The Excalibur Codex

XXIII

‘They came to the bar last—’

‘It’s done. Hermann; there’s nothing we can do about it now.’

‘Who the fuck were our guardian angels in the upmarket hearses?’ Gault demanded.

Jamie shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’

‘I’m a thousand miles from anybody I trust, I want to know all the angles.’

‘Friends, I think.’

He felt the ex SBS man staring at him in the car mirror. ‘That’s fucking helpful.’

They drove for an hour, following Hermann’s directions along a circuitous route using single roads and farm tracks, past lakes and through forests. Eventually they reached a junction with a sign directing them to Ketrzyn. The road it pointed to had the familiar railway line that ran past the Wolfsschanze to their right side.

‘Thank Christ,’ Gault muttered.

‘What do we do, Jamie?’ Charlotte asked. ‘We can’t give up now.’

‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘Nortstein isn’t quite a dead end. Somebody will know the identity of the partisan leader. There’ll be records. But the chances are he’s long dead, and even if he’s not he’s unlikely to want to chat about the day he butchered his men. It would tarnish the memory of his glorious war record. Still, it might be worth a try. Otherwise, it’s back to the archives. Deep down in some box file in Moscow or Berlin or Washington there may be a piece of paper that lists Five swords of unknown origin. It’s a long shot.’

‘It’s a fucking waste of time, and you know it.’

‘I’m not psychic, Gault. When the Red Army destroyed Nortstein castle and forced the local residents out to Christ knows where, all the evidence went with it. We could have been standing within twenty feet of the bloody thing, but we’d never know.’

Hermann turned in his seat with a look of puzzlement. ‘Red Army not destroy Nortstein Castle.’

‘What?’

‘Nortstein Castle is not destroyed. It is dismantled one stone at a time and taken away in trucks.’

‘Why would anyone …? ’ Jamie’s head reeled at this new and utterly surreal turn. ‘You mean they knocked it down and took the rubble away?’

‘No. Not knocked down. Tadiusz who works in hotel was labourer. They very careful with everything. Window glass. Wood panels. Roof tiles. Everything in back of trucks.’

‘What would the Russians want with a Polish castle?’

‘Not Russians.’ Hermann grinned. ‘Man who told Tadiusz what to do was English, like you.’

‘Our friends are back,’ Gault interrupted.

Jamie looked back to find one of the Mercedes SUVs approaching fast behind them.

‘Do you want me to let them past?’

‘I don’t know,’ he snapped.

‘Well, make up your mind.’

‘Maybe …’

‘Friends my arse.’ Gault threw the big BMW into a screaming turn as another of the black Mercs drove from a forest track to block the road in front of them. Jamie’s head hit the padded roof as the car bounced over the verge to straddle the rail track. ‘Put your bloody belts on.’ The three-litre engine roared as Gault accelerated the bucketing car in an attempt to bypass the roadblock, but the Mercedes easily kept pace with them. ‘I hope to fuck the two o’clock Bialystok express isn’t due.’ Gault’s eyes darted between the tracks ahead, the first Mercedes barrelling along to their left and the second, which had now joined them on the track, was catching up fast.

Charlotte screamed as they hit a crossing point and the car leapt in the air, crashing back to earth a millisecond later. The impact made Jamie wince as a spear of agony lanced through his chest, confirming his ribs weren’t as well healed as he’d thought. He glanced left to see the Mercedes slightly above and a few feet away on the road. What in the name of Christ was going on? He’d been certain the cars belonged to the Israelis, but if Sarah Grant wanted to get in touch she had his phone number. The Russians? The passenger side window of the Mercedes dropped slowly to answer his question. A hard brown face stared at him and motioned with his hand to slow down. In case Jamie hadn’t got the message his other hand appeared showing what looked like a Glock 9mm.

He turned to Gault. ‘I think they want us to stop.’

‘Do tell.’ The SBS man kept his eyes on the track ahead.

‘The chap who suggested it looked like an Asian or an Arab.’

‘Well, fuck you, Abdul.’ Gault put his foot to the floor and the BMW surged ahead, but only for a moment before the Mercedes came level again, overtook and bumped across the verge on to the track ahead, immediately hitting the brakes.

‘Shit.’ The trunk of a tree flashed past Jamie’s window as Gault hauled the wheel to the right and the car rocketed out of the railbed and into the forest, swerving between the trees and bucketing over the uneven ground at breakneck speed.

‘Where in the name of Christ did you learn to drive like this?’ Jamie shouted, when it became clear he wasn’t going to die just yet.

‘Close protection course. Hereford. Nineteen ninety-three. Ouch.’ Gault grimaced as a fallen branch scraped along the car’s metalwork. ‘It was fun, especially when you had a celeb crapping themselves in the back. Are the bastards still with us?’

The bastards were, but they weren’t quite so confident among the trees and the SUVs were falling back. ‘I think we’re losing them.’

‘Great,’ the SBS man said through gritted teeth as a bunker loomed up in front of the car and he spun the wheel to take the BMW past with an inch to spare. The front tyre hit something solid with a horrible whack and suddenly Gault was fighting the wheel much harder.

‘I know where we are,’ Hermann screamed. ‘Go right and you will reach a track.’

‘Will it take us back to the hotel?’ Charlotte asked breathlessly.

‘No, but it will take us away from these people.’

‘That’ll have to do,’ Gault grunted. ‘This fucking thing only wants to go right anyway.’

Two hundred yards ahead, they hit the track and the bucketing motion eased. Everyone relaxed a little, except Gault who kept one eye on the mirror. ‘Where does this lead us?’

‘Out to General Jodl’s bunker,’ Hermann said. ‘From there you will find a way back to the hotel.’

‘They might be waiting for us,’ Jamie pointed out.

‘We have to go somewhere,’ Gault snapped. ‘And better among other people than out here in the sticks where nobody hears you scream. Oh, fuck.’

Gault hit the accelerator and Jamie didn’t have to look to know that the Mercedes was back. ‘Just stay ahead of them. They’re not going to start a war.’ He regretted the words the moment they were out of his mouth. Muzzle flashes rippled in the passenger mirror before he heard the chainsaw rasp of a burst of automatic fire that ripped white chips from the bark of a tree ahead and to their right. ‘Get your heads down,’ he shouted.

The second burst was short or wide, but the third must have hit something because the rear of the BMW swung right and left.

‘The tyres,’ Gault said unnecessarily. ‘Now we’re really fucked.’ He kept the car on the track, but the Mercedes closed up and it was clear the next burst would be through the back window. ‘Hold on tight.’ He spun the wheel left and the car shot between two trees and down a tree-filled gully, bouncing across rocks and fallen branches until it slid to a halt, engine roaring, beside a small stream.

‘Out.’ Jamie ignored the pain from his ribs and ripped open the door. As he emerged, Hermann burst from the front passenger door, his eyes wild with fright. Between them they hauled Charlotte clear and crawled away from the car.

‘Where’s Gault?’ Charlotte hissed.

Jamie glanced desperately round. ‘He must have gone the other way. He’ll have to take his chance.’

He froze at the sound of a branch snapping somewhere not far away.

‘Come out with your hands up.’ The demand was in English, but with a thick accent. ‘You will not be harmed.’

Jamie looked around for any sort of protection from the marksman above, but the gully was a death trap. He sighed wearily and was about to stand up when Hermann placed a hand on his arm.

‘I know a way,’ he whispered.