Cassiopeia watched him with a look of anticipation. He felt it, too. A bad feeling. Almost as if he’d been expected.
Two men stepped from the trees, weapons trained on him.
“Mr. Malone,” Zovastina said, as she turned toward him with a grim look of satisfaction on her face. “You can’t kill us all.”
Malone 3 - The Venetian Betrayal
PART FIVE
Malone 3 - The Venetian Betrayal
SEVENTY-FOUR
VINCENTI STEPPED INTO HIS LIBRARY, CLOSED THE DOOR, AND poured himself a drink. Kumis. A local specialty he’d come to enjoy. Fermented mare’s milk. Not much alcohol but quite a buzz. He downed the shot in one swallow and savored its almond aftertaste.
He poured another.
His stomach growled. He was hungry. He should tell the chef what he wanted for dinner. A thick slab of teriyaki horse steak would be good. He’d come to like that local specialty, too.
He sipped more Kumis.
Everything was about to unfold. His intuition from all those years ago had proven correct. All that stood in the way was Irina Zovastina.
He stepped to his desk. The house was equipped with a sophisticated satellite communications system, with direct links to Samarkand and his corporate headquarters in Venice. Drink in hand, he saw an e-mail had arrived from Kamil Revin about a half hour ago. Unusual. Revin, for all his joviality, distrusted any form of communication save face-to-face, with him controlling the time and location.
He opened the file and read the message.
THE AMERICANS WERE HERE.
His tired mind snapped alert. Americans? He was about to hit “Reply” when the study door burst open and Peter O’Conner rushed in.
“Four helicopter gunships bearing down on us. Federation.”
He darted to the windows and gazed west. At the far end of the valley four dots pricked the bright sky, growing larger.
“They just appeared,” O’Conner said. “I’m assuming this is not a social call. You expecting anyone?”
He wasn’t.
He returned to the computer and deleted the e-mail.
“They’ll be on the ground in less than ten minutes,” O’Conner said.
Something was wrong.
“Is Zovastina coming for the woman?” O’Conner asked.
“It’s possible. But how would she know this fast?”
Zovastina would never have imagined what he was planning. True, she distrusted him as he distrusted her, but there was no reason for any show of force. Not now, anyway. Then there was Venice, and what happened when he’d moved on Stephanie Nelle. And the Americans?
What didn’t he know?
“They’re swinging around to land,” O’Conner said from the windows.
“Go get her.”
O’Conner dashed from the room.
Vincenti slid open one of the desk drawers and removed a pistol. They’d yet to hire the full security contingent the estate would ultimately require. That would all be done in the coming weeks, while Zovastina occupied herself preparing for war. He’d planned to use that diversion to its fullest.
Karyn Walde entered the library, wearing a bathrobe and slippers. Standing, on her own. O’Conner followed.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Better than I have in months. I can walk.”
Already, a doctor was en route from Venice who would treat her secondary infections. Lucky for her, they were remediable. “It’ll take a few days for your body to start a full recovery. But the virus is right now being assaulted by a predator against which it has no defense. As, by the way, are we.”
O’Conner assumed a position at the window. “They’re on the ground. Troops. Asians. Looks like they’re hers.”
He faced Walde. “Seems Irina may want you back. We’re not sure what’s happening.”
He stepped across the room to a built-in bookcase with ornate glass-fronted doors. The wood had come from China, along with the craftsman who’d made the piece. But O’Conner had added something extra. He pressed a button on a pocket controller and a spring-loaded mechanism above and below the cabinet released, allowing the heavy case to rotate one hundred and eighty degrees. Beyond was a lighted passageway.
Walde was impressed. “Like in a damn horror movie.”
“Which is what this may become,” he said. “Peter, see what they want and express my regrets that I wasn’t here to greet them.” He motioned to Walde. “Follow me.”
STEPHANIE’S HANDS STILL SHOOK AS SHE WATCHED ELY DRAG THE body around to the rear of the cabin. She still did not like the fact that Zovastina knew they were in the Federation. Not particularly smart to alert a person with the kind of resources at her disposal. She had to trust that Thorvaldsen knew what he was doing, particularly since his butt was on the line, too.
Ely emerged from the cabin’s front door, followed by Thorvaldsen. He held an arm full of books and paper. “I’ll need these.”
She was watching the lane leading back to the highway. All seemed quiet. Thorvaldsen came up beside her. He noticed her shaking hand and calmly grasped it. Neither of them said a word. She still held the gun, her palm sweaty. Her mind needed to focus, so she asked, “What exactly are we going to do?”
“We know the location,” Ely said. “Klimax. So let’s go see what’s there. It’s worth a look.”
She fought to recall Ptolemy’s words and repeated them, “Climb the god-built walls. When you reach the attic, gaze into the tawny eye, and dare to find the distant refuge.”
“I remember the riddle,” Ely said. “I need to check some information, spur my memory, but I can do that along the way.”
She wanted to know, “Why did Zovastina go after the elephant medallions?”
“I pointed out a connection between a mark on the medallions and the riddle. A symbol, like two Bs joined to an A. It’s on one side of the medallion and in the riddle. They had to be significant. Since there were only eight known, she said she’d acquire them all for comparison. But she told me she was going to buy them.”