Steve Berry - The Venetian Betrayal

Ely stood. “I made a bad mistake trusting Zovastina. But she was so enthusiastic. She seemed to really appreciate the past.”

“She does. For what she can learn from it.”

Ely motioned to his clothes. “I have that stuff all over me.”

“Been there. Done that.”

“Zovastina’s a lunatic. A murderer.”

He agreed. “Since we have what we came for, how about you and I not become one of her victims?” He paused. “Besides, Cassiopeia will have my ass if anything happens to you.”

ZOVASTINA BOARDED THE CHOPPER. LYNDSEY WAS ALREADY strapped into the compartment, handcuffed to the bulkhead.

“Minister, I won’t be a problem. I swear. I’ll do whatever you need. I assure you. It’s not necessary to confine me. Please, Minister-”

“If you don’t shut up,” she calmly said. “I’ll have you shot right now.”

The scientist seemed to sense that silence would be better and hushed.

“Don’t open your mouth again.”

She inspected the spacious compartment, which usually accommodated a dozen armed men. Vincenti’s computers and the two spare robots were lashed tight. Cassiopeia Vitt lay still on the ground and the prisoners were being guarded by the four soldiers.

Viktor stood outside the compartment.

“You’ve done well,” she said to him. “Once I’m gone, detonate the house and kill all of these people. I’m trusting you to keep this location secure. I’ll dispatch additional men when I return to Samarkand. This is now a Federation site.”

She stared toward the mansion, its top floors fully ablaze. Soon, it would be nothing but rubble. She already envisioned the Asian palace she’d construct here. Whether Alexander’s tomb would be revealed to the world remained to be seen. She needed to consider all the possibilities, and since she alone controlled its location, that decision would be hers.

She faced Viktor, stared hard into his eyes, and said, “Thank you, my friend.” She saw the momentary shock on his face as her words of appreciation registered. “No, I don’t ever say it. I expect you to do your job. But, here, you did exceptionally well.”

She took one last look at Cassiopeia Vitt, Stephanie Nelle, and Henrik Thorvaldsen. Problems that would soon be a thing of the past. Cotton Malone and Ely Lund were still in the house. If not already dead, they would be in a few minutes.

“I’ll see you at the palace,” she said to Viktor, as the compartment door slid shut.

VIKTOR LISTENED AS THE TURBINE FIRED AND THE CHOPPER blades twirled. The engine revved to full power. Dust swirled from the dry earth and the helicopter rose into the late-afternoon sky.

He quickly moved toward his men and ordered two of them to head for the estate’s main gate and control ingress. He told the final two to keep watch over Nelle and Thorvaldsen.

He stepped over to Cassiopeia. Vitt’s face was bruised, her nose bloodied. Sweat streamed down leaving furrows of grime.

Her eyes flashed opened and she clamped hard onto his arm.

“Come to finish?” she asked.

His left hand held a pistol, his right hand the controller for the turtles. He calmly laid the signaling device on the ground beside her. “That’s exactly what I came to do.”

The helicopter with Zovastina leveled off overhead and headed east, back toward the house and the valley beyond.

“While you fought her,” he told Vitt, “I activated the turtles inside the chopper. They’re now programmed to detonate when the ones inside the house are told to explode.” He motioned. “That controller will make that happen.”

She scooped it from the ground.

But he quickly brought his gun to her head. “Careful.”

CASSIOPEIA GLARED AT VIKTOR, HER FINGER ON THE CONTROLLER button. Could she push it before he shot her? Perhaps he was wondering the same thing?

“You need to choose,” he said. “Your Ely and Malone may still be in the house. Killing Zovastina could also kill them.”

She had to trust that Malone had the situation in hand. But she also realized something else. “How could anyone possibly know when to trust you? You’ve played every side.”

“My job was to end this. That’s what we’re about to do.”

“Killing Zovastina might not be the answer.”

“It’s the only answer. She won’t stop otherwise.”

She considered his statement. He was right.

“I was going to do it myself,” he said. “But I thought you’d like the honor.”

“The gun in my face for show?” she quietly asked.

“The guards can’t see your hand.”

“How do I know, when I do this, you won’t shoot me in the face.”

He answered her honestly. “You don’t.”

The chopper was beyond the house, out over the grassy meadow, maybe a thousand feet high.

“If you wait any longer,” he said. “The signal will not reach.”

She shrugged. “Never thought I’d make old age anyway.”

And she pressed the button.

STEPHANIE WATCHED FROM THIRTY FEET AWAY AS VIKTOR AIMED his gun at Cassiopeia. She’d seen him lay something on the ground, but Cassiopeia faced away and it was impossible to know what was happening.

The helicopter became a flying fireball.

No explosion. Just brilliant light erupting from all sides, like a supernova, its volatile fuel quickly joining the mélange in a destruction that thundered across the valley. Flaming chunks of debris propelled outward, then rained down in a fiery cascade. At the same instant, windows on the mansion’s ground floor shattered outward, the frames filled with a raging blaze.

Cassiopeia rose, with Viktor’s aid.

“Seems he is a help,” Thorvaldsen said, noticing, too.

Viktor pointed at the two guards and barked out orders in what she thought was Russian.

The men dashed away.

Cassiopeia fled toward the house.

They followed.

MALONE TOPPED THE STAIRS BEHIND ELY AND REENTERED THE library. Thumps echoed from somewhere inside the house and he immediately noticed a change in temperature.

“Those things have been activated.”

Outside the library door fire sprang to life. More thumps. Closer. Plenty of heat. Building. He bolted to the door and glanced both ways. The corridor at each end was impassable, flames were consuming the floor and headed his way. He recalled what Ely had said. I have that stuff all over me. He turned and studied the towering windows. Maybe ten feet by eight feet. Beyond, in the valley, he noticed something burning in the distance. There would only be a few more seconds before the fire arrived.

“Give me a hand.”

He saw Ely stuff the flash drive into his pocket and grab one end of a small settee. Malone grasped the other. Together they tossed it through the windows. Glass shattered as the sofa propelled outward, clearing a path, but too many shards remained for them to leap through.

“Use the chairs,” he yelled.

Fire wrapped itself inside the doorway and started its assault of the library walls. Books and shelves erupted. Malone gripped a chair and rammed it through what remained of the window. Ely used another chair to scrape away jagged remnants.

The floor started to burn.

Everything basted with Greek fire quickly identified itself.