They knew the children were inside, and they also knew that it was going to be difficult to get in there.
The team leader was the first to reach the old peeling door. It was locked, but he’d expected that. He backed off two steps and covered the entrance with his pistol, while the guy to his left with the cut-down Remington shotgun flipped off his safety and blasted the lock apart. The deafening gunshot was absorbed by the electronic earpieces they all wore. The shattered door crashed inwards.
The team leader went through first. As the entry man, he’d been taught to expect to take a hit, or at least get shot at, as he went in. He’d also been coached that in the heat of the assault, the kidnappers’ fire would be rushed and inaccurate. He trusted his body armour to take the hits while he returned fire and took the shooters down.
But there was nothing. The hallway was empty, showing only just the ragged splinters of door that the shotgun blast had blown across the floor. The team split into pairs, covering each other at every turn through the bare corridors. They moved smoothly, weapons poised.
A door suddenly crashed open to the left. The team leader whipped round to see a man lumber out of the doorway, a stubby shotgun in his hands with the muzzle slung low at his hip. He worked the slide with a sharp snick-snack.
The leader reacted instantly. He brought his Glock 9mm round to bear - relying on instinct and muscle memory more than a conscious aim - and fired twice. The kidnapper fell back, dropping the shotgun and clutching his chest.
The team moved on. At the end of the corridor was another door. The team leader booted it in as the others covered him.
In the corner of the half-lit room was a dingy mattress, and on it were the two children.
The little boy and girl were strapped together, back to back. There were hoods over their heads, the girl’s long blond hair sticking out from under the rough sacking cloth. Their clothes were torn and grimy.
The six men quickly covered the room with their weapons. There was no sign of the rest of the kidnappers. The silence in the place was total, almost eerie. Just the wind in the naked branches outside, and the cawing of a crow in the distance.
The team leader strode up to the children, holstering his weapon.
He was just three steps away from them when he saw it - but by the time his brain had registered the small incendiary device attached to the girl, it was too late.
The flash was blinding and the team instinctively covered their faces.
The children burst alight, the flames curling around them, melting their clothes. Beneath the flaming hoods, their hair burned and shrivelled and the sackcloth dropped away to show the white, staring eyes in the blackening faces.
The room was filled with smoke and the acrid stench of melting plastic as the burning mannequins collapsed onto the mattress.
A door flew open, and a blond-haired man walked into the room. He was tall, just under six feet, dressed in black combat trousers and a black t-shirt with the word INSTRUCTOR in white lettering across his chest.
His name was Ben Hope. He’d been watching the trainee hostage rescue team on a monitor as they’d approached the purpose-built killing house he used for tactical raid exercises.
The team lowered their weapons and instinctively flipped on their safety catches, even though every pistol in the room was loaded with blanks. One of the men stifled a cough.
Behind Ben, another man came into the smoky room carrying a fire extinguisher. He was the simulated kidnapper the team leader had shot earlier. His name was Jeff Dekker, and he’d been a Special Forces soldier before coming to work as Ben’s assistant at the tactical training facility. He walked over to the burning mattress and the two half-melted dummies, aimed the nozzle of the extinguisher and doused the flames with a hissing jet of white foam. He looked up and grinned at Ben.
‘Thanks, Jeff,’ Ben said. He reached into the pocket of his combat trousers and took out a crumpled pack of Gauloises and his battered old Zippo lighter. He flipped the lighter open, thumbed the wheel. Lit a cigarette and clanged the lighter shut as he sucked in a deep draw of smoke.
Then he turned to the team. ‘Now let me show you where you went wrong.’
THE MOZART CONSPIRACY
SCOTT MARIANI
An ancient murder … A clandestine society … A conspiracy that will end in death …
Ben Hope is running for his life.
Enlisted by the beautiful Leigh Llewellyn – the beautiful opera star and Ben’s first love – to investigate her brother’s mysterious death, former SAS operative Ben finds himself caught up in a centuries-old puzzle.
Officially Oliver died in a tragic accident whilst investigating Mozart’s death, but the facts don’t add up. His research reveals that Mozart, a notable freemason, may have been killed by a shadowy splinter group of the cult. The only clues lie in an ancient letter, believed to have been written by the composer himself.
When Leigh and Ben receive video evidence of a ritual sacrifice being performed, they realise that the sect still exists – and will stop at nothing to keep its secrets.
From the dreaming spires of Oxford to Venice’s labyrinthine canals, the majestic architecture of Vienna and Slovenia’s snowy mountains, Ben and Leigh must forget the past and race across Europe to uncover the truth behind
THE MOZART CONSPIRACY …
An electrifying and utterly gripping must read for fans of Dan Brown, Sam Bourne and Ludlum’s Bourne series.
ISBN: 978-1-84756-080-3
Out now.
About the Author
Scott Mariani grew up in St Andrews, Scotland. He studied Modern Languages at Oxford and went on to work as a translator, a professional musician, a pistol shooting instructor and a freelance journalist before becoming a full-time writer. After spending several years in Italy and France, Scott discovered his secluded writer’s haven in the wilds of west Wales, a 1830s country house complete with rambling woodland and a secret passage. When he isn’t writing, Scott enjoys jazz, movies, classic motorcycles and astronomy. His last novel, The Mozart Conspiracy, has sold across the world.
To find out more about Scott Mariani go to www.scottmariani.com
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By The Same Author:
The Alchemist’s Secret
The Mozart Conspiracy
Copyright
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Copyright © Scott Mariani 2009
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be identified as the author of this work
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available from the British Library
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EPub Edition © MARCH 2009 ISBN: 9780007320042
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Scott Mariani, The Doomsday Prophecy
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