He readied himself.
Someone emerged from the doorway.
With one hand he slammed the body into the wall, jamming the gun, his finger on the trigger, into the man's jaw. Fierce blue eyes stared back at him, the face younger, handsome, without fear.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Ely Lund.”
NINETY-TWO
ZOVASTINA WAS PLEASED. SHE CONTROLLED LYNDSEY, ALL OF VINCENTI'S
data, Alexander's tomb, the draught, and now Thorvaldsen, Cassiopeia Vitt, and Stephanie Nelle. She lacked only Cotton Malone and Ely Lund, neither one of which were of any real importance to her.
They were outside, heading for the chopper, two of her remaining soldiers parading the prisoners at gunpoint. Viktor had taken the other two militia and retrieved Vincenti's computers and two of the robots they'd not used inside the house.
She needed to return to Samarkand and personally supervise the covert military offensive that would soon begin. Her tasks here had ended with total success. She'd long hoped that if Alexander's tomb were ever found it would lie within her jurisdiction, and thanks be to the gods that it did.
Viktor approached, carrying the computer mainframes.
“Load them onto the chopper,” she said.
She watched as he deposited them into the rear compartment along with the two robots, both marvels of Asian engineering, developed by her engineers. The programmable bombs worked with near perfection, delivering Greek fire with an expert precision, then detonating on command. Expensive, too, so she was careful with her inventory and glad these two could be salvaged for reuse elsewhere.
She handed Viktor the controller for the machines still inside. “Take care of the house as soon as I'm away.” The upper floors were all ablaze, only a matter of a few minutes before the whole house became an inferno. “And kill them all.”
He nodded his consent.
“But before I go, I have a debt to repay.”
She gave Viktor her gun, stepped toward Cassiopeia Vitt, and said, “You made me an offer up at the pools. About giving me a chance to be even with you.”
“I'd love it.”
She smiled. “I thought you might.”
“WHERE ARE THE OTHERS?” MALONE ASKED ELY, AS HE LOWERED the rifle.
“Zovastina has them.”
“What are you doing?”
“I slipped away.” Ely hesitated. “There's something I have to do.”
He waited for an explanation, which had better be good.
“The cure for AIDS is in this house. I have to get it.”
Not bad. He understood the urgency of that quest. For both Ely and Cassiopeia. To his left, one of the spewing dragons passed by at the intersection of two corridors. He was pushing it, hanging around inside the house. But he needed to know, “Where did the others go?”
“I don't know. They were in the dining hall. Zovastina and her men had them. I managed to get inside the wall before they could follow.”
“Where's the cure?”
“In a lab below the house. There's an entrance in the library, where we were first held.”
The excitement in his voice could not be disguised. Foolishness, surely. But what the hell? That seemed to be the story of his life.
“Lead the way.”
CASSIOPEIA CIRCLED ZOVASTINA. STEPHANIE, HENRIK, AND LYNDSEY stood, at gunpoint, to one side. The Supreme Minister apparently wanted a show, a display of prowess before her men. Fine. She'd give her a fight.
Zovastina struck first, wrapping her arms around Cassiopeia's neck and hinging her spine forward. The woman was strong. More than she'd anticipated. Zovastina deftly dropped and tossed Cassiopeia over her, through the air.
She hit hard.
Brushing off the pain, she sprang to her feet and planted her right foot into Zovastina's chest, which staggered the other woman. She used the moment to shake the pain from her limbs, then lunged.
Her shoulder connected with rock-hard thighs and together the two women found the ground.
MALONE ENTERED THE LIBRARY. THEY'D SEEN NO SOLDIERS ON their careful trek across the ground floor. Smoke and heat were rising. Ely darted straight for a corpse that lay on the floor.
“Zovastina shot him. Vincenti's man,” Ely said, as he found a silver controller. “She used this to open the panel.”
Ely pointed and pushed one of the buttons.
A Chinese wall cabinet rotated one hundred eighty degrees.
“Place is like an amusement park,” Malone said, and he followed Ely into the darkened passage. ZOVASTINA'S ANGER BOILED. SHE WAS ACCUSTOMED TO WINNING. In buzkashi. In politics. In life. She'd challenged Vitt because she wanted this woman to know who was better. She also wanted her men to see that their leader was not afraid of anyone. True, there were only a few present, but tales of a few had long been the foundations of legends. This entire site was now hers. Vincenti's house would be razed and a proper memorial erected in honor of the conqueror who chose this spot as his final resting place. He may have been Greek by birth, but he was Asian at heart, and that was what mattered. She pivoted her legs and again threw Vitt off her, but maintained a savage grip on one arm, which she used to yank the woman upward.
Her knee met Vitt's chin. A blow she knew would send shock waves through the brain. She'd felt that agony herself. She slammed a fist hard into Vitt's face. How many times had she attacked another chopenoz on the playing field? How long had she held a weighty boz? Her strong arms and hands were accustomed to pain.
Vitt teetered on her knees, dazed.
How dare this nothing think her an equal? Vitt was through. That much seemed clear. No fight left in her. So Zovastina gently nestled the butt of her heel against Vitt's forehead and, with one thrust, rudely shoved her opponent to the ground.
Vitt did not move.
Zovastina, as much out of breath as anger, steadied herself, and swiped the dirt from her face. She turned, satisfied with the fight. No wit, humor, or sympathy seeped from her eyes. Viktor nodded his approval. Looks of admiration filled her soldiers' faces. It was good to be a fighter.
MALONE ENTERED THE SUBTERRANEAN LABORATORY. THEY WERE at least
thirty feet underground, surrounded by bedrock with a burning house above them. The air reeked of Greek fire and he'd felt a familiar stickiness on the steps leading down. Apparently, biological research was being conducted here, as several gloved containers and a refrigerator labeled with a bright biohazard warning filled the lab. He and Ely hesitated in the doorway, both of them reluctant to venture farther. His reluctance was fueled by packs of clear liquid that lay scattered on the tables. He'd seen those before. In the Greco-Roman museum that first night.
Two bodies lay on the floor. One an emaciated woman in a bathrobe, the other an enormous man in dark clothes. Both had been shot.
“According to Lyndsey,” Ely said, “Vincenti was holding the flash drive when Zovastina killed him.”
They needed to finish this. So he stepped carefully around the tables and stared down at the dead man. Three hundred pounds, at least. The body lay on one side, an arm outstretched, as if he'd tried to rise. Four bullet holes in the chest. One hand lay open, near a table leg, the other fist closed. He used the rifle barrel to pry open the fingers.
“That's it,” Ely said with anticipation, as he knelt and removed the flash drive. The younger man reminded Malone of Cai Thorvaldsen, though he'd only seen that face once, in Mexico City, when his life first intersected with Henrik Thorvaldsen's. The two younger men would be about the same age. Easy to see why Thorvaldsen had been drawn to Ely.
“This place is primed to burn,” he said.
Ely stood. “I made a bad mistake trusting Zovastina. But she was so enthusiastic. She seemed to really appreciate the past.”
“She does. For what she can learn from it.”
Ely motioned to his clothes. “I have that stuff all over me.”
“Been there. Done that.”
“Zovastina's a lunatic. A m
urderer.”
He agreed. “Since we have what we came for, how about you and I not become one of her victims?” He paused. “Besides, Cassiopeia will have my ass if anything happens to you.”
NINETY-THREE
ZOVASTINA BOARDED THE CHOPPER. LYNDSEY WAS ALREADY strapped into the compartment, handcuffed to the bulkhead.
“Minister, I won't be a problem. I swear. I'll do whatever you need. I assure you. It's not necessary to confine me. Please, Minister–”
“If you don't shut up,” she calmly said. “I'll have you shot right now.”
The scientist seemed to sense that silence would be better and hushed.
“Don't open your mouth again.”
She inspected the spacious compartment, which usually accommodated a dozen armed men. Vincenti's computers and the two spare robots were lashed tight. Cassiopeia Vitt lay still on the ground and the prisoners were being guarded by the four soldiers. Viktor stood outside the compartment.
“You've done well,” she said to him. “Once I'm gone, detonate the house and kill all of these people. I'm trusting you to keep this location secure. I'll dispatch additional men when I return to Samarkand. This is now a Federation site.”
She stared toward the mansion, its top floors fully ablaze. Soon, it would be nothing but rubble. She already envisioned the Asian palace she'd construct here. Whether Alexander's tomb would be revealed to the world remained to be seen. She needed to consider all the possibilities, and since she alone controlled its location, that decision would be hers. She faced Viktor, stared hard into his eyes, and said, “Thank you, my friend.” She saw the momentary shock on his face as her words of appreciation registered. “No, I don't ever say it. I expect you to do your job. But, here, you did exceptionally well.”
She took one last look at Cassiopeia Vitt, Stephanie Nelle, and Henrik Thorvaldsen. Problems that would soon be a thing of the past. Cotton Malone and Ely Lund were still in the house. If not already dead, they would be in a few minutes.
“I'll see you at the palace,” she said to Viktor, as the compartment door slid shut. VIKTOR LISTENED AS THE TURBINE FIRED AND THE CHOPPER blades twirled. The
engine revved to full power. Dust swirled from the dry earth and the helicopter rose into the late-afternoon sky.
He quickly moved toward his men and ordered two of them to head for the estate's main gate and control ingress. He told the final two to keep watch over Nelle and Thorvaldsen. He stepped over to Cassiopeia. Vitt's face was bruised, her nose bloodied. Sweat streamed down leaving furrows of grime.
Her eyes flashed opened and she clamped hard onto his arm.
“Come to finish?” she asked.
His left hand held a pistol, his right hand the controller for the turtles. He calmly laid the signaling device on the ground beside her. “That's exactly what I came to do.”
The helicopter with Zovastina leveled off overhead and headed east, back toward the house and the valley beyond.
“While you fought her,” he told Vitt, “I activated the turtles inside the chopper. They're now programmed to detonate when the ones inside the house are told to explode.” He motioned.
“That controller will make that happen.”
She scooped it from the ground.
But he quickly brought his gun to her head. “Careful.”
CASSIOPEIA GLARED AT VIKTOR, HER FINGER ON THE CONTROLLER button. Could she push it before he shot her? Perhaps he was wondering the same thing?
“You need to choose,” he said. “Your Ely and Malone may still be in the house. Killing Zovastina could also kill them.”
She had to trust that Malone had the situation in hand. But she also realized something else.
“How could anyone possibly know when to trust you? You've played every side.”
“My job was to end this. That's what we're about to do.”
“Killing Zovastina might not be the answer.”
“It's the only answer. She won't stop otherwise.”
She considered his statement. He was right.
“I was going to do it myself,” he said. “But I thought you'd like the honor.”
“The gun in my face for show?” she quietly asked.
“The guards can't see your hand.”
“How do I know, when I do this, you won't shoot me in the face.”
He answered her honestly. “You don't.”
The chopper was beyond the house, out over the grassy meadow, maybe a thousand feet high.
“If you wait any longer,” he said. “The signal will not reach.”
She shrugged. “Never thought I'd make old age anyway.”
And she pressed the button.
STEPHANIE WATCHED FROM THIRTY FEET AWAY AS VIKTOR AIMED his gun at Cassiopeia. She'd seen him lay something on the ground, but Cassiopeia faced away and it was impossible to know what was happening.
The helicopter became a flying fireball.
No explosion. Just brilliant light erupting from all sides, like a supernova, its volatile fuel quickly joining the mélange in a destruction that thundered across the valley. Flaming chunks of debris propelled outward, then rained down in a fiery cascade. At the same instant, windows on the mansion's ground floor shattered outward, the frames filled with a raging blaze. Cassiopeia rose, with Viktor's aid.
“Seems he is a help,” Thorvaldsen said, noticing, too.
Viktor pointed at the two guards and barked out orders in what she thought was Russian. The men dashed away.
Cassiopeia fled toward the house.
They followed.
MALONE TOPPED THE STAIRS BEHIND ELY AND REENTERED THE library. Thumps echoed from somewhere inside the house and he immediately noticed a change in temperature.
“Those things have been activated.”
Outside the library door fire sprang to life. More thumps. Closer. Plenty of heat. Building. He bolted to the door and glanced both ways. The corridor at each end was impassable, flames were consuming the floor and headed his way. He recalled what Ely had said. I have that stuff all over me. He turned and studied the towering windows. Maybe ten feet by eight feet. Beyond, in the valley, he noticed something burning in the distance. There would only be a few more seconds before the fire arrived.
“Give me a hand.”
He saw Ely stuff the flash drive into his pocket and grab one end of a small settee. Malone grasped the other. Together they tossed it through the windows. Glass shattered as the sofa propelled outward, clearing a path, but too many shards remained for them to leap through.
“Use the chairs,” he yelled.
Fire wrapped itself inside the doorway and started its assault of the library walls. Books and shelves erupted. Malone gripped a chair and rammed it through what remained of the window. Ely used another chair to scrape away jagged remnants.
The floor started to burn.
Everything basted with Greek fire quickly identified itself.
No more time.
They both leaped through the window.
CASSIOPEIA HEARD GLASS BREAK AS SHE, VIKTOR, THORVALDSEN, and
Stephanie ran closer to the destruction. She saw a settee fly out and crash to the ground. She'd taken a chance killing Zovastina, with Malone and Ely still inside, but, like Malone would say, Whether right or wrong, just do something.
Another chair flew out the window.
Then Malone and Ely leaped out as the room behind them filled with waves of bright orange. Malone's exit was not as graceful as it had been in Copenhagen. His right shoulder slammed to the grass and he tumbled. Ely, too, hit hard, rolled a few times, his arms shielding his head. Cassiopeia ran to them. Ely stared up at her. She smiled and said, “You having fun?”
“About like you? What happened to your face?”
“Got the crap beat out of me. But I had the last laugh.”
She helped him to his feet and they hugged.
“You stink,” she noted.
“Greek fire. The latest fragrance.”
“Wha
t about me?” Malone grunted, as he stood and brushed himself off. “No 'how are you?'
Good to see that you're not a crispy critter?”
She shook her head and hugged him, too.
“How many buses ran you over?” Malone asked, noticing her face.
“Just one.”
“You two know each other?” Ely asked.
“We're acquainted.”
She saw Malone's face sour as he spotted Viktor. “What's he doing here?”
“Believe it or not,” she said, “he's on our side. I think.”
Stephanie pointed to fires in the distance and men running toward them. “Zovastina's dead.”
“Terrible thing,” Viktor said. “Tragic helicopter crash. Witnessed by four of her militia. She'll be given a glorious funeral.”
“And Daniels will have to make sure that the next Supreme Minister of the Central Asian Federation is more friendly,” Stephanie said.
Cassiopeia spotted dots in the western sky growing larger. “We've got company.”
They watched as the aircraft drew closer.
“They're ours,” Malone said. “Apache AH64s and a Blackhawk.”
The American gunships swooped in. One of the Apache's compartment doors swung open and Malone spotted a familiar face.
Edwin Davis.
“Troops from Afghanistan,” Viktor said. “Davis told me they'd be nearby, monitoring things, ready when needed.”
“You know,” Stephanie said to them. “Killing Zovastina that way may not have been smart.”
Cassiopeia sensed the resignation in her friend's tone. “What is it?”
Thorvaldsen stepped forward. “Vincenti's computers and Lyndsey were on that chopper. You don't know this, but Vincenti found the cure for AIDS. He and Lyndsey developed it, and all of the data was on those computers. There was a flash drive, which Vincenti had when he died. But, unfortunately”–the Dane motioned to the burning house–“that's surely gone.”
Cassiopeia saw a wicked look form on Malone's dirty face. She also noticed Ely smiling. Both men looked exhausted, but their feeling of triumph seemed infectious. Ely reached into his pocket and held out his open palm.