The Treasures of Saint Germain

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

Dahl led the painstakingly slow, watchful and meticulous raid on the house in the snow-covered mountains around Zurich. Following his sighting of Webb, they had mapped the house, guessed at the layout and number of guards and tried to get in touch with Sabrina Balboni. Not surprisingly, the super-thief didn’t answer their calls, so Dahl had decided to take the initiative. Webb was in their grasp. They had weapons, the element of surprise, and three well-trained soldiers. Four, since sometimes Dahl counted the Mad Swede part of himself as an extra person.

The six of them crept out of hiding, careful not to shake the trees, and scuttled through soft snow. Yorgi led the way, his watchful prowess coming into play now. Kinimaka came in the center, hoping his bulk wouldn’t get them seen. The truth was, despite very careful observation they could find no sign of an outer guard. Dahl couldn’t wait. Webb might be in there for hours, or days. This was an isolated spot with little chance of escaping unnoticed. Chance was in their favor.

They pulled up against another set of three lonely trees, halfway to the house and with a white-covered garden spread out before them. The garden was a hodgepodge of replica vehicles, statues and collectible items, all seemingly errant as if an eccentric might be hoarding them. Dahl leaned in to Yorgi. “As soon as we reach the door you fall back.”

The Russian nodded. “Dah.”

Kinimaka’s phone rang. He’d forgotten to mute the sound and the tone rang out clear in the wintery stillness. The Hawaiian’s eyes went huge as he rummaged through thick, zippered clothing for the black rectangle.

“Crap, crap, crap…”

Dahl studied the house, the windows, the doors. Nothing moved. Nothing changed.

Kinimaka jabbed at the phone without checking the caller ID. “Hi. Can I help?”

Smyth rolled his eyes.

Dahl listened in, recognizing the dulcet tones that belonged to Sabrina Balboni filtering through the tiny speaker.

“You must stop calling me. You put me in danger.”

“You’re our asset,” Kinimaka breathed. “We needed you.”

“I said that I would call you when I was safe. That time is now. I have news.”

Kinimaka waved them all to stand down. He held the phone out but didn’t turn on the speakerphone. “Go ahead.”

“Webb has come here, an old haunt of Saint Germain’s, to learn the secret of the next treasure. The idea, the conception, of Freemasonry was born here, in this place. A High Master lives here now, safeguarding it as a sanctuary, offering assistance only to those who can prove their worthiness. Webb was beside himself with pride, telling me this. The disgusting worm. He sweats when he’s excited, you know.”

Lauren made a face. “I know the type.”

Dahl listened carefully.

“This High Master will tell Webb all he needs to know so that every Freemason in the world will be answerable to him. Doors previously locked even to him will be thrown open. The world will be his playing field. This is in addition to all he has already learned about alchemy and the mastery of languages. And this Webb — he was already crazy.”

Kinimaka endorsed her with a grunt. “The lust for power drives him like nothing else. But it is all a perversion. He perverts all he sees and touches.”

“Well, Freemasonry was envisioned in this house and lives here still. I am not allowed into their discussions, but will quiz Webb when he comes out. He is stupid. Can’t wait to tell me all and show what a big man he is becoming. We must make him regret it. We must.”

“We’re close,” Dahl said. “Any advice?”

“How close?”

“Come to the window. I’ll wave.”

“Oh, that is good. The guards are all wearing robes. They have swords. They have knives and ninja stars. They number almost one hundred. The High Master is a true adept of everything you can imagine, a being seeking ascendance. The house is devoid of technically advanced controls. It does not need them. There are a few old-school defenses in the grounds. I hope you brought the Swiss Army.”

“No,” Dahl muttered. “Just the knife, I’m afraid.”

“Oh. Did you think assaulting a potential ascendant’s house a formality? Did you assume an attack on the very bricks and mortar of Freemasonry would be easy? I thought you people were at the top of your game?”

“We didn’t know,” Dahl said. “And we’re short staffed.”

Sabrina didn’t deign to reply.

“You did say ground defenses,” Yorgi put in, his accent toned down. “I see only ornamental objects. A statue. A pair of Aztec pillars. A rusted tank from one of the wars. A birdcage. And a bright red UK phone box. Good touch, that.”

Sabrina came across as confused. “It was one of Webb’s remarks. Listen. I am locked in my room but they will come soon. I have to go. So I have one more item to give you.”

Dahl glanced around the hungry pack. “All right. Let’s have it.”

“Upon our arrival, as we drove into here, I quizzed Webb as to our next destination. I figured it would be good to know, to prepare. For you.”

“Clever,” Dahl said. “What did he say?”

“He waited until we were inside, behind the locked door for security I think, and then blabbed it all out like an old woman. We go to London, he said. The Haymarket.”

“The what?” Kinimaka looked blank. “What’s a haymarket?”

“Somewhere Saint Germain spent time,” Sabrina said. “Research it.”

“We will,” Dahl said. “Now, be ready. We’re on our way.” He was pleased that nobody, especially Kinimaka, revealed that the name was on the merc’s list, and even more so that Sabrina appeared to be a kosher asset.

“If you all die our deal is void and I will find a way to disappear.”

“We can’t stop you. But it would save many lives if you would at least help take Webb down.”

“Once I am safe, I will see.”

Dahl nodded at Kinimaka. “Let’s end this.”

The Hawaiian wound it up, and then they were staring at the house again, this time with new eyes.

“Tighten your armor,” Kenzie said. “That bitch said ‘swords’. Friggin’ swords.” Her eyes shone. “I can’t wait!”

“Nothing’s moving out there,” Smyth said in some exasperation. “Nothing. If they have defenses, they’re lower profile than a painted-on tire.”

The team re-checked their weapons then drew them for use. Another moment passed before they considered the area one last time, scrutinized the doors and windows, and made their move.

Bending low, running silent, the six-strong team padded through deep snow toward a totally incongruous row of canons. A statue stood silent to their left, the old tank to their right. A second statue showed no signs of life, no slanted eyes suddenly coming alight and shining like full-beam headlights. Dahl reached the canons first and hunkered down, still watching the doors and seeing no movement.

Satisfied, he turned back to check on the team.

Kinimaka came next, slipping and sliding on the soft surface but holding up well. Smyth and Lauren ran close, not speaking but clearly not wanting to be too far apart either. Yorgi came next and then Kenzie, the ex-Mossad agent, suddenly sporting a skip in her step.

Dahl’s jaw hit the floor.

The big gun on top of the huge tank was tracking them, swiveling silently, its enormous barrel following their every step.

“Oh, shiiiiiiiiii—”

Death exploded from every direction.