The Secret Crown

Jones interrupted him. ‘What’s the riddle?’

Ulster laughed at his oversight. ‘Yes! That would be helpful, wouldn’t it? Obviously the original version was written in Bavarian – or some kind of Austro-Bavarian dialect – which my grandfather eventually translated into Austrian German. That’s the language he spoke prior to moving to Switzerland. Later in life, he-’

‘Petr!’ Jones blurted. ‘You’re giving me a headache. Just tell us the riddle.’

Ulster blushed. ‘Sorry, David. I’m just excited.’

Jones immediately felt guilty and softened his tone. ‘And we’re excited, too. We really are. But we can’t help if you don’t tell us the riddle.’

Ulster nodded in understanding. Most of the time they humoured him and let him ramble on and on, but even a long-winded historian like Ulster realized that some situations called for brevity. And this was one of those times. Without any further introduction or additional background information, he honoured their request and revealed the riddle.

‘Where would a swan go on his journey home?’

23

Krueger couldn’t believe his luck. First the surprising appearance of Petr Ulster, and now this. Obviously, something significant was going on, and it was his job to figure out what. After three years of doing small jobs for Hans Mueller, he hoped this would be his ticket out.

Not that Krueger hated the Oberbayern region of Germany – it certainly had its charm. But ever since he had left the 10th Armoured Division of the German Army, he had always wanted to work in a larger city. Perhaps Frankfurt or Berlin. Or even Cologne. At this point, anything would be better than a seasonal town like Garmisch-Partenkirchen. The only time he saw local action was during the winter months when the big spenders rolled into town for skiing and Mueller needed extra protection to conduct business meetings on the slopes.

Other than that, Krueger was forced to fend for himself for six months a year. He ran a small crew of his own – mostly ex-military types – specializing in breakins and broken legs. Occasionally, when they were desperate for cash, they would steal a few cars and sell them to an Austrian associate who took them across the border before they were even reported missing. The money paid their rent for a few months and bought them plenty of beer, but in the grand scheme of things, Krueger realized the risks he took were never worth the reward.

For several weeks, Krueger had been looking for a way to make a name for himself, a way to get noticed by Mueller or one of his top lieutenants. He had considered all types of jobs, including a bank heist in Dusseldorf, an art theft in Stuttgart and a kidnapping in Dresden. Amazingly, during his legwork and advanced planning, he had never expected a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to surface in his own backyard. And yet, he was staring at it through his binoculars.

If he pulled this off, he’d be a legend overnight.

Kaiser’s plan was simple: get the gold off the mountain as quickly as possible.

Once it was safely on its way to one of his secure facilities, Kaiser would worry about the van Gogh crate and all the other heirlooms that Ulster wanted to transport to the Archives for documentation. After that, Kaiser didn’t care what happened to the items – whether Ulster returned them to the rightful owners, donated them to a museum or sold everything on eBay. As long as no one mentioned the gold or his involvement to the authorities, Kaiser would walk away with the biggest score of his life, the type of payday that would allow him to retire.

He could practically taste the pina coladas already.

As for Ludwig’s mythical treasure, it sounded like more trouble than it was worth – especially to someone who shunned the spotlight as he did. If Payne and Jones found something of value, Kaiser would gladly take his share, as long as it could be handled far from the public eye. The last thing he needed was his name and picture in every newspaper round the world. That’s what had happened to Payne and Jones when they found the Greek treasure, and they had been struggling with the attention ever since.

For a man like Kaiser, that type of notoriety would be a death sentence.

No, as far as he was concerned, he was more than willing to sell the gold and retire with a brand new Ferrari. Or twelve.

Krueger had gasped when he saw Kaiser’s face through his binoculars. Not only was Petr Ulster involved, but so was Mueller’s biggest rival. Could this get any better?

In the world of smuggling, Kaiser was king and Mueller sought his crown.

If Krueger played his cards right, he would be set for life.

Within minutes, he had summoned his local crew. Within the hour, they were dressed in camouflage and ready for battle. None of them knew the numbers they faced or the prize they were fighting for, but they trusted Krueger’s leadership and feared Mueller’s wrath.

For henchmen, that was all the motivation they needed.

Using two-way radios for communication, they entered the woods in pairs. Two men went to the left, and two to the right. Meanwhile, Krueger stayed near the base of the mountain. His job was to call the shots while keeping his eye on the helicopter parked near the path. Earlier there had been two choppers in the field, but one of them – carrying Ulster, his pilot and two other men – had flown up the mountain before Krueger’s crew had arrived.

As far as he was concerned, the timing was perfect.

Suddenly, there were four fewer men to worry about.

And Kaiser had stayed behind.

The crate of gold was far too heavy to carry up the ladder by hand. To hoist that much weight, a series of pulleys had to be rigged up. While two of Kaiser’s men fiddled with the equipment, the other three stayed hidden in the trees, keeping a close eye on the site.

Initially, Kaiser had considered carrying the gold out one bar at a time and repacking the crate outside. It certainly would have been quicker than building a winch. He had already made two trips on the off-road utility vehicle that had hauled most of their supplies – one to the chopper to retrieve a toolkit and a second trip to arrange the truck that would take the gold to his warehouse. But after giving it some thought, Kaiser had decided the extra time was worth it if it prevented his men from knowing what was inside the crate. Even though he trusted them, the sight of that much gold could do strange things to a man’s psyche. And the last thing he wanted was a setback of any kind, especially with this much money at stake.

‘How much longer?’ Kaiser asked his men.

One of them answered. ‘Five minutes at most.’

‘Before you haul up the crate, put some extra nails in the lid. It’s a bumpy ride down the mountain, and I don’t want it popping open en route.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Kaiser stared at the device they were building. It didn’t look sturdy to him. ‘Actually, before you even touch the crate, I want you to test this contraption out.’

‘On what, sir?’

‘On Hogzilla. If it can handle the pig, it can handle the crate.’

As far as Krueger was concerned, the biggest stroke of luck had occurred during his early-morning call to Mueller. At the end of their conversation, Krueger had asked Mueller how often he wanted to be updated on the situation, and Mueller had told him that he was heading into an important meeting and didn’t want to be disturbed for the next several hours.

Mueller had even used the phrase no matter what.

At the time, it didn’t seem important since the odds were pretty slim that anything significant would happen before lunch. After all, Ulster had arrived that morning, and the other chopper had been around all weekend. Krueger had assumed this would drag on all day.

Of course, Kaiser’s presence was a game changer.

Normally, Krueger would have been required to notify Mueller, who would have taken control and flown in an outside crew to make sure things were handled properly. If Krueger was lucky, he would have been given a finder’s fee and a pat on the back. Certainly not a new position in the organization. But thanks to Mueller’s explicit instruction, Krueger could handle the situation however he saw fit.

And in his mind, that meant two things.

A gun in his hand and a bullet in Kaiser’s brain.

24

As they walked up the meadow towards the King’s House, Payne repeated the riddle to make sure he had heard it correctly. ‘Where would a swan go on his journey home?’

Ulster nodded. ‘Any thoughts?’

‘Yeah,’ Jones cracked, ‘Ludwig liked swans way too much.’

‘I told you he was obsessed.’

‘I know you did, but I think it’s weird. I mean, swans don’t even taste good. You know how people say most things taste like chicken? Well, swans don’t. They taste like shit.’

Ulster laughed in agreement. As a gourmand, he had tasted swan on multiple occasions but had never enjoyed the bird. To him, the meat was stringy and tough, and had a fishy aftertaste – even when it was covered in gravy. ‘Hopefully, you didn’t partake in England.’

Jones shook his head. ‘Why’s that?’

‘Because every swan in England is sovereign property of the queen. Until last century, killing one was a treasonable offence.’

‘The queen owns every swan? How does she remember their names?’

Ulster ignored the question. ‘Technically, she owns every unmarked swan in the United Kingdom except the swans of Orkney, which is an archipelago in northern Scotland. According to an old Udal Viking law, Orkney swans are the property of the island’s residents.’

Payne glanced at Ulster. ‘And what does this have to do with Ludwig?’

‘Nothing,’ he admitted. ‘I just thought it was interesting.’

‘Well, for the time being, maybe it would be best if we focused on Ludwig instead of the Vikings since we just flew up the mountain to visit his house.’

‘Yes, of course. I apologize for my rambling. Let us focus on the riddle.’

Payne asked, ‘How do you want to handle this? Do you want to walk the grounds, looking for possibilities? Or do you want to brainstorm the answer to the riddle and go from there?’

Ulster gazed at the house. ‘Which would you prefer?’

‘You tell me. You’re the historian.’

‘Personally, I think it would be best if we determined the solution before we scurried round the site. However, I’m not sure that is feasible. Obviously, I’ve given the riddle some thought, and the most logical answer is a swan’s nest. That’s where a swan would go on its journey home. After all, that’s where cygnets are hatched.’

Payne furrowed his brow. ‘What’s a cygnet?’

‘That’s the technical name for a baby swan.’

Payne shrugged. ‘If you say so. I don’t know much about swans.’

‘Neither do I,’ Jones admitted. ‘But a swan’s nest is his home.’

Ulster sighed. ‘Unfortunately, that means we can probably rule out “nest” as the answer. By definition, a riddle is a puzzle in the form of a question. If the obvious answer were the solution, it wouldn’t technically be a riddle. It would merely be a question.’

Jones blinked a few times. ‘Believe it or not, that actually made sense.’

Payne stayed focused. ‘If it isn’t a nest, what could it be?’

Ulster considered other possibilities. ‘I guess it could be a body of water. After all, most swans build their nests along the shore. Perhaps Ludwig had a favourite spot in mind.’

Payne turned and studied the grounds that surrounded the King’s House. Because of the steep slope of the peak, melting snow flowed down the mountain and collected in natural ravines. ‘If that’s the case, we’re in the wrong place – unless there’s a hidden lake around here.’

Ulster shook his head. ‘Not that I know of, but we can certainly ask.’

Jones re-entered the conversation. ‘I know you’re going to think I’m joking, but is Swan Lake a real place?’

As little as Payne knew about swans, he knew even less about ballets and classical music. ‘I don’t know. Is it?’

Ulster answered. ‘That’s an interesting question. Geographically speaking, there isn’t a modern lake in Germany that goes by that name. However, the story of Swan Lake is based on an ancient German legend. Who knows? Perhaps there used to be a Swan Lake in Bavaria that is now called something else.’

‘I’ll tell you who would know: a man obsessed with swans,’ Jones said.

Payne nodded. ‘Good point.’

Ulster continued. ‘Speaking of Swan Lake, did you know the main character in the ballet was actually modelled after Ludwig? Tchaikovsky, the Russian composer who created this classic in 1875, was fascinated with Ludwig’s life and followed it from afar. In many ways, the two of them were quite similar. Both were sexually confused dreamers who escaped reality by venturing into a dream world. Tchaikovsky had his music, and Ludwig had his castles.’

Jones asked, ‘Did they ever meet?’

Ulster shook his head. ‘Not that I’m aware of.’

‘But the ballet was written before Ludwig’s death?’

Ulster nodded. ‘Roughly ten years prior.’

Jones pondered the timeline. ‘I know Russia and Germany weren’t exactly allies, but I would think a music lover like Ludwig would have been familiar with the production.’

‘Undoubtedly.’

‘Perhaps he even recognized bits of himself in the main character?’

‘Probably.’

Jones gave it some thought. ‘If that’s the case, do you think the riddle could have something to do with the ballet? Could there be a clue in there?’

Ulster shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

‘Just to be safe,’ Jones said, ‘can you explain the basic plot? I honestly can’t remember what Swan Lake is about.’

Payne groaned. He felt a lecture coming on. ‘But please keep it short.’

Ulster promised to be concise. ‘The story of Swan Lake is centred on Prince Siegfried, who is notified before his twenty-first birthday that his marriage will soon be arranged. Dreading his future responsibilities, he heads to the woods where he stumbles across an enchanted lake filled with many swans. Much to his surprise, one of the swans has a crown on its head. As the sun sets, the swan turns into the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. Her name is Odette, and she’s the Swan Queen. She tells the prince that over the years an evil sorcerer has turned many girls into swans. The lake itself was formed from the tears of crying parents. She also informs him that the spell can only be broken if a man pledges his heart to her. Head over heels in love, the prince is about to confess his true feelings when the sorcerer takes Odette from the prince’s arms and whisks her away.’

‘Is that it?’ Payne asked, hopefully.

‘For the first two acts. I still have two more to go.’

‘I thought you said you were going to be concise.’

Ulster smiled. ‘For me, that was concise. Keep in mind, this is typically a three-hour production. I just covered half of it in thirty seconds.’

Payne nodded his appreciation. ‘Go on.’

‘The very next day, the prince is shown several prospective brides at his birthday gala. One of them is Odile, the daughter of the sorcerer, who has been made to look like Odette through a magic spell. Captivated by her beauty, the prince confesses his love to the impostor, an act witnessed by Odette from a nearby window. Broken-hearted, she runs towards the woods crying. As she does, the prince catches a glimpse of her and realizes his error. Eventually, he catches up to Odette at Swan Lake and explains his mistake. As she accepts the prince’s apology, the sorcerer arrives and tells him he must keep his promise to marry his daughter. The prince says he would rather die with Odette than marry Odile. To prove his point, he grabs Odette’s hand and they jump into the lake together, where they promptly drown. But, thanks to his actions, the magic spell is broken and all the other swans turn back into girls.’

Jones interrupted him. ‘Wait a second! You’re telling me the character based on Ludwig drowns in a lake, and ten years later, Ludwig dies in a lake, too. That’s some freaky shit!’

‘Actually,’ Ulster said, ‘I’m not quite finished yet. There’s more drowning still to come.’

‘Really?’

Ulster smiled. ‘Angered by the two deaths, the girls force the sorcerer and his daughter into the lake and watch them drown. The ballet ends as the spirits of the prince and Odette ascend into the heavens above Swan Lake.’

Jones waited for a few seconds, unsure. ‘Are you done now?’

Ulster nodded. ‘I am.’

‘That’s some freaky shit, too!’ Jones blurted.

‘How so?’ Payne asked.

‘Weren’t you listening?’

‘Barely.’

Normally Payne was the serious one, and Jones was the jester. All it took was one story about a ballet for their roles to be reversed.

Jones smiled at the irony. ‘Don’t you get it? The sorcerer behind the deception drowned in the same lake as the prince – just like the doctor behind the deception drowned in the same lake as Ludwig. That can’t be a coincidence.’

Payne grunted. ‘You’re right; it does seem suspicious.’

Ulster shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘Honestly, I don’t know if Ludwig’s murder was staged to mimic the ballet or not, but the story of Siegfried and Odette helped establish Ludwig’s nickname as the Swan King.’

‘How so?’ Payne asked.

‘If they hadn’t been killed, Siegfried and the Swan Queen would have been married, which would have made him the Swan King. And as I mentioned, the character of Siegfried was based on Ludwig, so …’

Payne nodded in understanding. ‘Throw in Ludwig’s obsessions with swans and that Swan Knight character you told us about earlier, and the nickname stuck.’

‘He was also called the Dream King, the Fairytale King and Mad King Ludwig, but the Swan King is used most often.’

Payne paused for a moment to consider everything he had learned. Swan Lake, one of the most famous ballets in history, was connected to Ludwig. The black swan logo had been designed by Ludwig. And the riddle about the swan had been written by Ludwig. Yet as far as Payne could tell, they still had no idea where a swan would go on his journey home.

Or what they would find if they figured it out.

25

From a distance, the King’s House on Schachen resembled a hunting lodge on top of a scenic crest. Painted beige and dark brown, the wooden post-and-infill structure was two storeys in the centre but only half as tall on the left and right, as if additional rooms had been added at the last minute. To Payne, the house looked like two capital ‘L’s, stapled back to back. It certainly wasn’t the worst design he had ever seen, yet it seemed out of place in the dream world that Ludwig had created for himself. Why build a house instead of a castle?

‘Remember,’ Ulster said as if reading Payne’s mind, ‘the interior is far more luxurious than the exterior. Don’t be fooled by the outside.’

‘Your friend is correct,’ said a feminine voice from the top of the hill. ‘The rough outer shell protects the pearl within.’

‘Petr,’ said Jones as he searched for the source, ‘the house is talking.’

‘And listening,’ she replied, her voice slightly tinged with a German accent.

Jones grabbed Ulster’s arm. ‘Petr, I’m scared … Hold me.’

Payne laughed and pointed out the speaker’s location. A series of decorative wooden beams ran from the top of the sharply peaked roof to the banister of the second-floor veranda. The mystery woman was standing underneath the overhang, partially hidden in the shadows. Though he couldn’t see her face, her naturally blonde hair and fair complexion had given her away.

‘How often do you scare tourists?’ he called out as he walked up the hillside.

‘Only when they scare us first. We thought there was an avalanche,’ she said.

Payne kept walking, still unable to see her face because of the shadows. ‘Why did you think that?’

‘Why?’ she said sharply. ‘Because most people walk here.’

‘Uh-oh,’ Jones whispered. ‘We pissed off the house.’

Payne told Jones and Ulster to stay put, then focused his attention on her. ‘Sorry about the helicopter. We parked down below to minimize the noise. I hope you can forgive us.’

‘That depends.’

‘On what?’

‘On the reason you didn’t hike here like everyone else.’

When Payne reached the top of the hill, he could finally see who he was talking to. Dressed in jeans and a dark sweater, the pretty blonde stared at him, her emotions partially concealed by the long hair that danced across her face in the crisp mountain breeze. In a well-practised move, she casually grabbed her hair with one hand and slid a band off her wrist with the other. A few seconds later, a blonde ponytail dangled back and forth behind her head.

‘I’m still waiting,’ she said impatiently.

As Payne walked closer, he noticed several small things about her – the freckles on her nose, the way her jeans hugged her hips, the curves underneath her sweater. But most importantly, he noticed a twinkle in her light blue eyes. It let him know that she was sassy, not angry.

‘I’m waiting, too,’ he shot back.

She stared at him. ‘For what?’

‘For you to say hello. Or isn’t that ritual observed up here?’

‘Hello,’ she said sarcastically. ‘Now answer my question. Why didn’t you hike here?’

‘Hello to you, too,’ he said, ignoring her question. ‘My name’s Jon. What’s yours?’

She sighed. ‘Heidi.’

He stuck out his hand. ‘Nice to meet you, Heidi. I like what you’ve done with the place. When did you move in?’

But instead of shaking his hand, she stared at it coldly. ‘Sorry, Jon. No more kindness from me until you answer my question. Why didn’t you hike here like everyone else?’

He lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Can you keep a secret?’

‘Depends on the secret.’

Payne pointed back towards Jones and Ulster. ‘I’m not going to name any names, but one of my friends is slightly out of shape. To be perfectly blunt, we didn’t know if his heart could handle a four-hour hike, so we convinced him to fly instead.’

She peeked round Payne – since he was too tall to glance over – and studied his friends. It didn’t take long to figure out which one he was talking about. ‘What if he wasn’t here?’

‘You mean, if he was dead?’

‘No!’ she gasped. ‘If he wasn’t with you, would you have made the hike?’

‘Come on, Heidi. What do you think?’

Now it was her turn to check him out.

Starting with his feet, she noticed his hiking boots. They were worn and caked with dirt. His muscular legs stretched his cargo pants to their limit, yet somehow the seams didn’t burst. Earlier, she had noticed his hand when he had attempted to shake hers. It wasn’t the hand of a working man – the nails were too clean and his fingers were free of calluses – but she had noticed some scars near his knuckles. Clearly he had been in a few fights over the years, and judging by his size, he had probably won most of them. For some reason, she found that quality – the willingness to fight for something – very attractive in a man.

She patted him on the arm. ‘If I had to guess, I’d say no.’

‘No?’ he said, laughing.

‘You’re too big to hike. I’m guessing a guy like you has no stamina.’

‘Trust me, Heidi. I have size and stamina.’

She ignored the innuendo. ‘Why are you here?’

‘To see the house. Why are you so mean?’

‘Not mean, protective. Big difference.’

‘Not to the person you’re yelling at.’

‘Trust me, I’m not yelling. If I were yelling, you’d know.’

‘In other words, you’re a screamer?’

This time, Heidi smiled. ‘Does this approach work often?’

‘What approach is that?’

‘Your whole flirty-comment thing.’

‘First of all, my thing isn’t flirting. If it was flirting, you’d know. Secondly, you’re the one who started it. My friends and I were having a personal conversation, and you butted in.’

She poked him in his chest. ‘Only because you shook the mountain.’

‘With our talking?’

‘With your helicopter,’ she snapped. ‘Tell me, do you know why King Ludwig chose this remote location for his house?’

‘Because he wanted to get away.’

‘From what?’

‘Civilization.’

‘Do you know why?’

‘Not really,’ he admitted.

She explained. ‘Because up here, Ludwig could look down on the world instead of the world looking down on him.’

Payne smiled, impressed. ‘That’s pretty deep. Did you just make that up?’

She stared at him, trying to decide if he was being sarcastic. Eventually, she decided he wasn’t. ‘As a matter of fact, I did.’

‘You’re pretty passionate about this place. How long have you worked here?’

‘Since June. That’s when we opened for the season.’

‘And before that?’

‘Ludwig’s other castles: Linderhof, Neuschwanstein and the Munich Residenz.’

‘Are you a student?’

She laughed at the question. ‘I’m too old to be a student.’

‘Maybe for high school. But there’s no age limit on learning.’

‘Now look who’s deep.’

Payne smiled. ‘If you’re not a student, what are you? A tour guide?’

‘Something like that. I work for the Bavarian Palace Department. We oversee all the castles and royal properties in Bavaria. My area of interest is Ludwig Friedrich Wilhelm von Wittelsbach, but most people call him Ludwig.’

Payne laughed. ‘That’s because most people can’t remember Ludwig Friedrich von blah blah blah – or whatever you said.’

She smiled, revealing a perfect set of white teeth. ‘So, why are you here? From your accent, I would say you’re from, um … Ohio?’

He shook his head. ‘Western Pennsylvania.’

‘Oh, well. I was close.’

‘And based on your diction and mild accent, I’d say you were born in Germany but went to school in the States.’

She nodded, impressed. ‘Big and smart. Now I’m doubly curious about your presence here. Are you a fan of Ludwig?’

‘Honestly, no. But my plump friend is.’ Payne turned and signalled for Jones and Ulster to join them by the house. ‘We’re just keeping him out of trouble.’

She watched Ulster as he waddled up the hill. Despite gasping for air, he had a smile on his face the entire time. ‘Yeah, he seems like a troublemaker.’

‘Don’t let his cheerfulness fool you. The guy is a tiger.’

‘What about your other friend? Is he a tiger, too?’

Payne grinned, relishing the opportunity to make fun of his best friend. ‘No, he’s a different species altogether. If I had to sum him up, I’d say he’s part pit bull, part jackass.’

26

After a brief introduction – in which they avoided the real reason for their trip – Heidi grabbed Ulster by the elbow and led him towards the entrance of the King’s House.

‘Jon said you’re a fan of Ludwig. Have you been here before?’ she asked.

Ulster shook his head. ‘No, my dear, I haven’t. Over the years I’ve been tempted to stop on multiple occasions, but the length of the hike and the short tourist season have always made it difficult.’

Heidi nodded in understanding. Public tours started in June and ended at the beginning of October. After that, the house was closed until the following spring because of snow and ice in the Alps and treacherous footing on the hiking trails. ‘Personally, I think you came at the perfect time. Summer tourists are long gone, and the cool weather keeps most hikers away until early afternoon. Other than a few people who stayed the night at the lodge, the house is empty.’

‘Wonderful!’ Ulster exclaimed. ‘Does that mean you can show us around?’

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at Payne. ‘I’d be happy to – as long as Jon doesn’t mind being stuck with me for a while. He thinks I’m mean.’

Ulster patted her hand. ‘Well, I think you’re fabulous, and that’s all that matters.’

Heidi led them to the covered porch where she stopped outside the main door. ‘Before we go inside, let me tell you some general information about this site. If you start getting bored, please let me know and I’ll gladly skip ahead.’

Jones whispered to Payne. ‘I wish Petr had the same policy.’

Payne smiled and nodded.

Heidi started her lecture. ‘We are standing 5,628 feet above Garmisch-Partenkirchen and 7,951 feet above sea level. The mountain directly behind you is called the Partenkirchen Dreitorspitze. Standing 8,638 feet tall, it is the fourth tallest peak in Germany and part of the Wetterstein mountain range that forms a natural border with Austria to the south.’

Payne, Jones and Ulster turned and stared at the Dreitorspitze. It loomed over them like a grey tidal wave, as if the smallest breeze would send it crashing down with so much force that the King’s House would be turned into kindling.

Heidi continued. ‘The chalet was built between 1869 and 1872. Ludwig and his guests reached it on horse-drawn carriages or sleighs, depending on the time of year. The lone route up the mountain was called the Konigsweg. In English, that means the King’s Road.’

‘How did they get supplies up here?’ Jones asked.

‘The same way. Everything was hauled by horse.’

‘Even water?’

She shook her head. ‘Water is one of the few things they didn’t haul. Because of the large amounts of precipitation, they built a cistern to collect and store the melted snow to use throughout the year.’

‘Really?’ Jones said, trying to get the information they needed to solve the riddle. ‘I thought I heard there was a fresh-water lake up here. Somewhere Ludwig liked to go.’

She shook her head again. ‘Perhaps you’re thinking of one of his other homes. There was a fresh-water lake near Schloss Hohenschwanstein. He stayed there as a child with his parents.’

Payne’s ears perked up when he heard ‘schwan’ in the middle of the word. ‘What does that name mean in English?’

‘Schloss Hohenschwanstein? It means high swan stone castle. Later in life, Ludwig stayed there for several years while he was overseeing the construction of Neuschwanstein. It’s adjacent to the lake as well.’ She glanced at Payne, anticipating his next question. ‘And before you ask, Neuschwanstein means new swan stone.’

‘Thanks for reading my mind,’ Payne said.

Heidi smiled and opened the door. ‘Now, if you’ll follow me …’

Payne and Jones lingered on the porch for a few extra seconds as Ulster went inside.

Jones whispered. ‘That’s two homes with swan in the name. Either one could be the answer to the riddle. If so, we’re screwed. How are we going to find a document in a castle?’

‘Remember, the answer to the riddle is only half of the equation. First we find the gartenhaus, then we solve the riddle. Not the other way around.’

‘Crap! I forgot about the gartenhaus. All of these clues are confusing.’

‘That’s why pirates made treasure maps. They were too drunk to remember clues.’

Jones glanced at his watch. ‘Speaking of drunk, we could leave right now and be shit-faced by lunch. Just say the word, and we’re off to Oktoberfest.’

Payne stared at him, trying to gauge if he was serious. ‘What’s your problem? Normally you’re the one twisting my arm to fly halfway around the world to do stuff like this, not the other way around. Is something wrong?’

Jones blew on his hands and rubbed them together. ‘Besides the temperature?’

‘Yeah, princess, besides the temperature.’

Jones shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I guess I’m just not feeling it. When I saw all those crates, I thought we were onto something. Now I’m not so sure.’

Payne patted him on the shoulder. ‘Do me a favour and hang in there a little bit longer. Don’t ask me why, but I have a feeling things are about to change.’

‘In what way?’ Jones asked as he opened the door.

Payne took a deep breath before he stepped inside the house. ‘Honestly? I don’t know. But I can smell it in the air. Something big is going to happen.’

Schneider, one of Kaiser’s guards, spotted movement on the slope but decided not to call it in until he knew what he was dealing with. The woods were filled with animals of all shapes and sizes, and his colleagues had given him a hard time when he had sounded the alarm a few days earlier and it had turned out to be a deer. And not even a big deer. It was small and cuddly and looked like Bambi. Ever since then, his friends had called him ‘Aesop’ – the Greek storyteller who had created the fable about The Boy Who Cried Wolf in the mid-sixth century.

Needless to say, they found it funnier than he did.

Positioned a quarter of a mile from the site, Schneider crouched behind a thick beech tree and waited. Whatever was heading his way was heavy. He could hear twigs snapping and leaves rustling as it moved. In some ways he hoped it was a boar. He had seen Hogzilla in the bunker and had been amazed by its size. To see something that big running across the forest floor would be a sight to behold – and something he could tell his wife. She knew he had been working on a job near Munich for the past week but nothing else. In many ways, it was similar to his former career in the armed forces. Whenever he had called home, he was allowed to tell her personal things – how he was feeling, what he had for dinner, and so on – but nothing that would reveal his location or jeopardize the success of his mission.

But spotting a pig the size of a Volkswagen? As far as he was concerned, he could talk about that all night without getting into trouble.

Unfortunately for Schneider, the giant boar didn’t materialize. Instead he spotted a man, wearing bright-orange camouflage, heading his way.

‘Shit,’ he mumbled as he pushed the button on his radio. ‘Sir, I’ve got a situation.’

A few seconds passed before Kaiser responded. He was positioned near the bunker, watching his men assemble the equipment. ‘What’s wrong, Aesop? Is Bambi back?’

‘No, sir. A hunter, carrying a Remington 750.’

Kaiser swore under his breath. A few more minutes and they would have been ready to test the winch. Twenty more minutes and the gold would have been on its way down the mountain. ‘Where are you?’

Schneider looked at his GPS unit and radioed his coordinates.

Kaiser wrote them down. ‘Can you handle this, or do you need help?’

Schneider shook his head. The last thing he needed was for his friends to bail him out. If that happened, he’d never hear the end of it. ‘No, sir. I got this.’

‘Good,’ Kaiser said. ‘Stick with the script, and you’ll be fine.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And Schneider? Call me when you’re done.’

27

Other than a few royal touches – like an upholstered toilet seat and an intricate wooden chandelier – the five rooms on the ground floor of the King’s House were spectacularly unimpressive. Simple wood panelling, made from Swiss pine, covered the walls, and most of the furnishings were plain and antiquated. Jones was so under-whelmed by the decor he compared it to a granny house, the type of place that had more cats than furniture.

His opinion instantly changed the moment they walked upstairs. Named the Turkische Saal by Ludwig, the opulent room filled the entire second floor and was protected by a velvet rope. Payne, Jones and Ulster crowded against it, gawking at the room for more than thirty seconds before Heidi stepped over the rope and started her lecture from the right-hand corner of the room.

‘This is the Turkish Hall, inspired by One Thousand and One Nights, a collection of folk tales from the Islamic golden age that included ‘Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves’, ‘The Seven Voyages of Sinbad the Sailor’, and ‘Aladdin’s Wonderful Lamp’. In English, the story collection is often called Arabian Nights.’

Heidi walked to the edge of the colourful oriental rug that covered the wooden floor. Besides the periphery of the room, the only part of the floor that wasn’t covered was the very centre. A giant hole had been cut in the rug so it could be slipped over a large golden fountain that looked like it belonged in a hotel lobby instead of a Swiss chalet. The sound of its trickling water could be heard throughout the hall.

She continued. ‘This is where Ludwig threw elaborate birthday parties for himself, all with an Arabian Nights theme. Sometimes his servants sat on the floor, smoking hookah pipes, while others played Arabian music or pranced around in the nude. Meanwhile, Ludwig lounged on the luxurious couches that line the walls, often wearing outfits from Arabia.’

She moved deeper into the room, careful not to step on the rug as she pointed out a series of golden vases that were nearly as tall as she was. Each of them was stuffed with colourful arrangements that resembled tiny palm trees. ‘From where you are standing, it’s probably difficult to see what these are made of. Instead of using flowers, which would have had to be hauled halfway up the mountain, the king used peacock feathers. Aren’t they just lovely?’

Ulster nodded, then raised his hand as if he were on a high-school field trip and needed permission to speak.

Heidi looked at him and smiled. ‘Did you have a question?’

Ulster shook his head. ‘Actually, my dear, I was hoping for a favour.’

‘A favour? What kind of favour?’

He glanced over his shoulder, paranoid. ‘Normally I wouldn’t think to impose, but considering the scant crowd and my passion for the subject matter, I was wondering if I could remove my footwear and tiptoe across the room for a closer look?’

She winced, unsure. ‘I don’t know …’

He raised his hand again, this time to swear the truth. ‘I promise my socks are clean.’

She giggled at Ulster’s enthusiasm. He was like a little kid. ‘Fine, but if we hear anyone coming, you have to hustle behind the rope. I could get in a lot of trouble.’

‘I’ll be careful, I promise,’ Ulster assured her as he dropped to the floor to remove his boots.

Meanwhile, Payne backed up towards the stairs. ‘Don’t worry, Heidi. I’ll stand guard. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.’

‘Thanks, Jon. I’d appreciate that.’

‘See how that works? When you’re nice, I’m nice,’ Payne teased.

Heidi smiled. ‘I’m not the least bit surprised. My dog is like that, too.’

Jones laughed loudly. ‘Jon is like a dog. That’s funny.’

‘Not as funny as the animal he compared you to,’ she insisted.

Jones stopped laughing. ‘He said what now?’

Heidi winked at Payne, who was slightly embarrassed. ‘Actually, I better stay out of it. I’ll let you guys discuss it among yourselves.’

Jones looked at him seriously. ‘You think I’m an animal?’

‘Heidi,’ Payne said, hoping to change the topic, ‘before you run off, can I ask you a question about the room?’

‘Sure,’ she said, grinning ear to ear.

‘You said Ludwig used peacock feathers because he didn’t want to haul fresh flowers up the mountain. Why didn’t he get them out of the garden?’

‘What garden?’ she asked.

‘Isn’t there a famous garden up here?’

‘Oh, you mean the Alpengarten auf dem Schachen.’

‘Gesundheit,’ Jones cracked.

Payne ignored him. ‘If you say so.’

She explained. ‘The Alpengarten auf dem Schachen is an alpine garden maintained by a botanical society from Munich. The garden has over a thousand types of exotic plants from as far away as the Himalayas.’

Payne nodded. It was the garden that Ulster had mentioned earlier, the one that led him to believe that this house might be the gartenhaus that Ludwig had referred to in his notes. ‘Why didn’t they get the flowers from there? Isn’t it close by?’

‘It’s real close, but it wasn’t built until after Ludwig’s death. Don’t quote me on this, but I think it was built around 1900. I can find out a specific date, if you’d like.’

He shook his head. ‘Nope, that isn’t necessary.’

‘You got that right,’ Jones whispered to Payne. ‘No garden means no dice. We’re looking in the wrong place.’

Schneider stepped out from behind the beech tree and stared at the man walking towards him. In his hands, Schneider held a Heckler amp; Koch G36, a German 5.56 mm assault rifle. It was the preferred weapon of the Bundeswehr, the unified armed forces of Germany.

‘Halt!’ Schneider ordered in German.

Weber, one of Krueger’s men, stopped and threw his hands in the air.

‘What are you doing here?’ Schneider demanded.

‘I’m hunting deer,’ Weber lied. ‘Have you seen any?’

Schneider ignored the question. ‘You have entered a restricted area. You must turn back immediately or I am authorized to place you under arrest.’

‘For what? I have the proper licence to hunt,’ Weber claimed.

‘Not for here, you don’t.’

‘Why? What’s going on? Is everything all right?’

‘Everything is fine. We are merely conducting military drills on the mountain. This area is restricted because it isn’t safe for civilians.’

Weber cleared his throat and spat on the ground. ‘It isn’t safe for you, either. Not with hunters roaming around.’

Schneider raised his weapon. ‘Sir, don’t make me use force! I’m asking you to leave.’

Weber grinned. ‘But I don’t want to leave. I want to stay.’

‘Sir, if I call for backup, you’ll be sor-’

Before another word could be said, Weber’s partner emerged from a clump of trees behind Schneider and slit his throat, using a nine-inch hunting knife with a serrated edge.

Blood gushed from Schneider’s neck as he gurgled and slumped to the ground. As he fell, he squeezed his trigger and fired several wild shots from his G36. Although he didn’t hit his targets, the sound of automatic gun fire and the strafing of the nearby trees echoed through the mountain air like warning drums in a primitive culture. The sound was so loud and distinct it could be heard inside the bunker and as far away as Mount Schachen.

Within seconds, a firefight had erupted in the Alps.

Within minutes, Payne and Jones would enter the fray.

28

Payne and Jones were standing on the front porch of the King’s House, waiting for Ulster to put on his shoes and join them downstairs, when they heard the distant chatter of gun fire. To experienced soldiers, the sound was unmistakable – like a musical instrument to a symphony conductor. In a heartbeat, they knew Kaiser’s men were under attack.

Jones sprinted to the helicopter while Payne pulled the Sig Sauer from his belt and opened the front door. ‘Petr! Stay here! Kaiser’s in trouble.’

‘What do you mean?’ Ulster yelled from upstairs.

‘We’re taking the chopper! Stay here until we come back!’

‘What’s wrong?’ Heidi shouted from the Turkish Hall.

Wearing only one shoe, Ulster nearly stumbled down the steps as he tried to get more information. ‘What kind of trou-’

Payne cut him off. ‘Stay here! Keep an eye on Heidi!’

‘Of course,’ Ulster said while holding his shoe. ‘But-’

‘Now lock this door!’

Payne slammed it shut and leapt off the porch. By the time he landed, Ulster and Heidi were already gone from his thoughts. For the next few minutes, the only thing that mattered was getting to the bunker as quickly as possible. Not to protect the gold or the van Gogh crate, but because lives were on the line and he could save them.

Jones reached the helicopter thirty seconds before Payne and ordered the pilot to start the engine. Baptiste, who only took orders from Ulster, was going to argue until he saw the gun in Jones’s hand. Baptiste swallowed hard and started flipping switches.

As the engine whirred to life, Jones coolly searched the back compartment for equipment but found nothing of value. ‘Do you have a rope?’ he yelled.

‘For what?’ Baptiste shouted.

‘Our exit.’

He turned in his seat and stared at Jones. ‘Your what?’

‘Our exit. You can’t land where we’re going. We’re gonna have to jump.’

Baptiste laughed. ‘You’re joking, right?’

Jones flashed his gun. ‘Does it look like I’m joking?’

‘You’re going to jump out of my chopper?’

‘Only if you have a rope.’

Baptiste pointed to the other side. ‘Try over there.’

Jones scurried around the back and opened the far hatch. Inside was a wicker basket. It was stuffed with a loaf of French bread, a hunk of cheese, two salamis, an assortment of fresh fruit, a bottle of wine, and a red-and-white chickened tablecloth. ‘What the hell is this?’

‘A picnic,’ Baptiste said.

‘A picnic? Why did you pack a fucking picnic?’

Baptiste shrugged. ‘Petr gets hungry.’

Jones slammed the hatch in frustration. ‘My friend is going to die unless you have a rope. Do you have one or not?’

‘Next compartment back.’

Jones flung it open and grabbed a large coil of black rope. Made with sure-grip synthetic fibres, the low-stretch rope was perfect for rappelling. One end was already equipped with a sturdy metal clasp that could be attached to the chopper’s floor. ‘How long is this?’

‘About a hundred feet.’

Jones pulled out the coil, which weighed over fifty pounds, and tossed it onto the back seat. Then he searched the compartment for additional equipment, anything that could help them get to the ground in one piece. ‘What about gloves? Or belts? Or harnesses?’

Baptiste shook his head. ‘This isn’t a rescue chopper.’

Payne arrived in time to hear the comment. ‘Well, it is today.’

Jones pointed to the hook in the centre of the floor, which Payne could reach while standing outside the chopper. ‘Attach the clasp. I’m almost ready.’

Payne did as he was told, then hopped into the back. As he did, he could hear Jones rummaging through the hatch on the other side. ‘What are you looking for?’

‘A snack,’ Jones shouted.

Payne cupped his ear and leaned in closer. ‘A what?’

Grinning from ear to ear, Jones hopped into the chopper. He held his gun in one hand and the picnic basket in the other. Payne stared at him like he was crazy.

Jones grinned even wider. ‘Don’t worry. I have an idea.’

‘What kind of idea?’

‘I’ll tell you when it’s time to jump.’

Krueger cursed when he heard the gun fire. Obviously something had gone wrong with his plan because his men had been told to avoid interaction at all costs. Their job had been simple. Spy on Kaiser, figure out what he was doing, then report back to Krueger so he could coordinate their attack. His men weren’t supposed to confront Kaiser or do anything that might attract attention. This was supposed to be a surveillance mission. Nothing else.

From his position at the bottom of the mountain, Krueger called his men on the radio. ‘What happened?’ he growled in German.

One of his men responded. ‘We were spotted by a guard with an assault rifle. We managed to take him out quietly.’

‘Did you say quietly? There was nothing quiet about it! I could hear it down here!’

‘Blame the guard, not us. We used a blade. He used a gun. He got off a few rounds when he fell to the ground.’

Krueger took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. ‘Did anyone get hit?’

‘No, sir.’

‘What are we up against?’

‘Too early to tell, sir. But so far we’re winning.’

Krueger shook his head. His men were so short-sighted. ‘Winning?’

‘Yes, sir. They’re down one man, and we’re up one gun. This G36 is a serious weapon.’

‘Maybe so, but we lost the best weapon of all – the element of surprise.’

His goon grunted. He couldn’t care less. ‘What do you want us to do?’

‘Find Kaiser and send me his coordinates. I’m on my way.’

The bunker was positioned near the base of a cliff and surrounded by ancient beech trees that were a lot taller than their rope was long. Hoping to survive their descent, Payne and Jones searched for a clearing near the site, somewhere they could land safely when they rappelled out of the chopper. The best they could find was a grove of fir trees, approximately a quarter of a mile from the bunker. Not only were the evergreens significantly shorter than the beeches, but they hoped the fallen pine needles underneath the trees would cushion their fall. Due to the slope of the mountain, they realized they would have to hit the ground and roll, or risk breaking a leg.

Fighting strong gusts of wind, Baptiste held the chopper in place just over the tops of the trees. To make sure the weld would hold his weight, Payne yanked on the hook with all his strength before Jones tossed the coil of rope over the side. Both of them watched it unravel until the far end disappeared into the thick blanket of branches.

‘Did it hit bottom?’ Payne asked.

Jones shrugged. ‘Can’t tell for sure, but I think it’s close.’

Payne nodded. It wouldn’t be the first time they had jumped blindly from a chopper. Then again, a picnic basket was something new. ‘Do you mind telling me what that’s for?’

Jones plucked a grape from its stem and popped it in his mouth. ‘Here’s what we’re facing: no gloves, no belts, no harnesses. Rough wind, blind drop, unknown enemy. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to lose as little skin as possible.’

Payne stared at his hands. They’d be torn to shreds in a fast descent. And if he took the drop slowly, his palms would survive intact, but he’d be an easy target for several seconds as he dangled from the chopper. ‘What’s the solution?’

Jones grabbed two salamis and handed one to Payne. ‘We use these.’

Payne stared at the cured meat. It was nine inches long and sealed in a rough casing. For the life of him, he had no idea what his friend meant. ‘Excuse me?’

Jones reached into his cargo pants and pulled out his knife. With a flick of his wrist, the blade popped open, and he plunged the sharp tip into the top of the salami. As Payne watched, Jones cut the meat vertically, making a nine-inch incision that went halfway into the salami. When he was done, he held it up so Payne could understand what he had in mind.

‘We wrap the salami around the rope like a bun round a hot dog. This casing is hard and coarse. Our hands should be fine as the meat gets torn to shreds.’

‘And if the casing doesn’t hold?’ Payne asked.

Jones shrugged as he traded salamis with Payne and went to work on the other one. ‘We hope the branches break our fall.’

Payne stared at him. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’

He nodded. ‘I’d rather fall fast than dangle slow. Too many unknowns.’

Payne searched the basket for alternatives. ‘What about the tablecloth? We can cut it in strips and wrap it around our hands.’

Jones shook his head. ‘Our fingers would get filleted. Cut right to the bone.’

Payne grimaced. He had seen that happen to one of his men, and his hands had never fully recovered. ‘You realize, this is crazy.’

Jones laughed at the danger. ‘That’s what makes it fun.’

29

The United States Special Operations Command (SOCOM) is headquartered at MacDill Air Force Base in Tampa, Florida. It oversees the various special operations units of the US Armed Forces and the US Intelligence Community. The concept of a unified command sprouted from the disastrous rescue attempt of hostages at the American embassy in Iran in 1980. The ensuing investigation noted a lack of inter-service cooperation and the breakdown of a clear chain of command as factors in the mission’s failure.

Seven years later SOCOM was officially activated. The main goal of SOCOM is to coordinate the efforts of the different branches of the armed forces whenever joint missions are conducted. Each branch has a Special Operations Command capable of running its own missions, but when different Special Operations Forces (Green Berets, Navy SEALs, Rangers, etc.) need to work together on a mission, SOCOM takes control of the operation – for example, Operation Desert Storm and Operation Iraqi Freedom.

In addition, SOCOM conducts several missions of its own, which are run by the Joint Special Operations Command (JSOC). These Special Mission Units (SMU) perform highly classified activities, such as personnel recovery, counter-guerrilla sabotage, unconventional warfare, psychological operations and counter terrorism. So far, only three SMUs have been publicly disclosed: the Army’s 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment (Delta Force), the Navy’s Special Warfare Development Group (DEVGRU), and the Air Force’s 24th Special Tactics Squadron (AFSOC). One of the SMUs that is still classified is the MANIACs.

Comprised of the top soldiers from the Marines, Army, Navy, Intelligence, Air Force and Coast Guard, the MANIACs are a military all-star team, assembled from a small list of candidates who passed the most stringent selection process and training in the world. One of the most important skills the soldiers learned was the art of improvisation. Without it, they wouldn’t last long behind enemy lines, where weapons and equipment were scarce. To survive, they were forced to make do with whatever they could find, whether that was picking a lock with a paperclip or making an explosive out of household chemicals. Not only did this skill require ingenuity, it also required guts. Otherwise, new ideas would never be tested in the field.

During his time in the MANIACs, Payne had used a grapefruit as a silencer, stalled a car with a tube sock and killed a man with a stapler, but he had never used salami for anything except sandwiches. Of course, that didn’t mean it wouldn’t work. It simply meant that one of them had to be a guinea pig. Normally that burden would fall on Payne, who preferred to lead by example. But in this situation, Jones insisted on going first.

‘My idea, my glory,’ Jones shouted over the wind and the roar of the rotor. ‘Plus, your ass is so fat you might snap the rope.’

Payne watched closely as Jones clamped the salami round the rope and stepped onto the skid tube, which was attached to the chopper’s wheels. ‘See you soon.’

Jones took a deep breath, then leaned back on the skid more than a hundred feet above the ground. As he did, he focused on his grip. If this didn’t work, he knew his hands would never be the same, and neither would his life. Jones was brave, not stupid. He realized if his idea failed, there was a damn good chance he was going to die – either from the fall or from the gunmen down below who would pounce upon him like cheetahs on an injured gazelle.

And yet Jones remained unfazed.

Compared to the things he had faced in the MANIACs, this was less dangerous than bungee jumping. Sure, something could go wrong, but he wasn’t about to let it ruin his fun. With a smile on his face, Jones launched himself backward and yelled, ‘Geronimo!’

A second later, he was falling towards the forest.

As expected, the salami ripped to shreds as Jones clutched the casing on his way to the forest floor. In his wake, tiny chunks of meat clung to the rope like used pieces of dental floss. Of course, Jones didn’t notice anything above him as he zipped past the trees since he was far more concerned with his landing. Clamping the rope with his legs and boots, Jones eased to a stop just before he reached the end of the rope, which dangled ten feet above the ground.

Wasting no time, Jones released his grip and dropped to the slope. He minimized his impact by tumbling once, then scampered behind the nearest tree where he pulled his gun and secured the area for his partner’s arrival. Unfortunately, Payne’s trip didn’t go quite as smoothly. Whether it was the remnants of Jones’s salami on the rope, Payne’s extra weight, or a combination of the two, Payne struggled to control his pace on his descent. He used his legs and boots, just like he had been taught, but the pre-greased line minimized friction. Whereas Jones was able to stop before he reached the end of the rope, Payne didn’t have that luxury.

One moment, Jones was scouting the area for enemy troops. The next, Payne was tumbling past him like a boulder rolling down the mountain – a grunting and groaning boulder. When he finally came to a stop, Jones rushed to his side, worried his friend was dead.

‘Are you okay?’ Jones demanded.

Sprawled on his back and covered in pine needles, Payne blinked a few times before his head was clear. Once he regained his focus, he brought his hands near his face and stared at his fingers. ‘I’ll be damned. The salami worked.’

Jones breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Told you so.’

Payne sat up and nodded. ‘Landing was a little rough, but …’

‘Mine was worse,’ Jones lied. ‘Tumbled right into a tree.’

‘Really? Are you all right?’

Jones groaned for effect. ‘I think I’ll make it. But I’ll feel a lot better once we know what we’re up against.’

Payne wobbled slightly as he stood. ‘Communications?’

Jones shook his head. ‘No signal on my cell phone.’

Payne rubbed his eyes, then looked up at the surrounding trees. The forest was so thick he could barely see sunlight. ‘Which way to the bunker?’

Jones pointed diagonally up the slope. ‘That way.’

‘How far?’

Jones stared at Payne, slightly concerned. Normally his sense of distance and direction were impeccable. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

‘I’ll be fine once we’re moving. I need to clear some cobwebs.’

Jones tried to examine Payne’s eyes. ‘Cobwebs? Or a concussion?’

Payne pushed him away and pulled out his Sig Sauer. He had played some of his best football games at the Naval Academy with fuzzy vision and bells ringing in his ears. He wasn’t about to stop for some cobwebs. ‘Come on! We’re wasting time. Let’s get moving.’

Jones relented. ‘Fine! But I’m in charge until you can recite the alphabet backwards.’

‘Hell, I couldn’t do that before I jumped.’

Even though Kaiser cared about the welfare of his men, he wasn’t about to grab a rifle and charge towards the gun fire. He was paying them for protection, not the other way around.

‘What’s your status?’ Kaiser asked from the relative safety of the cul-de-sac. He had been tempted to hide inside the bunker until the mountain was secure, but his two-way radio was ineffective down there, and he wanted to call the shots. ‘Schneider, can you hear me?’

Silence filled the line, as it had for the past few minutes.

Kaiser cursed to himself. Based on Schneider’s last transmission and the gun fire that followed, they had to assume he was dead. If so, what had happened? And more importantly, who had killed him?

Kaiser had plenty of enemies, but how had they found him in the woods above Garmisch-Partenkirchen? Had one of his men betrayed him? Or had the leak come from somewhere else? For the time being, it didn’t matter. The only thing he cared about was getting off the mountain. Preferably with the gold in tow, but not if it meant his life.

Because in Kaiser’s world, he had more to worry about than gunmen.

He also had to evade the police.

30

Gun fire came in sporadic bursts, a mixture of shotgun blasts and automatic fire from somewhere near the bunker. Leading the charge, Jones used the noise as a beacon, zeroing in on the firefight without stopping to check his GPS or studying the symbols that Kaiser’s men had marked on the trees. Of course, Jones didn’t have much of a choice while running at top speed. The sun could barely be seen because of the denseness of the trees – which was how the neighbouring Black Forest had received its name – so Jones relied on his ears just as much as his eyes.

Despite his height and muscular frame, Payne kept pace with the wiry Jones, who darted under branches and leapt over logs like a deer escaping a forest fire. One of the things that had made Payne a star on the football field was his rare combination of speed and strength. Not only was he faster than most people, he was also much stronger. Mix in his toughness, athleticism and discipline, and a world-class athlete had emerged. If not for his sense of duty, Payne would have made millions as a pro football player. Instead, he had honed his skills in the military and become one of the best soldiers the world had ever seen.

Although Payne and Jones were retired from the MANIACs, the top brass at the Pentagon still spoke their names with reverence and contacted them for their expertise.

Over the next few minutes, they would display their skills.

A wave of gun fire forced them to scramble for cover. Jones slid to a stop behind a fallen tree while Payne ducked behind a nearby boulder. Both men struggled to breathe, the thin air and steep slope wreaking havoc on their lungs. The bunker was less than a hundred yards away, but it wasn’t visible from their position. With no communications, they didn’t know if Kaiser was alive or dead – or what they were facing. Three men? Five men? Maybe even ten?

To survive, surveillance would be essential.

Payne scanned the surrounding trees, searching for colours and shapes that didn’t belong. Nothing seemed out of place. ‘Where did those shots come from?’

‘Somewhere up ahead. Couldn’t tell where.’

Payne rubbed some dirt on his face and clothes, trying to blend in. ‘What’s our move?’

‘Get Kaiser. Go home.’

‘Easier said than done.’

Jones nodded as he studied the terrain. Without communications, they had to worry about enemy bullets and friendly fire. Especially from the sniper positioned in the bird’s nest above the bunker. If he had a ‘loose trigger’ – i.e. he lacked shot discipline – there was a damn good chance he would shoot every unidentified target that moved. And since most snipers were proficient up to a mile away, Payne and Jones were well within his kill zone.

‘The sniper worries me,’ Jones admitted. ‘He doesn’t know we’re back in play.’

‘I was thinking the same thing.’

Jones peeked over the fallen tree and stared at the rocky crag above the cul-de-sac. It could only be accessed from above. ‘Either we get a radio, or we go for the nest.’

Payne considered their options. ‘What about both?’

‘Both?’

‘I go for Kaiser, you go for the nest.’

Jones glanced at him. ‘You want to split up?’

‘Don’t worry, we can still be friends.’

‘I meant, do you think that’s wise?’

‘I don’t see why not.’

Jones explained his position. ‘If we reach Kaiser, we can use his radio to talk to the sniper. Why risk a trip up the cliff?’

‘Why? Because I want you in the nest, not some asshole I don’t trust. I know what you can do with a rifle.’

‘Oh, why didn’t you say so? What did you have in mind?’

Payne grinned. ‘I’ll lure them out, and you pick them off.’

With a sniper watching over him and calling out potential threats, Kaiser was more confident than he should have been – especially in the rugged environment near the bunker. Telescopic sights were quite effective on long-distance shots, but they couldn’t see through trees. And since branches and leaves blocked out the sun, there were plenty of places for gunmen to hide.

‘How’s it look?’ Kaiser asked as he moved towards the front of the cul-de-sac and crouched behind a grey boulder that was covered with green moss. ‘Anything?’

‘Looks clear,’ the sniper answered.

Kaiser leaned against the rock in thought. One of his men was presumed dead; the others were in the woods searching for the enemy. Unfortunately, he didn’t know who the enemy was or what they were after, but he had to assume they were gunning for him. As far as he knew, his own men didn’t even know what they had discovered in the bunker, so the odds were pretty good the gunmen weren’t after the gold or the van Gogh crate. They were there for him.

Kaiser had heard the initial shots. They had been fired ten minutes earlier and had continued in intermittent bursts. First to the north, then to the east, and then to the west. According to his men, the enemy had scattered like roaches, which effectively forced Kaiser’s hand. If the enemy had gone one way or the other, Kaiser would have used the off-road utility vehicle to escape. But since he didn’t know where they were, Kaiser knew he couldn’t risk it.

He had to stay put until a route was clear.

Armed with a Remington 750, one of Krueger’s goons spotted Kaiser behind the boulder. Every once in a while, Kaiser would peek above the rock like a prairie dog looking for hawks, and when he did, the goon tried to line up the perfect shot before his target disappeared.

This went on for nearly three minutes.

Up, then down. Up, then down. Up, then down.

Each time, the goon was close to pulling the trigger when Kaiser lowered his head to safety. Eventually, the goon became so frustrated by his futility he vowed not to blink or breathe until Kaiser popped back up. And the instant he did, the goon was going to fire.

As Payne moved into position in the woods, Jones sprinted to the right of the cul-de-sac then veered back towards the cliff that overlooked the bunker. To reach the bird’s nest without ropes and harnesses, he had to climb the hill from the side while avoiding possible gun fire.

To Jones, it sounded like fun.

With gun in hand, he charged up the steep slope, careful not to trip on the roots that jutted from the trail like fossilized snakes. Arms pumping and knees churning, Jones slipped more than once when his footing gave way, but he never fell. Each time he quickly regained his balance and continued his journey forward until he reached the top.

Breathing deeply, Jones eyed the treacherous path in front of him. Partially hidden by the foliage, it was more than eighty feet above the sharp rocks below. Roughly halfway across the cliff, which cut horizontally across the rock face, there was an access point for the bird’s nest. To reach it, he would have to lower himself onto a narrow ridge by holding on to the trunk of a tree. If his hand slipped or his foot missed, there was a very good chance he would fall to his death, but Jones ignored the possibility. Instead, he focused on what would happen if he didn’t take the risk: Payne would be exposed in the field as he tried to rescue Kaiser.

With that in mind, Jones continued his journey forward.

For the fourth time in the past five minutes, Kaiser peeked his head above the boulder.

This time he was greeted by a rifle blast.

When Krueger’s goon pulled the trigger on his Remington 750, the firing pin struck the primer in the .243 Winchester cartridge. The impact produced a tiny spark that ignited the gunpowder in the sealed chamber. A split second later, the gases from the burning powder forced the projectile down the 22-inch barrel and sent it screaming towards its intended target at a velocity of over 3,000 feet per second.

Frequently used for large game like wild hogs and black bears, the bullet struck the boulder a few inches from Kaiser’s head and ricocheted wildly. Unfortunately, the force of the impact was so great it shattered the top of the rock. The resulting shards erupted in Kaiser’s face, tearing through the soft flesh of his left cheek and causing significant damage to his eye.

Dazed from the blow and howling in pain, Kaiser made a foolish blunder. Instead of dropping to the ground where he would have been protected by the boulder and the sniper, he tried to retreat to the bunker, a distance of nearly thirty feet, with his hand against his face, blood poured through the gaps between his fingers as he sprinted towards the entrance.

Stunned by Kaiser’s decision to run, the goon wasn’t prepared to hit a moving target. Barely taking the time to aim, he fired again. This time he missed by several inches.

It was a mistake he wouldn’t make again.

The sound of the second blast fuelled Kaiser’s panic. In the military, he had been a supply sergeant, not a member of the infantry, so he wasn’t used to firefights. Outside of a shooting range, he hadn’t fired a gun in nearly a decade, and the last time someone had taken a shot at him was in an urban environment, not in the middle of the woods. Back then, he had escaped in his Mercedes. Out here, he had to do it on foot.

Halfway to the bunker, Kaiser realized his mistake – and it had been a big one. With a gunman trying to kill him, he wouldn’t have time to use the ladder. Instead, he would be forced to leap through the narrow hole while running at top speed. Making matters worse, he wasn’t sure what was going to greet him at the bottom of the bunker. His men had been working on a pulley system when the first shots had been fired, so there was a very good chance he was going to land on some kind of equipment, whether that was a toolbox or part of the winch.

Then again, that sounded better than the alternative.

Because if he stopped to use the ladder, he was fucked.

31

When it came to maths, Kaiser was a genius. It was one of the reasons he was great at his job. Whereas most of his rivals used calculators to determine their prices, Kaiser was able to do complex equations in his head. In a fraction of a second, he was able to crunch several numbers – the street value of his goods, the cost of shipping, the risk involved and about twenty other variables – and work out the true worth of a deal. His speed and accuracy were so renowned, his customers rarely haggled for a better price because they knew Kaiser couldn’t be fooled.

Unfortunately, the maths skills that had made Kaiser so much money over the years weren’t very effective when he was running for his life and screaming in pain. If they had been, he would have known that the diameter of the hole was far too narrow to leap through while sprinting at top speed. And yet when Kaiser left his feet, he thought his body would slip cleanly through the gap, and he would land safely inside the bunker.

But he was wrong. And it wasn’t even close.

Making matters worse, the goon pulled his trigger about the same time Kaiser went airborne. This led to a series of traumatic events that ravaged Kaiser’s body in several different ways. In a span of about two seconds, the gunman’s bullet hit Kaiser in the centre of his back, just before he slammed stomach-first into the far side of the hole. From the force of the impact, his torso lurched forward and he smashed his already damaged face into the hard ground, knocking out some teeth in the process.

Unconscious from the blow, Kaiser slumped backwards through the hole and crashed awkwardly onto the equipment that littered the bunker’s floor. When he landed, his left leg was pinned underneath him at a severe angle, so much so that he ruptured his patellar tendon and tore every major ligament in his left knee with a sickening snap.

The sound was so loud it echoed through the chamber.

Although the goon couldn’t see the fall or hear the snap from his position in the trees, he knew Kaiser had been seriously injured during the chain of events. No one – not even a soldier half of Kaiser’s age – could have survived everything that he had gone through without suffering several devastating injuries. In fact, the goon was so confident that Kaiser was unconscious and defenceless at the bottom of the hole that he rushed forward to finish the job.

And as he did, the goon smiled in triumph.

Payne heard the rifle blasts and zeroed in on the sound. As far as he could tell, the weapon had been fired somewhere near the bunker.

Wasting no time, Payne hustled through the foliage, trying to make as little noise as possible. Despite his size, Payne was able to move with great stealth, an ability often compared to the Apache warriors of the Old West, who were able to stalk their enemies without being heard. Genetically speaking, Payne knew his relatives had come from Central Europe, not the American south-west, yet he took it as a great compliment since the Apache were considered one of the fiercest tribes in Native American history.

When he reached the edge of the clearing near the cul-de-sac, Payne spotted a man wearing green and brown camouflage. He was holding a rifle in his hand and moving slowly towards the entrance to the bunker. From his current position, Payne couldn’t see the man’s face. Then again, even if he could, he realized he didn’t know what most of Kaiser’s men looked like. Sure, he had spotted them in the woods when he had first arrived at the site, but that had been at long distance. Truth be told, he couldn’t have identified any of them in a police line-up.

Obviously, that was a major problem when looking for targets.

Not wanting to kill a friendly, Payne decided to creep closer.

The goon stopped a few feet short of the hole and carefully peeked over the edge. Until that moment, he didn’t know what he would see. Perhaps a crevasse or a natural spring. Maybe even a grave. He certainly hadn’t been expecting a bunker. The instant he saw the concrete floor, he knew he had made an important discovery, something he had to report at once.

From his jacket pocket, the goon pulled a two-way radio and called Krueger, who was still making his way up the slope.

‘Come in,’ the goon whispered in German.

A few seconds passed before Krueger replied. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I found something big.’

‘What is it?’

‘Some kind of building.’

Krueger paused. ‘Did you say building?’

The goon nodded. ‘It’s underground, like a cave or something.’

‘You mean a bunker?’

‘Yeah! A bunker. A very old bunker.’

‘How old?’ Krueger demanded.

‘I don’t know. I haven’t gone in yet.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because it’s a bunker. I’m not going down there without backup. I shot some guy and he fell inside. I have no idea if he’s dead or alive.’

‘Give me the coordinates. I’ll be there soon.’

Payne couldn’t speak German, so he had no idea what had been discussed during the brief radio conversation. However, based on the goon’s reaction when he peered into the bunker, Payne could tell that he hadn’t been there before and wasn’t one of Kaiser’s men.

That meant he needed to die.

From his current distance, Payne figured he had a 99 per cent chance of a killshot with his Sig Sauer. The problem was the noise it would make. Sometimes noise was a good thing. It could lure the enemy to a particular spot where they could be eliminated by an explosive or a well-placed sniper. Originally, that had been the plan he had discussed with Jones. Lure the enemy to the cul-de-sac, and then mow them down.

Unfortunately, a major part of the equation was missing. He needed Kaiser’s radio to coordinate the attack.

Without it, Payne couldn’t risk attracting any attention to the area – especially one where he would be pinned against a cliff with no way to escape. Furthermore, if Kaiser was hiding in the nearby woods, there was a decent chance the advancing troops might spot him during their charge towards the bunker, and if that happened, Payne probably couldn’t save him.

For the time being, the noise wasn’t worth the risk.

Thankfully, Payne knew many ways to kill quietly.

The goon leaned forward, hoping to see the man he had shot in the back, wondering if he was dead or if he would require another blast from the Remington. Just to be safe, he raised the tip of his rifle and pointed it in the hole, looking forward to pulling his trigger one more time.

A few seconds later, the goon was a goner.

Moving with incredible stealth, Payne sprinted across the clearing and grabbed the goon by the neck before he knew someone was behind him. Without hesitation or remorse, Payne twisted the goon’s head so hard and at such an awkward angle that the vertebrae in his neck popped like corn in a microwave. Instantly, he became dead weight in Payne’s arms.

But just to be sure, Payne twisted his head the other way – even harder.

Not wanting to leave the body in plain sight, Payne inched forward and was ready to dump it down the hole when he noticed a battered figure on the concrete floor beneath him. At first glance, he couldn’t tell who was unconscious in the shadows of the bunker, but once his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Payne gasped in horror.

The bloodied man was Kaiser.

32

After using a tree to lower himself to the access trail, Jones glanced into the cul-de-sac below and spotted a hulking shadow gliding across the clearing towards an unsuspecting target. Jones had been on enough missions with Payne to recognize his stride and his tactics, and knew the man near the hole would soon be dead.

A broken neck later, Jones was right.

Strangely, during the ten seconds of action, the sniper didn’t take a shot even though he had more than enough time to shoot the man by the bunker. In Jones’s mind, that meant one of three things: Kaiser’s sniper was working with the enemy, he had been killed and replaced, or he was a reluctant shooter. Jones hoped for number three, but prepared for one and two by raising his weapon and picking up his pace along the narrow path.

The bird’s nest was up ahead, and Jones could see the sniper. He was lying on his stomach, perfectly still, just as a sniper should be. Leaves and branches provided adequate cover, especially for an unwary intruder, but to an experienced soldier like Jones, who used to hunt snipers for a living, the shooter stood out like a neon sign.

Looking through his scope, the sniper eyed his target in the crosshairs. Someone as big as Payne would be tough to miss with a DSR-1, a bolt-action sniper rifle that was used by the GSG 9, the elite counter-terrorism unit of the German Federal Police. Loaded with a five-round magazine of .308 Winchester cartridges, the expected accuracy of the DSR-1 was within .20 inches from a distance of a hundred yards.

‘Don’t even think about,’ Jones growled as he aimed at the sniper, who was ten feet away. ‘Let go of your rifle and put your hands behind your head.’

Not wanting to die, the sniper cursed to himself and did as he was told. The instant he released the DSR-1, which was supported by a bipod for maximum stability, the barrel tilted skyward. For the time being, it was no longer a threat to Payne or anyone else.

‘Now slowly turn on your side and look at me.’

Once again, the sniper followed orders. Only this time, his reaction was much different. As soon as he saw Jones, recognition flashed across his face, and he breathed a huge sigh of relief. ‘Thank God!’

Jones stared at him. ‘For what?’

‘For you,’ he said in perfect English. ‘You’re one of Kaiser’s friends.’

‘You know me?’

The sniper nodded. ‘You flew in yesterday. You and the big guy.’

‘What big guy?’ Jones asked him, still trying to decide with whom the sniper was working.

He tilted his head to the right. ‘The guy down there.’

‘The one you were about to shoot?’

‘What? I wasn’t going to shoot anyone! I swear! I was using my scope to identify him. That’s all! I didn’t even know you guys had returned.’

‘From where?’

‘How should I know? Kaiser never tells us anything! All I know is three of you left this morning. The big guy, the black guy and the fat guy. But I don’t know where you went!’

Jones scowled for effect. ‘Which one am I?’

‘What?’ he said, as his voice squeaked. ‘You’re, um, the …’

‘Never mind.’

‘Can I put my hands down?’

‘Not yet. Why didn’t you shoot the guy near the bunker?’

‘What?’ he asked, confused.

‘You had plenty of time to kill him but didn’t take the shot. I want to know, why?’

‘Why? Because I watched him kill Kaiser. After that, I didn’t know if I should keep fighting or I should run away. Why keep shooting if I won’t get paid?

Jones’s face flushed in anger. ‘Kaiser’s dead?’

He nodded. ‘The guy shot him in the back, and he fell in the hole. That’s what the guy was staring at when your friend killed him.’

Jones glanced below. Payne was no longer there. ‘Where’s your radio?’

‘It’s in my pocket.’

‘Get on your knees, and hand it to me slowly.’

The sniper did as he was told, then waited for further instructions. ‘Now what?’

‘Now you have a decision to make, the most important decision of your life.’ To emphasize how serious he was, Jones took a step closer as he continued to point his gun at the sniper’s face. ‘You fight with us, or you jump from the cliff. Your choice.’

*

Instead of using the ladder, Payne leapt into the bunker and rushed to Kaiser’s side. Lying on the floor, he was unconscious and bleeding heavily from his mouth and face. His eye was dangling from its socket. His left knee was torn to shreds. But he was still breathing.

Experienced in basic field medicine, Payne knew his first order of business was getting his patient away from potential danger, so he carefully dragged Kaiser into the back passageway. From there, he turned on a flashlight and went through his mental checklist for trauma victims. Instructors at the Academy had taught him the ‘A, B, C, D, E’ approach to field medicine. Clear airway. Check breathing. Check circulation. Determine disabilities. And expose all wounds.

Breathing was fine. Pulse was steady. The patient was unconscious, so Payne couldn’t check for movement in his limbs. But he could search Kaiser for bullet holes.

Using a pocket knife, he gently cut Kaiser’s shirt open and was relieved to find top-of-the-line, hard-plated body armour – the kind worn by presidents and mafia dons, not security guards. Of course, in Kaiser’s business, it made sense to have the best. And in this case, it probably saved his life because rifle blasts tend to cut through soft vests like rocks through a window.

Just then, Payne heard a muffled voice coming from the outer room near the bunker entrance. He instantly sprang to his feet and crept to the edge of the passageway where he listened patiently. No footsteps. No movement. No breathing of any kind. Only a muffled voice that sounded suspiciously familiar.

‘Come in. Over.’

Payne peeked around the corner and spotted Kaiser’s radio on the floor, close to where he had fallen. Although he doubted it was a trap, Payne grabbed the radio as fast as he could then dashed back to the passageway before he answered Jones’s call. ‘Where are you?’

Static filled the line.

Payne repeated his question. ‘Where are you? Over.’

Still nothing. Not even a squeak.

Suddenly, Kaiser’s condition made a lot more sense. His radio didn’t work in the bunker, so he had been forced to run things from outside. Which ultimately exposed him to gun fire.

Wasting no time, Payne moved forward until Jones heard his question.

‘I’m in the nest. Where are you?’

‘Tending to our friend,’ Payne said, not wanting to broadcast Kaiser’s name.

‘He’s alive?’

‘Unconscious, but stable.’

Jones breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Good to hear.’

‘What about you?’

‘Conscious and angry. I’m ready to fuck some boys up.’

Payne smiled. ‘What are you working with?’

‘A DSR-1. Standard optics. Plenty of ammo.’

‘How many team mates?’

‘One down, four in play.’

‘Who are we facing?’

‘Don’t know, don’t care.’

‘You say that now. You’ll change your mind when the cops show up.’

Jones nodded. ‘Good point.’

‘Out of curiosity, what’s the penalty for justifiable homicide in this country?’

‘For you, nothing. For me, they lynch me in Berlin.’

Payne laughed at the comment; Jones was joking. The two of them had spent a lot of time in Germany – mostly shuttling in and out of American military bases on their way to foreign missions – and had never experienced any racial problems. If anything, German people went out of their way to prove Nazism was a thing of the past. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but right now I’m more concerned about our friend than I am about you.’

‘First, you want to split up, and now this. I’m starting to re-evaluate our friendship.’

Payne ignored him. ‘Where’s the sniper you replaced? Is he nearby?’

‘Why? Do you want his phone number?’

‘Actually, I need his help.’

‘With what?’

‘Our escape.’

‘Yours and his, or yours and mine?’

‘All of the above.’

Jones smiled. ‘In that case, I’ll let you talk to him.’

Ulster’s confusion worked to his advantage for the first ten minutes or so. The truth was he honestly didn’t know why Payne and Jones had sprinted out of the King’s House on Schachen in such a hurry or why they thought his life was in danger. All they had told him was to lock the door and keep an eye on Heidi until they returned. Obviously, something big was going on, but he didn’t know what it was since he hadn’t heard the shots while he was inside the house.

Unfortunately for Ulster, Heidi was twice as confused and three times as feisty. Hoping to get as much information as possible, she peppered him with question after question – about Payne and Jones, the real reason they were in Bavaria, and everything else she could think of – which put a man like Ulster in an uncomfortable situation. He was an educator at heart, someone who enjoyed sharing his knowledge with the rest of the world, as could be seen from his life’s work. At first, he answered her questions openly and honestly because he really didn’t know where Payne and Jones had gone, but after that, she touched on some topics he knew he shouldn’t talk about. He tried to change the subject and tried to bite his tongue, especially when the spotlight focused on Ludwig, but she eventually wore him down.

After that, Ulster was putty in her hands.

33

The guy’s name was Collins. Until his arrival in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, he had never been a sniper but had volunteered for the position because he thought it would be a lot easier than hiking in the woods all day. For the past two years, he had worked for Kaiser, mostly doing security but occasionally doing grunt work. Like most people in the criminal world, his loyalty only went so far. In their business, the main motivation was money.

Payne used that knowledge to his advantage. ‘Have you been paid yet?’

Collins answered over the radio. ‘No.’

‘Would you like a big raise?’

‘What do I have to do?’

‘Simple. Help me get your boss to safety.’

‘He’s still alive?’ Collins asked.

‘Alive but unconscious. I need help moving him.’

‘To where?’

‘His ATV.’

‘Then what?’

‘You tell us. Any contingency plans?’

Collins gave it some thought. If he risked his life and Kaiser survived, he would get a huge bonus and a possible bump up in the organization. Both sounded good to him. ‘If the cops showed up, we were supposed to-’

‘Shut up!’ Payne ordered. ‘Not on the radio! Never on the radio! Someone might be listening. Tell my partner instead. If he likes it, I’ll like it. Then we’ll go from there.’

Collins glanced at Jones, who was studying the surrounding tree line with the rifle’s scope. If anyone threatened the bunker, Jones would take him out.

‘What’s the plan?’ Jones asked as he continued to search for targets.

Collins explained. ‘If the cops showed up, we were supposed to meet at the southern end of the gorge.’

‘What gorge?’

‘The Partnach Gorge. It’s halfway between the bunker and the city. There’s a clearing on the far end where the chopper can pick us up.’

‘Then what?’

‘We fly to Austria. It’s just over the mountains.’

Jones liked its simplicity. ‘Sounds good to me. Can I speak to him?’

‘Who?’

‘The pilot.’

‘Why do you want to talk to him?’

‘Because the plan sucks if he doesn’t show up.’

Collins nodded in agreement. ‘He’s on a different channel.’

‘And what about your girlfriends? Will they know what to do?’

‘Just say the word, and they’ll meet us there.’

Ten minutes later, Payne and Collins were in the cul-de-sac attaching a metal cable to the back of Kaiser’s ATV. The goal was to lift four crates – the van Goghs, the gold, Conrad Ulster’s books and papers, and the family heirlooms stored during the war – with the pulley system and load them into the off-road trailer before Payne carried Kaiser up the ladder. Then they would strap him to the top of the crates and haul everything to the rendezvous site.

Because of the extra payload – and Payne’s desire to evacuate all the men at once – two choppers would be needed. To accommodate them, Jones ordered the pilot to fly up the mountain to the King’s House on Schachen and tell Baptiste to meet them at the far end of the gorge. If things went smoothly, the choppers would swoop in, pick them up, and then fly them across the border where they could get Kaiser the medical care he needed at a private facility. Meanwhile, Ulster’s chopper would continue on to Switzerland where he would protect the cargo at the Archives until Kaiser was healthy enough to travel.

‘Can you drive this thing?’ Payne asked as he double-checked the cable.

Collins nodded. ‘I drove it up the slope on day one.’

‘Carrying what?’

‘Most of our gear and some of the men.’

‘You any good?’

‘At what?’

‘Driving ATVs.’

‘Yes, sir. I take them hunting all the time.’

Payne stood. ‘In that case, you’re hired. You drive, and I’ll feed the crates through the hole. Do you think you can handle that?’

‘Yes, sir. Piece of cake.’

‘Don’t get cocky, Collins. If you fuck up, my partner will shoot you.’

Collins gulped hard, then started the engine as Payne hustled to the bunker. Per military tradition, he loved busting the balls of his subordinates. It used to be one of his biggest joys in life, but he had been forced to curtail this habit when he took control of his grandfather’s business. During his first week on the job, he had teased one of his assistants – a mild rebuke without profanity – and made her cry. Obviously she had overreacted, but he had felt so bad about the episode that he had censored his comments in the workplace ever since. It was one of the reasons he teased Jones about everything. He knew his best friend wouldn’t cry.

‘Are we clear?’ Payne asked from the bunker entrance.

‘Clear,’ Jones said, still searching for targets.

‘Then let’s roll.’

As Collins inched the ATV forward, Payne steadied the van Gogh crate from his position on the bunker floor. More cumbersome than heavy, the crate was slowly hauled to the surface as Payne supported it from underneath, just in case the cable snapped or the bottom of the crate broke. Step by step, he climbed the ladder until the cargo reached the top. A few minutes later, all four crates were in the trailer, ready to be towed down the mountain.

Following the GPS coordinates he had received from his goon, Krueger ordered his men to converge on the site. He didn’t know what type of bunker Kaiser had discovered in the middle of the woods, but if the Ulster Archives were involved, it had to be significant.

The first man to get there was Zimmermann. From 200 feet away, he could hear the roar of the ATV. He didn’t know what was making the noise, but he knew it was close. Unsure of what to do, he called Krueger on his radio. ‘I can hear an engine, sir.’

‘What kind of engine?’ Krueger demanded.

‘It sounds like a jeep or some kind of off-road vehicle.’

‘Can you see it?’

‘Not from where I’m hiding.’

‘What about Braun? Do you see Braun?’

‘No, sir. No sign of him.’

Krueger grimaced. ‘I haven’t heard from him since he found the site.’

‘Me, neither. Do you want me to search for him?’

‘Negative. He can fend for himself.’

‘Then what should I do?’

Krueger stared at his GPS. He was still a few minutes away. ‘Investigate the site, then report back to me. I want to know what we’re dealing with.’

Made with a heavy-duty, all-steel frame the trailer had a durable mesh floor for drainage and four flotation tyres for the extra-rough terrain. Collins watched as Payne carried Kaiser out of the bunker and placed him on top of the crates. Working as quickly as they could, they used stretch cords with hooks to strap Kaiser to the crates and guard rails so he wouldn’t slide off during his journey down the mountain.

As they strapped down his injured leg, Kaiser started to groan. It was his first sign of consciousness since Payne had found him on the bunker floor. ‘Where am I?’

Payne rushed to his side. ‘Hey, man, how are you feeling?’

‘Horrible,’ he moaned, barely able to speak. Gauze and tape from a first-aid kit had been wrapped round his head, holding his injured eye in its socket.

‘I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t wake up.’

‘Thanks.’ He lisped because of his broken teeth. ‘I love you, too.’

Payne laughed and patted him on his shoulder. ‘Obviously, I wanted you to wake up eventually. But I was hoping it would be later.’

Kaiser opened his good eye. ‘Why?’

‘We need to haul you off the mountain. I’m afraid it’s going to be bumpy.’

He tried to swallow. ‘Where are you taking me?’

‘To the gorge. Your pilot is going to meet us on the far end. Is that okay with you?’

He nodded slightly. ‘Where’s the … stuff?’

Payne smiled. Even in his current condition, Kaiser was protective of his discovery. As always, his main concern was the bottom line. ‘Don’t worry, I strapped you to the crate. I figured, you wouldn’t want to leave it behind.’

Satisfied with the answer, Kaiser closed his eye and drifted away.

34

Zimmermann heard bits and pieces of the conversation from his hiding spot near the cul-de-sac. Following orders, he updated Krueger on the information.

‘I saw three men at the site,’ he whispered into his radio. ‘One of them is badly hurt. They just strapped him to four crates in the back of a trailer.’

Krueger responded. ‘What kind of crates?’

‘Wooden. Medium-sized. Rope handles.’

‘What’s inside?’

‘I’m not sure, but they look really old.’

‘Anything else?’

Zimmermann hesitated. ‘Maybe.’

‘What is it?’ he snapped, not in the mood for games.

‘I think I know where they’re going.’

‘Where?’

‘One of them mentioned the gorge. He said a pilot would-’

Before Zimmermann could say another word, his head erupted in a fountain of pink mist, thanks to the perfectly placed shot from Jones’s DSR-1 rifle. After passing through his medulla oblongata – dubbed the ‘apricot’ by snipers – the part of the brain that controlled involuntary movement and ensured an instant kill, the bullet blew out Zimmermann’s teeth and struck the radio he was holding against his mouth. A split second later, a mixture of blood, bone and technology covered the forest floor, as if Jones had just shot the Terminator.

But unlike the infamous cyborg, Zimmermann wouldn’t be coming back.

Thunder roared from the bird’s nest, high above the cul-de-sac. The rifle blast was so deafening it echoed throughout the Garmisch-Partenkirchen valley.

Like a sprinter bursting from his starting blocks, Payne reacted instantly, grabbing Collins and throwing him behind the trailer before diving to safety. Whereas most people took several seconds to process violent stimuli, years of training had taught Payne how to shrug off the confusion that followed an unexpected surge of adrenaline and focus on the mission at hand.

Pulling his gun from his belt, Payne crouched next to the crates, his eyes scanning the surrounding trees for possible gunmen. As he did, he realized Kaiser was unprotected, strapped to the top of the crates like a dead animal. Thankfully, he was unconscious again and lying perfectly still. To most intruders, he would look like a corpse instead of a potential target, so Payne left him alone instead of cutting him free.

‘Status?’ Payne whispered into his radio.

Focused on more urgent matters, Jones didn’t reply right away. ‘One down, approximately fifty feet to the north … Still searching for hostiles.’

‘Keep me posted.’

Twenty seconds passed before he spoke again. ‘Looks clear.’

‘You sure?’

Jones paused. ‘Not really.’

Payne didn’t smile. ‘Let me know when you’re sure.’

‘Ain’t gonna happen. Forest is too thick. Too many blind spots.’

‘Recommendation?’

‘The sooner you roll, the better.’

Payne nodded in agreement. Not only was he worried about a team of gunmen attacking the site, it was only a matter of time before the authorities arrived. ‘Will you be joining us?’

‘Eventually, but not right away.’

‘Gotta take a piss?’

‘Gotta cook Hogzilla.’

The moment Payne and Jones joined a Special Mission Unit, their fingerprints were permanently classified by order of the Joint Special Operations Command. This protected their identities when they were running top-secret missions for SOCOM, such as counter terrorism, unconventional warfare or personnel recovery. But sometimes, classified fingerprints weren’t enough. Occasionally, they were forced to take drastic steps in order to cover their tracks – whether that was to destroy physical evidence (security videos, bullet casings, etc.) or to conceal the identities of local contacts – people who would be killed or arrested if their involvement was detected.

When done properly, it was quite effective. And a whole lot of fun.

Normally, the thought of setting a fire in the woods would have been dismissed as overkill, but after weighing the pros and cons, Jones realized he didn’t have much of a choice. If he wanted to keep Kaiser and Ulster out of trouble, he had to torch the bunker before the cops had a chance to investigate it. He reasoned the concrete walls and the lack of ventilation would keep the blaze from spreading to the nearby vegetation, yet it would burn long enough to destroy all the evidence that could be used against them. As an added bonus, he knew the sight of black smoke billowing from the trees would be a wonderful distraction during their escape attempt. When the authorities rushed to put out the fire, the choppers could land undetected in the gorge.

It was a win-win in his mind.

While Jones watched over them, Payne and Collins cleaned the site by dumping everything they could find into the bunker. This included camping supplies, the winch and pulley system, and both dead goons. Curious about their identities, Payne searched their pockets and found their wallets – a sure sign they weren’t trained professionals. After memorizing their names and addresses, he threw their wallets in the hole, then started his journey to the rendezvous point.

Once the ATV and trailer were safely on its way, Jones hustled down the slope and tossed the rifle into the bunker where it would burn with everything else. Next to the entrance, Jones found the two items that he would use to set the blaze. Payne had stacked them neatly by the ladder, as if he were leaving gifts underneath a Christmas tree.

One was the emergency fuel can for the ATV.

The other was a box of waterproof matches.

Let the pig roast begin.

Even though Krueger was smart, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened to Zimmermann. He had stopped talking at roughly the same time as the rifle blast. After that, no additional shots were fired. Repeated attempts to get him on the radio were fruitless. Obviously, they had taken him out. Much like the other goon before him.

No longer in such a hurry to investigate the bunker, Krueger replayed the conversation with Zimmermann in his head. What did he say before he was shot? Something about a pilot meeting Kaiser at the gorge? Considering the density of the forest and the slope of the mountain, Krueger knew the far end of the ravine was the closet spot a helicopter could land.

All things considered, it was a good place for a rendezvous. But a better place for an ambush.

35

Partnach Gorge

Bavaria, Germany

Located on the Zugspitze, the highest peak in the Bavarian Alps, the Schneeferner is a glacier that formed during the Little Ice Age, an extended period of cooling that ended in the mid-nineteenth century. Since that time, the glacier has been gradually melting. Slowly at first, but now at an alarming rate. To protect the ice in the summer months, local workers lay down more than 60,000 square metres of reflective tarps, hoping to shield the glacier from the sun.

Unfortunately, the tarps can’t stop global warming.

As the ice continues to melt, the water trickles down the mountain in tranquil streams that eventually run together to form the Partnach River. For most of its voyage, the Partnach is a peaceful waterway. It meanders at a casual pace, as if it is trying to see all the sights in the Bavarian countryside before it flows through the middle of Garmisch-Partenkirchen, where it divides the city into two separate villages: Garmisch to the west and Partenkirchen to the east. However, during one particular stretch of its journey, the waterway changes drastically, morphing from a gentle, rolling brook into a nasty, roaring river.

The Partnach Gorge, or Partnachklamm, is a natural channel that was created over time by the force of rushing water. For a span of 2,305 feet, the Partnach River surges through a narrow limestone canyon, its walls soaring to the height of 262 feet. Along the way, dozens of waterfalls fill the air with spray, moistening the moss-covered cliffs and cooling the thousands of tourists who explore the gorge every year. Since being declared a natural monument in 1912, a series of tunnels have been carved into the limestone on one side of the river. Originally used by hunters and lumberjacks to reach the mountains above, the sloping path allows hikers to duck behind waterfalls and stroll next to raging rapids with minimal risk.

Of course, the danger would be much higher today when bullets filled the air like mist.

As Collins drove the ATV towards the gorge, Payne jogged behind the trailer. Occasionally, he dashed into the woods whenever he spotted something that bothered him – whether that was a flash of colour that didn’t belong or a glimpse of movement in the nearby trees – but he always came back to the rugged trail where he could watch over his injured friend. In Payne’s mind, Kaiser was the number-one priority.

Forced to move at a sluggish pace because of the terrain, they had been travelling for nearly fifteen minutes when Collins slowed the ATV to a gradual halt. Not a quick, jolting stop that screamed of panic, but a calm, leisurely stop that whispered confusion. Hoping to get a better view of the situation, Payne hopped on the back of the trailer and quickly spotted the problem. Fifty feet ahead, there was a rustic intersection, a place where two hiking paths came together. Payne’s trail was going east and west; the other was going north and south. Unfamiliar with the territory, Payne told Collins to stay put as he ran ahead to investigate a large display case that had been posted at the junction for confused hikers.

Thirty seconds later, Payne was cursing loudly.

Inside the glass case was a detailed map of the area, written in German and English. It showed everything – ski slopes, mountain peaks, major roads, museums, theatres, hotels, restaurants and the best places to park. Of course, none of that mattered to Payne since he was desperately trying to get out of town, not looking to enjoy his stay. The only thing he cared about was getting through the gorge as quickly as possible. But everything changed when he studied the map.

Using the butt of his gun, Payne smashed the case open and ripped the map off the corkboard inside. Then he stomped back towards Collins, anger punctuating his every step.

‘What’s wrong?’ Collins asked.

Payne shoved the map against Collins’s chest. ‘Where’s the chopper going to land?’

‘What?’

‘Where’s the chopper going to land?’ he asked again.

‘By the entrance to the gorge,’ Collins said.

‘Really?’ Payne growled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘And how are we going to get there? I’d love for you to show me!’

Collins knew something was wrong, but he didn’t know how dreadful the situation was until he glanced at the map. There were several photos of area attractions, including a picture of the narrow trail that ran through the gorge. It was barely wide enough for two people; there was no way it could handle an ATV and a trailer. ‘Shit. We won’t fit.’

‘Exactly! So why in the hell did you choose the gorge as the rendezvous point?’

‘I didn’t,’ Collins argued. ‘It was Kaiser’s plan, not mine. And in his defence, he thought we’d be escaping on foot, not on an ATV.’

Payne took a deep breath and nodded. It was a valid point. As an apology, he patted Collins on the shoulder and grunted. He knew it wasn’t Collins’s fault. He was simply frustrated by an oversight that could have led to their demise. And since Kaiser was currently unconscious, Payne had lashed out at the first person he encountered. That just happened to be Collins.

‘What’d I miss?’ someone said from behind.

Payne whirled and raised his gun in one fluid motion, like a gunfighter from the Wild West. Thankfully, he didn’t squeeze his trigger or else he would have killed his best friend.

‘What the fuck?’ Jones shouted, not the least bit amused. ‘If you want to get rid of me, just say the word. I’ll go to Oktoberfest alone.’

‘Sorry,’ Payne said. ‘I’m having a bad day.’

‘Not as bad as mine, if you had shot my ass.’

‘I wasn’t aiming for your ass. I was aiming for your heart.’

‘Oh,’ Jones mocked, ‘now I feel much better.’

Payne turned and pointed at the map. ‘We have a problem.’

‘Yeah, I thought I detected a disturbance in the Force.’

Payne ignored the Star Wars reference. ‘You know that expression, “You can’t get there from here?” Well, we’re facing it right now.’

‘Wonderful,’ said Jones as he snatched the map from Collins’s grasp. ‘It looks like I arrived at the perfect time. I love rescuing damsels.’

When it came to planning missions, Jones was a brilliant strategist. He had received the highest score in the history of the Air Force Academy’s MSAE (Military Strategy Acumen Examination) and had organized hundreds of operations with the MANIACs. He had a way of seeing things several steps ahead, like a chess master.

‘Out of curiosity, who chose the gorge?’ Jones asked.

Payne moaned. ‘Kaiser.’

‘Before or after he was knocked out?’

Payne wasn’t in the mood for games. ‘Do you see something or not?’

‘Relax! Would I be messing with you if I didn’t have a solution?’

‘Yes.’

Jones smiled. ‘You’re probably right. However, as luck should have it, I actually know how we’re going to get this stuff to the rendezvous point.’

‘The trailer won’t fit through the gorge,’ Collins volunteered.

Jones stared at him. ‘Did I say you could speak?’

Collins dropped his chin to his chest, embarrassed.

Jones winked at Payne, who tried not to laugh. No matter the gravity of the situation, they liked busting balls. ‘Anyway, what was I talking about?’

‘Reaching the rendezvous point.’

Jones nodded and pointed at their location on the map. ‘Here’s the problem. We’re just east of the Partnach River. According to this, there’s no way to cross the water until we get near the gorge. That means we can’t escape to the west. Unfortunately, the east is out, too, because of the fire I just set. It’s only a matter of time before Johnny Law comes running.’

‘That leaves north and south,’ Payne said.

‘Obviously the south is out because of the mountains. I mean, this is a sweet-ass ATV, but it’s not climbing the Alps.’

‘Agreed.’

‘So we have to go north.’

Payne nodded. ‘I figured as much, but how?’

Jones moved his finger on the map. ‘We take this into town.’

Payne leaned closer and studied the yellow icon, which looked like a tiny train. ‘What the hell is that?’

‘The Eckbauerbahn.’

‘Which is?’

‘A cableway. It runs from the peak of Eckbauer to the Olympic stadium. Which, from the looks of things, is right next to the rendezvous point.’

Payne rolled his eyes. ‘You want to take a ski lift into town?’

‘It’s not a ski lift. It’s a cableway. Big difference.’

‘Really? How so?’

Jones smiled. ‘We don’t have to wear skis.’

36

Krueger realized this was the opportunity he had been waiting for since he had joined Mueller’s organization three years earlier. It was his chance to prove that he was a major player, not a two-bit thug who couldn’t be trusted with big-money deals or serious projects.

This was his chance to make an impression.

Realizing the importance of the situation, Krueger decided to cash in a favour he had been holding onto since he had left the 10th Armoured Division of the German Army. One of his best friends in the division, a violent man named Krause, had been accused of a brutal armed robbery, a crime he had committed. However, due to Krueger’s sworn testimony that the two of them had been together at the time of the crime (and because of a lack of physical evidence), charges against Krause were eventually dropped. As a show of appreciation, Krause told Krueger that he owed him a gigantic favour – no matter what it was or when he needed it.

Well, that time was now.

From his hiding place near the southern end of the gorge, Krueger called Krause, who lived in the small town of Griesen, which was approximately ten miles to the west of Garmisch-Partenkirchen. The two areas were connected by the Bundesstrasse 23, a scenic German highway that was known as the B 23.

Krause answered the phone. ‘How are you, my friend?’

Krueger didn’t have time for small talk. ‘Where are you?’

‘I’m at home. Why?’

‘It’s time.’

‘For what?’

‘The favour.’

Krause nodded. He had known this day would eventually come, and he was fully prepared to pay his debt. After all, his friend had kept him from spending the majority of his life in jail. ‘What do you need me to do?’

Krueger explained the situation, colouring the facts to suit his needs. ‘A group of armed men just attacked my crew in the woods above Garmisch. Two of my friends are dead, and the others are missing. I overheard some of the gunmen. They said a chopper will be meeting them on the northern side of the Partnach Gorge, somewhere close to the ski stadium. I’m heading there now, but they have a head start. I need someone to run interference until I arrive.’

‘What kind of interference?’

‘The kind you’re good at.’

‘Let me see if I’ve got this straight. If I drive to Garmisch and stop that chopper, my debt is completely forgiven? No more holding it over my head?’

Krueger promised. ‘If you stop the chopper, we’re finally square.’

Krause smiled. ‘In that case, I’ll be there in ten minutes.’

Prior to reaching a fork in the path, Payne and Jones reconnected with three of Kaiser’s men, who were waiting near the southern end of the gorge. For the past thirty minutes they had been running through the woods, hunting for the gunmen who had killed Schneider. Unfortunately, their effort had been unsuccessful, which left two goons (or more) unaccounted for.

With so much at stake, Payne took a few minutes to address their situation, using the map to highlight a few trouble spots and to pinpoint where the chopper would be landing. Now that they were talking face-to-face, he could discuss every aspect of their mission without risk.

Payne said, ‘The instant we hit the main path, we’re going to start encountering tourists, and it’s only going to get worse as we get closer to town. With that in mind, we need something to quell potential panic. Personally, I like the cover story that you guys have been using – we’re German soldiers who have been conducting military drills in the mountains. That would explain our weapons, equipment and Kaiser’s condition. He simply got hurt during a training exercise. Out of curiosity, how many of you guys speak German?’

All four of Kaiser’s men – Collins, Huber, Lange and Richter – raised their hands. Unbeknown to Payne, it was a requirement for Kaiser’s security detail.

‘Really?’ Payne said. ‘Well, I guess that makes me the class idiot because I can’t.’

‘You’ll get no argument from me,’ Jones cracked.

Payne ignored him. ‘To make our cover story believable, one of you will have to take charge if we’re stopped along the way – whether that’s by a tourist, a tour guide or a cop. Simply tell them there was a training accident, and we’re rushing our man to a medevac chopper that is waiting for us. That should prevent them from summoning the authorities.’

Jones continued from there, ‘It will also help us at the Eckbauerbahn. In order to load these crates into the gondolas, we’ll need the operators to stop the cableway for a few minutes. If they want to know why we can’t leave the crates behind, tell them they’re filled with explosives. That should spook them enough to get their full cooperation.’

Payne smiled. ‘We’ll also need them to stop the cableway at the bottom so we can unload the payload before it gets whisked back up the mountain. To make sure that doesn’t happen, we’ll put someone in the first gondola who can hop out and explain the situation. Obviously, it would be great if there’s a cart or truck for us to borrow, but we can’t count on that, which means there’s a chance we’ll have to carry everything to the choppers ourselves.’

Jones pointed at the trailer. ‘I’ve labelled the crates two through five, based on priority. If we’re forced to carry our payload, that’s the order of importance. Two goes first; five goes last. Understand?’

Huber shook his head. ‘Why two through five? Why not one through four?’

‘Why?’ Jones asked. ‘Because Kaiser is priority number one. Not the crates, not your guns, not even yourselves. If Kaiser dies, this mission is a failure. Is that clear?’

They grunted and nodded tentatively.

But that wasn’t good enough for Payne. Hoping to drive home the point, he used the same motivational technique he had used when he had recruited Collins. ‘Guys, it’s pretty simple: if Kaiser dies, none of you will get paid. That means a week of hauling, guarding and sleeping in the woods for nothing. On the other hand, if you help him survive, I see a shitload of money headed your way. I’m talking about a one followed by a bunch of zeroes, just for doing your job. Is there some risk involved? Of course there is. But you knew that going in.’

Payne took a moment to meet the gaze of every man, making each of them feel they were the most important part of the team. ‘Before we proceed any further, I want you to answer a simple question for me. Your response will help me decide if you want to continue with this mission or if you want to quit here and now.’ He paused for effect. ‘Which sounds better to you: a huge pile of cash or unemployment? I know that sounds cold, but let’s be honest, that’s the choice you have to make.’

Not surprisingly, everyone voted for the money.

‘Good!’ Payne applauded. ‘Now that everyone’s on board, let’s hand out some duties. Collins, you’re in charge of the ATV. Your job is to get to the cableway as quickly as possible. That doesn’t mean I want you to run over tourists. It simply means I want you to keep moving if you have the opportunity. If you’re forced to stop, do not abandon the vehicle. You’re the driver, not a foot soldier. We’ll clear the path for you. Understand?’

Collins nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’

Payne studied the other three men. Based on body language alone, he could tell Huber was higher on the totem pole than Lange or Richter. He pointed at him. ‘How’s your German?’

‘Flawless,’ Huber answered.

‘Then you’re our lead dog. You’re setting the pace. If we come across a situation – tourists, guides, whatever – I want you to handle it peacefully. Is that clear?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Payne looked at Lange. ‘You’re his understudy. If he gets delayed, you become the lead dog until he’s able to resume his post. Our goal is to keep moving. Our excuse is Kaiser’s health. If anyone questions our urgency, that’s what you need to stress. He’s our ticket to freedom.’

‘What about me?’ Richter demanded. He was the largest of Kaiser’s men, but looked the dumbest. For some reason, he perpetually had a look of puzzlement on his face.

‘Don’t worry,’ Payne assured him. ‘I have a special job for you. Probably the most important job of all. You’re in charge of the trailer. If it gets stuck, I want you to free it. If the crates start to slide off, I want you to fix the straps. And if someone tries to examine the cargo, I want you to growl at them like a junkyard dog. Do you think you can handle that?’

Richter started barking. ‘I can do that like a champ!’

Payne fought the urge to smile. ‘Glad to hear it. Any questions?’

Huber raised his hand again. ‘What’s your job?’

‘I’m in charge of security. I’ll keep an eye on the woods from the back. If I see any problems, I’ll let you know asap.’

Huber pointed at Jones. ‘And what about you?’

Jones wiped his nose with his sleeve. ‘I’m the token black guy. If the cops show up, I’ll make sure they chase me instead of you.’

‘Are you serious?’ asked Richter.

Jones rolled his eyes. Some people had no sense of humour.

37

Heidi didn’t know what was going on, but she knew Ulster was hiding something. She could tell from the way he stammered every time she asked him a question about his visit to the King’s House on Schachen. He had the same reaction when she asked him about Ludwig; even simple questions about his interest in the subject matter seemed to cause him a great deal of stress. First Ulster would blush, then he would stumble around like a politician trying to evade a scandal, then he would try to change the subject.

In many ways, she found his behaviour endearing. He simply refused to lie and was willing to do just about anything to avoid it, including locking himself in Ludwig’s private bathroom where he had remained for nearly fifteen minutes. After a while, she realized she needed to change her approach. If Ulster wasn’t willing to talk about his visit, maybe she could convince him to talk about something else that would eventually get him to reveal small pieces of the puzzle.

But first, she had to lure him out.

‘Take as long as you need,’ she said through the bathroom door. ‘I’m pretty tired, so I’m heading upstairs to the Turkish Hall. I’ll be resting on one of the couches if you want to find me.’

Ulster replied a few seconds later. ‘Is that permitted?’

‘Is what permitted?’

‘Sitting on Ludwig’s furniture.’

She fought her urge to smile. ‘I won’t tell if you won’t tell.’

He opened the door a crack, just wide enough to make eye contact. ‘Rest assured, my dear. Your secret is safe with me.’

A few minutes later, the two of them were reclining on the lavish couches that lined the walls of the opulent room. Ulster stared at the gold fountain in the middle of the hall, admiring its handcrafted beauty as water trickled from one level to the next until it splashed into the tiny pool on the bottom. The relaxing sound took him to another place, one far from the stress of his everyday life, which was why it had been installed there to begin with.

‘I feel like a king,’ he said playfully.

‘And I your queen,’ she replied.

Ulster laughed loudly. Even though he housed some of the most spectacular artefacts ever discovered, he never got to enjoy them in this fashion. He could touch them, and study them, and admire them all he wanted, but he couldn’t lounge on them. To a historian, this was an extra-special treat – tasting the life of the man he was researching. It gave him the context he normally lacked when he delved into the mysteries of the past.

Heidi noticed the satisfied smile on his face. She hoped that meant his guard was slipping. ‘Tell me more about yourself. What do you do for a living?’

Ulster put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. ‘I run a small research facility in the mountains of Switzerland. It’s called the Ulster Archives.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘I never joke about research.’

She slid closer to him on the couch. ‘Wait a minute! Are you Petr Ulster?’

He opened one eye. ‘I am indeed. Have you heard of me?’

She nodded enthusiastically. ‘I read a piece you wrote for The Times.’

He opened his other eye. ‘Which one?’

‘The London Times.’

‘No, my dear, I meant which piece. I’ve written several.’

She smiled warmly. ‘It chronicled your recent trip to Greece, and all the obstacles you were forced to overcome. I never knew so much had to be done after a treasure was discovered.’

He leaned forward and met her gaze. She seemed truly interested in the subject matter, which was a rarity for him. He hardly ever met fans outside the world of academia. ‘It wasn’t easy, I can assure you of that. Then again, certain problems were expected before I made my trip. Gold brings out the worst in people. Always has, always will.’

‘I bet you have thousands of stories.’

‘I certainly do, but most of them are boring.’

She laughed. ‘I find that hard to believe.’

He shook his head. ‘Trust me, my dear, my stories have put more people to sleep than late-night television. If you want excitement, you should talk to Jonathon and David. They are the real heroes of Greece. After all, they were the ones who found the treasure.’

It took a few seconds for the information to sink in. When it did, she felt a jolt of adrenaline. ‘You mean Jon and DJ?’

‘I do indeed.’

‘The guys who ran out of here?’

He nodded. ‘The very same.’

‘They discovered the Greek treasure?’

‘And several other artefacts. They seem to have a nose for it.’

Heidi thought back to her initial conversation with Payne and tried to recall what he had said about their trip to Mount Schachen. Very little, if she remembered correctly. He claimed they had flown up the mountain because of Ulster’s weight and were there to keep him out of trouble. Yet ten minutes into their visit, they pulled out their weapons and abandoned Ulster, forcing him to fend for himself. Obviously, they were more concerned about someone else.

Or something else.

Maybe that was it. Maybe they were in Bavaria hunting for gold. After all, what had Ulster said about the duo? They seemed to have a nose for it. Over the years, there had been a lot of speculation about Ludwig and his family fortune. Perhaps they were investigating some of the rumours? If so, maybe she could help their cause. As an employee of the Bavarian Palace Department, she had worked at Ludwig’s other castles and knew many things about his life that couldn’t be found in books. If she could help them find a long-lost treasure, it would be the thrill of her lifetime!

Then again, why would they turn to someone like her?

Ulster owned the best historical research facility in the world and had a vast network of contacts round the globe. If he needed assistance, he would call the Palace Department’s headquarters in Munich or fly there himself. He certainly wouldn’t team up with a glorified tour guide, even if she had a wealth of knowledge at her disposal. These guys had guns and helicopters, and flew around the world looking for exotic treasures. The last thing they needed was someone like her getting in the way.

Unless, of course, she forced their hand.

In her spare time, Heidi loved playing cards. Her favourite game was Texas Hold ‘Em, a variation of poker that was quite popular on television. The game consists of two cards being dealt face down to each player before five community cards are placed on the table. As the community cards are revealed, players place bets on the outcome of the hand. By betting aggressively, players can trick their opponents into folding superior hands. By betting meekly, players with great cards can lure their opponents’ money into the pot. The key, as far as Heidi was concerned, was the art of bluffing. When done correctly, it was tough to defeat.

And lucky for her, she was great at it.

38

Near the southern end of the Partnach Gorge, there was a major intersection where several hiking trails came together. Even though the paths were labelled with codes and colours, it still took a while for travellers to figure out which way they needed to go. Paths that seemed to be heading one way often ended up going another. Most of the time they went where geology dictated, whether that was along the Partnach River or up the side of a mountain. For hikers, this region was heaven. They could spend hours crisscrossing the valley, switching back and forth between easy paths and challenging trails without venturing more than an hour from the city.

Anticipating some confusion, Payne made sure his men knew they were supposed to follow the yellow sign with the green arrow on the right. The path went towards Eckbauer, the small peak to the north-east. According to the map, the trail zigged and zagged through the woods until it reached the Eckbauerbahn station, which sat on top of the summit. Although the elevation was listed at 4,035 feet, they wouldn’t have much of a climb since they were already more than 3,000 feet above sea level. As long as the ATV kept chugging and the trailer kept rolling, Payne didn’t expect any problems for well-conditioned soldiers.

A large group of hikers, all of them carrying rucksacks and walking sticks, clogged the intersection as the ATV approached its turn. Huber tried to seize control in German, ordering them out of the way for their medical emergency, but they stared at him as though he was speaking in a foreign language. Which, of course, he was, since the hikers were from France. Upon seeing Huber’s camouflage and 5.56mm assault rifle, a few of the Frenchmen panicked. Worried they had broken the law or had accidentally crossed the Austrian border, they threw their hands in the air and surrendered to the Germans like a scene from a World War Two movie. Before long, all of them were crowding round the ATV, trying to figure out what they had done wrong.

Meanwhile, Collins did his best to keep moving. Lange rotated to the front of the pack and tried to clear enough space for the ATV and trailer to make the turn towards Eckbauer, but Lange’s presence only added to the turmoil. Now there were two Germans with assault rifles yelling at the French, which made them twice as eager to surrender. Eventually, Collins had no choice. He had to stop the ATV, or he was going to run over one of the hikers.

Payne heard the commotion from his position in the rear and came forward to investigate. It didn’t take long to figure out there was a language barrier. Kaiser’s men were speaking German, and the hikers were speaking French. Neither group could understand the other. From his military experience, Payne knew English was the lingua franca – the bridge language for people who spoke different languages – for international business, science, technology, aviation and diplomacy, so he decided to take charge of the situation.

Placing two fingers in his mouth, Payne unleashed a whistle so loud and authoritative that everyone shut up, including three Japanese hikers who were approaching the intersection from the opposite direction. Before he said a single word, Payne had everyone’s undivided attention.

‘Do any of you speak English?’ he said calmly.

A middle-aged Frenchman, wearing a brightly coloured bandana over his long, grey hair, appointed himself spokesperson. ‘I speak English. Are we in trouble?’

Payne shook his head. ‘Not yet, but you will be unless you get off the path. We have a medical emergency, and we’re trying to get into town.’

‘What kind of emergency?’ said a voice from the back. A few seconds later, an older gentlemen was pushing his way past his friends. ‘I’m a surgeon. Maybe I can help?’

Payne cursed under his breath. This was the last thing he needed. ‘Thanks, Doc, but no thanks. The patient is stable, and there’s a chopper waiting for us in town. If you and your friends could just-’

‘Is he conscious?’ the surgeon demanded.

Payne stared at him, coldly. ‘Not at the moment.’

‘Then how do you know he’s stable?’

Payne quickly considered his options. He could stand there and argue with the doctor about Kaiser’s health, or he could let the guy do his job as they continued towards the Eckbauerbahn. Ultimately, it was a no-brainer since Kaiser’s survival was his number-one priority, and their cover story about a training accident would explain all the injuries the doctor would discover. ‘Fine! You can hop in the back, but you have to examine him while we’re moving. We need to get to the chopper as soon as possible.’

The surgeon nodded and hustled towards the trailer as the Frenchman with the bandana explained what was happening to the non-English speakers in his group. Thrilled that they weren’t being arrested, they started gathering their things and moving out of the way of the ATV when the first shot rang out from the woods. Fired from Krueger’s gun, the bullet hit Collins just above his ear with so much force it penetrated his skull and ploughed into his temporal lobe. A moment later, he fell out of the ATV and slumped to the ground, dead.

Thanks to their training, Payne and Jones reacted a full second before anyone else. Payne fired his gun towards the sound of Krueger’s blast, hoping to hit the gunman with a lucky shot, while Jones sprinted forward and jumped onto the driver’s seat. Wasting no time, Jones cranked the accelerator on the ATV. With a cloud of dirt and stone, the vehicle rocketed forward into two unlucky Frenchmen, who got bowled over like drunken matadors. Thrown off balance by the abrupt movement of the trailer, the surgeon fell on top of Kaiser but managed to hold on to one of the straps or else he would have been trampled by his countrymen, who scattered at the intersection. One moment they were thankful for their freedom; the next they were shitting their pants and running for their lives.

Armed with assault rifles, Huber and Lange filled the woods with suppressive fire. The goal was to make the enemy scramble for cover while Jones escaped with the ATV. Their plan worked for nearly ten seconds until Krueger’s goons started firing from their hiding spot on the other side of the intersection. In a cruel twist of fate, one of them used the assault rifle they had taken from Schneider shortly after his throat had been slashed. Still stained with his blood, the Heckler amp; Koch G36 unleashed a hailstorm of automatic fire towards Schneider’s friends. One shot caught Lange in the throat and another grazed his hip, while Huber remained unscathed. Risking his life, Huber grabbed Lange by the back of his shirt and pulled him into the nearby bushes as more shots whizzed overhead. Huber worked on him feverishly, trying to stop the geyser in Lange’s neck, but it was all for nothing. He died a short time later.

Realizing no one was guarding Kaiser except Jones, Huber darted through the trees and bushes until he found a narrow gap that allowed him to slip back onto the path towards Eckbauer. The ATV and trailer were still in sight, and the gun fire was now behind him. As far as he was concerned, he had made the right choice – even if that meant running from a fight.

With Collins and Lange dead, Jones driving and Huber gone, Payne and Richter were left to deal with Krueger and his two goons. Based on shot patterns and geography, Payne figured out how many men they were facing and where they were located. Payne relayed this information to Richter, who was crouching behind a boulder about fifteen feet away, by using military hand signals. Despite the look of confusion that still plagued Richter’s face, he nodded his head in understanding. Payne hoped that was the case, but since he was dealing with a man who had been barking at him less than ten minutes before, he wasn’t overly confident.

Still, he reasoned, two guns were better than one.

Guns. The word triggered a thought in Payne’s mind.

Until that moment, he had been using a Sig Sauer P228 to defend himself. It was the weapon of choice of many military agencies in the United States, but it had the stopping power of a slingshot when compared to the G36 assault rifle that Richter and one of Krueger’s goons were firing. If he had a weapon like that in his hands, he could do some serious damage. Instead of hiding in the trees and playing charades, he could go on the offensive and end this bullshit once and for all, which was what MANIACs were trained to do.

But first, Payne had to acquire a rifle.

39

Jones stopped the ATV about 150 yards from the intersection, just past a thicket of trees that would temporarily shield the trailer. Glancing back, he saw the surgeon clinging to the cords that secured the crates in place, his fingers pale from clenching so tight.

‘Are you okay?’ Jones asked as he hustled towards him.

The surgeon nodded and sat upright. ‘What was that?’

‘That was an ambush. Obviously someone was trying to kill you.’

‘Me? Why would anyone want to kill me?’

‘I don’t know. What did you do?’

The surgeon blinked a few times and tried to come up with an answer, which Jones found comical despite the situation. Normally, Jones would have messed with him even further, but he realized time was too valuable to waste.

‘It’s not important,’ Jones assured him. ‘What is important is your patient. The reason I saved your life was so you could save his. Don’t worry. You can thank me later. For now, you need to focus on him and nothing else. Okay?’

The surgeon nodded, then turned his attention to Kaiser.

With a gun in his hand and an eye on the path, Jones pulled out his radio as the sound of automatic fire continued to roar in the distance. Although he felt guilty about abandoning Payne at the intersection, he knew he had made the right decision. He had rescued Kaiser and had protected the cargo by driving the ATV out of harm’s way. In the heat of battle, he had kept his composure and had done what he needed to do. It was a skill he had learned with Payne. During their time in the MANIACs, they had been taught to improvise behind enemy lines since their missions rarely went as planned. Sometimes that meant using salami to slide down a rope, other times it meant taking over the duties of a fallen colleague. Ultimately, as long as they completed their missions, the Pentagon rarely questioned their methods or asked who did what. They only cared about success.

Of course, now that Kaiser and the cargo were temporarily safe, Jones’s focus shifted back to everyone he had left behind. Success was important, but so was his best friend’s survival. ‘Black Knight to White King. Can you hear me? Over.’

There was fifteen seconds of silence before Jones heard a reply.

‘I’m kind of busy,’ Payne said from his hiding spot in the bushes. ‘What’s your status?’

‘Hanging out. Chillin’. Working on my tan.’

‘How’s our patient?’

‘Safe. How’s Collins?’

‘Dead.’

Jones had figured as much. ‘Do you need an extra gun?’

‘Funny you should mention that. I’m working on that right now.’

‘Meaning?’

‘I’ll tell you later. For now, you’re in charge of our patient. Get him to the chopper asap. I’ll take care of everything else.’

‘Hold up,’ Jones said, tensely. He spotted a man in camouflage running up the path towards the ATV. Once he realized it was Huber, he slowly relaxed. ‘A pawn is heading my way. Do you want me to send him back?’

‘That’s a negative. I’m stuck with one already. I can’t supervise two.’

‘Are you sure? Because-’

‘Go!’ Payne ordered. ‘Make sure you aren’t followed. Take precautions.’

Jones nodded in understanding. Take precautions was a coded message from Payne. It let him know he could disable the cableway when he reached the bottom of the mountain because Payne was going to take another way down. Knowing his friend as well as he did, Jones was fairly confident that Payne’s route would take him through the gorge.

It was the type of environment where he could work his magic.

Payne stared at the G36 assault rifle from his hiding spot in the trees. In some ways, he felt like a hungry fox eyeing a hen house. He knew the risk was great, but so was the reward.

Even though the weapon was less than ten feet from his grasp, it would be tough to recover since it was strapped to Collins, who was lying dead near the intersection where they had been ambushed. It was an area surrounded by enemy troops. Making matters worse, Collins had fallen on top of the rifle when he had slumped out of the ATV. To recover it, Payne would have to grab more than the weapon. He would have to grab the corpse as well.

Over the years, Payne had been in enough battles to shrug off things like death. For better or worse, he had learned how to dehumanize his environment in order to survive. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have stayed sane in such hellish conditions. To him, he wasn’t killing people; he was merely shooting at targets. Nor was he risking his life on a daily basis, he was simply completing a mission. And when it came to grabbing the G36, he sure as hell wasn’t stealing a dead man’s gun. He was merely reacquiring an asset for the betterment of his squad.

‘Are you ready?’ Payne whispered to Richter.

He nodded from behind a large boulder.

‘Are you sure? Because my ass is on the line.’

Richter nodded again, this time more confidently.

Payne smiled and raised three fingers in the air. ‘Three, two, one, go!’

Working in unison, Richter fired several shots into the trees on the other side of the intersection while Payne burst from his hiding place and ran towards Collins. He knew the suppression fire would buy him some time, but he didn’t know how much. He prayed it would be long enough to grab his fallen comrade and make it back to safety.

Sprinting as fast as he could, Payne reached Collins in less than two seconds. Experience had taught him how tricky it was to lift a dead weight from the ground, so Payne made sure he had a good grip on the body before he dragged it back into the trees. From his knees, Payne plunged his arms under the dead man’s armpits then hooked his hands in front of his chest. When Payne stood, the corpse was facing away from him and most of its weight was draped on the crooks of Payne’s elbows between his forearms and biceps, its skull resting on Payne’s chest just below his chin. Wasting no time, Payne started to backpedal from the path. As he did, the dead man’s heels dragged across the ground like two anchors skimming across a lake bed.

Krueger, who had killed Collins to begin with, watched this action unfold from his position near the entrance to the gorge. Although he had assumed the driver was dead, he didn’t want to take any chances – especially since he had the opportunity to shoot two men with one bullet. If successful, it was the type of shot he could brag about for the rest of his life, an exploit that would impress the toughest of critics, even a grizzled criminal like Mueller. In Krueger’s mind, that’s what this mission was about, impressing his boss and moving up in the organization.

With a steady hand, Krueger raised his gun and fired a single round just before the two men disappeared from sight. The bullet exited the chamber with a mighty blast and whistled through the air towards its intended target. Branches scratched the back of Payne’s neck at approximately the same time as the bullet’s impact. It struck Collins in the sternum, just below the spot where Payne’s hands were locked together around the dead man’s chest. The impact was so close he felt the meaty thump in his fingers as he fell back into the trees. A few inches lower and the bullet would have ripped through Collins’s gut and entered Payne’s abdomen, bringing with it the type of bacteria that could have caused sepsis, and possibly death. But thanks to Collins’s ribcage, the bullet rattled harmlessly inside the corpse as Payne tumbled safely to the ground.

Payne took a deep breath, then unhooked the black strap on the G36, which was slung over the dead man’s shoulder. Weighing a little less than eight pounds, the Heckler amp; Koch assault rifle utilized NATO-standard 5.56mm cartridges and thirty-round magazines. To his delight, Payne found three extra thirty-round clips in Collins’s pocket. He quickly stashed them in his cargo pants and prepared to make his move. Before he did, he eyed the fire selector just above the rifle’s trigger. Made for the German military, it was labelled with three letters: S, E and F.

‘S’ stood for Sicherheit or security.

‘E’ stood for Einzelfeuer or single fire.

‘F’ stood for Feuerstoss or continuous fire.

Payne grinned and cranked the selector to ‘F’. With his experience and 120 rounds to work with, he knew the ‘F’ represented something more vulgar than automatic fire.

With this weapon in his hands, the enemy was fucked.

40

Payne knew enough about the Partnach Gorge to view it as a promising escape route. The trail was downhill, narrow and approximately half a mile long. Protected by limestone cliffs and a raging river, he couldn’t be outflanked or outmanoeuvred. And if the goons tried to set up a barricade, Payne and Richter had enough firepower to blast their way through it.

In Payne’s mind, the only drawback was the large number of hikers they were bound to encounter in the gorge. Families on vacation, tourists who didn’t speak English, maybe even children on a field trip. Payne had a great deal of experience with urban warfare and trusted his shot selection. He knew the odds of him hitting an innocent bystander were pretty damn slim; he was that accurate when it came to shooting. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be the only one firing. If the ambush at the intersection was any indication, the enemy didn’t give a damn about collateral damage. Either that, or they had something against the French.

Payne studied the intersection, then turned his attention towards Richter. He was crouched behind the same large boulder as before, his rifle in his hands, the same confused look on his face. Thus far, he had proven himself to be an asset. He was strong, courageous and just dumb enough not to question orders. Over the years, Payne had worked with a lot of men like Richter – the self-described ‘grunts’ (General, Replaceable, UNTrained) who filled the infantry – and he knew they were the backbone of the military. So much so, that he went out of his way to show them respect, whether that was buying them beer or buying them more beer.

‘You ever been to Oktoberfest?’ Payne asked Richter.

‘No, sir,’ he whispered back.

‘Well, if we make it through this, you’re going next week. My treat.’

His eyes lit up. ‘Thank you, sir. I drink beer for breakfast.’

Payne wasn’t surprised. ‘What about the gorge? Ever been through the gorge?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Me, neither. But that’s where we’re headed. It’s how we’re getting to town.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Payne stared at the intersection. He knew there was a gunman (Krueger) positioned near the entrance to the gorge. He was the assassin who had shot Collins twice. First in the head, then in the chest. The other two goons were on the opposite side of the trail, nestled in a thicket of trees. So far they had been less than accurate with their shooting, despite being armed with two Remington 750s and a G36. To reach the path to the gorge, Payne and Richter would have to spray shots in both directions to minimize return fire while they made their escape. Since Payne was most concerned with the assassin they were running towards, he chose that target for himself. He assigned the other gunmen to Richter, explaining only a few shots would be necessary to buy them some time. After that, the goal was to enter the gorge as quickly as possible.

Richter nodded in understanding and prepared to follow.

Payne counted down from three, and both of them burst from their hiding spots when he reached zero. For the next several seconds, shots flew in every direction. Payne shooting at Krueger, and Krueger shooting wildly while ducking for cover; Richter and the goons exchanging multiple shots, yet nothing getting hit except a few trees and one of the wooden signs at the intersection. By the time Payne and Richter reached the path that led to the gorge, there was a better chance they were going to get hit with flying splinters than by a bullet. Which was what Payne had been hoping for. He hadn’t been expecting to take out any targets with suppression fire – although that would have been a nice bonus. He was merely trying to get into the gorge unscathed. Once inside, his objective would change. He would become a hunter. Until then, his main goal was survival.

As they ran down the winding path towards the entrance, Payne spun and unleashed a quick burst of automatic fire, hoping to slow down the goons a little while longer. Blessed with speed and strength, Payne was a rarity among men, an athlete who ran with grace and agility in spite of his size. In a downhill sprint, he knew the odds were pretty good that no one was going to catch him on rough terrain, especially if they were burdened with equipment.

Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said about Richter, whose stride was hindered by his lack of coordination. If Payne was a thoroughbred, Richter was a plough horse. He was strong and dependable, yet not blessed with speed. Instead of running, Richter lumbered – his feet hitting the ground like heavy hooves, the sound echoing in the canyon. Payne realized that Richter needed as large a head start as possible, so he stopped on the path and fired a few more shots up the hill to buy him time. Then he turned and ran towards the gorge.

The entrance was marked by a wooden hut that had been there for years. Inside, an elderly man sat on a tiny stool, waiting to charge an admission fee. Hard of hearing and barely able to see, he didn’t notice Richter as he rumbled past and ducked into the first tunnel. Nor did he hear the automatic fire from Payne’s rifle or see him sprinting past a few seconds later. In fact, the first time he snapped out of his daze was when a screaming tourist jumped through the hut’s window and hid behind the counter. More confused than scared, the old man looked down at the woman, who was cowering on the floor, and said, ‘That will be two euros.’

Krueger and his goons ran past next. Although they were a few seconds behind, they were quite familiar with the gorge and knew there was plenty of time to catch up. The stone path curved constantly, weaving in and out of dark tunnels that had been carved into the limestone walls. The Partnach River, which flowed so close to the trail that hikers could touch the rapids, and the sheer height of the cliffs would prevent Kaiser’s men from straying. Like everybody else, they’d be forced to stay on the narrow path, a path that tended to clog up at certain junctures. All Krueger had to do was stay close and wait for his opportunity to strike.

Huber jogged beside the trailer as Jones navigated the ATV through the twists and turns that led to the cableway. Once the path straightened out and started to climb the gentle slope of Mount Eckbauer, Huber jumped on back and positioned himself on one of the crates. From there, he watched the woods behind them with his rifle in his hands.

Built in 1956, the Eckbauerbahn stretched 7,020 feet and handled as many as 300 people per hour in each direction. Travelling along an inch-thick steel cable that was supported by twenty-seven towers, the open-air gondolas offered a great view of the valley without the hike. During the descent, a scenic trip that took approximately fourteen minutes, passengers dropped 1,640 feet from the top of the summit to the station below, zipping along at a speed of 8.3 feet per second.

‘We’re almost there,’ Jones called over his shoulder. ‘I’ll pull in right next to the station. When we stop, I’ll need you to talk to the operator.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Huber replied.

The closer they got, the more people they passed along the way. Most of the hikers stopped and stared at the ATV, trying to figure out if these men were responsible for the gunshots they had heard, and whether or not they were dangerous. But Jones managed to ignore them. Used to far worse scrutiny when he had been deployed overseas – particularly in the turbulent streets of Baghdad – Jones kept driving without so much as a sideways glance. That didn’t mean he didn’t see the hikers, because he saw everything around him. It simply meant he didn’t care. As long as they didn’t pull out a camera and take his picture, they could stare all day.

The Eckbauerbahn station was housed in a white two-storey building that resembled a rural church. Nestled beside several pine trees that towered above it, the simple structure was topped with a steep green roof matching the colour of the surrounding grass. Bisecting the lawn was a curved path that curled towards the left side of the building. Jones followed it and parked the trailer next to a short flight of steps that led into the lobby.

Huber hustled inside and came out four minutes later. When he returned, he wasn’t alone. Following him was a large pack of Austrian bodybuilders, who had just ridden the cableway up from Garmisch-Partenkirchen. Dressed in sleeveless shirts and tight shorts, they had overheard Huber’s description of the medical emergency and had offered to help.

Despite the thousands of Arnold Schwarzenegger jokes that floated through Jones’s mind, he kept his tongue in check and politely accepted their offer. With arms the size of legs, the steroid club of Austria carried Kaiser in first, then came out for the cargo. The brute strength these men possessed was nothing short of amazing. Even the crate filled with gold was handled by a single guy, who tossed it around like he had picked up a lunchbox.

Meanwhile, Huber climbed in the first gondola and started his journey down the mountain. He needed to reach the bottom before anyone else, so he could talk to the operator in the valley. After that, Kaiser was strapped into gondola number two and was accompanied by the doctor. The next four gondolas were filled with cargo, one crate in each, before Jones hopped in lucky number seven and was launched out of the station. Unless something strange happened, he knew they would complete their journey in fourteen minutes, which would give them plenty of time to reach the chopper before Payne exited the gorge.

If he exited the gorge.

41

Payne had been in more firefights than Richter, Krueger and the goons combined, but there were certain things that experience couldn’t overcome, such as the inner workings of the human eye. After spending the past several minutes running and shooting in the bright sun, Payne found himself temporarily blind when he sprinted past the iron gate and into the first tunnel.

Carved into the limestone cliff, the narrow corridor lacked artificial lights of any kind. Other than a few beams of sunlight that leaked through a small gap cut into the rock, the passageway was completely dark. Payne skidded to a halt about ten feet inside, just before he slammed into a young couple who were walking hand-in-hand towards the exit. Unwilling to let go of each other’s grasp, they had to turn their bodies sideways and lean against the handrail that had been installed in the jagged wall; otherwise, Payne wouldn’t have had enough room to pass. The tunnel was that narrow.

Forced to temporarily rely on his other senses, Payne focused on the sounds that echoed in the darkness: the trickling of water; the giggling of children; the patter of footsteps. In a matter of seconds, he knew the tranquillity of the gorge would be replaced by the cacophony of war – the screaming, the crying, the gun fire – and it would be up to him to restore calm. Thankfully, he had the expertise to finish the job quickly.

Just before he reached the gap in the rock, the tunnel turned to the right and stretched for more than a hundred feet through the limestone mountain. Along the way, large arches had been cut into the left-hand wall offering intimate views of the Partnach River as it raged through the gorge. People of all ages crowded against the waist-high steel fence, which prevented them from falling into the water even as it splashed their feet and filled their ears with thunder.

With enough light to see, Payne sprinted across the uneven stone floor and caught a glimpse of Richter, who was nearly fifty feet ahead. For the time being, the presence of two large men with assault rifles running through the shadows hadn’t made a large impression on the tourists, who were too enamoured with the rapids to care about anything else. But Payne knew everything would change when a weapon was fired. Chaos would reign in the blink of an eye.

Hoping to keep the peace for as long as possible, Payne studied the terrain without slowing down. If he had been given advanced surveillance of the tunnel, he would have positioned himself near the first turn and waited for his enemy to be blinded by a lack of light. As soon as they stopped in the darkness, he would have mowed them down with automatic fire, ending the drama in less than five seconds. Unfortunately, it was too late to go back now, not with his opponents so close behind. If they happened to beat Payne to that first turn, he would be the one stranded in the middle of a tunnel, not them. And all the tourists who were watching the rapids would get caught up in the crossfire.

To Payne, going back was too big of a risk.

Especially since he had other options.

For as long as Payne could remember, he preferred being the chaser instead of the chased. Obviously, there were advantages to being in front during a foot pursuit, and if he had been stuck in the lead position, he would have made the most of it. But based on experience, he knew he was much more effective when attacking from behind. Not only did it match his aggressive personality, but it allowed him to use his stealth, which was an important part of his skill set. With that in mind, he looked for ways to let the enemy pass him in the gorge.

As Payne approached the last archway on the left, he noticed an absence of tourists near the steel fence. A rock formation, which jutted out from the side of the mountain and partially blocked the view of the water below, gave him the opportunity he was looking for. Wasting no time, Payne hopped over the fence and slid back along the tiny ridge that lined the outside of the wall until he couldn’t be seen from the corridor. After that, all he had to do was wait.

First, he heard Krueger rumble past the archway without slowing down. Then the lead goon did the same, his footsteps echoing as he ran. Realizing there was only one goon left, Payne moved into position to strike. As soon as the straggler passed, Payne sprang from his hiding place and landed on the goon’s back like a cheetah bringing down a gazelle. In the tunnel, the only noises made – the sound of air being forced from the goon’s lungs and the crack of his neck as Payne twisted it viciously to the side – were drowned out by the roaring water.

Just like that, the goon was dead.

Worried about detection, Payne glanced in both directions and searched for any signs of trouble. To the north, Krueger and the other goon were still running at top speed. To the south, tourists continued to gawk at the gorge, completely unaware that death had just visited the shadows of the tunnel. Hoping to prevent their panic, Payne lifted the body and carried it over to the archway where he had launched his attack. He was thirty feet downstream from the closest hikers, who would find the corpse if he left it in the tunnel. If he dumped it, the authorities might not find it for days. To Payne, it wasn’t a tough decision. With a mighty heave, he launched the body over the fence and watched it get sucked under the rapids.

After that, Payne turned and started chasing his next victim.

Over the next hundred feet, the corridor system changed dramatically. Instead of dark tunnels with periodic archways that offered views of the river, the entire left-hand wall had been carved away, leaving behind an open trail with a limestone roof hanging overhead. Sunlight from above reflected off the water below, filling the trail with natural light. Every nook and cranny seemed to glow, as if the rocks themselves were luminescent.

To keep tourists from falling into the water, two steel cables were threaded through sturdy posts that had been anchored into the limestone. The cables ran along the river’s edge, curling gradually with the bend in the path as the water weaved its way towards the valley. Because of his size, Payne had to slow down when the trail narrowed or the roof dipped. Otherwise, he would have split his skull open on the jagged rocks above.

Despite this hindrance, Payne quickly made up ground.

Darting and ducking, bobbing and weaving, Payne closed the gap to less than twenty feet, yet the goon didn’t know he was behind him. Earlier, tourists had literally been in the dark when it came to the chase, but thanks to an abundance of light along the path, tourists now did everything possible to get out of their way – including straddling the steel cables while holding on for their lives. A Spaniard misjudged his leap as Krueger rushed towards him, and he fell waist-deep into the river. During a terrifying eight seconds, both his flip-flops were ripped off his feet by the surging water, which was nature’s way of saying people shouldn’t wear flip-flops during a hike. Thankfully, his life was spared by Payne, who grabbed the man’s arms and yanked him out of the water a moment before he was swept down river.

‘Gracias,’ the Spaniard said, trembling.

Payne patted him on the back. ‘De nada.’

Then he started running again.

Realizing it was just a matter of time before a tourist was hurt or killed, Payne decided to increase his aggression. Instead of chasing the goon down, Payne would lure him to a section of the trail that could be exploited. If done correctly, Payne knew he could take him out with a single shot without putting anyone else at risk.

Actually, make that two shots.

The first would get him to stop. The second would end his life.

42

Heidi smiled when she thought about her initial conversation with Payne. He was charming, funny and flirtatious – not to mention ruggedly handsome. If they had met in a coffee shop or in a bookstore, she would have been willing to chat with him all day. And when they chatted, she would have been open and honest about her life because that’s the kind of woman she was. On the other hand, if she had met him at a poker table, she would have lied her ass off from the moment they met because that was how the game was played. Afterwards, she would have returned to her truthful ways, but during the give and take of competition, she would have used every trick in the book to ensure her success.

She planned to do the same thing here. She would bluff to her advantage.

‘May I ask you a question?’ she said to Ulster, who had just finished a rambling dialogue about the history of the Archives while lounging on one of Ludwig’s couches. ‘Jon said something to me when we first met, and it’s been bothering me ever since.’

‘Of course, my dear. What did he say?’

‘He said you guys were looking for some kind of treasure and needed my help.’

Ulster sat upright. ‘He said what?’

With her best poker face, she continued her story. ‘He said you were looking for a secret treasure or something, and he wanted to ask me some questions about Ludwig.’

‘Wait a moment! When did he say that?’

‘When he first came up to the house. You and DJ were still chatting on the slope, and Jon hustled over to introduce himself and apologize about noise from the helicopter. Remember?’

‘I do indeed,’ said Ulster as he stood and started to pace. ‘Then what?’

‘Then he asked about my job.’

‘And what did you say?’

‘I told him I worked for the Bavarian Palace Department, and I’ve been …’ She paused for a moment, letting the tension build.

He stared at her. ‘You’ve been what?’

‘Maybe I should wait until Jon returns. I don’t know why, but I feel as though I’m doing something wrong here, like I’m going behind his back. Perhaps our discussion was supposed to be confidential.’

Ulster rushed over to her side and patted her knee. ‘Nonsense! I can assure you that isn’t the case. Jonathon, David and I are in this together. If he felt you could help our cause, perhaps you can. Tell me, my dear, what is your area of expertise?’

‘Ludwig’s palaces,’ she answered honestly. ‘Over the past few years, I’ve worked at Linderhof, Neuschwanstein and the Munich Residenz. I know more about those buildings than Ludwig himself – mostly because they’ve done a lot of remodelling since his death.’

Ulster laughed at her joke. He was a huge fan of historical humour. ‘What about his life? Are you familiar with his life?’

‘If you’re referring to Ludwig Friedrich Wilhelm von Wittelsbach, then the answer is yes. A famous historian once said, “To understand a castle, you must understand the king.” Obviously, that’s a difficult task with someone as complicated as Ludwig, but it’s a passion of mine. I’ve spent the last few years studying his letters and journals and the books from his private library, trying to learn about his life. Eventually, I reached a point where I knew more about Ludwig than some of the men I’ve dated. I know that’s pathetic, but it’s the truth.’

Ulster leaned back on the couch. ‘Tell me, my dear, do you know the name of the historian you just quoted?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Petr. I don’t recall.’

He smiled. ‘It was my grandfather, Conrad Ulster.’

‘Really?’ Her voice cracked as she said it. She honestly hadn’t known. ‘Here I am going on and on like a pompous windbag, and I used your grandfather’s quote as my thesis statement. I can’t imagine what you think of me right now!’

He laughed. ‘Don’t worry, my dear, I find you completely refreshing. During the past fifteen minutes, you have praised my article in The Times and quoted my grandfather. Fifteen years and fifty pounds ago, I might have thought you were flirting with me!’

Heidi blushed, more embarrassed than a moment before.

Ulster continued. ‘Tell me, did Jonathon ask you any questions about Ludwig before he left? Perhaps we can work out what part of our investigation you could assist.’

She quickly replayed the conversation with Payne in her head. She hoped to find a nugget that would convince Ulster she could be trusted with information about their trip to Bavaria. Unfortunately, the only questions she could recall were asked after Jones and Ulster had joined the discussion. Instead of saying nothing at all, she decided to use them to keep the ball rolling. ‘If you remember, DJ wanted to know about fresh-water lakes that Ludwig might have visited around here. He seemed disappointed when I told him there were none. I thought maybe he was thinking about Schloss Hohenschwanstein, the castle Ludwig stayed at when Neuschwanstein was being built, since there was a large lake adjacent to the property, but that seemed to disappoint him even more.’

‘Yes, I remember.’

‘Then Jon asked me to translate the names of both castles into English. His ears seemed to perk up when I mentioned high swan stone and new swan stone as if that information was somehow important.’

‘Yes, my dear, I remember that, too.’

‘Then, I said-’

Ulster interrupted her. ‘Actually, my dear, I was wondering if Jonathon asked you any questions that I wasn’t privy to. Those are the ones that would be most helpful to our cause.’

Heidi stared at him, intrigued. Even though she didn’t know him very well, she knew Ulster was overly polite – one of the most well-mannered men she had ever met. Yet he had just cut her off in mid-sentence, right after she had mentioned the translation of the two names. In poker, whenever an opponent bet too quickly it usually meant he was hiding something. Suddenly, she wondered if Ulster’s interruption was his way of changing the topic, in the same way locking himself in the bathroom had been his way to avoid tough questions about his trip to Schachen.

‘Let me think,’ she said, hoping to buy some time.

‘Think away, my dear. I’m not going anywhere.’

She leaned back on the couch and rubbed her eyes, trying to make sense of what she knew. High swan stone and new swan stone were simple translations. Anyone with a basic grasp of the German language could have done that for them, so it had to be something more than that. Okay, what led them to ask about the translations? The lake. They wanted to know about a lake that Ludwig might have visited on Mount Schachen. She told them there wasn’t a lake around here, but there was a lake that Ludwig had visited on many occasions by the other castles.

Crap! She suddenly realized they weren’t the ones who had brought up the castles; she had brought up the castles. Maybe she was wrong about their interest in the translation of the castle’s name. Maybe she had misread their questions and Ulster’s interruption, and turned them into an elaborate wild-goose chase, one that would end with a vast treasure. Of course, that would be appropriate considering the subject matter. After all, Ludwig had a history of taking boring tasks and turning them into whimsical adventures. Perhaps she was doing the same thing here.

Heidi opened her eyes and focused. Payne seemed interested in the word swan. She was well aware one of Ludwig’s many nicknames was the Swan King, but could there be another connection she was looking for?

If so, what did it have to do with a treasure?

A popular legend involved a series of mysterious letters – known as the black swan letters – Ludwig had sent to aristocrats throughout Europe. With his royal coffers nearly dry, Ludwig reportedly asked for their support in order to finish a secret project he had been working on. Since his reputation was better in foreign countries than in Bavaria, it was assumed that many noblemen answered his call, and riches came flooding in. Heidi had no way of knowing if the rumours were true, but if they were, there was a chance the money Ludwig had collected was still hidden somewhere since he was murdered before he could spend it.

Could that be what they were looking for?

The infamous black swan treasure?

It would explain many of their questions and why Ulster had interrupted her right after she had mentioned the word swan. He was trying to shift her focus away from a key word.

Heidi smiled to herself. Obviously none of this would hold up in a court of law, but in a game of poker, she had more than enough to work with. All she had to do was bluff a little more and see how her opponent reacted. So far, Ulster had shown an inability to lie, which was admirable in a friend but a serious problem in a game like this.

She glanced at him. ‘Now that I think about it, Jon did ask me something else. He wanted to know if I was familiar with the black swan.’

Ulster tensed up. ‘And what did you say?’

‘I told him I was quite familiar with the topic. I know all about the midnight letters, the mysterious project and his massive treasure.’

Ulster turned bright red. ‘Treasure?’

Heidi stared at him. She analysed the colour of his face, the crinkles around his eyes and the way his hands trembled slightly. This was a man with a major tell. ‘I knew it!’

‘Excuse me?’

‘I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!’

‘Knew what?’

‘You’re looking for his treasure! The black swan treasure!’

His face turned brighter. ‘I don’t know what you think you know, but …’

She ignored his protest and continued her celebration by doing a small victory dance in the Turkish Hall, the same place where Ludwig used to prance around with his male servants.

Ulster sighed. ‘Bollocks!’

Heidi heard the word and couldn’t help but laugh. It was probably the closest a man like Ulster ever came to swearing. Suddenly feeling guilty for her behaviour, she collapsed on the couch next to him and patted his belly. ‘Don’t worry, Petr. Your secret is safe with me.’

‘It is?’ he asked, concerned.

‘I promise, I won’t tell a soul.’

He glanced at her, hopeful. ‘You won’t?’

She flashed a winning smile. ‘Not if you take me with you.’

43

Krueger didn’t give a damn about bystanders. As far as he was concerned, collateral damage was an acceptable part of war, and that’s what he was involved in: a goddamn war. Thus far, Kaiser’s men had taken out half his crew, which gave Krueger all the motivation he needed to be ruthless. If people got in his way, he was going to knock them to the ground, shove them into the river, or do whatever he had to do to complete his mission. If he failed, he knew Mueller would blame him, and that would be the end of Krueger’s career. Maybe even his life.

Mueller was quite vindictive.

Despite his incentive to succeed, Krueger had been reluctant to fire his weapon during the early part of the chase because of a severe shortage of ammo. He had a few rounds in his clip, but not enough to take desperate shots while running – especially while navigating the upper section of the gorge where the narrow trail twisted in and out of tunnels. Further up ahead, he knew the path widened and straightened. That’s where he had planned to make his move.

But everything changed when he heard the gunshot.

Krueger slammed on his brakes and stared at Hahn, the goon directly behind him. While gasping for breath, he asked, ‘Where did that come from?’

Hahn gasped as well. ‘Back there somewhere.’

Krueger stared at the short tunnel they had just run through. It had been cut through a narrow pillar of stone that jutted out like a peninsula into the river. ‘Where’s Meyer?’

‘He’s behind me.’

‘When was the last time you saw him?’

Hahn shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’ve been following you the whole time.’

Krueger cursed to himself. Suddenly, he had a tough decision to make. Continue forward with Hahn as an armed escort, or send Hahn back to check on the gunshot. Obviously, if Krueger had known all the facts – that Payne had killed Meyer near the entrance to the gorge and was simply setting them up – there wouldn’t have been a dilemma. But since Krueger was in the dark about Meyer, he made his decision based on the survival of his crew. ‘You better go back and check on him. We need as many men as we can get to stop their chopper.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘But before you go, give me the rifle.’

Hahn stared at the G36 he had acquired from Schneider, right after slitting his throat. The rifle gave him a sense of comfort. ‘But, sir-’

‘No buts!’ Krueger growled. ‘There are two men ahead of us. I’ll be damned if I’m going to face them with a handgun. Besides, you and Meyer can watch each other’s backs for a while.’

He reluctantly traded weapons with his boss. ‘Now what?’

‘Now go! Check on Meyer before he’s dead!’

Hahn nodded, then sprinted to the south, the opposite direction to the one he had been heading. For the first few seconds, he felt completely discombobulated, as if everything in the world had been switched round in order to confuse him. Suddenly, the Partnach River was on his right, and its water was surging towards him. His rifle was now a Glock. His boss was now behind him. And his current mission was to find his friend, not kill his enemy.

It was almost too much for his brain to handle.

Hoping to gather his thoughts, Hahn stopped inside the tunnel he had just run through – which was shorter and brighter than the earlier tunnels – and checked his weapon. The Glock 17, an Austrian-made pistol chambered in a 9x19mm Parabellum, was one of the most popular handguns in the world. Highly durable, it is a NATO-classified sidearm and is used by thousands of law-enforcement agencies round the globe. Unfortunately, the damn thing was useless without ammo, and a cursory check of the magazine revealed only three rounds to work with.

‘Scheisse!’ he grumbled in German.

Pissed at Krueger for putting him in this predicament, Hahn shoved the magazine back into the Glock and walked forward. He would curse out his boss later, after he rescued Meyer from whatever mess he had got himself into. Using caution, Hahn stared at the rocky terrain from the shadows of the tunnel. The trail ahead was fairly straight for twenty-five feet, then it curled back to the left. If Meyer was in trouble, that was probably where.

Suddenly, a thought dawned on him, one that would have come to him earlier if he hadn’t been so confused. Why risk his ass when he could call Meyer instead?

Hahn pulled out his radio. ‘Come in, Meyer. Over.’

Static filled the line for the next several seconds.

So Hahn tried again. ‘Come in, Meyer. What’s your location?’

Once again, static hissed from the speaker.

Trying to improve reception, Hahn took a few steps forward, just beyond the edge of the tunnel. With an open sky above him, he hoped it would make enough of a difference that he would be able to talk to Meyer without having to risk his life.

Ironically, his caution led to his death.

From his perch above the tunnel entrance – where he had positioned himself on a narrow ledge – Payne waited until the goon was directly between him and the water. While leaning back against the rocks, he coolly lined up his shot and pulled the trigger. Fired at close range with a downward trajectory, the bullet tore through Hahn’s skull and face with so much force that it ended up fragmenting against the rocks underneath the water’s surface. A fountain of blood and brains splattered against the safety fence a moment before Hahn’s body slumped to the path, a few inches from his Glock and radio.

Wasting no time, Payne leapt from his perch and shoved the corpse into the Partnach, the same river that had swept away Meyer’s remains. In death, the two goons were reunited in a watery grave. Of course, Payne couldn’t have cared less about their reunion. When his adrenaline was flowing and his life was on the line, he didn’t have time to think about what he had done. He was far too concerned with what he needed to do – like tucking the Glock into his belt and shoving the radio into his pocket. Both might come in handy somewhere down the line.

By Payne’s calculation, there was only one target left: the man who had killed Collins near the intersection. Right now Krueger was trapped between Payne and Richter in the middle of a steep gorge, yet Payne knew the shooter could still do some damage. So far, Krueger had proven to be a pretty good shot. If he hunkered down in a crevice or inside a dark tunnel, he would be tough to root out in a short amount of time. That wouldn’t be much of an issue for Richter since he could keep running to the rendezvous point, but it would be a major problem for Payne. He simply didn’t have time to run back up the mountain.

To prevent that scenario, Payne wanted to trap the shooter in an open clearing, somewhere on the path where the guy couldn’t take shelter. Unfortunately, the one man who could provide Payne with the advanced surveillance he needed was currently running for his life. With no other options, Payne got on his radio and hoped for the best.

‘Come in, Junkyard Dog. Can you hear me?’

Payne waited ten seconds before he tried again. ‘Junkyard Dog, stop your running and answer me. I need your help. Over.’

Several seconds ticked by as he waited for a response. Payne was about to try one last time when the silence was finally broken.

‘Are you talking to me?’ Richter asked.

Payne laughed to himself. In his excitement, he had forgotten whom he was dealing with. The truth was that most dogs were probably smarter than Richter. ‘Yeah, big guy, I’m talking to you. Are you somewhere safe?’

‘Yes, sir. I stopped inside a tunnel.’

‘What’s the path look like behind you?’

‘Like dirt, sir.’

Payne smirked. ‘I meant, describe the terrain. Straight, twisty, narrow … ?’

‘Straight, sir. And pretty wide open. The canyon opens up further ahead.’

‘Good, that’s good. That’s what we’re looking for.’

‘For what, sir?’

Payne ignored the question. For one reason or another, Kaiser’s men simply didn’t understand the risks of radio transmissions. With the proper equipment, radio signals were very easy to intercept. ‘Do you see anyone headed your way?’

Richter peeked out of the tunnel. ‘Not right now, sir. No hikers or bad guys in sight. The path is all clear.’

‘And you’re sure you’re secure?’

‘Yes, sir. I’m dug in real good.’

‘Then catch your breath and hold your position.’

Richter nodded. ‘For how long, sir?’

Payne stared at the trail ahead. Based on Richter’s slowness and Payne’s speed, they were only a few minutes apart. ‘Stay there until you see me.’

44

As Payne sprinted along the narrow path, he felt as if he had been magically transported to a distant land, somewhere far away from central Europe. Gone were the pine trees and snowy peaks of the Alps, replaced by the moss-covered cliffs and roaring waterfalls of South America. Until that morning, Payne had never heard of the Partnach Gorge, but even if he had, he wouldn’t have believed a canyon like this could exist in Germany; in the rain forest, maybe, but not Bavaria.

In retrospect, Payne could understand why a dreamer like Ludwig would have chosen this region to build his mountain lair. During the day, he could have hiked the scenic trails that seemed to go on for ever, a wide variety of terrain and topography to fuel his imagination. At night, he could have returned to the peaceful solitude of Mount Schachen, a place where he could pretend to be a knight, a swan or a fire-breathing dragon without interference from advisors or whispers from onlookers.

In many ways, Payne could identify with the need to get away. Sometimes he found himself burdened by the huge responsibility of overseeing his grandfather’s corporation, a job he didn’t love but one he did out of familial obligation. In those situations, he shut out the world and stole some time for himself – whether that was going to the roof of the Payne Industries building where he had installed a basketball court or a nearby firing range. For an ex-athlete/soldier like Payne, shooting hoops and shooting bad guys were both ways to relieve stress.

Suddenly, the deceptive calm of the last minute ended in a burst of gun fire from somewhere round the next bend. Payne instantly recognized the sound; it came from a G36 assault rifle. A few seconds later, there was more automatic fire, this time a little bit closer. Payne cursed to himself as he picked up speed. Either Richter had left his position in the tunnel and was coming towards him, or the final gunman was armed with the G36 they had taken from Schneider. If it was the latter – and Payne assumed it was because Richter was obedient – everyone left standing was carrying a G36. In a confined space all that firepower could make things messy.

Sprinting around the corner, Payne spotted his prey less than thirty feet away. Krueger was running towards him, trying to get away from Richter who was positioned in the tunnel ahead. Payne instantly skidded to a halt and hugged the rock face to his right before he unleashed a stream of bullets that tore into the path less than ten feet from Krueger. Not because Payne had missed, but because he wanted to question the guy and get some answers.

Stunned by his predicament, Krueger tried to stop way too quickly on the rocky trail. As he did, his feet slid out from under him. One second he was running for his life; the next he was skimming across the rocks on his ass, leaving chunks of cloth and skin behind. As he slid, he accidentally squeezed the trigger on his G36, sending a torrent of bullets into the air, most of which struck the canyon on the other side of the river, far from Payne and Richter.

‘Drop your weapon!’ Payne shouted.

Too dazed to respond, Krueger remained flat on his back, trying to regain his senses. He blinked a few times and tried to sit up, but the sky was spinning way too much for him to do anything, so he simply lay back down.

Tactically speaking, a soldier has two options when an adversary is unresponsive to his commands. He can play it safe and monitor the situation from afar, or he can charge forward and eliminate the threat. Not surprisingly, Payne opted for the aggressive approach. He pulled out his radio and spoke to Richter, who was lingering in the tunnel on the far side of Krueger.

‘Let’s take him,’ Payne ordered.

In unison, both men hustled forward while staring at Krueger over the tips of their rifles. Payne got there first and viciously kicked the G36 out of his hands. It clanked on the rocky path near Richter, who picked it up and slung it over his shoulder.

‘Should I search him?’ Richter asked.

Payne shook his head. He didn’t want Richter to get too close to Krueger. That was simply asking for trouble. ‘Hell, no! Let him keep whatever weapons he has. In fact, I hope he reaches for one. It’ll give me an excuse to pull my trigger.’

Richter backed away, just in case Payne opened fire.

Meanwhile, Payne’s gaze never left Krueger, who was lying on the ground with his hands by his side. Far from his pockets, they weren’t viewed as a threat.

‘Do you speak English?’ Payne asked.

Krueger groaned but didn’t answer.

Payne repeated himself in German. ‘Sprechen sie Englisch?’

Krueger took a deep breath. ‘Ja.’

‘Then answer me in English, you stupid Kraut!’

Until that moment, Payne had never used the word Kraut in his entire life, but he was quite familiar with its origin and hoped it would rile his opponent enough to get him talking. A derogatory term for German soldiers, it became popular during the First World War when British sailors learned their German counterparts ate large quantities of sauerkraut in order to prevent scurvy. This practice was comparable to the Royal Navy’s consumption of limes, which had earned them the nickname Limey, so they felt it was appropriate to belittle the Germans in a similar fashion.

‘Yes,’ Krueger said as he sat up slowly, ‘I speak English.’

Payne watched him closely. ‘If you twitch, you die.’

Krueger used his arms to twist himself onto his knees, then he placed his hands on top of his head. It was the universal position for surrender. ‘I understand.’

‘Wow, I get the feeling you’ve done that before. Is that a part of your training? Germans: surrendering to Americans since 1918.’

Krueger sneered. ‘What do you want from me?’

‘What do I want? No, Adolf, what do you want? You attacked us, in case you forgot. We were minding our own business in the woods when you came along.’

Krueger shook his head. ‘I did no such thing. I am man of peace.’

‘Yeah, a piece of shit.’

‘I am hiker, not fighter. I find gun in trees.’

‘Really? If that’s the case, prove it to me. Show me your hands.’

‘What?’

Payne smiled. ‘I said, show – me – your – hands.’

Krueger lifted his hands above his head. ‘Now what?’

‘Now look at them! See all that blood? It came from my men. Do you understand what I’m saying? Their blood is on your hands.’

Krueger glanced at his hands, confused. Despite a little grime, they were relatively clean. ‘Blood? I don’t see blood on my hands.’

Payne fired a single round through Krueger’s right palm. ‘Look closer.’

The German howled in agony as blood gushed from his hand, a painful and debilitating wound that would prevent him from firing a handgun for a very long time. To some, this act could be interpreted as sadistic. To Payne, it was justifiable. If anything, Krueger had gotten off easy for shooting Collins in the head. Then again, Payne was just warming up.

‘What’s your name?’ Payne demanded.

‘Krueger! Max Krueger!’ he cried.

‘Why did you attack us?’

‘Kaiser. We saw Kaiser.’

‘Who do you work for?’

‘No one!’

Payne repeated his question. ‘Come on, Max. Who do you work for?’

Krueger shook his head and refused to answer.

‘Fine!’ Payne growled. ‘Show me your feet!’

‘What?’ he wailed.

‘You heard me, Max. I’m going to start with your feet and work my way up. And trust me, I’m not bluffing.’

Krueger nodded in belief. ‘Mueller. His name is Hans Mueller.’

‘And who the fuck is-’

Before Payne could say another word, Richter raised his rifle and fired a single shot into the back of Krueger’s head. Angled towards the river, the bullet went through his skull and continued forward until it hit the canyon wall on the other side of the water. Despite standing several feet away, Payne’s face and clothes were spattered with blood.

This turn of events was so shocking to Payne, he raised his rifle and pointed it at Richter. Suddenly, he didn’t know if he could trust the guy. ‘Drop your weapon!’

‘What?’ he said, confused.

‘Drop your fucking weapon!’

Richter dropped his rifle, then lifted his hands above his head. The look on his face said he was confused. Less confused than Payne, but more confused than Krueger, who was now dead.

Payne stared at him. ‘What the fuck did you do? I was questioning the guy!’

‘I know that, sir, but …’

‘But, what?’

‘I was following orders.’

‘Orders? Whose fucking orders?’

‘Kaiser’s, sir.’

‘Kaiser’s?’ Payne glanced around like he was missing something. Had Richter snapped under pressure? ‘What the fuck are you talking about? Kaiser isn’t here!’

‘I know that, sir. But those were my orders.’

‘From when?’

‘From the moment he hired me.’

Payne stared at Richter. The oaf still had that dumb-ass look on his face. It had been there from the moment they had met. ‘You’ve got ten seconds to explain, then I start firing.’

‘Have you heard of Hans Mueller? He’s Kaiser’s biggest rival.’

‘Go on.’

‘Kaiser told us, if Mueller’s men ever interfered with one of our projects, we were supposed to shoot them immediately. No questions asked. So that’s what I did. I shot him before you could ask him a question.’