The silenced weapons stuttered and jumped, spraying the room with bullets. The MACs weren't silenced, and their barking shattered the night.
The nine millimeter rounds tore into Greenwood's expensive walnut paneling. The shooters went down, tumbling backwards. The MP-5s chopped up the walls and furniture around them.
"Upstairs," Nick shouted. No need for hand signals now. "Lamont, cover us." Another shooter appeared on the second floor. Ronnie fired and he tumbled down the stairs. An ugly man, dressed in black like the others. Ronnie followed Nick at a run up the stairs. Lamont took up position at the bottom in case someone came up from below or from another part of the house.
Upstairs were five large bedrooms and three baths, all empty. Greenwood wasn't there and neither was Selena. They retreated back to the ground floor. Less than five minutes had passed since they'd entered the house.
"The library." Nick pointed with his MP-5.
The adrenaline rush was in full swing. Where was everyone? They must have heard the shooting. Another hallway led from the living room to the library, where a single desk lamp burned in the darkness. The light reflected from a crystal pen and inkwell on the desktop and the silver surface of a closed laptop computer. There was no one there. There was no one in the garden, or the downstairs bathrooms, or the closets, or the maid's room, or the garage.
"Has to be the basement," Ronnie said. "That's all that's left. They're here somewhere."
They found the door to the basement and pulled it open. A light was on. They descended a flight of wooden steps into a room with a cement floor. The walls held shelves and a workbench. Boxes were stacked in one corner. Aside from storage, it was empty.
"What now?" Lamont said.
"Something's not right." Ronnie scanned the room. It looked like an ordinary basement, the kind you'd find almost anywhere. "This room is too small. Remember the plans? Greenwood did a major make over here a while back. It was a lot bigger than this. There's got to be a hidden door."
They walked around the room. There was a faint mark on the floor, like part of a crescent moon, at one end of a high bank of shelves. Nick tugged on the shelves but they didn't move. He felt around the side.
Nothing.
He traced his fingers along the upper edge and felt something plastic. A switch. He pressed it and the shelves swung away from the wall. They started down a flight of stone steps.
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Greenwood's voice made the hairs on the back of Selena's neck stand on end. She'd always heard about that. There was something primal in the harsh rhythm of the old language. Barbaric. Threatening. Frightening.
Still chanting, Greenwood went to the table in the center of the room. The chanting stopped. He opened the box. Selena saw a flash of diamonds and gold in the torchlight as he lifted the lid away. Greenwood took something from the box.
Greenwood said, "Bring her."
Four men moved away from the circle and came over to where she hung helpless. Each man took a key and unlocked one of the iron cuffs that bound her, grasping an arm or a leg. Selena struggled. The men lifted her naked body and brought her to the pole in the center of the room. Two men kept her arms and legs imprisoned while the other two bound her with leather thongs to the rings embedded in the pole. Then they returned to their places in the circle.
Greenwood stepped forward and held up a long, tapered blade in front of her face. It was brown and rusted with age, notched and pierced and wrapped in gold.
The Vienna Lance.
Greenwood spoke to her in German. Something moved in his eyes, as if more than one person were looking out at her.
"My name is Gruenwald," he said, his voice guttural and wet. "My father was Master of the Council before me, as Himmler was before him, as my son shall be after me. Tonight, the Reich is reborn. Your blood will open the passage."
Greenwood took the Lance and made a deep cut in Selena's forearm, opening a vein. The ancient blade dug into her flesh. She clenched her teeth against the pain. Greenwood picked up the emerald cup and caught the blood running down. The point of the Lance gleamed red in the flickering light of the torches. Selena twisted in her bonds and hot blood ran down her arm, down her side, draining into the cup.
When the cup was almost full, Greenwood stepped away. Blood continued to flow down her arm and over her breast. It ran down her side, down her leg, dripping on the floor. She was getting dizzy. She fought it.
"Bind her wound," Greenwood said. "We don't want her to die yet."
Smothers taped a compress over the bleeding vein. He wasn't gentle. Greenwood went to the edge of the circle of the black sun. He dipped the Vienna Lance into the chalice of blood and began to draw the blood along the circle. He moved counter-clockwise, chanting in the grating rhythm of the Old Germanic tongue as he moved.
The air turned freezing cold. Selena blinked, blinked again. A darkness was forming in the room, a thin, black cloud near the ceiling. It had to be an illusion, brought on by the wavering light of the torches, the loss of blood. She fought to stay conscious.
She wasn't going to give up, no matter what. But she hoped the others had figured it out and were on the way. She didn't think she had much time left.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
There were thirteen steps. At the bottom, a short corridor paved with stone led to an arched door of thick, heavy oak. The hinges were of hammered iron, the black iron handle shaped like a snarling wolf's head. The door looked medieval. There was a faint sound beyond the thick door, a rhythmic chanting, harsh and guttural, rising in pitch.
Nick shifted the selector switch on his MP-5 to semi-auto.
"Lamont, you pull the door open, we go in. On three." He signaled with his fingers. The door opened and they stepped into the room.
The first thing Nick saw was a group of men dressed in white robes, standing in a circle in a stone room lit by flaming torches. The room was freezing. The next thing he saw was Selena, naked and slick with blood, bound to a pole set in the middle of the room. A man stood in front of her. He was chanting. His back was toward the entrance. There was a strange darkness hovering around him. He raised both his hands high over his head. Between them he held a long, dark blade, pointed down toward Selena.
Nick's bullet took him somewhere between his shoulder and spine, spinning him away from Selena. The blade flew from his hands and clattered against the polished floor.
An older man in the circle reached for something inside his robe. Lamont shot him in the chest. He staggered and crumpled over, the front of his robe bright with blood. The rest of the circle froze in place.
Nick slung his MP-5 and ran to Selena. He reached up and cut her bonds. She slumped into his arms. He caught her and laid her down. Ronnie and Lamont kept their weapons trained on the others.
Blood oozed from under a crude bandage on her arm, dark red against her pale skin. He felt her pulse. Strong, but erratic. Lying on the floor not far away, the man he'd shot groaned. Nick recognized Greenwood.
"Ronnie, get me one of those robes."
Ronnie walked over to the Vice-President. "Take it off."
Earlston drew himself up to his full five foot nine. "Do you know who I am?"
Ronnie put the muzzle of his gun on Earlston's forehead and pressed.
"I don't give a shit if you're the Queen of England. Take it off."
Earlston stripped off the robe. Ronnie tossed the robe over and Nick wrapped it around Selena. Her face was white. She opened her eyes.