“You have no need to worry, Lucas,” he said softly. “This time, I won’t hesitate.”
The sound of galloping hooves made him look up. A coach was rapidly approaching the courtyard in-front of the chateau. It was all starting to come together. The pivotal moment in time. The fulcrum of the Fate Factor. He stepped into the circle of the border circuits as it began to glow. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small, enameled box.
“Forgive me, Vanna,” he said.
The circle flared and vanished.
She knew that more than anything, Nikolai hated rats. Since his childhood in Siberia, he had loathed the creatures and more than once while they were within the castle, she had seen him draw back in disgust at the sight of them. There were many about in the lower floors, but here, in the long-abandoned dungeons of the oldest sections of the castle, there were thousands of them. Their chittering filled the air with a deafening noise as she descended the slimy stone stairs to the lowest level of the subterranean dungeons. The air was rank with their smell and with the stink of stagnant water. The moody Russian had taken to stalking like a ghost through the dank castle passageways, immersing himself in gloom and black despair, but he would never venture here.
Her boots sloshed in fetid water up to her calves as she proceeded down the musky passageway, using her laser to clear the rodents out of her path. It was like walking through a sewer. The smell was overpowering. Once, her foot touched something that slithered away beneath the surface of the water, making ripples with its passage. She suppressed a shudder, steeling herself against the mounting nausea. Something dropped down off the ceiling and scuttled through her hair. She made frantic brushing motions and finally dislodged whatever it was. She didn’t want to know.
At the end of the passageway, which was only slightly wider than her shoulders, there was a short flight of steps. She climbed them slowly, for they were very slick with slime. Her feet had left the water by the time she reached: the third step and, after six steps more, she came to a small landing and a sharp turn to her right. The rats receded before her like a furry brown wave, screaming in protest. She killed the more aggressive ones. There were so many, she could not avoid stepping on their bodies as she moved forward. Some of them still squirmed.
There was another passageway at the top of this second flight of steps. She used her sword to clear away the spider webs that had been painstakingly reconstructed since her last passage here. She passed heavy wooden doors fastened upon rust-encrusted hinges, the barred windows in them covered with a patina of corrosion. Behind those small yet heavily constructed doors, ancient bones of prisoners who had been long forgotten even while they lived gave mute testimony to unremembered crimes and sentences. In one cell, a brown skeleton hung suspended from manacles set deep into the wall, its head bent down in shame, its jaws agape in a never-ending silent scream. At the end of this passageway, there was one door that had fallen into the cell, deprived of the support of its aged hinges, which had been burned through.
The cell was tiny, no more than a cubicle. Falcon had to bend down low to enter it, stepping upon the fallen door. Rats so large their tails looked like snakes glared at her ferociously. She killed several and the rest retreated from her, all save one which crouched upon the small case on the floor and snarled at her. She put away her laser, took out her sword and slashed at the creature viciously. The rat avoided the swift stroke, leaping off the case and darting into a small fissure in the wall.
She crouched down and set her light upon the floor, opening the case. She assembled the border circuits on the floor of the cell and set the plate for time and destination, programming the transition coordinates from the chronoplate’s data file. Then she checked the plate’s remote unit and slipped it into her pocket. Now, in the event that anything went wrong, their second chronoplate was preset with the coordinates for her escape. Drakov did not know its location. It was just as well that, his usefulness to her was almost at an end. He was becoming quite difficult to control. If not tonight, she thought, then soon. Very, very soon. She could sense it. She did not know what it was, whether it was merely a strong intuition or the perception of the confluence of forces gathering together. She had a strong sense of imminence and every nerve fiber in her body fairly tingled with anticipation. She removed the other remote from her other pocket, the one slaved to the chronoplate up in the turret. Drakov had not been there when she had clocked in. Out wandering through the castle corridors again, she thought wryly. The man was becoming an emotional basket-case. At least he had had the sense to take the security monitor along with him.
She heard a scuttling behind her and turned quickly to see several large rats converging upon her from the corners of the cell. She stood quickly, almost hitting her head on the low ceiling, slashing at them with her sword: One of them darted close inside and fastened onto the toe of her boot. She kicked it off, then hit the switch on the remote. The first thing that she saw upon materializing in the turret was the form of Andre Cross, tied down onto the cot. Drakov sat casually upon the other cot, his eyes on the screen of the security monitor.
She smiled broadly. “So,” she said, “it’s happening at last”
Drakov glanced up at her expressionlessly. “She was nosing about in a small boat just outside the king’s cell.”
“Well done, Nicky,” she said. “Any sign of the others?”
“Priest just climbed the wall and entered the south tower. No sign of Forrester or Delaney.”
“Then they’ll be attacking on two fronts,” she said. “Delaney will make a try for the king while the others concentrate on us. It’s just as I anticipated. Excellent. Excellent.”
She glanced at Andre.
“Andre Cross,” she said. “I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you.”
Andre stared at her, saying nothing.
“Your friends and I have an old score to settle,” Falcon said, “but it will have to wait. There’s one other little matter to be taken care of before I can get around to you. I’ll be back soon, Nicky.”
“Where are you going?” he asked, surprised that she was leaving now that the commandos were making their move at last.
“There’s plenty of time,” she said. “Relax. I’ll be back after I kill the king.”
“Remember,” Finn told von Tarlenheint, “the moment that the drawbridge comes down, give Sapt the signal and then ride to join the assault.”
“You can count on me,” said Fritz.
“Remember one thing more,” said Finn. “Hentzau’s foremost concern will be that you and Sapt must die. Neither of you must lead the attack, for if you do, Hentzau will shoot you down.”
“I’ll have a hard time convincing Sapt,” said von Tarlenhelm. “You know how he is.”
“Tell him that with the king’s life at stake, this can be no time for heroics,” Finn said. “He’s no fool; he’ll see that.”
“Rassendyll,” said Fritz, reaching out and taking Finn by his upper arm. “May the Lord protect you.”
Finn smiled. “And you, Fritz.”
He lowered himself into the moat. The water was chilly, but not uncomfortably cold. Finn breaststroked slowly and strongly across the water, taking care to make no splashing sounds. He swam straight towards the lighted section of the castle, just to the side of the massive portcullis. On the first floor of the castle, some fifteen to twenty feet above the surface of the moat, the lights were on in several of the windows of the new addition to the castle. Recent changes had been made to it, most notably in the installation of actual glass-paned windows, capable of being opened outward. It was towards one of these windows that Finn swam, the third one from the corner. As he came closer, he saw that it was opened and, as agreed upon with Rupert Hentzau, a rope hung from it, trailing down into the moat. He grasped it firmly and began to climb up the side of the wall, hand over hand, bracing himself with his legs. He paused just below the window and listened. Then, hearing nothing, he climbed a bit higher and peered in.