Luckily, the bruiser didn’t seem the least bit perturbed that the overhead lights were turned on. Finn’s gaze honed in on the holstered Sig Sauer P6.
Finn wanted that gun in the worst awful way.
Quickly he ran through his options: attacking and using the KA-BAR in a close-quarter situation, slicing or punching a hole in a major artery; tossing the KA-BAR at the dude’s heart; or tossing the knife at his backside, then disarming him from behind.
Settling on the last option, he soft-footed away from the boiler, keeping to the shadows. The bruiser was headed for the trio of big aluminium condensers on the other side of the room. Finn took aim and hurled the KA-BAR knife.
The bruiser, seeing the blur of motion reflected in the shiny aluminium, lurched out of the way at the last possible instant, the KA-BAR puncturing a hole in the condenser instead of the bruiser.
Possessed with quick reflexes, the other man spun on his heel as he reached for the P6.
Fuck!
81
0550 hours
Acting on a hunch, Cædmon silently trod the third-floor promenade that overlooked the mezzanine. Like a guilty thief with the goods in his pocket, he clung to the shadows. Off-script, he headed for the nearest room that had visible light shining through the frosted glass. Something was here, on the third floor. He could feel it in his blood.
The same blood that coursed through his heart muscle in dizzying contractions. The same blood painfully thumping against the gauze bandage wrapped around his skull.
Where are you, Kate?
He prayed that he’d find her sooner rather than later, his energy flagging. The tension wrought by the situation, his recent injuries and the lack of sleep, it was all starting to wear on his pitiful reserves, the initial burst of adrenaline having run its course.
Christ! Bugger the horse. My kingdom for a wee sip of gin.
Kicking that thought to the kerb, he trudged forward, walking, breathing, everything now noticeably laboured.
Ruger in hand, he approached the illuminated room. Grasping the doorknob with his left hand, he pushed the door open a few inches and furtively peered inside. On the other side of the threshold was a snuggery lined with floor-to-ceiling bookcases. All of them jam-packed with leather-bound volumes. For a crazed half-second, he thought he’d been transported to a parallel universe, albeit a tidier universe than the one at L’Equinoxe.
Cædmon cautiously stepped into the library, closing the door behind him. Like every other room he’d investigated, it was eerily vacant, although he sensed it had recently been occupied – there was a small stack of books and an open laptop computer on the centre table. He walked over and perused the pile. Nazi Mysticism. The Secret of Luxor. Parzival. The Monuments of Paris. An eclectic assortment, to be sure. And, in one way or another, all related to the Grail and the Axe Historique. He next examined the laptop computer, the screen frozen on an image from a football match. Curiouser and curiouser.
Espying a narrow passageway between two bookcases, Cædmon padded over to it. Holding his gun in front of him, he peeked around the corner. Although the lights were low, he could see that it was a small study. His gaze zoomed over to the boxy sofa set against the far wall. There was a huddled body, backside turned to him, curled on the cushions. Shoulders visibly shaking, the occupant was clearly sobbing.
Kate!
Clicking off the safety, he shoved the Ruger into its holster before rushing over to the sofa. Without turning her head, Kate raised a hand and limply waved it in the direction of the library.
‘You can set the tray on the table,’ she warbled in a tear-weakened voice.
Cædmon went down on bent knee beside the sofa and gently touched her shoulder. ‘It’s me, Kate. I’ve come to rescue you.’
‘You can’t rescue me,’ she said between doleful sobs. ‘You’re dead. Both of you.’
‘I fear those rumours have been greatly exaggerated. While I might be mistaken for a corpse, I’m still among the living. As is McGuire.’
Kate rolled over. ‘I don’t believe it! Cædmon!’ Clearly stunned to see him, she grabbed his face between her two hands. ‘You’re alive!’ Then, a sense of urgency about her, she said, ‘You have to leave! Now! Before –’
The look of dread fear that immediately marred Kate’s face was the only warning that Cædmon had before a dark shadow fell over the two of them.
There was someone behind him!
Still on bent knee, he straight away reached for the Ruger. Just as his hand grazed the stippled grip, the unseen intruder grabbed his right wrist, snatching his hand away from the gun. Imprisoning his wrist in a bone-crunching grasp, the assailant pulled tight, cinching Cædmon’s arm around his own neck. Jamming his chin into the crook of his elbow.
Cædmon bellowed in agony as several sutures instantly popped open.
The brute forcefully jerked on his wrist, spinning him in a semi-circle. Cædmon reflexively swung his left arm; a wild scything slash that connected with a leg muscle. Before he could retract his arm to take another swing, a giant fist smashed into his left temple. Hammer on anvil.
The ferocity of the blow hurled Cædmon to one side. The brute hauled him up by his manacled wrist. With his free hand, the attacker yanked the Ruger out of the holster before shoving Cædmon to the floor.
‘That vas too easy,’ the brute snarled in a thick accent.
Immobilized with molten pain, Cædmon spat out a mouthful of yellow bile. Dazed, his vision suddenly gone blurry, he struggled to bring the attacker into focus. It took several seconds before the scene crystallized. It took several additional seconds before he realized that he was one bullet from death, the bald-headed Myrmidon pressing the gun muzzle against the same temple he’d just tenderized with his fist.
Enraged that his life was about to end in such humiliating fashion, Cædmon impotently glared at the bald-headed gunman. He didn’t have the strength to stagger to his feet, much less rebuff another blow. Callously smiling, the brute’s right thumb flicked the safety into the ‘off’ position. Any second now.
‘You can’t shoot him!’ Kate exclaimed frantically, scrambling off the sofa. ‘Cædmon Aisquith has valuable information pertaining to the Lapis Exillis that Doctor Uhlemann will be very interested to hear.’
Frowning, the Myrmidon retracted the muzzle several inches, his confusion plainly evident. In that instant, Cædmon intuited that the big German could not juggle more than one ball.
‘It’s imperative that Doctor Uhlemann be briefed about the second stone before the heliacal rising occurs,’ Kate continued, pressing the brute.
Cædmon tossed another ball into the ring. ‘You heard the lady. I have important information to convey to your employer. Pull the trigger at your own peril.’
Relenting, the browbeaten Myrmidon jabbed the gun in Cædmon’s direction. ‘Get up, wichser ! I will take you to see Herr Doktor Uhlemann.’
Realizing that he’d just been granted a temporary reprieve, Cædmon heaved with his left arm, clumsily shoving himself off the floor. Kate rushed to his side. Wrapping both arms around his chest, she assisted him to his feet.
‘When you meet Doctor Uhlemann, be sure to emphasize the catastrophe that will ensue without the second stone,’ Kate told him. ‘Earlier, he showed me the Vril Generator and I could see that –’
‘Shut up! Both of you!’ the brute roughly ordered. ‘Now get moving!’
Unable to stand up straight, Cædmon took a wobbly step, further disgracing himself. Leaning close, Kate placed a stabilizing arm around his waist. Then, risking the brute’s ire, she whispered under her breath, ‘Scientia potentia est.’