Game of Shadows (17 page)

She rolled her shoulders. "To be honest, I never really thought much about it. What are you getting at?" She got up, leaving her empty glass on the chair's arm and sauntered over to where he was standing. Her eyes probed the painting, searching for answers to questions she didn't know.

"Don't you see?" Sean asked. "There is something about this island, something your father wanted to keep secret but always wanted to keep an eye on. And he left a clue to its importance in this picture. I think that whatever it is the terrorists want might be somewhere here." He tapped the painting on the point where the yellow beam of light touched the rocks.

Irena shook her head. "That can't be right, Sean. There's nothing there. He took me out past those islands many times on our boat when we were young. It's nothing but rocks piled on top of more rocks. This place you're pointing at is a rock wall about fifteen feet high."

He took a deep breath and kept gazing at the image. "No cave? Nothing of note?"

"No," she shook her head again slowly.

The answer was right in front of him, and he knew it. He just couldn't see it. He took another look at the other two paintings, just to make sure he wasn't missing anything, and then came back to the one in the middle. He was about to give up and sit back down when something stuck out to him. It was small, almost unnoticeable. It could have been mistaken for a piece of driftwood, a tree branch sticking out of the water, or maybe a simple scratch in the paint that had occurred from moving the picture around. But to Sean, he knew exactly what it was.

"Is there a magnifying glass in this desk?" he asked.

"I believe so, in the top drawer." She pointed at the writing station.

Sean pulled the chair back and slid the drawer out. There were two pens, a pile of paper clips, some stationery, scissors, a magnifying glass, and a black compact handgun with a spare magazine next to it. It was a .22 caliber, not powerful enough to knock down a threat, but could be lethal if used properly. He pretended not to notice the weapon, and picked up the glass instead.

Holding the circular reading device a couple of inches from the painting, he stared at the object sticking out of the water. It came into clear focus in a matter of seconds.

"See?" he asked. "I think this is our spot. And there's a reason you never noticed anything." He tapped the canvas again. "That's a periscope. The U-boat's hiding place is in an underwater cave."

San Sebastián, Argentina

"I don't understand," Irena said. "Why would my father want to hide that? And why there?"

"The people involved with the project who truly appreciated the magnitude of what they were doing understood that what they were working on could be one of the most dangerous devices in the history of mankind. Had the Germans been successful, the entire course of the world would have been altered. That fear is what caused men like your father and others to want to keep it from the Allies at first, and eventually other evil men like Hitler."

She took in the information as fast as it came, processing what Sean was saying. "All the boat trips out to those islands. They never made any sense until now. Father would take us out there on random days. He made it seem like a Sunday outing. Now it all makes sense."

"The room was built so he could keep watch of the island. The boat trips were to make sure that no one had been tampering with the location or nosing around. And these paintings were created in case he died and you or any other relatives were ever clever enough to figure out what they meant."

A disappointed smile creased one side of her lips. "It would appear I am not clever enough, Sean. But it seems you are."

He blushed. "It's kind of my thing. I look for answers where it looks like there aren't any."

"It certainly is your thing, Sean," a new voice interrupted the two. Sean spun around first, followed more slowly by Irena.

Four men in black neoprene turtlenecks and matching cargo pants stood just inside the doorway. Each of them held SIG Sauer pistols, the barrels pointed directly at Sean and Irena. In the middle of their formation was an older man in a thick, black winter coat and gray pants.

Sean recognized him immediately.

It was a face that had occasionally been featured on the news in the United States, and one that was often in the same room as the president.

"Bravo, Sean," he said in a mocking tone as he took a slow step forward. "I knew that Emily would go to you. You were always her golden boy. When I heard you'd been put back on her little list of rogue agents, I figured you would be the one she chose for this. I have to admit, I love it when everything goes according to plan."

"What plan, Admiral?"

Sean's stare could have cut through stone.

"You know these men?" Irena asked, confused and full of fear. She involuntarily sidled next to Sean.

"Only one," he answered. "Admiral McClain, this is my new friend, Irena. Mind telling us what you're doing here? And how about you order your men to stand down with those pistols?"

Sean hoped he was wrong. The admiral's entrance came across as menacing, like a bull entering the arena. Sean had missed vibes before. Somehow, he didn't think he had this time around.

The admiral halted his approach and put one hand in his pants pocket, while moving the other one to enhance his speech. "Sorry, Sean. Can't do that. We do appreciate you finding the U-boat. I really thought we could handle it, which is why I had my men try to kill you before. Turns out, we needed you after all. Made for a good show back in the states with the folks in charge. And you led us right to it."

Sean's eyebrows knit together in anger and confusion. McClain saw his opponent was lost in the plot and filled him in. "Die Glocke will go to the highest bidder, Sean. A piece of technology with that potential will fetch us hundreds of billions. Sure, we'll have to sell it to someone on the black market who's probably going to use it for less than good intentions, but that won't matter when I'm sitting on my own island. I'll be untouchable."

Sean remained stoic. His poker face was on full throttle. "Money, Admiral? It’s all about a fistful of money? What? Your government pension isn't enough, Admiral?"

The older man let out a laugh. "You know as well as I do that pension isn't enough. Sure, it can take care of the basic necessities. But I'm tired of living a basic, government-funded life. I want to live a little before I die. And I’m not talking about a fistful of cash here. Maybe you didn’t hear me say, billions. With a B."

Sean stared through him with fire filling his pupils. "If you don't tell your men to lower their weapons, that time could come a lot sooner than you expected."

Sean's expression never broke, and his serious tone only caused McClain to flinch for a second before he laughed again.

"Not this time, Sean. You can't win this time. These SEALs are going to kill you now. And we're going to head out to that island to recover the sub and die Glocke."

"So for a little money, you're going to let an innocent woman die and put the world at risk by selling off a dangerous piece of technology?"

McClain feigned thinking about the question for a moment before pursing his lips and nodding sarcastically. "Yeah, basically, that's it."

"And you needed me to find it for you because you couldn't do it on your own. I'm surprised, Admiral. You working with a terrorist organization after so many years of fighting against evil people like that. Must be hard to sleep at night."

McClain was clearly tired of the conversation. "Sean, I appreciate that you're trying to stall here, but there's no one coming to help you. And as far as sleeping at night, it's easier than you think. The Black Ring was never involved in any of this." He spoke as if it should have been obvious. "They don't have the resources to pull off a plan this intricate. Although I suppose if I had been working with them they would have. But no, Sean, the terrorist thing was just a ruse to get you moving. And it worked brilliantly. Now if you'll excuse me. I've got a multibillion dollar piece of Nazi tech to find under that island." He pointed at the painting. "Guess it's a good thing I've got dive gear." He chuckled to himself at the last line and turned his back to Sean and Irena.

She had her hand on Sean's forearm. He could feel her fingers trembling. He kept his eyes forward, peering at the five men on the other side of the room. With his lower peripheral vision, he kept the .22 in the drawer within sight, only a foot away from his right hand.

"Last chance to tell your men to stand down, Admiral. Do it, or every one of you will die."

McClain stopped as he was about to step back through the doorway. He paused for a moment, staring down at the floor. The tension in the room hung there like a thick fog.

He barely turned his head when he uttered the words. "Kill them."

Sean was a half second faster with his next action. Before McClain's second word came out, he grabbed Irena by the wrist and yanked her down behind the desk. In the same motion, his other hand snatched the pistol from the drawer as he dropped down for cover next to her. The room filled with the sound of muffled gunfire as the SEALs unleashed a barrage of hot metal at their position. The rounds peppered the desk, but none got through the thick wood, and it was deep enough that the men in the doorway couldn't get a clear shot from where they stood.

The volley continued until every man's magazine was empty. A few of the rounds had gone astray, striking the wood paneled wall facing Sean. He glanced over at Irena who had stopped trembling and sat on the floor in a curled up position with her wrists wrapped around her knees. She didn't look afraid. In fact, the expression on her face was one of anger. Sean didn't see any blood, so he returned his attention to the intruders. He made a quick check of the chamber to make sure a round was there. As he hoped, it was ready to fire.

He knew their next move would be to send two men around each end of the desk. He heard their clips being released. That was his opening, and he doubted they knew he was armed. He rolled around the corner of the desk and squeezed the trigger, adjusting his aim after the fact. The first bullet went wide of the man to the far right, but the second went straight through the quadriceps of his right leg and into the bone. The victim dropped to one knee, clutching the wound with his free hand but jammed his fresh magazine into the grip of the gun by tapping it on his leg. He ignored the wound, pulled back the slide, and took aim a second later, but the shot never came. Sean fired two more rounds, one into the man's clavicle and the other into his neck.

Even the toughest soldier in the world couldn't withstand that, and the attacker instantly dropped his weapon and grabbed the wounds in a vain attempt to stop the gushing blood.

The man nearest him held his gun out and unleashed a volley of suppression fire that sent Sean back around the corner of the desk. The shooter grabbed his comrade by the collar and pulled him back around the edge of the doorway and out of sight.

Sean knew the element of surprise was gone. If he appeared around any edge of the desk, they would cut him down.

"Cease fire," McClain ordered over the suppressed pops of the SEALs' weapons. In the confusion, the admiral had darted for cover behind the wall. Now it sounded like he was back in the room. The smell of gun smoke filled everyone's nostrils as the bluish haze lingered in the room.

"Very well, Sean. Bullets would have been a better way to go. No easy way out for you." McClain turned his attention to the three men still in the fight. "Light 'em up."

Sean couldn't see what they were doing, but a sinking feeling rose up from his stomach to his throat like an avalanche of anxiety.

He heard a faint sound of metal on metal and knew exactly what they were doing. A few feet shuffled away, and then a metal canister hit the wall next to his feet.
Incendiary grenades.
He jerked toward the wall, pushing with his hands, and swung his foot at the object. He struck it hard and sent the thing rattling around the octagonal room until it had stopped rolling on the side. Sean instinctively wrapped his arms around Irena in the instant the grenade exploded in a searing blaze of orange heat. The sound of another canister hitting the front of the desk was the next thing they heard, followed quickly by another explosion. A few bits of hot shrapnel shot into the wall, narrowly missing Sean and the older woman as they crouched under cover.

The wall full of books to Sean's left raged in flaming fury, the old pages and covers fueling the fire. Orange and yellow tongues lapped angrily at the higher shelves until they reached the cone-shaped roof. The fire spread rapidly, and soon Sean and Irena would be completely engulfed.

He looked over the top of the desk, but a wall of hot flames was between them and the doorway. No way to get out in that direction. His eyes shot over to the huge windows. If he could use the chair to shatter the glass, they could jump down. Then he remembered the windows were on a point, sitting atop cliffs on every side. He cursed himself for getting trapped.

Smoke trickled into his lungs, burning his throat on the way down, and he crouched down to get back to the clearer air. "Is there another way out of here?" he asked, not expecting her to have an answer he wanted to hear.

She nodded in spite of the fear on her face. She pointed to the painting in the middle of the wall. "Tilt it to the right," she said, coughing.

Sean didn't wait for her to clarify. He stood up and tugged on the painting's bottom right corner. Apparently, it wasn't hung like a normal painting. It gave heavy resistance to Sean's first effort, which caused him to pull harder the second try. This time, it gave way, and the picture turned slowly like a heavy wheel. The low grinding of metal on metal blended with the sounds of the inferno consuming the study before a loud click came from the panel on his left. It eased backward on a hinge, revealing a hidden passageway.

He turned back to Irena, who was on her hands and knees, trying to keep out of the smoke. He reached for her hand to help her up and gripped it firmly, using his weight to easily lift her from the floor. He shoved her through the opening, stepped back to the desk, using his forearm to shield the searing heat, grabbed the extra magazine for the .22, and hurried after her. Once inside, he shoved the back of the bookshelf door closed to keep the smoke from entering the passageway.

The narrow corridor was made from stone, matching the rest of the house. A dim lightbulb protruding from the wall illuminated their descent. Irena led the way down into the darkness. The roar of the fire became a muffled rumble.

"When were you going to tell me about this?" Sean asked, as he carefully navigated the damp steps.

"I didn't think it had anything to do with what you were looking for," she said. After she spoke, Irena was racked by another fit of coughing and had to slow down for a moment.

"You all right?" he asked, putting his hand on her back.

"I'm fine."

The two continued wrapping their way down the spiral staircase until Sean realized they had gone much farther than just two stories. "Shouldn't we have come out somewhere on the main level already?" he asked, curious as to where they were headed.

She shook her head, passing another yellowish lightbulb. "This passage doesn't come out anywhere near the house. It was designed to be an escape tunnel."

"Your father was worried he would need to get away quickly?"

"No," she answered. "This corridor was built much earlier than that. It goes back to the nineteenth century, built by one of the original families that owned it. Obviously, the lights are not that old. Father had them put in to replace the torches. He used to bring me down here when I was younger. I imagined I was a princess trying to escape attacking marauders, fleeing my castle to safety. I have no idea why the original builders felt like they needed an escape tunnel."