‘No, nothing serious. Just a disagreement about something we’re doing.’
Raskin played dumb. ‘Something you’re doing, where?’
‘Germany.’
‘Really? What are you doing in Germany?’
‘Long story. I’ll tell you about it some other time.’
‘Maybe you should tell me right now. You know, since you need my help.’
Raskin had a better security clearance than he did, so Jones wasn’t worried about him blabbing to anyone. Still, Jones was reluctant to tell him anything too juicy. ‘I wish I could, but I’m temporarily sworn to secrecy. As soon as I get permission, I’ll be happy to fill you in.’
‘I can respect that. It doesn’t mean I like it, but I can respect it.’
‘So,’ Jones said, ‘about that favour of mine …’
Raskin cracked his knuckles. ‘Fire away.’
‘I’m staring at a receipt from 1886. I was hoping you could tell me a little bit more about the store itself. What business they were in and so on.’
‘What country?’
‘Germany.’
Raskin opened a database on one of his screens. ‘What city?’
‘Munich.’
‘Munich,’ he mumbled as he dragged a chunk of data from one screen to another with his mouse. ‘Please tell me you have a name or address. Otherwise, this is going to take a while.’
‘Actually I have both. The store was called Hauser and Sons, and it was located on a road called Briennerstrasse. It’s the oldest road in Munich.’
‘Whoop-dee-fuckin’-doo. The age of the road doesn’t help at all. But do you know what would help? If you could spell that for me. That would help a bunch.’
Jones laughed and spelled Briennerstrasse. ‘Anything else?’
‘Just give me silence, so I can do my thing.’
The sound of typing filled the line for several seconds. Every once in a while, Raskin would curse at one of his databases, but it was usually followed by some sort of taunt that let the computer know who owned its ass. To Jones, it was like a progress bar on a computer screen. When the taunts increased, it meant Raskin was getting closer to the end.
‘So,’ Raskin eventually said, ‘do you want the good news or the bad news? Because I have a little bit of both.’
‘No games. Just tell me.’
‘Hauser and Sons was a family-owned jewellery store that opened in 1845. It stayed open until 1933 when the National Socialists – i.e. the fucking Nazis – took control of Germany. After that, the city of Munich changed dramatically. As you know, the Allies bombed the shit out of the city during World War Two. I’m talking seventy-plus air raids, not to mention a ground assault. By the time we took control of Munich in 1945, the city was mostly rubble.’
Jones cursed under his breath. He had been confident the receipt would lead them to Camelot. Now he’d have to go down below and admit his mistake to everyone. ‘What about the Hausers? Are any of them still around? Maybe I can-’
‘Hold up! I’m not done. The best part is yet to come.’
‘Sorry, my bad. Please continue.’
Raskin collected his thoughts. ‘As usual, our government felt guilty about blowing up a city, so Uncle Sam rebuilt Munich with American tax dollars. Which, on a personal note, didn’t sit well with my grandparents since they were Jewish. Seriously, do you know how many holiday meals were ruined by stories about the past?’
Jones smiled. ‘You’re Jewish, I’m black, let’s move on.’
‘Anyway, it didn’t take long for Munich to start thriving again. In 1955 Hauser and Sons opened a new store at a new location, which is still open today.’
‘Please tell me you’re serious.’
‘Of course I’m serious. I just sent the address to your phone.’
‘That’s awesome! I can’t wait to rub this in Jon’s face.’
‘Wait. So you two really are fighting?’
‘Not fighting. Just competing, like we always do.’
Raskin smiled. ‘In that case, I gotta ask: is he pissed at me?’
‘At you? Why would he be pissed at you?’
‘Because of his ringtone.’
Jones burst out laughing. ‘You changed his ringtone?’
‘Of course I changed his ringtone. Twelve times on three different phones. You’re telling me he still hasn’t figured it out?’
‘Nope. He’s clueless.’
Raskin grunted in frustration. ‘I have to admit, I’m kind of insulted by his confusion. Who else does he know who could pull a hack like that?’
‘Actually, he thinks it was me. Well, at least he did until yesterday.’
‘What happened yesterday?’
‘I was flying a chopper when you switched his ringtone to “Little Bunny Foo Foo”, so he knows I couldn’t have done it. Great song, by the way. It totally pissed him off.’
Raskin grinned in triumph. ‘Speaking of which, the next time you take Petr Ulster’s chopper, you really should get permission.’
‘Permission? What are you talking about?’
Raskin groaned at his mistake. He didn’t want Jones to know too much about his cyber-stalking, for fear it would upset him. ‘To change Jon’s ringtone, I’ve been forced to track his phone. Because of that, I know you guys spent the night at the Ulster Archives.’
‘And?’
‘I was bored, so I ran a search on Petr’s latest projects. You know, just to see if he was working on anything exciting.’
‘And?’
‘And I noticed his personal chopper had been reported stolen.’
‘When?’ Jones demanded.
‘About an hour ago.’
‘By whom?’
Raskin quickly pulled up the information. ‘No name on the report, but it was filed by the Bavarian State Police in Munich. They’re tracking the beacon as we speak.’
‘Son of a bitch! Can you stop it?’
‘Of course I can stop it.’
‘Then stop it! Immediately!‘
Raskin typed furiously for the next several seconds. This time, there was very little cursing. ‘Okay … done! The beacon is toast.’
‘Thanks, man, I appreciate it. I really do. But I gotta go.’
‘Why? I told you, I stopped the beacon.’
Jones opened the secret hatch. ‘I know you did, but we’ve been sitting still for the last hour. Whoever was tracking us knows where we are.’
67
Using the camera feature on his phone, Payne started taking pictures of the artwork and blueprints that hung from the walls. He knew from experience that missions, particularly those in uncharted territories, were prone to interruptions, so he compiled as much documentation as he could while he still had the chance.
His foresight proved invaluable when he heard the sound of footsteps in the tunnel. Worried, he pulled his weapon and headed for the door. ‘Be quiet. Someone’s coming.’
Ulster dismissed the warning. ‘It’s probably David.’
Payne listened closer. ‘Then why is he running?’
Heidi and Ulster immediately tensed and looked to Payne for further instructions. Unfortunately, he didn’t have many options. They were in a windowless room with only one exit, which led to a concrete tunnel with no protection. The best they could do was stay put and hope for the best. With that in mind, Payne swung the door until it was nearly closed. The gap was just wide enough to keep an eye on the hallway.
Then he pointed at the desk. ‘Turn off your lights and stay low.’
They quickly followed his orders.
As the footsteps got louder and louder, Payne calmly aimed his Sig Sauer into the hallway. For the next few seconds, shot discipline would be essential. The only way he would fire was if he saw men with automatic weapons or explosives. Otherwise, violence wasn’t warranted. Still, it was wise to take the necessary precautions. In the darkness behind him, Heidi and Ulster crouched near the floor, the two of them huddling together for support. Hearts pounding, palms sweating, they prayed the noise in the hallway was Jones and there wasn’t an actual threat.