Hard as Nails

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Both flashlights dropped and rolled in the shallow water, both ended up with their beams shining opposite directions. The dank air smelled of cordite. Two of the bodies lay still, polished shoes pointing upward. The third body did not move but a strange, terrible whistling came from it.

Kurtz did not move.

The man came silently out of the darkness. He was a tall man, very thin, dressed in a wool suit and a tan raincoat that looked too short and slightly dated. He wore a small Bavarian-style hat with a small red feather in its band. The man had a narrow, strangely kind-looking face, framed by thick, black-rimmed glasses, and had a thin ginger mustache and a slightly prominent lower lip. His eyes looked sad but very alert. He was carrying an unsilenced Llama semiautomatic pistol.

He walked to the first bodyguard, Theodore, stared down at him a few seconds, and then checked the second one, Edward. Both were dead. The man picked up one of the flashlights.

"Three," Kurtz said shakily, mostly to see if he could still speak. "I'll be paying this off in installments for twenty years."

"Not three," said the Dane, turning the flashlight and pistol in Kurtz's direction. "Four."

Kurtz's head jerked up. He braced his feet. "All right," he said. "Four."

The Dane shook his head. "Oh, no, my no. I don't mean you, Mr. Kurtz. I'm speaking of the man Kennedy left at the first door."

Kurtz felt a sensation that would be hard to describe to someone who hadn't experienced it. Mostly it had to do with the bowels.

The Dane knelt by the first bodyguard, retrieved a small key from the man's coat pocket, and unlocked Kurtz's handcuffs. Kurtz let them drop in the water.

"I didn't hear anything behind us," said Kurtz, rubbing his wrists. "I was beginning to worry a little."

"It is best not to be heard," the Dane said in his very slight Northern European accent. He took some keys from Brian Kennedy's trouser pocket. The fallen man stirred very slightly.

Kurtz went to one knee next to Kennedy. The man's carefully blow-dried hair was tousled and soaked. His eyes were open and his mouth was moving. It was the two bullet wounds in his chest that were causing the whistling noise. The two bodyguards had been shot in the heart, but the Dane had placed one bullet in each of Kennedy's lungs.

"That's called a sucking chest wound," Kurtz said softly. "Old sport."

Kurtz pulled the glowing Palm device from Kennedy's pocket and held it up. "Do we need this to find our way back?" he asked the Dane.

The man in the short raincoat shook his head.

Kurtz set the PDA on Kennedy's bloody chest. No air seemed to be coming from the handsome man's straining mouth, just from the two ragged holes in his chest. "Here you go," said Kurtz. "In case you're considering crawling, use this as your guide on the way back. But try to crawl fast—rats, don't you know."

Kurtz grabbed the second flashlight and he and the Dane began walking back through the catacombs.

"I didn't know if you'd get my message," said Kurtz when they'd taken the first turn and left the bodies behind.

The Dane made a motion with his shoulders. He'd tucked the pistol away under his raincoat. "My other work was done. I had the day off."

"Will I hear about your… other work?"

"Quite possibly," said the Dane. "At any rate, today's work will cost you and Countess Ferrara nothing. It is… what is the legal phrase… pro bono."

"Countess Ferrara?" said Kurtz. They moved into the taller tunnel with the Dane a step ahead.

"You didn't know that the lovely, former Angelina Farino is married to one of the most famous thieves in Europe and a member of royalty?" said the Dane. "I accepted her request in order to honor the Count. He is not a man one wishes to insult."

"I thought the old Count was dead," said Kurtz.

The Dane smiled his wry smile. "Many people have thought that over the decades. I always work on the premise that it is safer to assume otherwise."

"So she's not a widow?" murmured Kurtz. "Well, dress me up and call me Sally."

They arrived at the last junction and the Dane paused a minute to catch his breath. Kurtz guessed that the man was in his late fifties or early sixties. "You interest me, Mr. Kurtz."

"Oh?"

"This is twice our paths have crossed. That is an unusual circumstance for me."

Kurtz had nothing to say to that.

"Are you old enough to remember the old American television commercials for Timex watches, Mr. Kurtz? Done by the newscaster John Cameron Swayze, if I remember correctly."

"No," said Kurtz.

"Pity," said the Dane. "You remind me sometimes of the product Mr. Swayze was advertising—'Takes a licking but keeps on ticking. Catchy phrase." He led the way up steps and down the left tunnel. In a few minutes they came out in the first basement area. The bodyguard who'd been left outside the door upstairs was sitting on the damp floor against the far wall, his legs extended and his stare riveted on the dark tunnel opening. There was a bullet hole in the center of his forehead.

"I know now why you're called the Dane," said Kurtz.

"Oh?" The thin man paused again. He looked vaguely amused.

"I used to think it was because you were from Denmark, but I don't think that's right," said Kurtz. "Now I think it's because every time you're around, it looks like the last act of Hamlet."

"Very droll," said the Dane. "Tell me, what is Dr. No's mistake? I saw the film many years ago, but I do not really recall it."

"Dr. No's mistake?" said Kurtz. "In all the Bond films—in all those stupid movies—the bad guy gets Bond or whoever in his clutches and then just keeps talking at him. Yadda, yadda, yadda."

"As opposed to…" said the Dane with his small smile.

"As opposed to putting two in his head and getting it over with," said Kurtz. He led the way up the final stairs.

The Dane used the keys to lock both padlocks. Up in the basilica proper, the Dane stopped to look at the central nave under the huge dome. Only a few old women were in the huge space, kneeling and praying, one lighting a votive candle to the right of the altar. Someone was still practicing the organ. The air smelled of incense.

The Dane handed Kurtz Kennedy's keys, including the keys to the Laforza SUV. "Be careful of fingerprints… no, I do not have to tell you that."

"Can I drop you somewhere?" said Kurtz.

The Dane shook his head. He'd removed his natty hat and Kurtz noticed that his blond hair was very thin on top. "I believe I'll step in here and pray for a minute or two."

Kurtz nodded and watched him step away, but then called softly, "Wait, please."

"Yes?"

"Do you ever take assignments in the Mideast? Say, Iran?"

The Dane smiled. "I've not been to Iran since the Shah's downfall. It would be interesting to see how it has changed. You can reach me through the Countess if you need to. Good luck, Mr. Kurtz."

Kurtz waited until the Dane had found a pew, genuflected, and knelt to pray. Then Kurtz went outside into the surprisingly bright morning light.