Kingdom of Darkness (18 page)

‘Well, that was kind of why we came here. But it might be better to wait until things quieten down.’

‘No, they’ve come here to discuss something major. I need to find out what. It’s the only reason they would meet like this – Leitz is the host, but he would never organise something on his own. He always acts on behalf of a client.’

‘And you think those arseholes from Egypt are the clients?’

‘Maybe they intended to sell the statue they were trying to steal from the tomb.’

‘The buyers’ll be disappointed, then.’ The mention of the statue made Eddie think of Nina. He now felt somewhat guilty about his abrupt and ill-tempered departure. She would be in Cairo by now; he considered phoning her to make peace overtures, but the sight of a second arriving car distracted him. ‘Another one’s just turned up.’

‘We have to get in there,’ Zane insisted. ‘But how?’ He surveyed the upper fence through the binoculars. ‘There’s no way in from the road without being seen. And the dock is guarded.’

Eddie leaned over the wall, looking at the cliffs below. They were steep – extremely so, in places – but for the most part not actually sheer. From where he and Zane were standing, he could see past the promontory on which the villa had been built to the coastline beyond.

He could also see that unless an observer was at the very end of the jetty, the other side of the rocky outcrop would be blocked from their sight . . .

‘Think I might have found a way,’ he announced, catching Zane’s attention. ‘You ever been free-climbing?’

The Israeli’s satchel contained more than hacking gear. Amongst its contents were several wads of high-value euro banknotes – one of which had been given to a surprised but delighted man in Amalfi harbour for the no-questions-asked charter of his small motorboat. Eddie and Zane then set out back along the coast for Leitz’s villa, the journey rather quicker by sea than by road.

‘Okay, over there,’ said Eddie, pointing at the cliffs. They were on the promontory’s eastern flank, one side of the orange house overlooking them about eighty feet above – but crucially, the guard on the jetty was out of view on its far side.

Their pilot regarded the base of the outcrop unhappily. ‘Is too rough, we hit rocks.’ Even though it was a calm day, waves were still churning noisily against the ragged shore.

Zane produced another wad of euros. ‘If your boat gets scratched, that should cover it.’

‘Hell, that’ll buy you a whole new boat,’ said Eddie.

‘I maybe
need
a new boat!’ the man protested. But he took the money anyway. ‘Okay, you better be fast.’

‘All right.’ Eddie tensed as the boat edged towards the shore, the swell of the waves kicking it up and down. He put both hands on the gunwale, the hull’s edge, to steady himself. ‘I’ll go first, then you—’

Before he could finish, Zane stood – and used the gunwale as a springboard to leap across the eight-foot gap. He barely made it, his feet catching the rocks just inches above the water.

His exit set the boat rocking violently. ‘Jesus!’ Eddie yelped, crouching to lower the craft’s centre of gravity. ‘Patience, young lion!’

Zane glared at him. ‘Don’t call me that. Only Benjamin called me that.’

‘Then don’t go fucking jumping out of boats before anyone else is ready.’

‘You should have
been
ready. And why aren’t you ready now? Hurry up.’ The Israeli started his climb.

‘Fucking kids,’ Eddie said loudly. He waited for the boat to stabilise before rising again. The driver pulsed the outboard to get as close as he dared to the cliff. ‘Okay, hold it steady, hold it . . .’

He waited for the boat’s shoreward side to roll upwards – and jumped.

Even though the gap was only just over six feet, he didn’t quite clear it. He slammed against the wall, both hands finding grip on the rock, but his feet splashed into the water. ‘Shit!’ he growled, pulling himself upwards to find dry footing.

Zane stopped and looked down. ‘Did you get your feet wet, old man?’

‘Old man, my arse,’ Eddie said, glowering at the Israeli. ‘Go over to the left; those plants above you won’t take any weight.’

‘This isn’t my first climb.’ The younger man resumed his ascent.

Eddie shook his head, then started after him. The boat turned back out to sea, and the pair were left alone.

It didn’t take long for Eddie to catch up with Zane, though to his annoyance, he realised it was because the Mossad agent had deliberately slowed down. ‘Okay,’ said the Yorkshireman, ‘wait here for a sec.’

‘Why, are you out of breath?’

‘Piss-taking little bastard . . . No, I want to find the best route so we don’t get stuck – or climb up right in front of one of his guards.’ Eddie cautiously leaned backwards to survey the cliff. The villa’s lowest floor was about sixty feet above, a wall marking the patio’s eastern end. If anyone looked over it, the climbers would be seen, but the chances of that happening were low . . . he hoped.

Besides, the patio wasn’t his destination. ‘We should be able to reach one of those balconies on the top two floors,’ he said. ‘Okay, so if we keep going straight up, then when we get level with that bush go right and then back around towards the house where those vines are, we’ll avoid that really steep bit.’ He indicated a near-vertical chimney that rose from the sea almost to the villa’s foundations.

‘That takes us the long way round,’ Zane complained. ‘We should go left before we get to the bush. It’ll be much quicker.’

‘It’s an overhang! The whole point of doing this was that we wouldn’t need ropes and pitons to get up there – never mind having to be fucking Spider-Man.’

‘I know
I
can make it,’ the Mossad agent sniffed. ‘Come on. We’re wasting time.’

‘For fuck’s sake,’ said Eddie, but his companion had already started climbing again. With a rumble of irritation, he followed.

They picked their way upwards. Thirty feet above the water, Eddie peered over his shoulder. There was a risk that somebody on a passing boat might spot them and draw the attention of the watchers on the shore, but the vessels were all some distance out, and those aboard were focused on their own pleasures.

He looked up again. Zane was clambering towards the villa with apparently zero effort despite the seventy-degree slope. ‘Christ, the kid’s a fucking gibbon,’ Eddie grumbled as he searched for his next handhold.

The Israeli was indeed taking the quicker route, heading for an overhanging arch sixty feet up. Small stones dropped from a crevice as he moved his foot from it, forcing Eddie to shield his eyes as they pattered down on to his head. ‘Oi! Fucking watch what you’re doing,’ he said, stopping to brush away the debris. ‘That almost—’

Dirt crumbled – and his feet slipped.

He gasped as he dropped, free hand snatching desperately at the bare rock—

His nails found a crack and he jerked to a stop, all his weight taken by his fingertips before he found new support with the edge of his sole. ‘Jesus Christ!’ he gasped.

‘Chase! Are you okay?’ asked Zane.

‘Yeah, fucking wonderful!’ he snapped back. ‘That’s what happens if you knock stuff down on to people underneath you. You fucking bell-end,’ he added.

‘Sounds like you’re okay,’ said the Mossad agent. ‘But I’ll be more careful.’

‘You’d bloody better.’ Eddie carefully checked his hand. His palm had acquired a nasty graze, and his fingers were throbbing, but beyond that he was unharmed. He had been lucky.

Zane had already set off again. Eddie allowed himself a few more seconds to recover from his fright before following. ‘I still think we should go the easier way,’ he said, keeping his voice low now that they were potentially within earshot of the people above.

‘We’ll be okay,’ the younger man replied. ‘If you get stuck, don’t worry – I’ll help you up.’

‘Funny kid,’ Eddie muttered. He paused to survey the cliff again. From this angle, the overhang looked more treacherous than ever, and to complicate matters further, the wind had picked up.

Zane was still heading for the arch, however. Eddie sighed, glancing over one shoulder as he started after him—

A launch was angling towards the jetty.

‘Hey!’ Eddie hissed. ‘There’s a boat, keep still! They’re more likely to see us if we’re moving.’

No response. Zane hadn’t heard him over the wind. The Israeli had reached the overhang, his bare hands the only thing keeping him from a long fall as he clambered along its underside. Eddie moved higher and tried again. ‘
Zane!
’

The other man looked back. ‘What?’

‘There’s another boat coming in! Keep still or they’ll see us!’

Zane twisted to look, and let out a Hebrew curse. He stopped his advance, digging his fingers into a crevice on the underside of the rock.

Eddie reached a secure position. The guard on the dock was now in view, walking to meet the incoming boat. Three men were aboard the small but expensive-looking craft: two crew in the front, and an older passenger. All were watching the guard, but if they looked along the cliffs . . .

‘Chase!’

The cry from above was almost strangled, Zane desperately trying not to shout. Eddie looked up. His companion was still suspended from the overhang . . . but the cliff face beneath it was too friable for him to brace himself with his feet.

And his hands were slipping.

The boat slowed as it lined up with the jetty. The guard went to the edge of the dock to receive a mooring line. The passenger gazed up at the villa – putting the two climbers in his peripheral vision. If they made any big movements, he would see them . . .

‘Chase!’ Zane gasped again, now with fear. ‘I can’t hold on!’ He tried to pull his legs towards the rockface – but the movement tore his right hand loose from its grip.

The guard caught the rope and wrapped it around a metal cleat. The passenger looked back at him—

The Israeli scrabbled frantically for a new handhold, but found none. He hung for a moment, suspended only by the fingertips of his left hand . . .

Then he fell.

16

Zane plunged straight down—

Eddie’s outstretched hand clamped around his wrist.

Pain flared in the Englishman’s other hand as his clawed fingers took Zane’s full unsupported weight. ‘Don’t – fuckin’ –
move
,’ Eddie rasped.

The boat was now tied up. The passenger stepped on to the jetty.

‘Chase, I’m slipping!’ Zane gasped. Eddie felt the Israeli’s sweat-drenched hand sliding through his. He squeezed more tightly, but knew he was about to lose him . . .

The new arrival rolled his head to work out a crick in his neck, then spoke to the guard. The man replied, the visitor nodding. For an agonising moment they remained still . . . then the pair started for the steps.

The crewmen turned their attention back to the boat. Eddie waited, still straining to keep hold of Zane’s hand. The instant the two men on the jetty passed out of sight, he hauled the younger man upwards. ‘Get a foothold!’

Zane’s feet scrabbled at the rock, finding a small protrusion. He pushed himself higher. Eddie shifted to bring his companion’s free hand within reach of the cliff. The Mossad agent grabbed it, letting out a loud gasp of relief. ‘You safe?’ Eddie asked.

‘Yeah, I . . . I got it,’ Zane replied. ‘I think . . . maybe the easy route is a good idea.’

‘No fucking kidding.’

They recovered their breath, then started to climb again – along Eddie’s suggested path. The Israeli’s ascent was considerably more cautious than before. They soon drew level with the patio. Voices warned them that more of Leitz’s guests had arrived and were enjoying the view, though fortunately across the sea rather than down the cliff.

They continued up to the next floor. Eddie shimmied across until he reached a little balcony with an open door and peered warily into the room beyond. The contrast between the bright sunlight outside and the shade within limited what he could discern, but he immediately picked out the glowing rectangle of a computer monitor on a desk. He climbed on to the balcony and moved to the door, back against its frame as he looked inside.

Nobody was there. As his eyes adjusted, he made out several tall bookshelves, their contents a mix of large leather-bound ledgers and black box files. Lined up beside the monitor were a laser printer and three telephones, one of which he recognised as a scrambler unit. Leitz apparently liked to keep certain conversations private. Everything was fastidiously neat, even the small amount of paperwork perfectly aligned with the desk’s edges.

A closed door led to the rest of the villa. ‘Okay, it’s clear,’ he said as he entered. Zane clambered on to the balcony behind him. ‘You all right?’

The Israeli was still breathing heavily. ‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ he replied. He went to the desk, seemingly examining the papers on it – but Eddie noticed him holding one hand just above the polished surface, fingers slightly splayed. They were trembling; only a little, but enough for the Englishman to spot.

‘It’s okay to be shaken up,’ Eddie told him quietly.

Zane hurriedly closed his fist. ‘What?’

‘You were seeing if your hand was shaking.’

‘I was checking Leitz’s mail,’ the younger man insisted. He opened the satchel. ‘Watch the door.’

Eddie shrugged, knowing all too well how reluctant men in their twenties – and beyond – were to reveal weakness. He listened at the entrance. Indistinct voices reached him, but none were close. ‘We’re okay.’

Zane nodded, then took a small device from his bag and plugged it into a USB port on Leitz’s computer. ‘How long will that take?’ Eddie asked.

‘Not long, I hope.’ He watched the screen – while making another surreptitious check on his hand. ‘Okay,’ he said after thirty seconds, reclaiming the USB device. ‘I can access everything on his computer—’

Eddie raised a hand in warning. ‘Someone’s coming.’

Zane scurried to join the Yorkshireman as he flattened himself against the wall behind the door. A conversation in German grew louder outside. For a moment, Eddie thought the approaching men were going to enter the office . . . but then they continued past, going down a flight of stairs.

‘One of them was Leitz,’ Zane whispered. ‘He said, “Now that everyone is here, we can start.”’

‘Start what?’

‘That’s what I want to find out.’ The Mossad agent produced a compact and rather ugly matt-black handgun from his satchel.

Eddie eyed the weapon, an Israeli SP-21 Barak. ‘Don’t suppose you brought one for me?’

‘Sorry.’ He flicked off the safety. ‘Leitz probably has a weapon hidden in here.’

‘And you’re going to give me time to look for it, right?’ the Englishman said sarcastically as Zane opened the door and peeked out, then exited. Annoyed, he followed.

They emerged on to a landing running around three sides of a spacious marble-floored hall. Sunlight from the patio’s entrance gleamed off the stone – revealing growing shadows inside the bright rectangles. Eddie and Zane both ducked as two elderly men entered the hall, but they didn’t go towards the staircase, instead heading for a set of dark wooden doors.

‘That guy’s American,’ Eddie muttered, overhearing snippets of discussion as they passed below.

Zane nodded. ‘From Florida. His name is Thomson Holmes – another rich man, and another Jew-hater.’

‘Thomson Holmes? Sounds like a property developer.’

‘He is.’ They exchanged looks, then Zane continued: ‘The man he was with is English. He’s a member of your aristocracy. Charles Hertsmore, also known as the eighth Baron Winderhithe. His grandfather was a personal friend of Adolf Hitler before the war.’

‘Apples don’t fall far from the tree, then.’ Eddie watched in disgust as the pair went into the next room, then tilted his head. ‘I can still hear them talking. Where’s it coming from?’

‘Through there.’ At the end of the landing, directly above the double doors, was another entrance. It was ajar. Keeping low, Zane moved to it and cautiously looked through before gesturing for Eddie to join him.

The large room beyond was a mixture of library and lounge. The door opened on to a narrow gallery overlooking the main floor. Windows opposite looked out along the coast, though the focus of attention was not the view but a big flat-screen television. A camera had been mounted on top of its bezel.

Zane crept to the edge of the gallery to look down between the wooden railings. Eddie joined him, getting his first view of Leitz’s assembled guests. All were male, well into middle age or older. Even though they were chatting, there was a definite lack of humour amongst the group. Everyone present took themselves very seriously indeed.

The agent’s gaze flicked from one man to another. ‘I know them all,’ he whispered to Eddie. ‘They’re some of Leitz’s biggest clients. There isn’t one of them worth less than fifty million US dollars.’ A hard edge entered his voice. ‘And they’re all known anti-Semites, supporters of fascism.’

‘Didn’t bring a hand grenade, did you?’ Eddie asked. ‘One bomb chucked down there’d be doing the world a big favour.’

The group below looked around as someone else entered the library. White suit, white hair, rectangular glasses: Leitz. ‘Gentlemen, good day,’ he said in clipped, accented English. ‘Now that Mr Haas is here,’ he gestured to the man who had arrived by boat while Eddie and Zane were scaling the cliff, ‘we can begin. If you will take your seats?’

The dozen men found places facing the screen. Leitz lowered blinds, then turned to the TV. ‘Computer, screen on,’ he said. It came to life, the giant display replicating what was on the monitor in the office. ‘Computer, conference.’ A window opened in response to his voice command, showing the dashboard of an encrypted videoconferencing program. He took up position beside the television. ‘As I am sure you all know, there have recently been changes in the ranks of the so-called global elite. The disappearances, and presumed deaths, of the Bull brothers, Rudolf Meerkrieger and Travis Warden, as well as several others in their circle, have created a power vacuum at the highest levels of commerce and politics.’

‘Oops,’ said Eddie under his breath as Leitz continued speaking.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Zane.

‘The people he’s talking about? Basically the secret rulers of the world?’

‘They are? What about them?’

‘Me and Nina kind of . . . blew them up. In a volcano.’

The Israeli regarded him in disbelief. ‘A volcano.’

‘What can I say? That’s how we roll. Although don’t blame us for whatever’s going on here,’ he added hurriedly. ‘We were in the middle of saving the world, so we were kind of preoccupied.’

Zane waved him to silence. ‘This has created a unique opportunity,’ the middleman was saying, ‘for those with a certain vision for the world. You and I all share that vision, as does my client.’ A chime from the TV, where a flashing message announced an incoming call. ‘He is offering you a way to ensure that you will not only see this new world come into being, but also enjoy it for a very long time.’ Leitz stepped back from the television and said, ‘Computer, accept.’ The dashboard disappeared, replaced by a live feed. ‘Gentlemen, I present to you: SS-Obersturmbannführer Erich Kroll.’

Eddie stared in amazement – and a sense of horror – at the screen. Kroll was recognisable as the man whose photo he had seen at the United Nations . . . but only just. In the seventy years he had been in hiding, he had put on a huge amount of weight. His face was bloated, jowls overflowing his collar. His hair had almost disappeared except for a few grey wisps over his ears. But it was definitely the same man, the malevolent eyes unchanged.

He wore a black SS officer’s uniform, a line of medals and ribbons drawing a line across his left breast to a bright red slash around his bicep. An armband, a symbol upon it.

The swastika, emblem of Nazi Germany.

The same emblem, much larger, was also on the wall behind him, the white circle around the angular black character framing his head like a halo. Eddie felt a chill. This wasn’t somebody dressing up in a Nazi costume, or a thuggish modern-day imitator. The man he was looking at was the genuine article, an actual wanted war criminal.

And he had escaped not only justice, but also the ravages of time. Kroll should have been almost a hundred years old, but he appeared only half that, not even his grotesque corpulence adding any age to his features. Was Nina’s discovery in Alexandria really true, then? Had the escaped Nazis found water from the Spring of Immortality?

Zane stiffened, face tight with anger. Eddie could fully sympathise. To the Englishman, the Nazis were an aggressive, powerful war machine that had tried to crush his country; to the young Jewish man, they were figures of pure evil who had attempted to exterminate every last one of his people. Kroll was a demon made flesh, emerging from the past to threaten them once more.

The demon spoke, his voice like bubbles slowly working their way up through black tar. ‘Good day to you all,’ said Kroll in heavily accented English.

Leitz’s guests responded with something approaching awe. Eddie felt slightly sick when he realised why. To him and Zane, the Nazi was a monster; to those below, he was an
icon
. His earlier comment about the hand grenade had been joking, but now he wanted to do it for real.

‘As Herr Leitz has told you,’ Kroll continued, ‘during the war we obtained a supply of an incredible substance, a water that slowed the process of ageing. For those who drink it regularly, each five years that pass are like only a single one. We have been in hiding for almost seventy years, but our bodies have aged only about fifteen.’

‘I still want to see scientific proof of this,’ said Holmes, drawing disapproving looks from some of his companions.

Kroll scowled. ‘You have already been shown as much proof as we are able to provide without compromising our security. If you did not believe it, why are you here?’ Holmes shifted uncomfortably, forced to concede the point. ‘But we had only a limited amount of the water. This meant that only select members of our group were permitted to use it.’ His eyes became more intense. ‘The situation has now changed. Our raid on the tomb of Alexander the Great in Egypt has given us the means to locate the water’s original source.’

That prompted intrigued mutterings from the guests. Eddie, meanwhile, had a whispered comment of his own. ‘What? They didn’t get anything.
We
took the statue.’ Zane shushed him.

‘Gentlemen,’ said Kroll impatiently. The susurration ceased. ‘I asked Herr Leitz to assemble you here so that I can present to you a great opportunity. You are all wealthy men, in positions of power and influence in your countries. Influence that you are willing to use to promote the ideals of history’s greatest leader . . . Adolf Hitler.’

One of the men jumped to his feet, right arm stiffly raised with his palm turned downwards. ‘
Heil Hitler!
’

In moments, the others had all stood to deliver identical salutes. ‘
Heil Hitler! Heil Hitler!
’ The bloated figure on the screen looked on with approval.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Eddie gasped, appalled. Zane appeared ready to kill.

Kroll waited for the awful chorus to die down. ‘Thank you. It is very good to know that others outside the Enklave’ – something about the way he said the word made Eddie realise he was using it as a proper noun – ‘believe as we do. And the tide of history is turning back towards us. More people join our cause every day across Europe and other parts of the world, disgusted by the failures of the supposed democracies and the pollution of their nations by inferiors. The time to act is now! All of you have enough influence to bring the masses in your countries to our way of thinking – through your newspapers, television stations, the Internet, your friends and puppets in government. If you all push together, our way will be seen as the
only
way, now and for ever – and with what I am offering, you will all be able to see the work through.’

The hard sell was coming, Eddie realised. Kroll had had decades to work on his sales pitch – and his audience seemed to be willing buyers.

The Nazi spoke again. ‘As I told you, we have obtained the means to find the source of the water. However, it will require considerable resources to secure it – and considerable amounts of money. But I can assure you that it will be worth it. Your payments now will guarantee you a supply for the rest of your lives. Which will be
very
long.’ He leaned back, watching his audience’s response intently.