The Excalibur Codex (41 page)

Jamie flinched at the familiar voice from behind him. He bent and placed the Sig on the floor.

‘Very sensible,’ Steele said. ‘Collins, take a look around and make sure there aren’t any other nasty surprises about.’ The guard picked up the two pistols and walked past Jamie with a look that said he’d like to use it to break his jaw.

‘Trevor’s in the kitchen with a sore head and a bad temper. I left him tied up.’

Jamie turned and looked into the familiar, classically beautiful face of Charlotte Wellesley. She stood by the door with her gun against Fiona Maxwell’s head and a knowing smile on her lips.

‘Surprised to see me?’ She blew him a kiss. ‘You’re not the only one who knows where the basement is. Join your saviour, darling,’ she pushed Fiona towards him, ‘temporary though it’s likely to be.’

‘I was expecting someone else.’ Jamie tried to keep the defeat from his voice, but he knew everyone in the armoury could hear it. They’d suckered him in like a mouse following a trail of crumbs. And now the trap was about to slam shut.

‘Gault?’ Adam Steele snorted incredulously. ‘Poor old Gault didn’t like you at all, Saintclair. Forever
complaining there was something not quite kosher about you. Too many coincidences, he said. Always had the answers. Always some old mate from the past turning up just when you needed them. And, of course, he was right. Who were your old chums, Jamie?’

‘Russian intelligence, Mossad, MI6 and the CIA. A chap can’t have too many friends, Adam, you should know that.’

Steele laughed and selected a French cavalry sabre from the wall and slid it from its scabbard. Jamie moved protectively in front of Fiona Maxwell and Charlotte smiled. ‘Ooh, how very chivalrous.’

The financier turned to Fiona. ‘It’s good to know that you preserve the proprieties, Miss ah …? ’

‘Maxwell,’ Fiona snapped.

‘Honed to a reasonable fighting edge. It’s the only way to keep them properly conserved. A few spots of rust don’t matter at all as long as the blade is well waxed.’ He tried a couple of practice swings, the heavy blade hissing ominously through the air as he approached the two people in the middle of the room. Jamie stood his ground as Steele brought the point of the sabre to his cheek so he could feel the edge against the skin. ‘I think we have some business to discuss. Let’s start with the computer, shall we?’ Jamie raised his hands and slowly brought the right to the inside pocket of his jacket. The other man raised a warning eyebrow and Charlotte laughed as if she was having the most fun ever. Jamie pulled a card and a pen from his pocket. With the sabre
still touching his flesh he wrote three or four words on the card. Adam Steele smiled and held out his hand, but the smile froze when Jamie slipped the card into the back pocket of his jeans.

‘You can have it later.’

‘What’s to stop me cutting you into little pieces and taking it now?’

‘Because that would mean you’re too frightened to fight me, Adam, and you wouldn’t like Charlotte to think that, would you? Anyway, it wouldn’t be as much fun.’

‘Oh, I don’t know about that, old boy.’ With a flick of the wrist the financier brought the point down across Jamie’s shoulder and chest and the art dealer winced as he felt the razor edge score across his skin through the jacket and shirt. Steele smiled and walked back to the display to choose another sword.

‘You were talking about Gault,’ Jamie reminded him.

‘Yes, too many coincidences. So many, in fact, that even a dull dog like Gault began to get suspicious. He was talking about having it out with you, man to man, as it were, and we couldn’t have that. Charlotte took care of it. She enjoys that kind of thing, you see. Apparently, she didn’t take kindly to Gault groping her or something. Strange girl.’

‘Odious little man,’ Charlotte laughed.

‘Like you took care of Sarah Grant?’

Jamie’s voice held a cold threat and Charlotte laughed at
the unlikelihood of him ever making it a reality. ‘Sarah …? Oh, you mean the girl in the woods.’

‘Why? That was one thing I didn’t understand. That and Hermann.’

‘Well, I had to see what happened to you. We couldn’t have you getting yourself killed just then …’

‘Yeees,’ Steele drawled. ‘That was unfortunate. We had to use a phone linked to Al-Qaida. How were we supposed to know they’d be able to track the damned thing?’

‘I almost saved you myself, but then Miss Perfect stepped in. I watched you talking together and when you parted with that chaste little kiss I saw the wheels going round and the moment she put two and two together. After that there was no option, really.’

Jamie barely restrained himself from charging across the room and taking her by the throat. But she smiled and lifted the pistol so it was lined up on his chest.

Steele finally selected a sabre that pleased him. ‘In the hall, I think. More room and it wouldn’t do to get blood on the carpet.’

Jamie followed him warily. Like Steele he removed his jacket and Fiona Maxwell gasped at the bloody stain across his shirt.

‘No.’

He turned and shook his head. ‘You don’t have to watch this.’

‘Oh, I think we do,’ Charlotte laughed, pushing the barrel of her Ruger in the other girl’s back.

‘The other thing I don’t understand,’ Jamie continued, ‘is why you killed hundreds of people all over Europe just to frame me. You already had your atrocity and a reason to carry out your little revolution.’

Steele’s eyes hardened at the final two words, which were evidently less than welcome. ‘It appears you know more about my business than you should. We’ll discuss that in a few moments. Not
just
to frame you, Jamie. It was Charlotte’s idea.’

‘It was terribly kind of you to help out, Jamie,’ Charlotte chimed in. ‘Adam needed to be entirely certain no one in Europe would try to interfere with what we had to do after the takeover. The Europeans can be so stuffy sometimes, but when they were under attack themselves they’d have no option but to let events in the New Britain take their course. Of course, that meant once you had succeeded in getting us Excalibur you had to go. We couldn’t have you running around denying everything and making people suspicious.’

‘But I didn’t get Excalibur for you.’

‘No.’ Steele’s voice took on a new menace. ‘And that is something I will be discussing with your new lady friend once I’ve trimmed you down to size. A pity you won’t be around to watch. It could be quite entertaining. By the way, how did you know about our
little revolution
? I don’t remember that being on the computer?’

‘Poor old Gault. It turned out he talked in his sleep.’

Adam Steele’s nostrils flared. ‘I don’t think so. Now, what did you say? Oh, yes.
No guards, no tips. Just
you and me and two swords.
I’m going to take a huge amount of pleasure in killing you.’

He tossed the original sabre to Jamie and the moment it settled in his hand the art dealer understood the true nature of this contest. The competition sabres he’d fought with in the past weighed less than a pound, had blunt edges and no point. Against a French cavalry sabre that had been used at Waterloo, it was like comparing a grizzly bear with a sheep. Three pounds of solid steel with an edge that would take your arm off and a point that would go right through you, this was a genuine killing weapon. If he hadn’t known before he was in a fight to the death he did now. He raised the sword to eye level, checking it for flaws.

‘Excalibur for his life,’ Fiona cried. ‘Let him live and I’ll give you Excalibur.’

‘No!’ Jamie said. ‘You—’ Steele’s sword came up to his lips to silence him.

‘Yes.’ He smiled at Charlotte. ‘I’m sure that would be an excellent bargain, but …’ He whipped the blade to the right and Fiona shrieked as the edge split the skin of her burned hand. ‘Now that I know for certain you actually
do
have Excalibur, there’s really no need. And it would be such a pity to forego the satisfaction of killing Mr Saintclair.’

Fiona Maxwell slumped to the floor and Jamie was consumed by a red rage that would have launched him at the financier, but for the new voice from the doorway. Trevor, the guard Jamie had clubbed in the kitchen,
stood with a look of pure hatred on his face and a pistol in his hand. ‘If you don’t, I will.’

For a millisecond all Jamie could hear was the sound of his own breathing. The pause allowed his anger to subside and he felt a coldness settling on his heart. It seemed that, win or lose, he was going to die. Oddly, he felt no fear, only a settled calm he recognized from the past and which boded ill for his opponent. One thing was for certain: if he was going to die, Adam Steele was going to die first.

The thought made him smile and Steele’s grin faded when he saw the look on his face.

‘
En garde.
’

It would be a messy death. Essentially the sabre is a giant meat cleaver and whoever first made the metal connect with the meat would win. Jamie had two options: play for time or go for the kill. Under the circumstances he decided on the second.

They stood ten feet apart on the hexagonal tiles of the entry hall, with Steele facing west and Jamie east, towards the tourist entrance where the two suits of armour decorated the wall. As Adam Steele brought his sabre up to his face in a formal salute Jamie launched into a jump lunge with his blade at full extension. The thrust would have skewered Steele through the middle if the financier hadn’t somehow managed to get his blade down for a lightning parry that beat Jamie’s point to one side. Steele followed up with a scything back-cut designed to take out his opponent’s throat. Jamie preempted the move with a piece of fancy footwork that took him out of range, but he still felt the whisper of the
blade as it hissed past his face. Steele stepped back, his eyes almost glowing with excitement despite the close call.

‘That was a bit out of order, old boy.’

‘It’s not a fucking game, old boy.’ To emphasize the point Jamie chopped at the grinning face, forcing Steele to parry, and then met the inevitable riposte with one of his own. They exchanged cuts, taking each other’s measure and Jamie gradually became more familiar with the weight and balance of his sword. Every meeting of the blades was accompanied by a resounding clang that echoed round the panelled halls and vaulted ceiling. In an official bout, the referee would have called stop at the end of the inconclusive exchange and they would have retreated to their own ends of the mat. But this wasn’t an official bout. And there were no rules. A parry pushed Jamie’s sabre down to the left and Steele took advantage of the opening to dance to his own left, bringing his blade scything round in a terrible arc that should have severed Jamie’s spine. The initial movement had been designed to force the younger man to circle right, following the attack, but Jamie Saintclair had a few tricks of his own. Instead, he let the momentum of his sword carry him left, in a pirouetting turn that allowed him to catch Steele’s blade on his, almost behind his own back. By the time the financier had recovered Jamie was facing him. Again Steele danced left, looking for an opening, but Jamie’s sabre point followed him all the way, and his eyes never left his opponent’s. By
now both men were breathing hard and sweat was running from Steele’s thick, dark hair into his eyes and he dashed at them with the back of his hand to clear his vision. Steele’s movement had taken him full circle for no advantage and Jamie had held the centre ground and expended less energy. Round One to the challenger.

As if by common assent each man took a step back, attempting to gauge the extent of the other’s weakness. The anticipation in Steele’s eyes had been replaced by a glaring, almost maniacal, hatred. Jamie met his stare with what he hoped was a look of implacable resolve, tinged with just the slightest hint of defeat. He saw the other man dart a glance towards Trevor at the door, and he knew that all it would take was a nod and he’d be fighting with a bullet in his back, which would make things tricky. He was depending on Adam Steele’s need to look like a winner in front of Charlotte and his men. Having your opponent shot was effective, but it smacked of cheating, and winners didn’t have to cheat. What he had to do was keep making Steele think he was going to win. Right up till the moment he lost.

A second later the first part of that strategy looked simple enough. Without warning Steele feinted to his left, drawing Jamie’s guard with him. But the movement was a cover for the attack that had almost taken Jamie by surprise the last time they’d met on the fencing mat. The financier bounded forward with the sabre at full stretch and aimed directly at Jamie’s heart. This time there was no time for any elaborate counter. He could almost feel
the three feet of steel piercing his heart as his blade came up to meet the other man’s. The sheer strength of his wrist forced the attack to his left, but not far enough because he felt as if a hot poker had been rammed into his side below the ribs. The agony was almost numbing, but instinct maintained his advance and he stepped inside the blade and ducked forward to butt Steele in the face. It wasn’t the perfect blow, and Jamie’s forehead struck just above and to the left of Steele’s nose, but it stunned the businessman. He reeled back with his left hand against his eye and the sword swinging wildly to meet Jamie’s counter. But the younger man’s movement was slowed by the waves of pain coming from his side. He stepped back out of range and the hand he clutched to the wound came away dark red. When he looked up, Steele’s eyes were wild and blood streamed from a cut on his right eyelid. Jamie shook his head to clear it and charged, all pretence of swordsmanship gone, the blade coming up to hack at his enemy’s face. Steele caught the sword on his own and responded by ramming his point at Jamie’s eyes.

For almost a minute, they matched each other blow for blow and strength for strength, each meeting of the curved blades an assault on the ears and accompanied by the animal grunts of the men wielding them. From another world, Jamie heard Charlotte’s ringing laughter as a cut almost took the head from his shoulders, but she went quiet when he stepped inside with a lunge that sliced the flesh of Adam Steele’s shoulder. Steele
screamed in agony but he had the presence of mind to step forward and his sabre point sought Jamie out. By good fortune Jamie’s momentum had already taken him inside the danger and he found himself chest to chest with the man who had tried to destroy him. Steele’s body reeked of a bitter sweet
mélange
of expensive cologne, sweat and fear. His face was in Jamie’s, lips drawn back from the teeth in a feral snarl, one eye already swollen almost shut, and the skin blood red with effort and fury. Unable to use the sword he wrapped his arms round Jamie and the art dealer felt himself lifted off his feet. Helpless, Jamie heard his enemy laugh as he fought the deadly embrace. He battered his head forward, but this time Steele was too clever for him and he’d already come in too close for the blow to be effective. They crashed against a table and something china smashed to the floor sending shards spinning under their feet. Steele’s strength seemed unaffected by the wound in his shoulder and Jamie screamed as his enemy rammed him back against the massive stone fireplace, sending a lance of pain through his injured side. He began to fade and he knew if he didn’t break the hold soon, Steele would throw him to the ground and he’d be too weak to defend himself. A piece of wooden furniture splintered under their combined weight and he felt his oppressor stagger. He attempted another feeble butt and Steele laughed again, but this time a warm piece of flesh brushed Jamie’s lips and hung there tantalizingly.