by Alex Archer
35
The Lille-Lesquin Airport in France lay only seventeen miles from Tournai, Belgium, which was just across the border. Roux’s private jet arrived at the airport just after 3:00 a.m. after the flight from Kosice. Even though Roux managed to make most of the arrangements before they touched down, it still took time to gear up and to put Denisa Cierny into a safe house under the protection of security specialists.
The woman had looked exhausted when Annja had last seen her, but she’d been filled with excitement over the outcome of the hunt, as well. Roux had spent the flight showing her how to play Texas Hold’em, and she’d turned out to be surprisingly good. Roux had staked her $1,000, and she was up another $6,000 by the time they got to Lille, France.
Annja also suspected Roux was playing to occupy Denisa’s attention and probably throwing the game, as well, but she hadn’t paid much attention, because she’d been busy combing through the facts she had learned about the Merovingian dynasty.
Denisa’s house was fine, which Annja was glad to learn, but someone had gotten inside before the police had arrived on the scene. There were also dead bodies strewed along the roadside leading up to the estate. Roux left instructions with Denisa’s bodyguard to keep the news from their unexpected guest for as long as possible. Those details would be better dealt with, Roux said, when more things were settled.
Bleary-eyed but somewhat rejuvenated by a hot cup of tea, Annja snatched the keys from the college-age clerk who had delivered a rented steel-gray Range Rover Autobiography.
“I’m driving,” Annja declared. She was tired of being a passenger, and the eagerness to get to the hunt filled her.
“Of course you are.” Roux didn’t look happy, but he seemed unwilling to invest in an argument. He hoisted up the basket that contained the breakfast they were going to eat on the road and clambered into the passenger seat.
Without a word, looking gaunt and antsy, Racz took a seat in the rear of the vehicle. Annja already had her foot on the accelerator and was headed for the airport’s exit gates before the professor had locked himself into the seat.
* * *
AN HOUR LATER on a service road that followed the river Scheldt, satisfied she’d accurately followed the directions she’d ciphered out from the map and the statue, Annja pulled onto a dust-covered side road. They’d made the trip in relative silence, each of them occupied with his or her own thoughts. Annja knew she was on the verge of collapsing from adrenaline overdrive. She’d snatched a fitful nap while on the plane, and she was currently running on empty.
Six miles later, Roux pointed to a side road that was almost concealed by thick tree growth. “Pull over there. I have to speak to a man so that we can get permission to drive onto the property.”
Racz leaned forward and surveyed the forested hills that lay before them. “Who owns this place?”
“Me, actually,” Roux replied. “At least, I will as soon as the mortgage companies open this morning and the documents are made legal.”
“You bought these lands?” Racz sounded incredulous.
“I did. It seemed simpler than trying to figure out who owned the treasure once we find it. If we own the land, we own the treasure.”
“You don’t even know that the treasure is here.”
Roux shook his head. “I don’t know, that’s true. But I have faith in Annja. If she says it’s here, it’s here. She’s never been wrong before.”
Where Tournai proper lay in a basin alongside the Scheldt, the surrounding lands formed part of the upper rim. The incline rose a few hundred feet above the city miles away. Rough forested areas that looked relatively unchanged over the past few centuries stood on either side of the dirt road. Here and there, huge shelves of black rock thrust through the uneven landscape.
Annja checked her rearview mirrors often, but other than a dust cloud that followed them in perpetual pursuit, she saw nothing. Still, the vague feeling that Garin was out there somewhere wouldn’t leave her thoughts. He hadn’t been detained in Kosice, and he hadn’t been among the dead.
“Here.” Roux pointed ahead to where a dark red sedan sat parked in front of a gate marked Private Property in French, English and German.
Annja pulled the SUV to a stop a few feet from the red car. As she did, a man in dark business attire got out of the vehicle with a slim, expensive briefcase in hand. The man smiled and waved.
“Good morning, Jean-Luc,” Roux said in French. He stepped down from the SUV and walked over to shake hands with the man.
“Good morning, Mr. Dowd. I trust your flight went well.”
“It did indeed. Thank you. I assume the offer to your corporation was met with approval.”
Jean-Luc smiled and Annja got the distinct impression the man thought he was getting the better of Roux. “The offer did indeed meet their expectations, but the board of directors was surprised at what you intend to do with the place.” He pulled out a sheaf of documents.
Roux smiled magnanimously. “What? Don’t people routinely buy castles in ruins with the hope of restoring them to their former glory?”
Jean-Luc laughed. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“Well, then, later you can tell people you were the first to do this. One of my side corporations produces reality television. We believe there’s a market for a show based on revitalizing a castle.”
“Really?”
“Otherwise you wouldn’t be getting my money,” Roux assured the man. “Shows have been made about so many other things. Cakes, renovations of bathrooms, inaccurate histories of villains and supernatural creatures.”
Annja guessed the latter was a pointed barb at Chasing History’s Monsters and chose to ignore it, but she would remember it. She and Roux would have a more in-depth conversation at a later date.
“Well, I wish you well on the project, and I’m certain you’ll have a hit on your hands before you know it,” Jean-Luc said. Though he smiled, the expression lacked any real confidence.
“You have the documents prepared for my signature?” Roux waved toward the briefcase.
“I do indeed.” Jean-Luc placed the briefcase on the front of the car and snapped the locks open. He reached inside the case and took out a tablet PC. “Electronic documents, just as you asked.” He powered the device on.
“Splendid.” Roux took the stylus the man offered and scrawled his name across several digital pages. When he was finished, he handed the tablet and stylus back to the real estate agent. “I believe that’s everything.”
Jean-Luc checked through the pages and nodded. He took another moment to upload the files through the internet service in his vehicle, then handed over a key that he said was to the gate. He shook Roux’s hand once more before climbing back into his car and driving away.
“Well,” Roux said, pulling on his sunglasses, “let’s go see what I’ve paid for, shall we?”
He walked over to the gate and used the key to open the industrial-grade padlock. Once the way was unlocked, he swung the gate open wide on rusty, shrieking hinges. Annja liked the sound. It meant no one had been this way in a long time.
After Annja drove the SUV through the gate, she waited for Roux to lock the barrier and return to the vehicle. She drove south, using the vehicle’s GPS and following the topographical map she’d put on her sat phone.
Only a few minutes later, still grinding steadily upward, Annja caught her first glimpses of the ruined castle sitting at the top of the hill. Staggered piles of cut stone lay partially claimed by trees and brush. Two of the walls remained standing, but both looked as if they’d taken severe beatings over the past centuries.
Seeing the state of disrepair, Annja felt all hope she’d held on to that there would be something to discover fade.
“There!” Racz pointed, leaning forward against the seat restraint. “I see it!�
��
Less than a hundred yards from the broken-down castle, Annja stopped the SUV because finding a path through the trees was becoming problematic. The underbrush was thick and could mask ditches or stumps that would disable the vehicle. She switched off the engine and got out, walking to the back of the vehicle, where Roux was already sorting through the equipment they’d brought. He handed her a headset, which surprised her. Normally, he didn’t go this high-tech.
Roux looked at her, noticed her disbelief and shrugged. “We’re out here alone, and Garin has been nipping at our heels. I thought it best if we claimed any edge we might have. Staying in touch when we might have to separate seems like a good idea.”
Annja wrapped the headset into place and checked the connection while Roux handed another headset to Racz. She had to help the professor put his headset on because he wasn’t familiar with it.
“Did you find out anything from Jean-Luc about the castle while you were negotiating the purchase of this place?” Annja strapped a SIG Sauer P226 to her hip and tied down the holster. She opened her backpack and added extra magazines for the pistol and for the AK-47 assault rifle that Roux pushed toward her. She was familiar with both weapons and hated the need for them. The potential presence of Garin and de Cerceau necessitated carrying them, though.
“Not anything that we didn’t already know.” Roux strapped on two P226 pistols, one at his hip and another in a shoulder rig. He ended up looking like a very lethal senior soldier of fortune. Instead of an AK-47, he carried a Dragunov SVDS sniper rifle with a folding stock. “The castle was established under Childeric I to provide a garrison for guards to protect trade along the river outside town. It was supposed to replace the Roman soldiers when they started pulling back as a result of the Germanic migrations and invasions. Merchants lived there, as well, and it was a small town outside Tournai proper. Over the years, the fortress fell into ruins as the city’s defenses built up.”
“The merchants living there probably got tired of paying taxes to the king,” Annja said. “When the city fortifications built up enough, they probably wanted to take advantage of that.”
“What about me?” Racz asked.
While shoving grenades into his thigh pockets, Roux turned to the professor. “What about you?”
“Don’t I get a gun?”
“Do you know how to use one?”
“Yes.” Racz matched Roux’s silent stare for a moment. “I’ve been around them a few times.”
“Then the answer,” Roux said gruffly, “is no, you’re not getting a gun. It’s going to be dark in there, and I don’t relish the thought of being shot in the back by someone who is supposed to be helping me. I don’t make it a practice to arm amateurs when there’s a chance I’ll be shot by them.”
Racz’s voice rose. “You can’t just let me go in there unarmed.”
“If we’re lucky, we’ll be in and out of this place before anyone knows it.”
“And if we’re not lucky?”
“Then I suggest you run away from any such person. Very fast.”
“If you thought we were going to be lucky, you wouldn’t have brought all those weapons.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t have.” Roux rummaged in the back of the SUV for a moment, then came out with a five-cell flashlight that was almost as long as Annja’s forearm. He handed it to Racz. “Here. If you have to, hit your opponents. I recommend using the big end.”
For a moment, Annja thought Racz was going to throw the flashlight to the ground in disgust. Then the professor breathed out and took a firm grip on the handle.
“All right.” He looked out at the castle. “Can we get started?”
In answer, Roux slammed the cargo door and locked the vehicle with the key fob, and they headed out on their trek to the castle.
* * *
AS THE SUN rose higher in the sky, the day grew hotter. Annja had stripped off the lightweight canvas jacket she’d worn against the morning chill and tied it around her waist.
She didn’t know what she was looking for or even if it might be there. Whatever Childeric III had hidden could have been stolen away years ago. Pepin the Short could have found the treasure or someone could have chanced upon it later.
It might even have been taken away by the soldiers who had been stationed there. Soldiers got bored, and bored soldiers either got drunk or went looking in places they weren’t supposed to be looking.
“Annja,” Roux called over the headset she wore. His voice was quiet and focused, and the intensity spiked her anticipation. “Have you found anything?”
“If I had, I would be calling you.” Annja didn’t bother to filter the frustration she was feeling. “So what have you found?”
Roux laughed softly. “Come to me. I want to show you something. Slowly and carefully. I don’t want you to scare them.”
“‘Them’?”
“Come see.”
Heart beating a little faster, Annja headed in Roux’s direction. They’d split up and headed in different paths around the fallen fortress. Racz followed her, still carrying the flashlight.
On the other side of the castle ruins, Roux sat hunkered down in tall brush. Only the top of his gray head showed above the leafy foliage. He spotted her and waved her down.
“Stay low. I can show you this without them, but I’d rather you see it for yourself.”
Curious, Annja crouched and circled wide to reach Roux. When she got to his side, he pointed at a tumbled mess of rock buried mostly in the ground.
“What?” she asked. Then movement caught her attention near the bottom of the rock pile.
Two slender, furry bodies dashed from the shelf of rock and frolicked in a patch of sunlight in the tall grass. Given how small the creatures were, Annja thought at first they were squirrels. Then she noticed the creatures’ longer necks, larger ears and elongated plump bodies. Darting and dodging, they played and scampered in mock combat.
“Weasels?” Racz cursed in disbelief. “You’re looking at weasels?”
At his tone, the young animals forgot their play fighting and scurried back in among the rocks.
Roux stood and approached the rocks. “Not weasels. Martens. They’re indigenous to Belgium, but with the population density in this country, you seldom see wildlife like this.”
“Why would you be so interested in those things? We need to be looking for a way in.”
“Martens, like a lot of mammals, want warm, dry places to sleep,” Annja said. “They don’t live in the trees, so there has to be a den around here.”
“We’re looking for a den?”
“Yes,” Roux replied crossly. “These creatures were heavily hunted in Europe by fur trappers for many years. They’re also considered pests when they live in town because they crawl up into parked cars. They like to gnaw on things and end up doing a lot of damage to those vehicles.”
“You’re worried they may damage the car?”
Roux knelt and picked up a scrap of cloth from the ground. The remnant wasn’t much bigger than Annja’s palm and consisted mostly of gnawed edges and faded colors. He displayed the cloth to Racz. “No, I think they might know how to get into the castle.”
He held up the scrap, and though the image was only a memory of what it had been, Annja could see the outlines of an armored knight.
“Unless I miss my guess, that’s part of a Flemish tapestry,” Roux said.
“Tournai was known for its tapestries.” Annja held the moldy cloth and looked at it more closely. “The weavers there were part of the Flemish Hansa of London.” She picked at the tapestry for a moment, then looked around, searching for more. “This hasn’t been lying outside for long. Otherwise it would have disintegrated by now. Judging from the condition, it’s probably only been out here a few weeks.”
Roux nod
ded. “That means those little furry fiends brought it from within.” He leaned down, unclipped a flashlight from his vest and shone it into the hole under the rock. “There’s a tunnel.” He gazed around at the uneven ground. “Looks like this part of the castle has emerged due to soil erosion. The structure was definitely underground at one point.” He returned his attention to the hole in the ground. “We’re going to need a shovel to get to it.”
Dropping to the ground beside Roux, Annja peered into the space. It was almost big enough for her to crawl into, and it definitely led to a larger area.
Farther back, four sets of eyes gleamed a demonic red. Annja hoped they weren’t a sign of things to come.
36
Covered in a slick coating of mud because the ground was still wet from recent rains, muscles burning because she’d done most of the work with the shovel, Annja went forward through the tunnel on knees and elbows. She had a miner’s lamp strapped around her head that lit the way. Carefully, she continued to crawl, dragging her backpack at her side.
The tunnel stank of age and earth, but it was relatively dry because the opening angled up from where it emerged under the fallen stones. As Annja crept along, she tried not to think that it might all shift and fall on her, either crushing her instantly or trapping her inside the empty space.
The farther she crawled, though, the more excited she became. She’d found other bits of tapestry, which gave her more hope that she was headed toward something. Judging from what she could make out of the tapestry portions, they weren’t all from the same piece. All of the fragments had gone into her backpack for later examination.
Given the angle of the tunnel, she guessed that she was crawling into the hill and would end up underneath where the castle had once stood. Her breath puffed out and pushed up little dust clouds. Perspiration soaked her blouse.
