‘That’s suicide,’ the man next to Roman said dully.
I watched Gabriel and his father with a frown. The Council member was right. What the Dvorskys were proposing was madness. I caught the glint in Gabriel’s eyes and relaxed slightly.
‘No, Grigoriye. Suicide would be going in without a plan,’ said Gabriel.
He gestured to Bruno. The bodyguard stepped up to the table and spread a map across the surface. A series of high-definition satellite and surveillance photos were pinned to it.
‘Roman and I will go in through the main gates of the compound with an appropriate-sized escort,’ the Schwatz noble continued, pointing at a section of the map and a corresponding picture. ‘We’ll have a team of Hunters waiting here, here, and here,’ he indicated three spots on the periphery, ‘in case there’s any trouble.’
He straightened and looked around the table.
‘The aim is simple, gentlemen. We want to surprise and confuse the Crovirs. They will not be expecting this.’ He observed the various expressions of incredulity washing across the faces of the other Council members with a small smile.
‘Roman and I will pretend to be passing through Prague on our way to Budapest,’ he added, unperturbed. ‘Santana will not dare do something to us in the open, not in front of the entire Crovir Council. And you forget—we have allies among the Crovirs. Not everyone in their ranks wishes to see another immortal war.’
‘And what exactly are you hoping to achieve with this harebrained move?’ said Costas after a while, his face bearing a look that managed to combine disbelief with disgust.
‘Well, I doubt Santana will just come out and tell us the details of her plans,’ drawled Gabriel. ‘No. We’re just the decoy.’
Grigoriye frowned. ‘The decoy?’ he repeated, his puzzled countenance mirroring the others around the table.
‘Yes,’ said Gabriel. ‘While we distract Santana and the Council, another team will infiltrate the mansion to collect information about what the Crovirs are plotting. Benisek is Amos Thorne’s chief intelligence officer. I’m certain there’ll be a lot of data in that place.’ He tapped a finger on the blown-up photograph of the manor. ‘This team needs to be small—three, four men at the most. They will have to be in and out of there before we leave the estate.’
He scrutinized the faces in the room. I was hardly surprised when his gaze found mine.
‘I propose Adam, Ashely, Bruno, and Anatole,’ said Gabriel. ‘They worked well together in Vienna.’
A grin lit up Anatole’s face. ‘Now we’re talking!’
Sheila scowled. ‘That sounds too risky.’
‘On the contrary,’ said Gabriel, his eyes never leaving my face. ‘If anyone can overcome the Crovir Hunters, it’s Carpenter. So, what do you say?’
I watched the immortal for several seconds.
The plan was bold and utterly foolish; the chances of us making it out of the Crovir compound unscathed were slim at best. Still, I could not shake the feeling that our time was running out. We had to get some answers fast.
‘I’m in.’
Gabriel’s gaze shifted to my side. ‘Reynolds?’
Ashely looked at me questioningly. I shrugged, indicating that the choice was his to make.
He stepped away from the wall and crushed the cigarette butt in an ashtray on the table. ‘Ninety-nine-point-nine percent chance of getting captured or killed. Zero-point-one percent chance of success,’ said the former US Marine. ‘What’s not to like?’
Gabriel nodded with a satisfied expression. ‘It’s settled then. We leave at dusk.’
The Schwatz Council broke up and vacated the room in a low rumble of murmurs. I rose and stopped by Sheila’s chair.
‘Do you have some time to spare?’ I said in a low voice.
An idea had been taking shape in my mind for the last two days. The time to see it through was now or never.
‘Yes. By the sounds of it, I’m about to have plenty of that precious commodity on my hands soon enough,’ she said, rolling her eyes.
‘Good. Come with me.’
Sheila looked puzzled but followed me nonetheless. I led her out through the back door and headed for the woods at the rear of the mansion. Her eyes widened when we came to a shooting range.
‘What are we doing here?’ she said guardedly.
I removed the Glock from the holster on my hip and checked the magazine. ‘You need to learn how to use a gun.’
I knew from talking to Tomas Godard that Sheila had never handled a firearm in her life. Sullen silence followed my words. I looked up into a stormy green gaze.
‘Why?’ Sheila said stiffly.
I watched her carefully while I tried to figure out the quickest way to convince her that this was a necessity. ‘If you can defend yourself, less people will have to die protecting you.’
A flush darkened her cheeks. She glared at me and extended her hand commandingly. ‘Give me the gun!’
Some time later, one of her shots finally struck the edge of the target board.
Sheila lowered the Glock and bit her lip. ‘All right, what am I doing wrong?’
I suppressed a smile and walked up behind her. As with everything else she came across, it seemed that once Sheila Godard made her mind up to do something, she was determined to be excellent at it.
‘Here.’ I closed my hands over the back of hers and lifted them gently. ‘Put your fingers high on the back strap.’
‘Like this?’ said Sheila, correcting her grip.
‘Yes,’ I replied, glad my voice did not betray my inner turmoil; the smell of her hair and the touch of her skin were threatening to flood my senses. ‘Bend your knees more. Relax your elbows. Got your sights?’
Sheila nodded.
‘Take a deep breath. Exhale. Now squeeze the trigger.’
The next two shots echoed loudly around the range. The bullets thudded into the scoring rings inches from the center of the board.
‘That was good.’ I stepped back and quietly let out the breath I had been holding.
Sheila checked the magazine like I had taught her.
‘It seems wrong, shooting bullets into people,’ she said after a while, her hands stilling on the gun. She looked at me quizzically. ‘Did you know I was one of the first female surgeons in France?’
I shook my head.
She smiled. ‘Of course, in those days my male colleagues at the University of Paris were not too impressed that a woman had dared invade their exalted ranks.’
‘Why did you leave medicine?’ I said curiously.
‘Because I realized I could make a greater impact on its future if I dedicated my life to research.’ She raised the gun and fired another couple of shots at the target. ‘How’s that?’
She turned and stared at me when I didn’t reply. ‘Adam?’
‘Er, good. That was…better,’ I murmured, trying to still the pounding in my chest.
There was a noise behind us.
Someone cleared their throat in a deliberate attempt to gain our attention. I closed my eyes briefly, already suspecting who it was going to be.
‘Am I interrupting something?’ said Ashely in a suspiciously syrupy voice as he stepped onto the range.
‘No.’ Sheila flushed and glanced from him to me. ‘Adam was just showing me how to use a gun.’
‘Was he now?’ said Ashely.
I avoided his calculating gaze. ‘Ashely’s a great shot,’ I told Sheila. ‘Why don’t you stay and practice with him?’
I turned and headed for the trees.
‘Why? Where’re you going?’ Ashely called out.
I touched the handle of the katana. ‘I haven’t used the swords for a while.’
I could feel his narrowed eyes on my back as I exited the range. I turned east and walked to a deserted clearing half a mile from the manor. I removed the long blade from its scabbard and started to work through the basic steps of kendo.
In the di
stance behind me, the sound of shots carried faintly on the wind.
I had built up a healthy layer of sweat when a voice suddenly came from between the trees.
‘Those are some good moves you’ve got there.’
Chapter Seventeen
I lowered the katana and studied the figure standing in the shadows on the edge of the clearing. ‘Thank you. I had a good teacher.’
‘Yes, I know,’ said Roman Dvorsky. ‘Miyamoto Musashi was an excellent swords master.’
I straightened, my attention now totally focused on the Head of the Order of Schwatz Hunters.
‘I never met the man myself,’ said the older man. He stepped out of the shade.
I tensed when I noticed the two-handed longsword he carried.
‘But I have to admit, I’ve always wanted to spar with someone who knew the art of Niten Ichi-ryu.’ Roman Dvorsky strolled to the opposite end of the glade and turned to face me. ‘Shall we?’
I considered the immortal’s inscrutable face for timeless seconds before slowly drawing the wakizashi from my waist.
‘I will not go easy on you,’ I warned in a low voice.
‘It would be an insult if you did,’ Roman retorted mildly.
Though the clearing stood a good distance from the manor house, the sounds of our clashing blades soon drew an audience. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ashely and Sheila pause in the midst of a group of Schwatz Hunters on the edge of the tree line. Ashely lit a cigarette and inhaled lazily.
Despite the growing crowd, I could feel Sheila’s gaze on me as if it was a dazzling beam of light cutting through inky darkness.
Gabriel appeared and propped himself against the trunk of a maple tree. He watched the fight with a neutral expression.
There was no time to study the other faces gathered around us; the older man’s sword had just missed my left eye by an inch.
Roman Dvorsky fought with a grace and deftness that belied his frail appearance. He countered my moves strike for strike, almost anticipating where my blade would fall next. Time and time again, the tip of his sword came within a whisper of my skin. In the end, I had to draw on all the knowledge and skills taught to me by my Edo master to get one over the leader of the Schwatzs.
‘Touché,’ Roman said in a strained voice. He stood frozen in the middle of the clearing, the edge of my katana over his heart. ‘However, I think you will find my blade is also touching your chest.’
‘Look lower.’
The immortal’s eyes moved to where the wakizashi hovered over his right femoral artery. ‘Well done,’ he said grudgingly.
I stood back and lowered the swords.
The older man relaxed. ‘I’m surprised you lost to Amos Thorne. You’re as skilled as he is.’
‘I’ll be more prepared next time.’
The silence suddenly registered. I looked around.
Some sixty Hunters lined the perimeter of the clearing. Among them were the Schwatz nobles who made up the First Council. Many of the immortals wore frowns. Others looked strangely thoughtful.
Tomas Godard stood slightly to the side, his face full of a nameless emotion. He turned without a word and walked back toward the mansion. Sheila cast an apologetic glance at me before taking off after him. The rest of the Hunters and the Schwatz nobles slowly dispersed.
Gabriel and Ashely walked out from beneath the trees.
‘That was quite a show,’ said Gabriel.
Roman leaned on the longsword. ‘Your old man still has it in him.’
Gabriel chuckled. ‘I never doubted it.’
Roman looked at me curiously. ‘By the way, that’s an interesting design you have on your katana.’
I glanced at the engraving. ‘Miyamoto was fascinated by my birthmark. He had it carved into the blade.’
Roman watched me with an inscrutable expression before nodding.
I looked questioningly at Ashely.
‘I don’t think you need to worry about the lady,’ he drawled. ‘She’s a scarily fast learner.’
Sundown came too fast. As we made our final preparations, I finally cornered Godard on the stairs of the manor house. ‘There’s something I need to ask you.’
‘Yes?’ said Godard.
‘Do you know a man by the name of Mikolo Chapman?’
He frowned. ‘No, I can’t say that I do. Why?’
I told him about Chapman and the circumstances behind his apparent death in Boston ten years previously, as well as his recent appearance in my life.
‘I knew a Johan Chapman once,’ said Godard after a thoughtful pause. ‘He worked for the Order of the Schwatz Hunters during the 1600s. I was still an advisor for the First Council at the time. As I recall, he was one of the immortals who perished at the Second Battle of Khotyn, during the Great Turkish War.’ A sigh left his lips. ‘I’m afraid many of us lost lives during our conflicts with the Ottoman Empire.’
I thought of my own gruesome deaths during the Battle of Vienna. The irony that both my grandfather and I fought on the same side during those tumultuous years and yet were unaware of each other’s presence did not escape me.
‘Were you at Khotyn at the time?’
Godard shook his head. ‘No. Although I helped High Commander Sobieski coordinate the battle, my presence was needed in Lwów. The King of Poland had died only the day before.’
An unexpected wave of relief washed over me at his words. Chapman’s assertion was evidently misguided. ‘Thank you.’
The blue eyes so alike to mine widened slightly. ‘You’re welcome,’ murmured Godard.
We left the manor house when the last of the light was draining out of a red sky.
A group of fifty Hunters were staying back to guard the Godards. As the convoy barreled down the driveway, I caught a glimpse of Sheila at the window of the study.
‘How are you doing?’ said Ashely after a while.
We were in the back of a van, along with Bruno, Anatole, and four other Hunters. The immortals were chatting among themselves.
I finished fitting a suppressor to the Smith and Wesson. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Really?’ Ashely countered. ‘So, you’re telling me that finding out that you have a grandfather and a cousin who are still alive, that you’re probably truly immortal in every sense of the word, and that your long-lost grandmother is trying to kill you, is not freaking you out?’
‘Well, to be honest, the bit about my grandmother kinda sucks.’
A crooked smile dawned on Ashely’s lips. ‘All right,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You know where I am if you wsheila talk.’
I nodded gratefully.
Kazimir Benisek’s manor house was located on eight hundred acres of land north of the village of Drhovy, in the Příbram District twenty-five miles outside Prague. The plot was enclosed by an impressive stone wall topped with barbed wire fencing. Beyond it, a further half-mile of dense woodland lay between the boundaries of the property and the extensive lawn that fronted the mansion. A pair of thick, wrought iron gates with ornate latticework barred the entrance to the grounds. To the left of it, a metal plate read “Private Property: Trespassers will be prosecuted” in Czech. A driveway lined with rows of well-established evergreens bisected the lawn neatly before ending in a graveled forecourt.
We entered the estate from the northwest. Thermal images taken just before we left the safe house had indicated that that section of the property harbored the least number of guards and had almost no surveillance cameras. There was also a cool breeze blowing in from the south that would help mask the sounds of our approach.
The land at the rear of the mansion was taken up by extensive manicured gardens dotted with Roman sculptures, arbors, and stone seats. The gardens stretched down a series of shallow terraces to an orchard and a small, artificial lake rimmed on three sides by trees.
We paused in the gloom beyond the still waters and waited for the signal.
At exactly seven
pm, there was a flurry of activity around the property. Dozens of figures left their posts on the grounds and hurried toward the mansion. Startled voices rose to the dark skies.
The Dvorskys had arrived at the gates.
We used the cover of the shadows and moved silently up the incline. Seconds later, we dropped down by a water fountain set in a circular stone terrace.
Bruno lifted the iron grating behind the water feature and exposed a narrow hole in the ground. We climbed down the metal ladder beneath it and descended into darkness.
There was a faint click. The beam from Bruno’s torch cut through the murk and cast a ghostly glow on damp, moss-covered stone walls.
Anatole grimaced. ‘This place stinks.’
We were in an underground service tunnel that ran all the way beneath the gardens. From the plans of the estate that Gabriel had procured, it led to one of four cellars underneath the mansion.
Bruno nudged something with the edge of his boot. ‘There’s a dead rat.’ He moved the beam around. ‘Make that a lot of dead rats.’
‘Great,’ Anatole muttered. ‘I hate rats.’
We headed south along the passage, occasionally crossing thin bars of pale light streaming through narrow grilles in the roof. A quarter of a mile later, the tunnel ended at a locked, rust-colored metal door.
‘We’re here,’ I said quietly in the microphone pinned to my Kevlar vest.
The earpiece in my ear crackled.
‘You’re good to go,’ said a voice after several seconds.
When the first commercial satellites were launched into space in the nineteen sixties, the Schwatzs and Crovirs privately acquired dozens of the machines and placed them in orbit all over the world. The cluster of Schwatz satellites above Europe was currently tracking the movement of anything with a heat signal within a two-mile radius of Benisek’s property. To make life less complicated for the Schwatz technicians monitoring the area, the Dvorskys, the Schwatz Hunters on the ground, and our team of four all carried a transmitter with a specific thermal reading.
Bruno cut through the lock on the door with a small blowtorch, oiled the hinges, and carefully pushed it open. Cool air washed over us. The darkness beyond hinted at a large space. He crossed the threshold and directed the torch beam in a grid pattern across the shadows.
Chased Down Page 20
