The Hunters (33 page)

Jasmine translated for Borovsky.

‘Exactly so,’ the colonel said. ‘Complete with bear and deer in the woods to make the occasional appearance.’

‘Bears! I knew it,’ McNutt said. ‘Ask them if they can shoot cannons.’

Jasmine rolled her eyes. She wouldn’t be translating
that
.

‘There was a side benefit to the multiplicity of paths,’ Jasmine continued for Borovsky. ‘Anyone following the train would be paying attention to the tracks - not to the sentries in the trees, who would be waiting with pistols or a noose.’

Garcia looked up anxiously.

‘If you can see them,’ the Russian said, ‘then they’ve failed.’

‘Right,’ Sarah said. ‘And those guys wouldn’t be smoking up there. The lit butts would give them away.’

‘Bad for your health in more ways than one,’ McNutt laughed.

They continued walking toward what seemed to be another grove of trees. Borovsky told them to wait before he went into a bordering thicket, stepping around a batch of trees whose branches seemed weighted down as though bearing heavy snows. The limbs formed a wall through which nothing was visible. It took Borovsky nearly a minute of ducking and maneuvering to make his way to the other side. Suddenly, there was a
whoosh
, and the branches snapped back as if the curtain had never existed.

From the team’s perspective, there didn’t appear to be anything ahead - not even the Russian colonel. There was only a solid, sunless black that seemed to go on forever.

Decebal flashed them his gap-toothed smile and followed, stepping into the entrance and vanishing as if a carnival magician had made him disappear. The Americans looked at each other with raised eyebrows and appreciative grins, then followed Anna into the darkness.

‘Some kind of spring release?’ McNutt asked, looking around in vain for a pedal or switch.

‘A prayer lock,’ Sarah said. ‘Four large branches on the bottom were twined together. That causes the smaller limbs and twigs to come together like hands folded in prayer. Cut the cord and the limbs snap back. The beauty of it is that it doesn’t cause the trees themselves to bend and give the site away, and it doesn’t cause any part of the adjoining trees to knit permanently.’

‘And it’s easy to reset,’ McNutt said admiringly, glancing behind to make sure that one of those ‘sentries’ wasn’t doing just that to keep them all inside.

They collected in a dark gray grotto. Sarah instantly produced a powerful, pen-sized flashlight, which she shined around them in a quick arc. Rock walls swelled up to a dome like a natural amphitheater. They stood on a stone pathway that was made of flat but unevenly edged slate obviously hacked from the walls. They could still see the scars, though some kind of crystalline film had collected over them.

‘No stalactities,’ Sarah said. ‘That’s a good sign.’

‘How so?’ Jasmine wondered.

‘There’s not enough water to drag down major mineral deposits. That means this is a very, very dry cave.’

Jasmine nodded in understanding. ‘And a dry cave is a great place to store a treasure.’

‘I didn’t know you had a geology degree,’ McNutt said.

‘I don’t,’ Sarah explained, ‘but I’ve been spelunking many times. It’s a good way to keep in shape.’

‘Over here,’ Anna said in Russian. Sarah pointed her powerful penlight in the direction Jasmine indicated, illuminating Decebal. He was standing beside what looked like two large cauldrons on their sides with three iron bowling balls between them - all attached by wires.

‘Electric generators,’ Cobb recognized.

‘Have to be at least sixty years old,’ McNutt estimated.

As they watched, the Romanian leader churned a crank on the front of the sideways pot farthest to their left, as if he were trying to start an old Model-T car. On the fourth turn, the engine caught and coughed to life. The group looked around as recessed lamps lining the middle of the rock ceiling began to flicker.

They found themselves in a breathtaking cavern of reddish granite and greenish coral, with cobblestones off to their far left and right. And stretched out deep into the cave, seemingly part of the walls, were eight blue and gold train cars and a small engine. On the side of each car was the Romanov seal: a double-headed eagle with a golden scepter in one claw and a cross-bearing orb in the other, while on its chest a red escutcheon depicted St George on his horse about to slay the dragon.

On the back of the last car was the most imposing mark of all: the coat of arms of the Russian Empire. It contained the helmet of Alexander Nevsky, fifteen shields representing the Russian Empire territories, the archangels Gabriel and Michael, and the Order of St Andrew - all residing on an oak and laurel wreath amid a golden ermine mantle, crowned by a golden cap, and liberally decorated by black, double-headed eagles. They flew around the inscription, which Jasmine translated as: ‘God is with us.’

‘He sure as shit is,’ McNutt said with a laugh. He wanted to say more - hell, he wanted to sing, and dance, and drink, and punch someone in the face for no reason at all - but Cobb had warned them about celebrating in front of Borovsky or any of the villagers, especially on a day when so many of them had died. He felt that would be in bad taste.

But they took a moment to celebrate internally.

The discovery of the train led to visions of their own personal paradises, made possible by the millions they were that much closer to collecting. They all understood that finding the train was only the first step. They knew they still had to get the treasure past Borovsky and the villagers before they could deliver it to Papineau. But that didn’t stop Sarah from imagining a well-funded climb of Mt Everest. Or Garcia from thinking about building a supercomputer that would make Microsoft jealous. McNutt’s fantasy was simple: he wanted to buy his own tank. Then he wanted to drive it across America, only stopping for beer and whores. Unlike the others, Jasmine tried to focus on the historic value of the discovery, but her mind slowly drifted to owning her own museum.

The looks on their faces said it all.

They were a happy group.

Amid the daydreams, Cobb allowed himself a moment to admire the contents of the cave before he began to assess the condition of the train. The engine was in solid shape and the cars looked sturdy enough. They clearly housed royal compartments, though the filigree on the exteriors was cracked, chipped, or broken. Obviously, the train had gone through storms and trials to arrive before being seized by what appeared to be the craggy, gripping fingers of the cave. Some of those fingers were gloved and mossy, some were skeletal and crystalline, and some looked as if hard, fleshy sponge had grown over them.

‘When I was a boy,’ Decebal explained through Borovsky and Jasmine, ‘my great-grandfather told me that when the train first arrived, they simply drove the cars inside and left them. They are safe in here. It is dry.’

Borovsky added, ‘They are kept in good repair but have not moved a millimeter since then. The prince took only what he absolutely needed and departed.’

‘Where are the rest of them?’ Sarah demanded.

Her sense of awe had passed like a total eclipse. She was now the thief, cataloguing inventory. She stood defiantly with her fists on her hips and looked to Jasmine for an explanation. ‘There were supposed to be twenty cars, right? Where are the others?’

Cobb smiled apologetically at Borovsky. ‘The prince was exiled by the tsarina, but he still had to be guarded on this dangerous trip.’

‘So?’ Sarah demanded.

‘If
you
were one of those guards, would you have done it for free?’

She groaned in understanding. ‘Jesus,’ she said. ‘Twelve cars?!’

‘No, not twelve,’ Borovsky informed her through Jasmine. ‘The Romanian treasure had already been looted by greedy politicians. That was one of the main reasons the prince wanted to take it away from Moscow. They were - they
are
- corrupt as the Devil. The prince personally selected the most important Romanian art, artifacts, and archives, then consolidated them in as few crates as he could.’

‘But what about the gold?’ Sarah demanded.

Borovsky seemed unhappy with her tone and opened his mouth to speak, but Cobb jumped in before the situation deteriorated.

‘Cool it, Sarah.’

She looked indignantly at Cobb, then another realization seemed to splash over her.
They don’t know we’re here for the treasure
. Her jaw shut with an audible click.

Cobb looked to Jasmine, who nodded with understanding in her eyes. Thankfully she had not been translating.

‘She is upset that the historical valuables have been lost,’ Jasmine told a dubious Borovsky and equally distrustful Anna. She glanced apologetically at their Romanian host, who was behind them, and then looked to see where Dobrev was. He had gone over to the train, where he was muttering words of comfort to the poor, old girl.

‘Viktor, Alexandru,’ Cobb said through Jasmine. ‘What did the prince do then?’

‘He left,’ Borovsky answered.

‘How?’ Cobb wanted to know. They looked at him in confusion. Cobb put his arm out toward the first car - the one farthest into the cave. ‘You said they drove them in. Did he drive any out?’

Decebal spoke from behind them, cautiously watching everyone.

‘He says his great-grandfather told him that the prince simply left,’ Jasmine reported. ‘He didn’t say how.’

Cobb looked to the train cars with a growing sense of curiosity. He motioned again at them. ‘May we?’

Jasmine passed on the request, adding her own declarations of respect, responsibility, and honor. Borovsky looked to Decebal, who nodded once. Borovsky turned back to Cobb and seconded the nod, adding, ‘We will examine it together, then we are leaving.’

Cobb smiled tightly. Both men clearly knew that was not going to happen. At least, not without a disagreement.

‘All right,’ Cobb said, turning to the eight railroad cars. ‘Calmly, respectfully, professionally. Let’s see what we have here.’

Cobb heard what sounded like someone cracking his knuckles behind him. He didn’t have to look back. He knew the sound of a gun hammer locking when he heard one.

None of the group looked back.

‘That’s Decebal, and a revolver,’ McNutt said through clenched teeth.

Cobb saw McNutt’s pinkie tap the handle of the duffel bag, just once. It was almost unnoticeable, but it was in no way an accidental twitch. He said, ‘It was just a warning to behave. Otherwise we’d all be face down. Let’s go.’

Decebal had positioned himself between the treasure train and the cave’s exit. He didn’t understand English enough to bother joining the others inside the cars. Even if he was right beside them, they could easily talk amongst themselves in secrecy. Frankly, he didn’t care. All that mattered to him was ensuring that no one made it past him with any of the treasure.

‘Please,’ Borovsky said, ‘come with me.’

He led the group toward the first car. The lights in the cave gave them enough eerie illumination to make out shadows, and they used their flashlights for clarification. Cobb suspected the only reason they didn’t stop him was because there was still a veneer of entente in place. And Cobb knew there were two major reasons for that: arresting or killing them might bring others to the area, in even greater numbers; and they still had the Black Robes to worry about.

Against either foe, Borovsky would surely need reinforcements.

‘We’re up,’ Garcia said in their ears. ‘I can see everything you see.’

Without asking aloud, Jasmine, Sarah, and McNutt turned to Cobb for answers as to what Garcia meant. Without drawing attention, Cobb purposefully tapped his thumb against his flashlight, letting the others know that they doubled as high-definition video cameras. Even from almost a mile away, Garcia had isolated the signals being transmitted by the flashlights.

McNutt glanced down at the flashlight in his hand.

‘Damn, that’s slick,’ he murmured under his breath.

* * *

Seven thousand miles to the east, Jean-Marc Papineau watched on his laptop in his compartment on the decoy train that he had taken to Vladivostok. Garcia had looped Papineau into the broadcast with Cobb’s express permission - the images captured by the video cameras were being relayed through a satellite uplink. Cobb wanted the Frenchman to know that despite his treachery, Cobb’s personal code dictated that once he accepted a job, he finished it.

‘You’re getting the audio and video feeds?’ Garcia asked in the shrunken video chat window in the corner of Papineau’s screen.

‘Perfectly,’ Papineau replied. ‘Who am I watching?’

‘This is Jasmine’s cam,’ Garcia informed him. ‘She’ll be the first one inside.’

‘And what of your image recognition software?’

‘We’re about to find out if it works,’ Garcia answered.

The program Garcia had designed would use computer-generated silhouettes to match any objects they encountered with known objects in the database. He had already uploaded images of countless artifacts into the system. If any of the Romanov treasures were here, they would know soon enough.

Papineau watched anxiously as Jasmine approached the train. From the video, he could see they were dealing with a sad necropolis of semi-gutted cars. It appeared as if the prince and his men had torn the interior asunder to make room for additional cargo. Their primary obstacles were apparently the passenger benches, most of which had been removed, mainly by means of brute force or being chopped into bits.

Why the hasty renovations?
he thought.
What were they trying to hide?

Then he had his answers … if only for an instant.

As Borovsky helped her into the first car, the image from Jasmine’s flashlight held steady long enough to reveal a literal pile of treasure. Heaps upon stacks of crates, filling the space. Unfortunately for Papineau, Jasmine momentarily reverted to a six-year-old on Christmas morning, overcome with joy and unsure where to start.

‘Queen Maria’s jewelry!’ he heard her say, but the images blurred as she spun around, trying to take it all in. ‘The lost artwork! The historical archives! It’s all here!’