Steve Berry - The Venetian Betrayal

“Bucephalas,” she whispered.

She needed to see more so she said to the darkness, “Malone. I came here unarmed because I didn’t need a gun. Viktor was mine, as you apparently know. But I have your three friends. I was there when you called on the phone. They’re in the house, sealed away, about to be consumed by Greek fire. Just thought you’d like to know.”

Still silence.

“Keep an eye out,” she whispered to Viktor.

She’d come this far, wished too long, fought too hard, not to see. She laid her light atop one of the sarcophagi’s lid, the one with the horse, and pushed. After a moment of valiant tugging, the thick slab moved. A few more shoves and she cleared a pie-shaped opening.

She grabbed the light and, unlike in Venice, hoped she would not be disappointed.

A mummy lay inside.

Sheathed and masked in gold.

She wanted to touch it, to lift the mask away, but thought better. She did not want to do anything that might damage the remains.

But she wondered.

Was she the first in over twenty-three hundred years to gaze upon the remains of Alexander the Great? Had she found the conqueror, along with his draught? Seems she had. Best of all, she knew precisely what to do with both. The draught would be used to fulfill her conquests and, as she now knew, make her an unexpected windfall of profit. The mummy, from whom she could not remove her eyes, would symbolize all that she did. The possibilities seemed endless, but the danger that surrounded her brought her thoughts back to the reality.

Malone was playing his hand quite carefully.

She needed to do the same.

MALONE SAW THE ANTICIPATION ON CASSIOPEIA’S FACE. ELY, Stephanie, and Henrik were in trouble. They’d watched from the other doorway, the one Zovastina had avoided, as she and Viktor followed the water trail and entered the funerary chamber.

“How did you know Viktor was lying to us?” she whispered.

“Twelve years of dealing with random assets. That whole thing with you at the palace? Too easy. And something Stephanie told me. Viktor’s the one who fed them Vincenti. Why? Makes no sense. Except if Viktor was playing both sides.”

“I should have seen that.”

“How? You didn’t hear what Stephanie told me in Venice.”

They stood with bare shoulders scraping against oblique walls. They’d removed their pants and wrung the water from them so as not to leave any further trail. Once through the tomb’s other two rooms, filled with artifacts, they had quickly re-dressed and waited. The tomb consisted of only four interconnected rooms, none of which were large, two of which opened to the pool. Zovastina was most likely enjoying a moment of triumph. But the information about Stephanie, Ely, and Henrik had changed things. True or not, the possibility had grabbed his attention. Which was surely the idea.

He glanced out toward the pool. Light danced in the funerary room. He hoped the sight of Alexander the Great’s grave might buy them a few moments.

“You ready?” he asked Cassiopeia.

She nodded.

He led the way.

Viktor stepped from the other doorway.

STEPHANIE NOTICED THAT THE SICKENINGLY SWEET AROMA WAS not as strong in the back passages, but nonetheless lingered. At least they weren’t trapped any longer. Several turns had led them deeper into the house and she’d yet to see another open exit.

“I’ve seen how this concoction works,” Thorvaldsen said. “Once Greek fire ignites, these walls will burn quickly. We need to be out of here before that happens.”

She was aware of their dilemma, but their choices were limited. Lyndsey was still anxious, Ely amazingly calm. He had the countenance of an agent, not an academician, a coolness she admired considering their predicament. She wished she possessed more of his nerve.

“What do you mean by quickly ?” Lyndsey asked Thorvaldsen. “How fast will this place burn?”

“Fast enough that we’ll be trapped.”

“So what are we doing in here?”

“You want to go back to that storage closet?” she asked.

They turned another corner, the dark hall reminding her of a corridor in a train. The path ended just ahead at the base of a steep stairway, leading up.

No choice.

They climbed.

MALONE STEADIED HIMSELF.

“Going somewhere?” Viktor asked.

Cassiopeia stood behind him. He wondered about Zovastina’s location. Was the dancing light merely a ploy to draw them out?

“Thought we’d leave.”

“Can’t let you do that.”

“If you think you can stop me, you’re welcome to-”

Viktor lunged forward. Malone sidestepped the move, then locked his attacker in a bear hug.

They dropped to the floor and rolled.

Malone found himself on top. Viktor struggled beneath him. He clamped a hand onto the other man’s throat and sank his knee deep into Viktor’s chest. Quickly, with both hands, he yanked Viktor upward and slammed the back of his skull into the rocky floor.

CASSIOPEIA READIED HERSELF TO LEAP INTO THE POOL AS SOON AS Malone broke free. At the same instant Viktor’s body went limp beneath Malone, movement out of the corner of her eye drew her attention to the doorway where they’d been hiding.

“Malone,” she called out.

Zovastina rushed toward her.

Malone sprang off Viktor and found the water.

Cassiopeia dove in after him and swam hard for the tunnel.

STEPHANIE TOPPED THE STAIRS AND SAW THERE WAS A CHOICE OF routes. Left or right? She turned left. Ely headed right.

“Over here,” Ely called out.

They all rushed his way and saw an open doorway.

“Careful,” Thorvaldsen said. “Don’t let those things out there spray you. Avoid them.”

Ely nodded, then pointed at Lyndsey. “You and I are going after that flash drive.”

The scientist shook his head. “Not me.”

Stephanie agreed. “That’s not a good idea.”

“You’re not sick.”

“Those robots,” Thorvaldsen said, “are programmed to explode, and we don’t know when.”

“I don’t give a damn,” Ely said, his voice rising. “This man knows how to cure AIDS. His dead boss has known that for years, but let millions die. Zovastina has that cure now. I’m not going to let her manipulate it, too.” Ely grabbed Lyndsey by the shirt. “You and I are going to get that drive.”

“You’re nuts,” Lyndsey said. “Frickin’ nuts. Just go up to the green pool and drink the water. Vincenti said it worked that way. You don’t need me.”

Thorvaldsen watched the younger man closely. Stephanie realized that the Dane was perhaps seeing his own son standing before him, youth in all its glory, simultaneously defiant, brave, and foolish. Her own son, Mark, was the same way.

“Your butt,” Ely said, “is going with me into that lab.”

She realized something else. “Zovastina went after Cotton and Cassiopeia. She left us in this house for a reason. You heard her. She purposefully told us those machines would take a little time.”

“We’re insurance,” Thorvaldsen said.

“Bait. Probably for Cotton and Cassiopeia. But this guy,” she pointed at Lyndsey, “him, she wants. His babbling made sense. She doesn’t have time to be sure an antiagent works, or that he’s being truthful. Though she may not admit it, she needs him. She’ll be back for him before this place burns. You can count on it.”