpet. A fire klaxon shrieked overhead, but it would take a minute for the emergency crews to get there.
Grant mustered every reserve he had and gave chase. He saw something sail out of the fire and then Brielle followed in a tuck, rolling to put out the flames that licked at her coat. She popped to her feet and stamped on the burning object, smothering the flames.
She was oblivious to the man headed right for her.
Grant forced himself into another gear he didn’t know he had and barreled toward the fire. Just as the man reached Brielle and was about to launch a vicious kick to her head, Grant caught up to him and shoved him from behind.
The momentum carried Dunham’s accomplice stumbling past Brielle and into the fire. His clothes, soaked with the flammable liquid, erupted in flames, and the man lurched around shrieking in agony as he sought to put out the blaze that enveloped him.
Brielle snatched up the charred notebook with her sleeve and put her other shoulder under Grant, who was now almost too weak to carry on.
“Come on, Sergeant,” she said, calling him by the rank he’d had in the Army. “We need to get out of here before they start asking questions.”
As they tottered away, employees with fire extinguishers charging into the room, Grant said, “The journal—”
“We won’t know until we look at it, but I think the outside got the worst of it.”
Grant didn’t say more, trying to stay upright and maintain the impression of a panicky tourist until he could get outside the palace and curl up in the fetal position.
THIRTY-FOUR
Alexa was subdued as she and Tyler reached the top of the Edinburgh Castle grounds, as if her enthusiasm for the quest they were on had been dunked in an ice bucket. During the walk from the museum, she had tweaked Tyler about his relationship with Brielle.
“We’re not serious,” he’d said.
“I know,” Alexa replied. “Ever think about converting to Judaism?”
“Come on, Alexa. I’ve known her for a total of two weeks.”
“How long did you know Karen before you were exclusive?” Alexa knew the answer. Tyler and the woman who would become his wife had three dates over the course of a single weekend while he was at MIT. Neither of them dated anyone else after a night watching the Red Sox beat the Yankees at Fenway Park.
“That was different,” Tyler said.
“Why?”
“For one, Brielle’s British and I’m American. I’m not up for a long distance thing. I tried it with Dilara, and that didn’t work out so well.”
“Maybe she would move to the US.”
“And she’s made it very clear that her parents wouldn’t approve of their little girl marrying a gentile.”
“Tyler, you’re a genius in many ways, but you are really thick-headed sometimes. Don’t you think it’s possible that she’s using that as an excuse? I mean, you haven’t actually met her parents have you?”
“No. So you’re saying she doesn’t actually like me?”
Tyler smiled. “Since when did my little sister become my shrink?”
“Since you became a confirmed bachelor.”
“You sound like Grant. He’s always trying to play matchmaker, which is rich coming from the original confirmed bachelor.”
“You don’t think he’ll ever settle down.”
Tyler laughed loudly, drawing the attention of some tourists as they walked toward the castle entrance. “Grant? Do you know how many women he’s dated in the last five years?”
Alexa shrugged. “Maybe he’s still looking for the right person.”
Tyler stopped smiling and his eyes took on a tinge of sadness. “He did find one woman he cared for.”
“Who?”
“Someone who was a great fit for him.”
“What happened to her?”
He sighed. “She was killed. Grant saw it happen.”
“That’s terrible.”
“He took it pretty hard. I think he’s been a little gun shy about relationships ever since.”
“He seems like a great guy,” Alexa said. “He’ll find someone.” She didn’t mention that the someone might be her.
The sadness on Tyler’s face deepened. “I hope he has the chance.”
“What do you mean?”
He didn’t answer as they waited in line for tickets. Once they were through, Alexa asked again. “What’s wrong with Grant? He won’t tell me anything.”
“He didn’t want you to know, but the symptoms are getting too noticeable.”
“You mean the aches and pains? The tired look that seems to be getting worse?” Alexa felt her stomach roil with nervousness. A serious face from Tyler wasn’t to be taken lightly. “What’s going on, Tyler? Tell me right now.”
Tyler paused as if searching for the right words. His expression was pained as he finally spoke.
“Grant’s been poisoned. It happened last week at the Eiffel Tower when all of the leaders who have been getting sick and dying were exposed.”
She stared at him, dumbstruck for a moment. “I can’t believe it.”
“You’ve seen how sick he’s been getting over the last couple of days. It’s worse than he’s letting on.”
“This is…it’s horrible. How long has he got?”
“Days maybe. We don’t know for sure.”
“My God! He should be in a hospital!”
“I told him the same thing, but he wouldn’t do it. You think I’m stubborn.”
“What can we do?” Alexa asked.
“We’re doing it. The toxicologists are working on an antidote, but without a better understanding of the poison’s chemical structure, I’m not convinced they can create one in time. If that Nazi notebook is right, finding the Loch Ness monster and getting a sample of it might be his only chance.”
Alexa could see the toll Grant’s illness was taking on Tyler. She hadn’t seen him this distressed since the aftermath of Karen’s funeral. “How long will it take them to synthesize an antidote?”
“Once they have the sample? I spoke to Agent Harris yesterday. She said the toxicologists think it will only take a matter of hours to manufacture the antidote. If the Nazi formula is correct, that is.”
“Does she believe Laroche now?”
“She’s still pretty skeptical, but they’re getting desperate enough to try it if we come up with the goods.”
“Desperate enough to get the British authorities to crack open the stag heads?”
“We’ll see,” Tyler said.
“And even if we find something that helps us track down Nessie, do we have the resources to do it?”
“Miles gave us carte blanche. The Sedna passed through the Caledonian Canal from the North Sea last night, and they’ve begun a grid pattern search from the midpoint of the loch. But with nothing else to go on, the search could take weeks and still not find a trace of the creature.”
“Then John Edmonstone is our best chance.”
“No,” Tyler said, “he’s our only chance.”
The rest of the walk through the castle grounds had been silent, Alexa’s hugged her jacket close to her body to fend off the wind. She thought about all the teasing she’d done with Grant and now felt guilty about it. He’d known all that time that he was dying and didn’t say a word.
They crossed the courtyard to the Great Hall, but she stopped when she saw a CLOSED sign on the door.
“That’s odd,” she said. “Are they still setting up the exhibit?”
“Doesn’t seem likely. Dr. MacNeil said that they installed it last week.”
“Then why would it be closed?”
“I don’t know. Dammit. We need to get in there now.” Tyler turned and pointed to a man crossing the courtyard. “There’s an employee. I’ll find out what’s going on.”
He made a beeline for the worker. Alexa pressed her ear to the door. She heard voices inside.
“Wait, Tyler,” she called to him. “Someone’s in there. Let’s ask them.” He turned and jogged back toward her.
She pushed the door and found that it wasn’t locked. She eased it open and saw two men in employee’s uniforms.
“Excuse me,” she said, entering the antechamber.
One of the men, a humorless blond with glasses, put up his hands and rushed over to her. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We’re closed for renovations.”
“I just wanted to look at one of the exhibits—”
“You’ll have to come back later.” He made a shooing motion with his hand.
“Well, when are you reopening?” By this time, Tyler had joined her, the door closing behind him.
“I don’t know, ma’am. You have to leave.” He put his hand on her shoulder and turned her forcefully while the other man moved to the door.
“Hey! You don’t have to shove me.”
She ran into Tyler, unyielding as granite. He was fixated on the interior of the Great Hall, his eyes filled with a rage she’d never before seen in her brother.
“Zim,” he whispered.
THIRTY-FIVE
During the milliseconds it took Tyler to process that Zim was in the empty Great Hall prying apart the stag head trophy, he assessed his predicament. Not only was he outnumbered three to one, but Alexa was now in harm’s way. But if he simply ran out with her in tow, he’d leave Zim to destroy possibly the only chance to find Grant’s cure.
Alexa’s immediate safety won. Tyler turned and punched the blond man who had pushed Alexa, breaking his glasses and sending him sprawling. He grabbed Alexa’s hand and went for the door, but the blond guy’s partner was already there. The man tackled Tyler, and they went tumbling through the archway into the cavernous Great Hall. Tyler went down hard on his recovering arm, but the rush of adrenaline helped him ignore the sudden stab of pain.
He rolled and sprang to his feet next to a suit of armor. He plucked the helmet from its stand and swung it around, connecting with the guy’s skull. The glancing blow sent him to his knees.
Alexa was tripped by the blond and scrabbled her way into the hall, the man tugging at her pant leg in an attempt to stop her. She threw a kick at his face, hard enough for him to release her. She ran for Tyler, and he placed her protectively behind him.
Zim was paying scant attention to the fight. He dug into the neck of the deer and extracted a cylindrical object, letting the crumpled paper around it fall to hardwood. Zim looked puzzled as he drew the object out, obviously not the journal they’d been looking for.
It was a clear glass jar. There seemed to be something floating in a liquid.
Zim stared at it in confusion, then a look of comprehension came over his face and he smiled at Tyler, a sinister grin that sent a chill down h
is spine. He needed a better weapon than the helmet if he and Alexa were going to survive this.
That’s when Tyler noticed the hall was literally brimming with blades. He nearly let out a whoop of joy when he realized that they had a fighting chance. It wasn’t great, but he was elated to have any chance at all.
He snatched a five-foot-long halberd from its clamp on the wall and shoved it into Alexa’s hands. With a spear on the end, a spike on one side and a cleaver-shaped blade on the other, it was a menacing weapon. Although Alexa looked terrified, she stuck it out in front of her. He hoped she didn’t actually use it as anything but a bluff. An errant swing would slice him just as easily as it would the bad guys.
Tyler drew a saber from the rack and took a defensive posture next to her. He’d never fought with a sword in his life, but he was betting Zim and his men hadn’t either.
The blond grabbed two short swords and criss-crossed them like he was sharpening knives. The mustached man selected a huge claymore, a two-handed broadsword that lent its name to a type of explosive mine. Zim picked a saber of his own, the jar held gingerly in his other hand. They circled around Tyler and Alexa.
“Zim,” Tyler said as calmly as he could, “why don’t you put that specimen down and leave?”
“Because it’s three to one and a half.”
Alexa sounded peeved. “I’m supposed to be half?”
“Besides, why would I give up my best chance to take care of you both at the same time?”
“Because we’re not out on some isolated country estate,” Tyler said. “There’s no way you’re getting out of here without being caught.”