The Council of Ten (40 page)

Ellie checked her aim a dozen more times before finally reaching for the trigger. There would be no second shots. This was it. She felt herself start to tremble and knew she had to fire now before hesitation stole her confidence. She squeezed one eye closed and sighted down the barrel, then squeezed the trigger.

The spear lunged out with a
poof
, the thick steel cable unspooling in its dark wake. As she watched it, Ellie realized with terror that in her haste she had neglected to make sure she was safe from the fleeting cable. Such a careless mistake could easily lead to decapitation at such a speed, but she had been lucky.

The cable would travel for barely five seconds, just enough time for her to raise the binoculars again to her eyes to focus once more on the battlement. The whining sound of the cable unspooling stopped just as she found her target in the lenses. The spear had sliced through the ancient stone with little problem at all, the tungsten toggle ends of both heads shooting out and sideways at impact to create a firm hold.

The zip line was in place.

The principle of the zip line was based in simple aerodynamics. Attach yourself by cylindrical hook onto the cable and jump off for the ride down. Of course, the key was that the center of the weighted cable had a natural sag to it, which had the effect of slowing the rider down and ensuring that the rest of the ride would be uphill to prevent what would otherwise have been an unavoidable collision at the other end. As of now, thirty yards of cable remained unspooled and she went about the chore of slicing off the extra, refitting the end, and then rebolting it into the stump using fresh holes. Before doing so she slid the bracket connected to the rope soon to be joined to her harness over the line and tested it for play.

Perfect. So far.

Next she climbed into her line harness and fastened it about her waist while inhaling to ensure a properly snug fit. Then she slung both packs and her Uzi back over her shoulders before bolting the bracketed rope into a pair of dual slots at her front. As she rose, the cable buckled slightly from her weight. The hillside lowered into a ninety-degree incline for a time just five yards away and Ellie dragged herself for it, on the very tips of her toes when she got there. There was no going back now, even if she had considered it.

Ellie leaped.

A shrill squeal from the steel bracket grazing the cable followed her descent. Ellie closed her eyes to the incredible pace she was making, opening them only when the expected sag came in the middle and she found herself sliding uphill. The most difficult part was coming up, for if she had not sufficient momentum left to last her, she would begin to slide back down the line toward the middle before reaching the end of the zip line at the battlement. Ellie pulled her knees up cannonball style, using her body as a rudder through the night air. It worked brilliantly. A few hefty shifts of her weight at the last brought her square to the battlement, and she managed to find a good enough ledge on it for foothold while she plotted her next move.

Access to the castle could be achieved only through one of its many windows, a misnomer of sorts since it had been constructed long before glass was in use, and thus the windows were either of wooden shutters or iron bars. She had hoped to find one sufficiently weathered through the years to provide easy access, but a quick inspection of those accessible from her vantage point showed rusted steel to be the best she could hope for.

Ellie resigned herself to the next task. Still balanced precariously on the ledge, she felt in one of her packs for the climbing rope. Working agilely with one arm, she was able to loop it over the cable and, shifting her body weight, succeeded with both hands in tying down a knot.

Rappelling was the next order of business, rappelling both down and to her left where the window ledge she had chosen as a target lay. She unbuckled the rope attaching her to the zip line and slid to the farthest edge of her perch before shoving gently off, controlling the flow of her descent with her feet against the castle’s exterior. The zip line wavered under the pressure of her weight and nearly stripped her of balance on several occasions. But Ellie held fast and inside of thirty seconds found the window ledge with her feet. The steel bars forming a grate over the opening were set in enough from the outer structure to allow her crouched containment, preferable to another toehold perch at this point.

Ellie tried the steel bars with her hands. They gave slightly but nowhere near enough to hope that she might be able to free them by hand. Again her hand slid into her pack, this time emerging with an object that looked like a long, fat fountain pen. In reality it was a touch stick activated by pressure on its point, which then released a concentrated acid onto whatever it came in contact with. Ellie snapped off the protective cover and went to work.

A hissing sound and the sharp smell of melting metal followed her every move. Ellie only bothered with the edges of the steel bars where they were attached into the castle structure. But there were four of these on each side so the process became understandably nerve-racking, especially when the foul odor became too much for her nostrils. Still, Ellie forced herself to be patient until the last. She removed the bars one or two sections at a time and lowered them to the ledge near her in case ultrasonic security sensors were listening for an unexplainable and sudden clang. She had to expect anything here. This was, after all, the Council of Ten she was dealing with.

Then why am I still alive?

Ellie had asked herself that question yet again, but she was saved further consideration of it when the last of the steel bars came free and she climbed softly into the Castle of the Moors.

Chapter 33

“SEARCH HIM!” CORBANO
ordered, and the Timber Wolf was shoved brutally against a wall on the deck and frisked.

One of the men masquerading as a guardsman found his pistol and tossed it over the side. Wayman was then yanked harshly around where he could lock stares with Corbano.

“Going for a cruise?”

“Yes, Timber Wolf, a most comfortable one that will permit me to bring about the death of millions,” he boasted, a twisted smile drawn over his face. Wayman could barely stand to look at it. The left side was its usual milky white, but the right was lined with bandages and puffy red flesh from exposure to the flames back at his Georgia fortress. “It would have been easier for you if you had died in the woods,” he continued.

And Corbano came forward in his captain’s uniform and laced a backhand across Wayman’s face. A thin trickle of blood ran from one of the Timber Wolf’s nostrils.

“I watched you in that damn boat, couldn’t believe it was you. I was about to send a party out to greet you when you decided to make it easy for me. But rest assured,” Corbano taunted. “Divers are preparing even now to take care of your young friend once and for all.”

“You bastard!” Wayman raged without bothering to try pulling from the powerful grasps of the men restraining him.

“I think not, Timber Wolf. I’m doing the young man a favor. Either he dies quick … or slow like the rest of your nation. I’ve seen the powder in action. It’s remarkable.” A pause. “If you’d had something as effective in Corsica, this conversation would never have taken place.

This time Wayman did try to pull free and felt Corbano’s fist slam into his solar plexus. He doubled over, gasping for breath.

“Back then, Timber Wolf, you never would have felt such a blow. But I suppose the signs were there even that night.”

Wayman straightened up and looked into Corbano’s mad, pale eyes.

“Bring him this way,” the White Snake ordered, and the two uniformed giants dragged Wayman toward the gunwale. “It will be amusing to have you witness the beginning of our operation. In fifteen minutes all hands will be issued breathing apparatus and soon after we will begin to drop our allocation of powder. The winds are very favorable this time of the day from what I’m told, moving in a southwesterly direction.”

“The cities,” Wayman muttered.

“Yes, exactly. New York, Washington, and everything in between will be a mass graveyard by midnight tonight. Your country will be witnessing the onset of its downfall.”

“And then your people will just move in and take over.”

“They’re not my people, Timber Wolf, not the members of this Council. I find that phase of their plan quite absurd. You see, it’s the ultimate, inevitable chaos that I look forward to. I was made for such a world and at last I shall have it.”

Another fake Coast Guardsman came forward and handed Corbano a portable radio. “Bridge wants you, sir.”

Corbano held the radio to his lips. “Yes, what is it?”

“Sir, radar has picked up what appears to be a fleet of small boats heading our way.”

“Fishermen?”

“The timing would be right, but we can’t tell yet,” the voice from the bridge returned. “We won’t know until we achieve visual contact.”

“Very well. Keep me informed.”

Trelana, Wayman realized, it had to be! But how to signal him? How to alert his fleet to the fact that the cutter was their target? The signal was supposed to be a flare, but he had nothing like—

The Timber Wolf’s eyes gazed over Corbano’s shoulder and saw a slot in the deck wall marked Emergency: Flare Gun. He had to reach it. Somehow. He needed time, both to think and to let Trelana’s boats draw within firing range.

“Where’s the powder?” he asked Corbano.

“Well protected, Timber Wolf, I assure you. We have constructed special devices to spread it once the time comes.” He gazed out in the distance toward the shrinking shape of the cabin cruiser on which Drew was perched. “My divers should be getting to your young friend just about now. I should have liked to have had you watch his death, but well, we can’t have everything, can we?” A demonic smile crossed the White Snake’s pale lips. His ashen hair danced in the breeze.

Wayman made himself look angered, still focusing on the flare gun. Timing was the key now. He felt certain he could pull free of the guards’ grasp long enough to get to the box. But to be sure of reaching it, he would have to make sure that Corbano was distracted as well. The radio still held in his hand provided the answer. Wait, he urged himself, patience… .

“Sir?” came the squawky call from the bridge.

“Yes,” Corbano responded, mouthpiece to his lips again, his eyes held on Wayman.

“We have visual on those boats now. They’re pleasure craft mostly, several speedboats, too. They’re traveling too close to each other. Something’s—”

It was at that precise moment that Corbano’s attention turned totally to the radio and the Timber Wolf sprang into motion. The men holding him never could have expected a twist so violent and strong. Actually, it was just enough to upset them while he lowered his elbow and jammed it into the ribs of the man on his right, lifting a kick into the other man’s groin. Corbano had dropped the radio and started forward when Wayman grabbed him under the chin and slammed him backward into the wall. He reached up for the flare gun with one hand, as he spun the White Snake into his converging guards with the other.

The gun was out and the flare loaded an instant later. A second flare skidded across the deck. Wayman dove after it as he fired the first flare into a group of rifle-wielding men charging from the opposite direction of the downed group. It burst into one man’s midsection and he erupted into flames with a horrible wail as the others scattered long enough for Wayman to reach the second flare.

The Timber Wolf grasped it as he rolled, already aiming the smoking barrel upward when he snapped the second flare home and pulled the trigger.

The flare shot into the air and burst outward in the sky with an orange glow.

The fleet of Trelana’s boats, their previous route generally aimless through the bay, swung for the cutter and spread into an attack pattern.

Corbano went for a gun that had fallen to the deck, but Wayman kicked it aside and pulled himself back to his feet.

“Kill him! Kill him!” Corbano screamed to his guards, who were only now regaining their bearings as he backed up out of their line of fire.

There was no time to think, only to act. The Timber Wolf did the last thing expected of him.

He charged straight into the onrushing group. The man closest tried for his trigger, but Wayman had the barrel grasped, bringing the butt upward under his chin. Immediately the automatic weapon was in his hands, spitting fire in a narrow arc at the rest of the men rushing him. Their bullets sprayed wildly as their bodies spilled to the deck. The rifle burned hot in Wayman’s hands, exhausting itself finally. Without missing a beat, he grabbed the gun of the dead man closest to him.

A troop of guards charged him from the deck above, and Wayman felt the heat of their bullets slam into the nearby walls and gunwale. One grazed him in the side and spun him around with no cover to dive for. They had him in their sights and the best he could manage was a token volley aimed randomly upward.

They had him. It was over.

Until the new series of blasts sounded, just spits really, more like echoes on the sea winds. The lead ships of Trelana’s fleet, featuring machine gunners lying prone on the bows, roared violently forward. Their fire cut a regular line across both the cutter’s decks, spitting wood and metal splinters everywhere as the men who had almost been his killers rushed for cover.

“
Battle stations! Battle stations! All crew members report to their battle stations! We are under attack! Repeat, we are under attack!
”

The desperate words were followed by the regular screech of an alarm, adding to the chaos. Wayman made it work for him. He pulled one of Corbano’s dead guards through a door leading into the guts of the cutter and stripped off the man’s clothes. With no time to waste tearing off his own, he simply pulled the white uniform over his slacks and shirt. It would have to do well enough. All he needed was limited run of the ship.

To find Corbano.

And the powder.

He emerged back on the lower deck to find Corbano’s men struggling to manipulate the cutter’s main gun as Trelana’s fleet continued their hail of fire. Their attack was surprisingly well coordinated given the circumstances, the fleet enclosing the cutter on both sides and the front to force the troops on board to fight a three-fronted war at sea. Trelana’s bigger boats were swinging closer now, carrying larger explosives, which included bazookas and grenade launchers.