Payne smiled at the sight. Back in the Special Forces, he had spent many nights in similar conditions, sneaking onto foreign shores and taking out targets. He had enjoyed it then, and he would enjoy it now. About the only thing missing was Jones by his side. And yet, somehow Payne knew that his best friend was fine and that they were still working in unison.
Jones would lure them in, and Payne would take them out.
Just like old times.
Near the bottom of the control panel, Payne spotted a large dial that looked like the volume control on a stereo. Hoping to limit his opponent’s communication, Payne turned the knob. Instantly the soaring vocals of Richard Wagner’s Tannhauser, one of Ludwig’s favourite operas, filled the grotto. Payne grinned and cranked the volume even louder. In a confined space, the music and the darkness would conceal his movement until he was ready to strike.
Now all he had to do was wait.
The goons entered the grotto completely unprepared. No flashlights. No maps. No advanced surveillance. They just stormed into the darkness en masse, a cluster of three soldiers on a well-lit path. Apparently they hadn’t been briefed on the shootout in the gorge; otherwise they would have thought long and hard about a frontal assault against a highly skilled soldier.
Of course, that was the problem with most goons. They weren’t trained to think.
Payne crouched in the dark lake, allowing his body to rise and fall with the surging tide. He was close enough to the path to be accurate, but far enough away to be unseen – until his muzzle flash lit up the cavern like a lightning bolt. If he’d had more time to work with, he would have picked them off silently, using his bare hands and his blade. Unfortunately, Jones was in immediate danger, so the clock was ticking.
He was forced to make his move now.
For Payne, the first shot would be the easiest. He raised his Sig Sauer above the waterline and aimed at the lead goon’s throat. Because of the undulating waves, Payne knew his aim might be affected vertically. If he shot high, he would hit the face. If he shot low, he would hit the chest. If his aim was true, he would hit the jugular. No matter what, the goon would go down. After that, Payne would have to swing his weapon to the right and get off two more shots before the last goon spotted Payne’s position in the water. If that happened, things would get interesting.
The blaring music masked the blast as Payne pulled his trigger. The bullet caught the lead goon under his chin and killed him instantly. He collapsed on the narrow path, effectively blocking the two men behind him. Payne wasted no time and fired at the second goon. The rising water pushed his aim high, but not high enough for the guy to survive.
Just like that, there was one goon left.
His name was Faust, and he was smarter than the others.
He quickly fired a shot towards Payne’s muzzle flash, then jumped into the dark lake even though he wasn’t a good swimmer. For Faust, it had been a spur of the moment decision, one that helped him survive since the lit path had been a shooting gallery and his team had been the targets. Another moment and he would have been killed like his colleagues.
In the water, at least he had a chance.
Three days earlier, Payne had been swimming on the bottom of the Ohio River, blindly looking for a lost bottle opener. Now he was searching for prey in a man-made lake.
In his mind, this would be far easier.
With a knife in his hand and his lungs full of air, Payne glided underwater towards the panic-stricken Faust. The lake was deep enough and dark enough to conceal Payne’s approach, so he wasted no time once he spotted the thrashing legs of his target. Attacking from behind, Payne grabbed the back of Faust’s collar and yanked him under the surface of the water. Faust bucked and flailed, trying to break free, but Payne ended the battle with a quick slash of his blade. Blood gushed from Faust’s neck as he dropped his gun and tried, in vain, to hold the fluid inside his body. But it wasn’t to be. Within seconds, the life had drained out of him.
Payne held on until the struggling stopped, then he pushed the corpse aside and swam hard towards the shore. He sprang from the water and landed on the narrow path, not far from the second dead goon. Normally, Payne would have been reluctant to use someone else’s weapon unless his own gun was damaged or out of ammo, but in this case, it made sense strategically. The goon’s Beretta was equipped with a sound suppressor, which would be useful outside the grotto – especially if more men were positioned around the Linderhof grounds. The last thing Payne wanted was to make them aware of his presence. With that in mind, he picked up the Beretta, fired a test shot into the water, then headed towards the fake boulder.
While kneeling on the hard ground, Jones could hear the music seeping from the opening behind him. Although he wasn’t familiar with this particular opera, he found himself humming along – partially to calm his nerves and partially because he was bored.
Based on Schultz’s tactics, it was fairly obvious that he had been ordered to follow the beacon and question the chopper’s occupants before anyone was eliminated. Otherwise, Jones and Baptiste would already be dead, and Schultz would be inside the grotto looking for Payne, Heidi and Ulster. Once Jones thought this out, his attitude changed. If given the opportunity, Jones would still make a move on Schultz, but he wasn’t about to do anything desperate. At least not until Payne had a chance to wipe out the rest of his crew. In the meantime, he would do everything he could to keep his captor distracted.
Jones stared at Schultz, who was fifteen feet away. ‘What time is it?’
‘Time to shut up.’
He acted offended. ‘Damn! Why are you so mean? Have you always been like this? If so, you got in the right line of work. Lots of angry men in the goon business.’
‘I’m not a goon.’
‘Really? What are you then?’
‘I’m a soldier.’
‘Me, too. How long have you worked for Mueller?’
Schultz glanced around. He wasn’t used to chatty prisoners. Normally they were quivering with fear, not trying to make conversation. ‘Two years.’
‘Good employer?’
‘Not bad.’
‘Benefits?’
Schultz caught himself before he answered. ‘That’s it! No more talking. I know what you’re trying to do.’
‘Really? What’s that?’
‘You’re trying to distract me.’
‘Is it working?’
‘Not a chance.’
During the past few seconds, Jones had noticed the music getting softer. Either someone had turned down the volume, or someone was standing near the fissure blocking the sound as it tried to escape the grotto. If he had to guess, it was probably the latter.
‘One last question, then I promise I’ll shut up.’
Schultz glared at him. ‘What is it?’
‘Do you know why we’re here?’
He sneered. ‘I’ll find out soon enough.’
Jones smiled, confident Payne was behind him. ‘No, you won’t.’
A moment later, Payne squeezed the trigger and ended the conversation.
Jones didn’t even turn around. ‘Took you long enough.’
‘Screw you,’ Payne snapped. ‘It was one against three.’
Jones stood and brushed off his knees. ‘Actually, it was three against three. Or don’t Heidi and Ulster count?’
‘In this case, they don’t. I sent them to safety.’
‘Then you better go and get them. We need to lift off, asap.’
‘Me? What about you? What are you going to do?’
Jones pointed at the golf cart. ‘I need to check on Baptiste. If he can’t fly, I’m the pilot.’