The Hunters

52

The group remounted and rode up a breathtaking hill. They went through an awe-inspiring forest to a small village that even the most expert explorer might have missed. It wasn’t exactly camouflaged, but the way the structures were set among the boulders and even the barren trees, it would have been mistaken for terrain unless you were right upon it.

Jasmine marveled at the Russian-helmet-shaped thatched huts carefully positioned around a community well and circular stone fireplace. The entire village seemed to be grown within a natural coliseum of protective trees. It was clearly unchanged since the time it was built.

At first, the riders and the triumphant villagers went to their own huts to tether, feed, water, wash, and brush their horses. Then they all began to congregate around the central fireplace — each bringing pots, knives, sacks, and other implements. Together they began to make a communal meal.

Jasmine sidled up to Borovsky. ‘How long have they lived like this?’

‘About a hundred years,’ he said.

Cobb approached. Jasmine told him what the colonel had said.

‘I’m guessing it’s exactly ninety-five years,’ he said.

The colonel nodded in agreement after Jasmine translated.

‘Did you know about the Black Robes?’ Cobb asked.

‘Of their existence? Of course,’ Borovsky said. ‘Of their presence here today? No.’

McNutt nodded and glanced at Cobb. ‘What do we do about the guys we left on the train? They’re gonna come looking for us.’

‘I know,’ Cobb said solemnly. He ended that statement with a meaningful look at Garcia, who had just finished unloading his equipment. Garcia took that as his cue to start setting up a communications link using the gear from his shoulder bag. He sat on the ground near an open space in the trees and set the laptop on a tree stump.

‘Why are you here, Colonel?’ Cobb asked the old cop.

The Russian pressed his lips together hard. His eyes teared up as they took in the village and its people. ‘Sergeant — would you mind?’ he asked Anna.

‘Not at all,’ Anna answered through Jasmine. On their long journey here Borovsky had explained everything to her. ‘You want to know what is here and how it arrived.’

Cobb nodded once.

‘The colonel’s great-grandfather, Dimitry Borovsky, was Prince Felix Yusupov’s most loyal aide. His Excellency entrusted Dimitry to keep the Romanian treasure safe from mercenaries, tomb raiders, corrupt politicians, and treasure hunters until the time is right for the Romanovs’ return.’

‘The Russians hiding the Romanian treasure in Romania,’ McNutt mused. ‘Neat trick.’

‘Speaking of which,’ said Sarah, ‘that was a neat trick you pulled on the back of that horse. You a rider, too?’

‘Rodeo clown,’ McNutt said. ‘And my sister always said it was a useless hobby.’

Cobb half listened while he thought about Anna’s last words. ‘When will you know the time is right?’ He addressed his question to Borovsky.

The colonel considered the question carefully, then finally shrugged philosophically. ‘Who knows?’ He quoted another Russian proverb. ‘“The future belongs to the one who knows how to wait.”’ He motioned for his guests to relax. ‘We can talk about that later. For now, sit, eat, rest. I daresay we all need it.’

He wandered away, Anna at his side, as the area filled with delicious smells. But before he got too far for Jasmine to translate, Garcia turned to him.

‘Colonel, I’m having a little trouble getting a signal. Where precisely are we?’

‘The village of the honor guard,’ he replied.

‘Yes, but that’s not on any of my maps,’ Garcia said.

As Jasmine continued to translate, Anna frowned, worried about revealing their location. But Borovsky just tilted his head.

‘We are on the Transylvanian Plateau,’ he told them. With that, he playfully bared his teeth, curled his fingers into hooked claws, and hissed loudly like a vampire.

‘See, I told you!’ McNutt said. ‘Even he knows Dracula is out there somewhere.’

Borovsky smiled, his spirits buoyed by the levity, if only for a moment.

Cobb did not have to worry about the Black Robes. At least, not yet. Scouts had been sent into the field to watch for them. For the time being, he knew the wisest thing to do was to sit, eat, and collect his thoughts.

The meal was delicious. They started with sarmale, but instead of the usual mincemeat, the vine leaves were filled with minced apricots, plums, and cherries. The appetizer was followed by a hearty vegetable soup, which they sopped up with mamaliga, better known as ‘the bread of the peasants’. The main course was broiled fish in garlic sauce.

‘All from our own gardens, streams, lakes, and ovens,’ Decebal said proudly.

Cobb only left the circle of villagers when Garcia had finally established the connection to Papineau. After Cobb brought him up to speed, he waited silently.

The usually loquacious Frenchman was speechless.

‘Damn,’ Papineau finally said.

‘That doesn’t tell me anything,’ Cobb complained.

‘Hear me out,’ Papineau said. ‘The Black Robes are a group of zealots who worship Rasputin. They follow his example of sinning, then repenting. Through that, the mad monk gained great political power, just as these men have in their own time. They approached me when we arrived—’

‘How did they know who we were?’ Cobb asked.

‘I’m not sure,’ Papineau lied, covering for the colleague he had given the Brighton Beach letter to. ‘They have eyes and ears everywhere. They offered to help set up this operation using their influence in key portions of the Transportation and Migration Ministries.’

‘Because?’

‘I don’t know,’ he lied again.

‘And you just accepted that?’ Cobb asked incredulously. ‘It never occurred to you that some sort of quid pro quo might be involved? No, don’t answer that. I already know. Of course you did. You just didn’t think it was necessary to tell us. You figured we’d muck through somehow, and if we didn’t there was always some other sucker-team you could bribe with five million bucks.’

‘Jack,’ the Frenchman said. ‘I know I’ve lost your trust—’

Cobb made a scoffing sound. ‘You never had that. The best you can hope for is trying to regain some sliver of credibility at this point. Let’s just leave it at that, okay? We’ll find your treasure because we accepted the contract, and you figure out some reason, any reason, why I shouldn’t take your head as a souvenir when we’ve delivered it.’

Papineau started to respond, but Cobb made the throat-slashing motion at Garcia. Once Garcia broke the connection, Cobb looked at him steadily.

‘What do you think the Black Robes want?’ Garcia asked anxiously. ‘Some sort of revenge on Prince Felix?’

‘It’s possible,’ Cobb agreed. ‘And I think Borovsky might know the answer.’ He dipped his forehead at the laptop. ‘So the more immediate question is about Papineau. I asked you to find out about him. What’ve you got?’

The techie looked honestly at his superior. ‘As far as I can tell,’ Garcia confessed, ‘Papineau is who he says he is.’

‘I’m aggressively uninterested in what he says, Garcia,’ Cobb replied. ‘I’m interested in what he’s not saying. After you’ve eaten, dig more.’

Cobb turned around and nearly walked into McNutt.

‘Hey,’ the gunman said. ‘You okay?’

‘Yeah, McNutt, thanks.’ Cobb thought that would be it, but McNutt just remained standing there. ‘You?’ Cobb finally asked him.

‘Yeah. Listen, I just wanted to… you know… back in the armory?’ McNutt looked down for a moment. ‘Thanks, okay? Just… thanks.’

‘Not a problem,’ Cobb assured him. ‘Maybe someday you’ll return the favor.’

‘I hope so,’ McNutt said.

‘You hope so?‘ Cobb teased. ‘What do you mean by that?’

McNutt quickly realized his mistake. The only way he could save Cobb’s life was if Cobb was in grave danger to begin with. That wasn’t the type of thing he should be wishing on his team leader. ‘Wait! That came out wrong! I mean, um—’

Cobb laughed. ‘Don’t worry. I know what you meant.’

McNutt breathed a sigh of relief.

Cobb continued. ‘But just so you know, that’s why soldiers don’t try to put those things into words. A simple thanks is good enough.’

‘How about thanks and a drink?’

‘Even better.’

They both returned to the circular campfire and the villagers for some homemade cheese and that long-awaited tuica. When they were finished, Cobb, McNutt, and Sarah stretched out to look at the setting sun. They knew it was the calm before the storm.

‘Okay,’ Sarah said briskly. ‘What now, Jack?’

Before he could answer, Borovsky appeared, accompanied by Jasmine. The two had been talking with Anna and Dobrev throughout the meal.

‘I have thought about this moment for many years,’ the Russian said through their interpreter. ‘All my life, in fact. And the lives of my father, grandfather, and great-grandfather as well. And now that the time has come, I only can think of one proverb to say: “When you meet a man, you judge him by his clothes. When you leave, you judge him by his heart.”’

One by one, Borovsky looked at the people he had come to respect. When he reached Cobb, he spoke in slow, heavily accented English. ‘Would you come with me, please? There is something I would like to show you.’