Matt Drake 14 - The Treasures of Saint Germain (20 page)

Balboni, to her credit and desperate need to stay out of prison, had played her part well. She’d taken the time to convince Webb even though he already respected and revered her skills. And she knew her job, which at the moment was all about Webb. She knew her Saint Germain history.

Zurich was the place where, according to old accounts by various public figures including Sir Francis Bacon, Saint Germain had founded Freemasonry. The Count had spent some years here, perfecting that particular formula, before transplanting it to Venice and also Paris. Dahl cared about none of that now. He only cared about stopping Webb.

“Any contact?” he asked Kinimaka.

The Hawaiian held the cell that was Sabrina’s point of contact. “Not yet,” he said. “Shoulda implanted that tracker, brah.”

“Too obvious. And Webb wouldn’t hesitate to kill her if he found it. I believe she’ll come through.”

Kinimaka scrunched his face up, the old CIA suspicion still evident. “She’s a thief. Why the confidence in her?”

“She’s not
just
a thief. She is different. Proven in most ways and lacking in just a few. I believe she’s redeemable.”

The Hawaiian laughed. “Like your new girlfriend? Careful, Dahl, you’ll end up surrounded by your own sympathies.”

“Kenzie is not my girlfriend,” Dahl said crossly. “Stop believing everything Alicia tells you.”

Hearing her name, Kenzie looked over from the table beside them. “Talk to me, boys, not about me. So, when are we setting off after this screwball thief?”

Dahl swallowed a harsh retort. “We allow her to settle in, gain Webb’s total confidence, and then she will call. Have faith.”

Kenzie grunted and returned to staring into the black depths of her coffee cup as if she could read their future in what grounds remained.

Dahl stared into space, ignoring the comings and goings all around. Since Barbados and the terrors his wife, children and he had been put through by his old enemy, his life had been through more twists and turns than a corkscrew. Johanna, at first willing to try again, was already starting to pull away. The children were holding up well, bouncing back with a vengeance, and not even suffering nightmares after their ordeal.
There was always a silver lining
, he thought,
even where the storm ran deepest.

It seemed there was nothing more to do, or try, short of quitting his job. Even then, would an initial euphoria turn to dust once whatever kind of new life they made grew mundane and he began to miss his true calling?

So here he was in the heart of Zurich, in the middle of another job and trying to find a solution to his marital problems. Not easy when the other half of the solution sat thousands of miles away.

Zurich itself was an impressive city. Located at the northwestern tip of Lake Zurich it had been called the wealthiest city in Europe as well as the city with the best quality of life. Theatres, art galleries and museums were in abundance, bringing tourists from all parts of the world. Gathered around him now were an eclectic bunch: backpackers, business men and locals pecking away at computers.

A standard cellphone tone caught his attention. Kinimaka stared at the screen before nodding and holding it to his ear.

“Yes?”

Dahl watched his face as the hustle and bustle around them went on uninterrupted. This could change things. Set them in motion. The Hawaiian’s face remained impassive for a while and then a telling reply.

“Where is it?”

Dahl felt a surge of energy and smiled at Smyth. At last, movement. This would help occupy their minds, divert their attentions.

Kinimaka nodded as he spoke. “We’re on our way. We’ll try to—”

Clearly then the line went dead as he stopped talking and stared at the screen. “Hope she’s okay,” he said, and then let out a long breath.

“And so do I,” Dahl said. “But stay tough with her, Mano. Don’t forget we have the means to test her too.”

The merc they’d questioned in Paris earlier had listed all the places both he and his fellow goons had been tasked to guard. They had that list now, and would be matching it closely with what Sabrina gave them in the future.

“I have coordinates. It’s not too far but—” He looked downcast.

“What?”

“She said something like—‘bring your skis’.”

Dahl could understand why Kinimaka might look so glum. “Shit, and you find it hard to walk in a straight line.”

“I know.” No protests came from the Hawaiian side.

Smyth knocked on the table. “So, get the coordinates tapped in. Let’s scope this bad boy out.”

Dahl watched Lauren push her laptop into the center of the table. She had been researching Saint Germain and Zurich, and the history of Freemasons. The wealth of lore and hearsay surrounding the Count, however, was challenging and quite fascinating.

Considered a secret agent of King Louis XV of France he appeared to have gone with a British commander to India to actually fight the French, highlighting an incredible talent for being able to go back and forth with leaders of warring camps and nations. An agent, a spy, a “singer who plays the violin wonderfully, composes and is also completely mad”, according to Horace Walpole.

In Freemasonry he was considered not so much a Mason, but a member of the Higher Brotherhood. Modern-day Masons tried to distance themselves from involvement with the Count, citing the ridiculous accounts surrounding his alchemical discoveries, great feats and long life as proof that the man was an utter charlatan.

But Lauren pointed out the stark facts: kings courted him; battle commanders traveled with him; composers sought his company, theaters his compositions. He facilitated the marriage of a Dutch princess to a German prince, to establish a “fund for France”. All statements of fact.

Why?

The Brotherhood called him an Advanced Adept, and many branches still did not deny him. His intrigues, travels and successes certainly pointed to a man of power, moving within influential circles and swaying minds.

Dahl was more interested in the place he’d stayed whilst visiting Zurich. “Lauren?”

“Yeah, it’s up here.” She jabbed at the screen where a 2D map of Zurich was displayed. Mountains marched beyond the lake and the city, some snow-capped. Lauren’s fingers tapped at one of the tallest.

“We have a GPRS locator?” she asked.

Dahl nodded. “My old job. Never go anywhere without one.”

Kenzie tapped him on the shoulder. “Um, except Barbados, eh?”

“That was different. Stop jabbering.”

He ignored the bleat of protest, listening as Lauren suggested a simple route to a location close to the foot of the mountain in question.

“Webb’s there now?” he asked.

Kinimaka nodded. “Like a virus that can’t be shaken.”

“Kenzie.” He stood up without looking at her. “Get the check.”

*

Sometime later around lunchtime, the team crowded out of their rented minibus, opened the rear hatch, and took a look at the assorted clothes and implements they’d thrown there. Only Dahl and Yorgi sported smiles.

“Don’t worry,” Dahl said. “It looks more cross-country than hill climb. A totally different kettle of fish.”

The team reached inside the van for jackets, trousers, headgear and then the dreaded skis. Dahl didn’t say a word when Smyth gestured for help or when Lauren fell over, just made sure the guys were okay. Their weapons were secured last, and then Kinimaka sent a final communication over to Argento at Interpol.

They set out, leaving the minibus parked in a large area alongside other vehicles and following tracks already laid out in the snow. The glare was high, the skies bright. Dahl tried to show the others, particularly Kinimaka, how best to employ his poles to help him glide across the snow-covered terrain. The Hawaiian was a fast learner, but in his own words had “no real experience with the white stuff”.

“Use the alternating technique,” the Swede said. “And look on the bright side, it’s not too far.”

The snowy landscape stretched far and wide, rolling hills ahead leading to higher and higher slopes. Dahl felt a chill in the air but knew it would soon dissipate once the team started their cross-country walk. He took the lead, looking back often and shouting encouragement. This was just what he needed, something to interfere with his train of thought and a way to help. When Kenzie fell on her ass he even scooted over to pull her up.

“People actually do this for fun?” she asked.

“Of course. You get used to it, like any pastime. Give it a chance.”

The first rolling hill secreted a sharp slope down which both Kinimaka and Lauren went sideways and tumbling. Dahl helped them up and they continued, checking ahead and seeing at least three more similar hills. To the far right a cable car passed them, trundling slowly up highly tensioned wires.

“See the tracks?” Dahl panted as they paused, his breath pluming. “The popular path veers off that way.”

Kinimaka raised his goggles. “And we go . . . ?”

“Straight on.” Lauren pointed. “Across virgin snow.”

“Crap, that’s just great.”

As a team they persevered and struggled through. Dahl helped when he made them slow down, wary of any lookouts Webb may have posted. There were no more communications from Sabrina and already the day was growing old, the shadows long. They crested a final slope and paused in the shadow of a huge boulder.

Ahead, a gentle slope ran to the base of the mountain. As Dahl studied the terrain a gentle snow flurry skipped up all around them, stinging their exposed faces with bits of ice. Kinimaka complained surprisingly more than Smyth.

“He’s just cranky,” Kenzie pointed out. “Problems at home.”

Kinimaka swore at her. “Keep it to yourself.”

“Relax,” Kenzie said. “She’s fine. I’m sure someone’s taking care of her right now.”

Kinimaka turned his back with obvious melancholy and asked how close they were to the coordinates. Dahl checked his GPS. “A few miles,” he admitted. “Might be best to get a move on.”

Another hour of relentless shambling and they were close enough to their destination to remove skis and continue in thick boots, much to everyone’s relief. The air had already grown noticeably colder and the sky was fast losing its shine. The slopes of the mountain had been rugged for a while, before flattening out into a wide plateau. As the group came up the final part of the hard climb, they peered over the apex and saw a wonderful thing.

Rocks dotted the plateau, which led all the way to the mountainside. Nestling at the foot of the next rock face was a medium-sized house, bland in appearance but ancient; its brick structure weathered and its surrounds being retaken by the mountain. From this distance they could discern no more until Dahl broke the field glasses out.

They crept over the edge and lay amid a clump of trees, snow spilling out beneath them. When Kinimaka bumped into a low branch heavy with snow and dislodged a white shower that covered them all, everyone complained but Dahl—who used the field glasses to see if the movement had been spotted.

Through the lenses he saw golden light beaming through undraped windows, its radiance spilling across the landscape. Each window gave up a secret—the presence of suited men, a table full of untouched food and unused glasses, rows of leather-bound, hardback books lovingly preserved, and more.

Nobody he recognized.

Upstairs he went, training the field glasses carefully. With a slow turn of the adjustment wheel he compensated for the slight change.

And focused in on the face of Tyler Webb, staring out the window and across the landscape back toward Zurich.

Dahl almost gasped. Surprise made him tighten his fists around the glasses, an act that didn’t go unnoticed amongst the team.

“What is it?” Kinimaka and Smyth said at once.

“Webb,” he breathed. “I don’t believe it. Tyler bloody Webb, large as life and twice as ugly, standing before a window on the top floor. Dozens of guards below though. This place belongs to a high-level player.”

Kinimaka grunted, a feral sound bearing all the hatred and pent-up fears reaped from months of stalking both Hayden and he had endured, from afar and from intimately near.

“We go,” he said, forgetting the cell and their line to Sabrina. “We go now. Hit it. Hit it hard.”

Kenzie moved in the snow, her body making it crunch. “Hey, Mano, if you’d used your own advice on Hayden you might still be together.”

The entire team ignored her. Dahl rolled onto his side, snow spilling, and regarded them. “Prepare for a fight. Are you ready?” It was a rhetorical question. “Try Sabrina quickly, Mano. Then we move.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

Drake exploded into action as the shots rang out, darting left and wrestling a whole cluster of tourists to the ground. Hayden sprang right and Mai down the middle, flinging people aside if need be. Windows shattered behind them as the bullets flew high, darkened glass jettisoning outside in a prickly shower. Drake thanked the gods that these men were not true terrorists and fired only to aid their getaway. He slid off a pile of tourists.

“You’re welcome,” he said as they complained.

Hayden rushed over to him. “It probably won’t help, but heads down. We could be in deep when they review the footage later.”

“It won’t matter then,” Drake murmured. “If we do this . . .”

He sprinted off after the cult leaders. Hayden groaned in his wake. Alicia flew at his side, body language set in grim distaste. The way ahead was highly polished, reflective and lined by high windows containing super-expensive items. The whole place was darkened, the ceiling lit with gold. The floor shimmered and shone with inlaid tiles in swirling patterns. Amari and his friends were already at the far end, running hard and still refusing to glance back.

Drake stayed low, his head bent as much as was safe. They quickly approached the corner and slowed, inching around, but no shots came. Bands of tourists huddled in shop doorways or headed toward staircases and a bank of elevators. Drake led the other four the length of another opulent walkway and saw a large space opening up ahead. A sign mounted above read:
Lobby.