‘Find anything?’ Maria asked.
Boyd kept reading for several seconds before he turned their way. ‘Hmm? What was that?’
She smiled. Same old Dr Boyd. ‘Did you find anything?’
‘Bits and pieces, my dear. Bits and pieces. If only I had a morsel to guide me, I am certain I could locate the smoking gun.’ He made a sweeping gesture with his hand, indicating the rest of the library. ‘I am confident the answer is in here somewhere.’
‘I agree,’ she said, smiling. ‘D.J. has a theory that I wanted you to hear.’
Boyd glanced at Maria, then back at Jones, trying to decide if they were serious. The look on their faces told him they were. ‘Go on. I’m listening.’
Payne was listening, too. But before Jones could spit out a single word, Payne’s attention was diverted to the commotion he heard on the far side of the library. First the opening of a door, then the muffled sound of footsteps. Multiple footsteps. Many people entering the facility at the exact same time. Maybe it was a cleaning crew or a team of armed guards, Payne couldn’t tell from there. Either way, he knew they were in trouble.
‘Hide them,’ Payne told Jones. And just like that, he knew what to do. They had been together long enough to know each other’s tactics.
Payne pulled the Luger from his belt and dashed quietly across the second floor, slipping between pillars and statues. Thousands of books lined the shelves behind him, protecting him from a rear attack, while a thick wooden railing encircled the balcony to his front. His position was elevated, at least fifteen feet above the first floor. He curled up underneath a rail-side table and glanced between the carved balusters where he was able to see most of the Great Hall.
Two men in dress clothes stood in the shadows of the main entrance while their partner fiddled with something behind a tapestry on the right wall. Payne doubted the library had a safe in a public space, leaving only two choices in his mind: a security system or an electrical panel. He got his answer a couple of clicks later when the roof exploded with light.
Payne kept his focus on the men as they converged near the middle of the floor. They were over a hundred feet away, which prevented Payne from seeing or hearing much. There was a mumble every once in a while, followed by a quick reply, but nothing he could comprehend. Partially because of the distance, partially because of a language barrier. Whatever the case, he had no idea who these men were or why they were here.
His gut told him they weren’t looking for his crew. If they were, they wouldn’t be standing in the middle of the library making so much noise. They’d be scurrying along the walls, pointing weapons in every corner and crevice until they figured out where they were hiding. Payne didn’t see any of that, though, which led him to believe that they were fine, that they had no idea that they were there and they’d be safe as long as they stayed quiet.
Payne’s theory changed an instant later when one of them yelled, ‘Boyd, there’s no sense in hiding. I know you’re in here. Come out and face me like a man.’
Payne had seen a lot of messed-up things in his years of combat, but this was the first time that anyone ever dared one of his troops to show his face. Come-out-come-out-wherever-you-are doesn’t factor into many military situations. Amazingly, the strangeness increased when Dr Boyd emerged from the stacks. With a look of defiance on his face, a look that said he was about to do something stupid like challenging this guy to a duel, Boyd shouted across the Great Hall. ‘Come and get me, you big wanker!’
Well, Payne almost crapped himself right there. Of all the screwed-up, dim-witted things he’d ever seen in his life, why in the world would a CIA-trained operative, someone who was supposed to be a genius, be willing to give up his position and risk everything that they were trying to accomplish? The idiot! What the hell was he thinking?
Boyd was standing twenty feet away, completely unaware that Payne was under one of the tables. For an instant Payne was tempted to shut him up and protect the rest of them. A couple of slugs in his knee and he would’ve flipped over the railing like Damien’s mom when he hit her with his tricycle in The Omen. That thought left his mind, though, when he saw Maria creep up behind Boyd. Just like that, Payne’s whole world flipped upside down. Something was going on, but he didn’t know what. Were there more guards than he could see? Were Boyd and Maria giving up? Or were he and Jones being double-crossed?
Payne received his answer the moment he saw who was down below. It was the grinning face of Petr Ulster, his red cheeks glowing in the lights of the Great Hall. He looked up at Payne and said, ‘Jonathon, my boy! There you are. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought we could use some reinforcements.’
Everyone met downstairs, where formal introductions were made, and Boyd was reunited with an old colleague. Dr Hermann Wanke was wearing a shirt and tie yet had slippers on his feet. He claimed it was to make less noise as he strolled through the Hofburg, but Payne could tell from the twinkle in his eye that he did it for his own amusement. Most people considered Wanke the world’s top expert on Austrian history, so he figured it was his God-given right to be eccentric. Personally, Payne didn’t care what he wore as long he could help their mission. He asked Wanke how he knew Dr Boyd, and he launched into a five-minute soliloquy about their days at Oxford where, according to Wanke, they got along brilliantly despite their diverse backgrounds.
The other man they met was Max Hochwälder, Wanke’s soft-spoken assistant. He was closer to Boyd’s age than Payne’s, although it was tough to gauge since he was reluctant to speak, and his short blond hair concealed any traces of gray. He shook Payne’s hand with a timid grip, then faded back into oblivion, virtually disappearing in the roomful of strong personalities.
Anyhow, after a few minutes of small talk, Payne knew it was time to get back to business. He started with the most obvious question. Why was Wanke at the Hofburg?
‘Research, Herr Payne, research.’ His English was perfect, with little or no accent, although he dropped in a German term every once in a while for his own pleasure. ‘I was arranging to view one of the royal collections when I saw my old pals, Petr and Franz. I could tell they were up to no good and decided to have some fun with them.’ He showed them what he meant by shouting a number of Austrian terms that sounded like they belonged in a stalag, not in a library. ‘When they tossed their hands in the air, I knew they were doing something scandalous. Something that I should be involved in.’
Ulster rubbed his face in embarrassment, a reaction that told Payne his recruitment of Wanke was not so much planned as stumbled onto.
‘From there it was easy,’ Wanke said. ‘I sent Franz outside to occupy the guard while Petr filled me in on the basics. The moment I heard Charles’s name, I knew I had to help. Whether he wanted me to or not.’
‘I hope that’s all right,’ Ulster apologized. ‘I know I should’ve fibbed and kept Hermann out of this, but considering his background, I figured he might be useful. At least I hope so. I’d hate to think I messed this up.’
Boyd gave Payne a what-are-you-going-to-do? shrug that summed up his feelings perfectly. They weren’t about to yell at Ulster or kick him out of the library. He simply invited one of Boyd’s oldest friends, a man who knew more about Austrian history than everyone else combined, to help them with their research. If he had to blab to someone, this wasn’t a bad choice. Thankfully, Ulster hadn’t spilled as many secrets as they had feared — just some basics about the laughing man and nothing about the Catacombs. So Boyd filled Wanke in on some of the facts, and Wanke quickly transformed from a goofy eccentric into a world-class historian.