Brainrush 03 - Beyond Judgment (14 page)

“Best news I heard all day,” Tony said.

They checked the blip on the screen. They were less than fifty paces from the mini. Tony reported over the headset, “We’re going in.”

Swiss Alps

V
ICTOR STUDIED THE
man seated across from him. The disguise was clever, but the eye movement, forehead fasciculation, and body language spoke volumes. The man was nervous. Victor had expected much more from the formidable legend that was Jake Bronson—a supposed master of a dozen languages, with Einstein’s brainpower and unparalleled physical skills. The discrepancy was a concern. Had a lesser man awakened from the coma?

Victor leaned forward, switching to English. “Dear me. There’s a spider on your shoulder.” He studied the American’s reaction.

A pinched brow. A tilted head. Confusion.

The man hadn’t understood. He didn’t speak English.

Victor brushed the imaginary insect from Jake’s sweater. He said in Italian, “I’m afraid the castle is riddled with them.”

The woman had kept her composure during the exchange. She was a consummate actress, Victor thought. He admired her talent. But that didn’t change the fact that she and Mr. Bronson were amateurs on the stage they attempted to play on now.

Victor had been expecting a visit. His men in Washington had uncovered the tracking receiver in the young scientist’s apartment. The signal pointed to the castle. The mini had been
tagged. Victor had been alarmed, but his initial shock had dissipated when he recognized the opportunity it presented. He was certain that the authorities weren’t aware that the mini existed—much less that it had a tracker on it. Only the scientist knew. And when Victor’s men spotted him being taken prisoner by gondoliers outside the Hotel Daniele in Venice, and later taken to the island of San Michelle, Victor knew it would be only a matter of time before Bronson and his friends came knocking.

So Victor had ordered the assault team to stand down. After all, why chase the mouse with a broom when you can lure him with cheese? Of course, the entire exercise would prove futile if the American had lost his abilities. It was time for a test.

He rose and said, “There is something I would like to show you.”

Swiss Alps

J
AKE ROSE SLOWLY
from the love seat, pushing aside a wave of light-headedness. He took Lacey’s arm in his and followed Victor down the hall. Hans was close behind.

There was a brief squelch of static from his earbud—both he and Lacey wore the hidden devices. Tony’s voice sounded in his ear. “We’re going in.”

Though Jake couldn’t translate the words, Lacey’s double squeeze of his forearm confirmed that it was the signal they’d awaited. Tony and Marshall were in the castle. If everything went as planned, they should be back out in a few minutes. Another ten to make it to the van. Then Jake and Lacey could bid farewell to their host.

They followed Victor into his study.

Rich wood dominated the coffered ceiling and walls. A hand-carved mahogany desk centered the room, framed by a leather sofa and coffee table on one side and a pair of wing chairs on the other. The French-paned window behind the desk presented a view of Mont Blanc. It had begun to snow. The room smelled of books. However, most of the surrounding bookshelves were empty—all but those opposite the desk. That wall-to-wall shelf was filled from end to end with a colorful assortment of old editions.

“It’s a 3-D video wall,” Victor said. He tapped a tablet and the image changed to a panoramic view of New York City. “It’s linked to live feeds around the world.” He switched the image a couple more times. The effect was dizzying. Lacey must have felt it, too, because she seemed to lean into him for support. Victor made an entry on the tablet, and the original bookcase image reappeared. They turned their backs on the scene, and Jake escorted Lacey to the chairs opposite the desk. They sat down, but the dizziness didn’t settle. Each time he blinked, the room spun.

“Ah,” Victor said. “I see you’re feeling the effects of the tea. It is a wonderful blend, yes?”

The man sounded so reasonable, Jake thought. Even Lacey seemed to smile at his words. She’d relaxed considerably, leaning into him.

“Wooo,” she said. “I feel a bit tipsy.”

Marshall’s voice came through Jake’s earbud. It was sharp. But when Jake turned to Lacey for a translation, he saw immediately that her thoughts were elsewhere. Her expression was sultry. Her eyes dreamy. She stared at Jake.

“I love you, Marsh,” she said.

And before Jake realized what was happening, she kissed him. Her lips were soft.

“Now, now,” Victor said with a chuckle. “There will be plenty of time for that later.”

Jake pulled away.

Reluctantly.

Lacey’s words were slurred. “But I’m on my honeymoon,” she said with a pout.

Marshall’s voice was in Jake’s ear again. Sharper this time.

“Huh?” Lacey said. She looked confused.

Victor shook his head from side to side. His expression was condescending. “You have been naughty children,” he said. “Isn’t that right?”

Jake wondered why Lacey was nodding. Then he noticed he’d done the same.

“But you’d like to make up for it,” Victor said. His voice was soothing. “Wouldn’t you?”

They nodded again.

I didn’t mean to be bad, Jake thought.

Victor continued, “In that case, there’s something you can help me with.”

Jake and Lacey leaned forward in their chairs.

Gunshots in Jake’s earbud jolted his senses. The fog in his mind cleared for a moment.

That’s when he noticed the metallic container that Victor cradled on the desk.

Swiss Alps

T
ONY FLICKED ON
his under-barrel tactical light and swept its beam around the shed. The floor was paved. Skis, poles, and snowshoes lined the back wall. There was foul-weather clothing on pegs. Shelves were stacked neatly with helmets, climbing gear, and flashlights. A treaded Sno-Cat was parked in the center.

An interior roll-up door was open. It led to a larger garage. They wound their way through a dozen or more snowmobiles and exited into an eight-foot-wide tunnel that had been carved out of the rock. The symmetry and smooth-cut walls suggested that it had been machine-drilled. Tony figured it had been added in the last century as part of the gondola installation. Thick conduit hugged the ceiling, and fluorescent lighting hung overhead. The air felt crisp and ventilated. Voices echoed around the corner to their left.

“That’s the gondola station,” Marshall whispered, studying the image on his screen. He pointed in the opposite direction. “This way.”

They moved swiftly, the rubber soles of their boots muffling their footfalls. Around the next corner, Marshall pointed down a narrow offshoot to the right.

“Not far,” he said.

The tunnel narrowed, and the ceiling height dropped sharply. Tony had to duck his head to clear it. The air was suddenly dank
and musty. There was no lighting. Tony’s tac light bounced off ragged walls of rock. Not machine-made, he thought. Ten paces later, the passage widened to an oblong chamber that stretched thirty feet ahead. A score of child-size spaces lined the perimeter of the room. Tony shone his light in the first one. It was only six feet deep.

Prison cells, Tony thought with a chill. Where iron gates once existed, only a scatter of rust-colored granite remained. “I gotta bad feelin’ about this,” he said. He swept his rifle back the way they had come.

It plunged the room into darkness.

“Wait a minute,” Marshall said. “There’s a light up ahead.”

Tony swung the weapon’s light back around. The distant flicker faded beneath the intensity of the beam.

“Douse it a sec,” Marshall said.

Tony clicked off the light. They both saw it. A faint glow from one of the cells. Marshall held the smartphone in front of him. The blinking signal corresponded with the position of the light up ahead. They shuffled to the opening and looked inside. There was a small lantern in the far corner.

The cardboard box beside it was about six inches square.

“Bingo,” Marshall whispered.

He crab-walked into the cramped cell, grabbed the box, and crawled back out.

Tony illuminated the box with the flashlight. Marshall unfolded the top flaps. They peered inside.

A tiny pile of black shavings was all they found.

“Oh, crap,” Marshall said.

“What is it?”

“The party’s over, dude!” Marshall said too loud. “We need to be out of here now!”

“Marsh!” Tony growled under his breath. He grabbed his buddy’s shoulder and gripped him hard. “Settle down. Talk to me.”

Marshall had a thousand-yard stare that told Tony that he hadn’t heard a word. But whatever had crossed his mind had
sobered up his buddy faster than an oncoming freight train. Marshall’s eyes widened. He keyed his mike. His voice was calm but authoritative. “Lace, it’s time for you and Jake to leave. Don’t linger. Do it now.”

When he unkeyed the mike, all the breath went out of him. “It’s a trap,” he gasped. “They scraped the RFID coating off the mini to draw us in. They knew we were coming!”

Tony didn’t hesitate. He reached into his jacket and came out with a 9mm Glock. “Dump the tranq gun,” he ordered, handing the Glock to his friend. “Follow me.”

They ran toward the corridor.

Tony skidded into the main tunnel and ran toward the exit. Marshall was right behind him. There were multiple footsteps around the corner behind them. Moving fast. Tony moved faster. If they could make it to the garage, they could bar the door.

He reached for the door handle just as another guard rushed into the corridor ten paces in front of them. He’d come from the gondola station. The man raised an assault rifle. Tony reacted instinctively, lunging to shove Marshall from the line of fire. Marshall tumbled to the floor just as the weapon’s barrel flashed. Rounds ricocheted in the narrow space. The blast from the weapon reverberated off the walls. Tony swung the MP5 on the target. He squeezed the trigger. The suppressed weapon chattered, and the guard flew backward.

The trailing group took cover behind the bend in the corridor. “
Feuer einstellen
!” one of them shouted.

Tony understood the
cease fire
command.

There was a terse response from someone in the gondola room. Then more words behind them. The two teams were coordinating their efforts over their radios.

Tony grabbed the strap on Marshall’s climbing harness and hauled his stunned friend to his feet. “Let’s go!” he said. He opened the door to the snowmobile garage and bolted inside.

The click of the door’s electronic lock was the first sign that they’d made a mistake.

That the internal roll-up door was closed was the second sign.

Strike three came in the form of a voice over the intercom: “Drop your weapons or the woman dies.”