The Excalibur Codex

XL

Fiona Maxwell wanted to lead the way, but Jamie refused on the grounds that whoever went first was also likely to stop the first bullet. Instead, he made her draw a rough map of the interior of the ground floor. A corridor led from the private rooms to the main house, through an ante room to the armoury. Beyond the armoury lay the entrance hall, which had doors connecting to the library and Scott’s study. There was also a large dining room off the armoury.

‘Where did you last see Adam Steele?’ Her only reply was a look of puzzlement. ‘The older man you mentioned,’ he explained.

‘He seemed very interested in the armoury and the weapons,’ she whispered. ‘There are hundreds of them: swords and pistols, suits of armour and spears. Sir Walter collected them from all over the world, including some from the field of Waterloo. He has Rob Roy’s claymore, you know.’

‘But not Excalibur?’

Her face went blank. ‘If such a sword exists, Mr Saintclair, it will never leave this house. You have my word on it.’ It was strange to hear the sentence spoken with utter conviction, but her eyes contained an element of doubt, as if she was uncertain whether she was telling the truth.

He considered the diagram. ‘It’s my intention to surprise Mr Steele if I can, but that doesn’t look very likely if we go through the armoury. Is there another way into the main house?’

She thought for a few seconds. ‘The spiral stair!’ She hurried back through the house to the kitchen where Jamie’s victim lay groaning on the tiled floor, still more unconscious than not, but for how long?

‘Can I borrow your scarf?’ He indicated the bright print at Fiona’s neck.

‘It was expensive.’ It was a very female response and he smiled. ‘It’s Louis Vuitton.’

‘If he damages it I’ll buy you another,’ Jamie promised as she reluctantly handed it over. He used the brightly coloured silk to gag the prone intruder. ‘Hopefully he won’t choke.’

‘It would serve him right if he does. Here.’ She led him through to the hallway of the private wing and pointed to a painted door. ‘This leads to the cellars.’

‘I thought you said we were taking a spiral stair?’

‘You’ll see,’ she said mysteriously.

Jamie opened the door and hesitated. ‘Just one last thing. Do you think you can manage another scream?’ She shot him a startled look. ‘You’ve been awfully quiet for a while,’ he explained. ‘If they don’t hear from you they’ll be expecting our friend in the kitchen to report back that you’ve either fainted or given him what he wants.’

She disappeared for a few seconds and another agonized shriek filled the house before she reappeared. Jamie took his first step into the darkness.

‘Watch out. The steps are worn. There should be a light switch on your left.’

‘Thanks,’ he said, recovering from his stumble.

The light clicked on and he found himself in a long, low cellar that seemed to stretch half the length of the house.

Fiona let out a hiss. ‘They’ve been here.’ She pointed to an antique chest of drawers that had been overturned, with the drawers emptied out and generations of anonymous bric-a-brac dumped on the floor. There were other signs, shelves tipped over to reveal the bare stone walls behind. Baskets and boxes were tossed aside, their contents strewn haphazardly around. ‘The stair is there. In the far corner.’

They made their way carefully through the mess until they reached the far end. ‘Stay here.’ He held the pistol in front of him and slowly ascended the clockwise staircase.

Her voice followed him. ‘You’ll come to a little alcove halfway up. The door leads to the entrance hall.’

‘Okay, it’s clear. But I think you should stay here.’

‘This house and everything in it is my responsibility, Mr Saintclair. I thought we agreed that.’

‘Christ.’ He noticed the blisters sagging like grapes from her left hand. ‘You must be in agony. Please.’

‘Pain is part of life,’ she said. ‘Just as death is. We cannot escape it; therefore we must learn to endure it. You may not think it, but this house has borne a great deal of pain.’ She looked into his eyes and he felt as if she was searching his soul. ‘Just as pain has marked you. She must have been very special to you, your friend?’

He halted abruptly and stared at her. How could she have known? But when he looked into those green eyes, he understood. ‘She was.’

‘Did they hurt her?’

‘I … don’t know. I think so.’

‘Then we have to stop them.’

Reluctantly, he capitulated. ‘All right, but stay behind me. Keep the gun pointing at the ceiling and don’t shoot anything unless someone else starts shooting first.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ A thought occurred to her. ‘I hope you’re not going to do any damage, Mr Saintclair. This house means a great deal to a great many people.’

It seemed an unlikely request, given the circumstances, but he bowed his head in acknowledgement. ‘I’ll do my best not to, Miss Maxwell, but Adam Steele and the people with him are very dangerous. As you’ve seen, they won’t hesitate to hurt you.’

‘I won’t let them touch me again.’ The words emerged with an animal ferocity and he believed every word. ‘I’d kill them first.’

Jamie edged open the door to reveal a large wood-panelled hall big enough to hold a medieval banquet in. To his right, at the far end of the hall, the subdued lighting illuminated two full suits of armour complete with massive broadswords. Scott had festooned the walls with the mounted heads and horns of unfortunate beasts of indeterminate origin as well as hundreds of lesser ornaments Jamie couldn’t quite make out. An impatient upper-class voice that could only be Adam Steele echoed round the room, but, he guessed, not from within it. It seemed the sword collector was fascinated by the depth of the late Sir Walter’s collection of weapons in the armoury next door, but frustrated by the sheer scale of it. From what Fiona Maxwell had said, there were so many swords of so many origins and so many periods it might take hours before Steele was satisfied that none of them was the one he sought. Jamie eased his way into the room and motioned the Scottish girl to follow him. With a little luck he could step into the armoury and get the drop on the financier and whoever was with him. He was momentarily distracted by the skull and horns of an aurochs, a breed of massive wild cattle that had been extinct for some four hundred years and almost missed the sound of footsteps marching purposefully towards the door. He looked round desperately for somewhere to hide, but there was nowhere close enough. At the edge of his vision he sensed Fiona Maxwell slipping back inside the stairway but he knew he’d never make it. A shadow appeared inside the doorway and he skipped right to take advantage of the only cover available, the narrow gap between the door and the wall.

The footsteps grew louder as they reached the tiled floor of the entrance hall and he waited with the pistol in both hands for the moment the door was pulled back and his sanctuary discovered. But the sound faded as the man — he was certain it was one of Steele’s drivers — walked the length of the hall and out of the door at the far end. He let out a long, slow breath, willing his heart to slow, and by the time he emerged Fiona Maxwell was already waiting by the doorway. Their eyes met and Jamie nodded and stepped inside.

Adam Steele turned from the display of swords he’d been studying with an angry frown. ‘Is he …?’ His eyes widened when he recognized the intruder. The guard behind the banker went for his gun, but Jamie pointed the Sig-Sauer at Steele’s head.

‘That wouldn’t be wise. Finger and thumb and draw it out by the butt. Lay it on the floor and kick it towards me.’ The bodyguard obeyed and a second later Jamie heard a soft movement as Fiona moved in behind him. ‘You’re losing your touch, Adam. I didn’t think it would be this easy.’

Steele smiled and it wasn’t a pleasant smile. ‘That has yet to be proved, old boy. Why don’t you drop the gun and take a look behind you?’

‘You don’t think I’m going to fall for that old trick, old boy?’

‘Oh I do, old boy.’

‘Do as he says, Jamie, or I may have to blow your pretty little friend’s head off.’

Jamie flinched at the familiar voice from behind him. He bent and placed the Sig on the floor.

‘Very sensible,’ Steele said. ‘Collins, take a look around and make sure there aren’t any other nasty surprises about.’ The guard picked up the two pistols and walked past Jamie with a look that said he’d like to use it to break his jaw.

‘Trevor’s in the kitchen with a sore head and a bad temper. I left him tied up.’

Jamie turned and looked into the familiar, classically beautiful face of Charlotte Wellesley. She stood by the door with her gun against Fiona Maxwell’s head and a knowing smile on her lips.

‘Surprised to see me?’ She blew him a kiss. ‘You’re not the only one who knows where the basement is. Join your saviour, darling,’ she pushed Fiona towards him, ‘temporary though it’s likely to be.’

‘I was expecting someone else.’ Jamie tried to keep the defeat from his voice, but he knew everyone in the armoury could hear it. They’d suckered him in like a mouse following a trail of crumbs. And now the trap was about to slam shut.

‘Gault?’ Adam Steele snorted incredulously. ‘Poor old Gault didn’t like you at all, Saintclair. Forever complaining there was something not quite kosher about you. Too many coincidences, he said. Always had the answers. Always some old mate from the past turning up just when you needed them. And, of course, he was right. Who were your old chums, Jamie?’

‘Russian intelligence, Mossad, MI6 and the CIA. A chap can’t have too many friends, Adam, you should know that.’

Steele laughed and selected a French cavalry sabre from the wall and slid it from its scabbard. Jamie moved protectively in front of Fiona Maxwell and Charlotte smiled. ‘Ooh, how very chivalrous.’

The financier turned to Fiona. ‘It’s good to know that you preserve the proprieties, Miss ah …? ’

‘Maxwell,’ Fiona snapped.

‘Honed to a reasonable fighting edge. It’s the only way to keep them properly conserved. A few spots of rust don’t matter at all as long as the blade is well waxed.’ He tried a couple of practice swings, the heavy blade hissing ominously through the air as he approached the two people in the middle of the room. Jamie stood his ground as Steele brought the point of the sabre to his cheek so he could feel the edge against the skin. ‘I think we have some business to discuss. Let’s start with the computer, shall we?’ Jamie raised his hands and slowly brought the right to the inside pocket of his jacket. The other man raised a warning eyebrow and Charlotte laughed as if she was having the most fun ever. Jamie pulled a card and a pen from his pocket. With the sabre still touching his flesh he wrote three or four words on the card. Adam Steele smiled and held out his hand, but the smile froze when Jamie slipped the card into the back pocket of his jeans.

‘You can have it later.’

‘What’s to stop me cutting you into little pieces and taking it now?’

‘Because that would mean you’re too frightened to fight me, Adam, and you wouldn’t like Charlotte to think that, would you? Anyway, it wouldn’t be as much fun.’

‘Oh, I don’t know about that, old boy.’ With a flick of the wrist the financier brought the point down across Jamie’s shoulder and chest and the art dealer winced as he felt the razor edge score across his skin through the jacket and shirt. Steele smiled and walked back to the display to choose another sword.

‘You were talking about Gault,’ Jamie reminded him.

‘Yes, too many coincidences. So many, in fact, that even a dull dog like Gault began to get suspicious. He was talking about having it out with you, man to man, as it were, and we couldn’t have that. Charlotte took care of it. She enjoys that kind of thing, you see. Apparently, she didn’t take kindly to Gault groping her or something. Strange girl.’

‘Odious little man,’ Charlotte laughed.

‘Like you took care of Sarah Grant?’

Jamie’s voice held a cold threat and Charlotte laughed at the unlikelihood of him ever making it a reality. ‘Sarah …? Oh, you mean the girl in the woods.’

‘Why? That was one thing I didn’t understand. That and Hermann.’

‘Well, I had to see what happened to you. We couldn’t have you getting yourself killed just then …’

‘Yeees,’ Steele drawled. ‘That was unfortunate. We had to use a phone linked to Al-Qaida. How were we supposed to know they’d be able to track the damned thing?’

‘I almost saved you myself, but then Miss Perfect stepped in. I watched you talking together and when you parted with that chaste little kiss I saw the wheels going round and the moment she put two and two together. After that there was no option, really.’

Jamie barely restrained himself from charging across the room and taking her by the throat. But she smiled and lifted the pistol so it was lined up on his chest.

Steele finally selected a sabre that pleased him. ‘In the hall, I think. More room and it wouldn’t do to get blood on the carpet.’

Jamie followed him warily. Like Steele he removed his jacket and Fiona Maxwell gasped at the bloody stain across his shirt.

‘No.’

He turned and shook his head. ‘You don’t have to watch this.’

‘Oh, I think we do,’ Charlotte laughed, pushing the barrel of her Ruger in the other girl’s back.

‘The other thing I don’t understand,’ Jamie continued, ‘is why you killed hundreds of people all over Europe just to frame me. You already had your atrocity and a reason to carry out your little revolution.’

Steele’s eyes hardened at the final two words, which were evidently less than welcome. ‘It appears you know more about my business than you should. We’ll discuss that in a few moments. Not just to frame you, Jamie. It was Charlotte’s idea.’

‘It was terribly kind of you to help out, Jamie,’ Charlotte chimed in. ‘Adam needed to be entirely certain no one in Europe would try to interfere with what we had to do after the takeover. The Europeans can be so stuffy sometimes, but when they were under attack themselves they’d have no option but to let events in the New Britain take their course. Of course, that meant once you had succeeded in getting us Excalibur you had to go. We couldn’t have you running around denying everything and making people suspicious.’

‘But I didn’t get Excalibur for you.’

‘No.’ Steele’s voice took on a new menace. ‘And that is something I will be discussing with your new lady friend once I’ve trimmed you down to size. A pity you won’t be around to watch. It could be quite entertaining. By the way, how did you know about our little revolution? I don’t remember that being on the computer?’

‘Poor old Gault. It turned out he talked in his sleep.’

Adam Steele’s nostrils flared. ‘I don’t think so. Now, what did you say? Oh, yes. No guards, no tips. Just you and me and two swords. I’m going to take a huge amount of pleasure in killing you.’

He tossed the original sabre to Jamie and the moment it settled in his hand the art dealer understood the true nature of this contest. The competition sabres he’d fought with in the past weighed less than a pound, had blunt edges and no point. Against a French cavalry sabre that had been used at Waterloo, it was like comparing a grizzly bear with a sheep. Three pounds of solid steel with an edge that would take your arm off and a point that would go right through you, this was a genuine killing weapon. If he hadn’t known before he was in a fight to the death he did now. He raised the sword to eye level, checking it for flaws.

‘Excalibur for his life,’ Fiona cried. ‘Let him live and I’ll give you Excalibur.’

‘No!’ Jamie said. ‘You—’ Steele’s sword came up to his lips to silence him.

‘Yes.’ He smiled at Charlotte. ‘I’m sure that would be an excellent bargain, but …’ He whipped the blade to the right and Fiona shrieked as the edge split the skin of her burned hand. ‘Now that I know for certain you actually do have Excalibur, there’s really no need. And it would be such a pity to forego the satisfaction of killing Mr Saintclair.’

Fiona Maxwell slumped to the floor and Jamie was consumed by a red rage that would have launched him at the financier, but for the new voice from the doorway. Trevor, the guard Jamie had clubbed in the kitchen, stood with a look of pure hatred on his face and a pistol in his hand. ‘If you don’t, I will.’

For a millisecond all Jamie could hear was the sound of his own breathing. The pause allowed his anger to subside and he felt a coldness settling on his heart. It seemed that, win or lose, he was going to die. Oddly, he felt no fear, only a settled calm he recognized from the past and which boded ill for his opponent. One thing was for certain: if he was going to die, Adam Steele was going to die first.

The thought made him smile and Steele’s grin faded when he saw the look on his face.

‘En garde.’