The last kingdom, p.37
The Last Kingdom, page 37
Fenn stood in the waist-high water, no longer a threat.
Cotton marched around the lake on the narrow walkway. Pieces and particles continued to fall. Behind the three Chinese, through the dust cloud, he caught movement.
More threats had returned.
He stopped, took cover, and leveled his weapon, ready for a fight with whomever.
Luke appeared. Followed by Koger, one woman he did not know, the other woman the same one who’d been at Herrenchiemsee. All of them armed.
He lowered the gun and stepped out.
“Looks like you didn’t need much help,” Koger said.
He shrugged. “Good to see you too.”
But something required immediate attention. He walked straight to Ming, who was down on one knee, coughing out dust. Luke and the others disarmed the other two. He yanked Ming up. The walking stick dropped aside. He jammed the gun into Ming’s throat.
“Get your phone out and make the call. Tell them to stand down.”
Ming hesitated.
He clicked the hammer into place. “I have no problem blowing your head off. And, by the way, nobody would give a damn, since I’m not even supposed to be here.”
“I know I wouldn’t care,” Koger said. “Anybody else?”
“I’m good,” Luke noted.
Ming fished the phone from his coat pocket, punched in a number, then spoke in Chinese.
“English,” Cotton ordered.
“They do not speak it.”
“He just told them to kill her,” the older of the two women said. “Whoever ‘her’ is.”
He rapped the gun across the side of Ming’s face, sending the older man down. “You need to decide if this is worth dying for. One more time. Screw it up and you’re dead.” He aimed the gun at Ming. “Five seconds.”
Ming did nothing.
Blood trickled from the side of his mouth.
“Four.”
“Three.”
Ming raised the phone to his ear.
“Two.”
He tightened his arm, ready to fire.
The others stared in silence.
“One.”
“Stand down,” Ming said into the phone. In English. “Return to the consulate.”
Cotton snatched the phone away.
And ended the call.
* * *
KOGER HEAVED A SIGH OF RELIEF.
He would have had a hard time explaining to Langley why a Chinese intelligence operative had been killed by a man he was not even supposed to be doing business with. That would have strained things even for him. And when one side killed someone from the other, there was usually retaliation. It may take time, but a tit for tat always came.
Across the grotto Fenn was hauling himself from the lake, soaking wet.
He assumed command. “Toni, make sure we don’t have any more company from outside. Luke, keep these three here and out of the way.” He pointed at Trinity and they walked over to Malone. “Why are you here?”
“It could be the end of the trail.”
“The deed?” the older woman asked.
Malone asked, “Who are you?”
“Trinity Dorner. Deputy National Security Adviser.”
“What’s the damn White House doing here?”
She said nothing.
Malone pointed at Koger. “You knew?”
He nodded. “Not my doin’.”
“Fox is involved?”
“The White House is involved,” he made clear. “Which happened before I was involved. I got stuck with ’em. Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“What did he promise you?”
Leave it to Maloney to cut right to the quick
“Excuse me, Mr. Malone,” Dorner said. “But I’m the ranking official here.”
“Really, now? Do you know what I think about that?”
Derrick held up a hand. “Slow down, cowboy. Trinity has been right there for us, all the way. We got here thanks in part to her. She’s not the problem.”
Malone did not seem impressed and pointed. “What were you promised?”
“Not a damn thing.”
Malone glared at TOO.
“It’s true,” she said. “Nothing at all. But we still have a job to do.”
Malone stepped over and lifted a sledgehammer from the mess on the floor.
“What’s that for?” Trinity asked.
“Follow me and you’ll find out.”
Chapter 84
COTTON HEADED BACK FOR THE MURAL.
Fenn waited, water dripping from his clothes. “That was uncalled for.”
He was not in the mood. “If you can’t take the heat, you know where you shouldn’t be.”
He returned to the area on the mural he’d already identified and found the center of the hollow space. He stepped back and cocked his arm, slamming the business end of the sledgehammer into the wall.
With little effect.
But what had he expected?
He pounded again.
And again.
Cracks developed across Tannhäuser’s chest. He expanded them with more blows. Finally, the wall gave way and a section broke off, crumbling to the floor. It seemed the wall was more plaster than thick concrete. Which should help.
“Did that cipher lead here?” Koger asked.
“Right to it.”
And he kept hammering the wall, opening up a small doorway about two feet wide and five feet tall. He stepped back and allowed the dust to clear. Across the lake he saw the others watching intently, Luke keeping guard over them.
He turned back.
Koger was a step ahead of him, already heading for one of the light bars workers had set up to illuminate the ceiling, which he carried over, setting the tripod just inside the doorway and switching on the array.
Cotton led the way inside.
Beyond was a chamber about twenty feet deep and at least that wide. The ceiling reached up to the heights of the grotto, which made sense, as the hidden chamber was just another part of the overall enclosed space. But nothing fancy here. The walls were plain gray concrete, none of them artistically fashioned in any way. Which also made sense. Hiding something away was tough enough. Hiding it away inside some fantastical space that would require a score of craftsmen months to design and create? That was next to impossible. Not to mention costs. Instead, you just commandeer a hole in the wall.
Around the outer perimeter were three caskets, each atop a stone plinth. Again, nothing elaborate. Simple unadorned wood and stone. The only decorations were chiseled names.
Otto, Luitpold, and a third.
LUDOVICUS II REX. BAVAR. COM. PALAT.
Ludwig II, King of Bavaria, Count Palatine.
A round table, sheathed by a richly embroidered cloth thick with dust, filled the center. The top was littered with papers and books. He stepped over and studied them without touching.
“Careful,” he said. “A lot of this is really fragile. It would not take much to turn things to dust.”
Fenn was carefully examining the books and papers. He’d allowed him to come inside since they might need his expertise. He was hoping the guy’s fanaticism would get the best of him. “Many of these bound volumes are personal journals. The loose papers are various family documents. Birth certificates. Investitures. Financial accountings. Inventories.”
He heard what was not said.
But no deed.
Koger and Dorner had stayed quiet, but both were studying the surroundings with trained eyes. Two wooden trunks sat on the gritty floor. He bent down and lifted one of the lids. Inside were more smaller wooden boxes that, when opened, contained jewelry, crystal, glassware, silver and gold objects. All varieties of things.
“The family’s wealth,” Fenn said. “Or what was left of it after everyone had their choice of taking after Ludwig II died.”
“We have to go through all of this,” Dorner said. “And make sure there is no deed. I assume everyone thinks it has to be here.”
“It has to be,” Fenn said. “There is no place else.”
“Unless it doesn’t exist,” Koger stated. “It was signed a long time ago and has never been seen since. This could all be a wild-goose chase.”
Maybe. Maybe not. A solution seemed there, though tantalizing in its incompleteness. A lot of thought had gone into creating this repository. He had to assume that everything in it had been carefully selected based on value and importance. In the overall hierarchy of things, that deed had to be right at the top.
“What would Ludwig have thought of that deed?” he asked.
“Von Löher, the man who visited Hawaii,” Fenn said, “wrote in his journal that Ludwig made the comment, after the deed was signed in 1881. At least permit me this final joy. I adore the mysterious and wish to remain an eternal enigma. So it is safe to say that the deed was vitally important to him.”
“Which means,” Fenn said, “it was also important to the regent, Luitpold, and his son Ludwig III. But more for sentimentality than anything else. Those two could not even manage to hold on to Bavaria, much less lay claim to an American territory.”
“No,” Dorner said. “That endeavor had to wait until the twenty-first century.”
If all that were true, then there was but one explanation.
He stepped over to Ludwig II’s casket. Its mahogany exterior had definitely deteriorated over time, but it was still reasonably intact. He released the brass latches and steeled himself.
Not every day you opened a king’s grave.
He hinged the lid upward.
Ludwig lay prone, most of the skin and tissue gone, just bones and tattered pieces of clothing. He’d been buried in black silk breeches, a black velvet cloak, and a white shirt with ruffles. Remnants of those remained, along with a heavy gold chain collar and medal that had been left around the neck.
The others came close.
“The king was buried in the robes of the Knights of the Order of St. George,” Fenn said. “The collar and medal are from the order too.”
Lying on the chest, atop the decayed clothing and collapsed rib cage, was an oilskin pouch. It appeared to be of some sort of sailcloth with a thin layer of tar for added protection. He freed the pouch, which had survived in reasonably good condition. It measured about eighteen inches square. The top was sealed with more tar.
Cotton closed the casket. “Let’s allow the man to rest in peace.”
He walked back to the table and carefully felt the pouch. Something was inside. Stiff. With enough thickness that he could feel its edges.
“We have to know what’s in there,” Dorner said to him.
“I realize that.”
Koger produced a pocketknife. He accepted the blade and punctured the oilskin, keeping the blade between the outer layer and whatever was inside. He cut a slit in the material. Beneath he saw that it contained a piece of stiff, yellowed parchment. Now that he knew what was there, he worked the knife and opened the oilskin up, exposing one side of the parchment, which was blank. He carefully removed the page and turned it over. At the top, in a large Edwardian script.
This Indenture, made this eighth day of August in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and eighty-one between His Royal Highness, King David Kalakaua, of the first part, and His Royal Highness, King Ludwig Friedrich Wilhelm von Wittelsbach II, of the second part.
The deed went on and proclaimed
Witnesseth. That the said party of the first part does hereby present, grant, and convey to the said party of the second part, his heirs and assigns, all that part or parcel of islands located within the Pacific Ocean and known to the world as the sovereign kingdom of Hawaii.
Then it verified and asserted that
the said party of the first for himself, along with his heirs and assigns, does hereby covenant and agree to with the said party of the second part, along with his heirs and assigns, that he shall have quiet and peaceable possession of the said islands and all of the land and lawful territory associated therewith and that he will forever warrant and defend it against any person whomsoever lawfully claiming the same or any part thereof.
The deed was signed by both kings in a stark, heavy, masculine script and was properly witnessed by four individuals, their names and addresses noted.
“Is it valid?” Koger asked.
“That doesn’t matter,” Dorner said. “It’s a legal document that the Germans can use to assert a legal claim in the courts. And when they assign it to the Chinese, that will double the problem.” She paused. “It’s a battle we don’t want, or need, to fight in front of the world.”
He knew that was true. But he was holding something important and history mattered. Yet there was still reality.
And now he realized why the White House was involved.
He looked at Trinity Dorner. “You or me?”
She nodded toward him.
He lifted the parchment and stepped from the chamber back into the grotto.
The others followed.
Ming stood on the far side watching.
“Here it is,” he said to him. “The deed you wanted.”
He tore it into pieces, the parchment yielding easily, ripping in clean strips, which he mutilated into smaller pieces. Then he allowed them all to rain down onto the surface of the lake, where the water claimed them, eradicating all evidence of what might have been there.
“It’s over,” he said.
Chapter 85
LUKE WALKED THE CHRISTMAS MARKET AND ADMIRED ALL THE CRAFTS and food for sale. Toni was with him. They’d spent yesterday being debriefed by Koger. Today, they were off the clock. Enjoying themselves.
The bodies of Prince Stefan and his brother, the Duke of Bavaria, had been located in the cold waters of the Pöllat gorge. Both had drowned and suffered severe injuries after obviously falling from great heights. The press and public were baffled as to their sudden deaths, the speculation running rampant. The truth would never be revealed since everything that happened would surely be stamped top secret, a felony for him, or anyone else associated with the mission, to ever speak of it. No danger of him talking. He might be young, brash, and too eager for his own good, but he knew how to keep his mouth shut. And, like Malone told him years ago, that was half the fight to becoming a good agent.
They’d left the grotto violated for others to find. Ming and his men were released and quickly retreated back to the safety of their consulate.
Mission failed for them.
Fenn and his band of merry men also retreated, taking the body of the one man Trinity Dorner had plugged with them. His respect level for Dorner had increased tenfold. He’d actually not thought she had it in her, but she’d handled herself well. Killing people wasn’t easy. But you did what you had to do. And she’d done just that. And the fact that he’d escaped the situation without any holes in his skin was much appreciated.
“Check this out,” Toni said.
And they stopped at one of the booths, this one selling an assortment of miniature sheep, hay, tools, shepherds, angels, and other things found in a manger.
“They go to nativity scenes,” she said.
He noticed an assortment of small stables and grottoes fashioned from wood.
Toni lifted one of the carved angels. “My parents have one. You buy the various pieces and set up a model, at Christmas, of the birth of Christ in the manger.”
Luke recited, “‘And on the third day, after the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ, Mary went out of the cave, and, entering a stable, placed the child in a manger, and an ox and an ass adored him.’”
“Look at you. A biblical scholar.”
“My mother demanded that we Daniels all know the Holy Book.”
She replaced the angel among the others for sale. They’d spent last night together, enjoying each other. He liked her. A lot. But his job did not bode well for emotional attachments. She’d seemed to abide by the same rule.
“Where do you go now?” he asked her as they kept walking through the cold and the evening crowd.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “There’s talk of sending me to England, or perhaps South Africa.”
He knew better than to ask why.
That was, as the Germans would say, “verboten.”
“And you?” she asked.
“Back to the Magellan Billet.”
He had a sense she was leading him. So he decided to not resist or question, but simply to follow. They passed through the Marienplatz, following a route similar to the one they’d taken two nights ago when the police were after them. Thankfully, all of that nonsense had been straightened out by people much higher up than him. Christophe had died in the police assault, and that fatality had seemed enough to satisfy the powers that be.
They left the main market route and headed down one of the side streets. People were still everywhere. The evening’s weather was cold with no snow, a clear sky overhead with a half-full moon. Christmas was two weeks away and he’d already decided to spend it in Tennessee with his mother and brothers, provided of course he was not on assignment.
He noticed a car parked ahead along the curb, taillights on, condensation seeping from the tailpipe signaling an idling engine.
“Here’s my ride,” she said.
He’d actually hoped they’d have at least one more night together.
But, alas, not to be.
She stopped. “I enjoyed it.”
“Me too.”
He’d never been one for goodbyes, especially with women. Most he never saw again anyway. But this one twitched his gut ever so slightly.
Enough that he noticed.
She came close and kissed him on the cheek.
Then she turned for the car and opened the rear door. Before climbing inside she glanced back. “Hey, soldier. See you around the world somewhere.”
He smiled. “I certainly hope so.”
Chapter 86
DERRICK FINISHED PACKING HIS BAG AND READYING HIMSELF FOR the flight to Brussels. He was hitching a ride back with Trinity aboard a military Learjet. She’d drop him off, then continue on to Washington, DC. All in all, things had worked out fine. It was unfortunate that the duke and his brother were killed, but that’s what happened when you played with fire.
