Steve Berry - The Alexandria Link

“George, what are you doing?” he called out.

“Finishing what I started.”

Haddad stepped toward McCollum.

“Trust what you know, Cotton. She won’t let you down.”

And his friend kept walking.

SABRE WATCHED THE LIBRARIAN MARCH TOWARD HIM. THIS man was George Haddad? All of what happened had been planned? He’d been led?

What had the old man called it? A trap ? Hardly.

So he fired one shot.

To the Librarian’s head.

MALONE SCREAMED “NO” AS THE BULLET PLOWED INTO GEORGE Haddad. He had so many questions he wanted to ask him, so much he hadn’t understood. How had the Palestinian found his way from the West Bank, to London, to here? What was happening? What was it Haddad knew that was worth all this?

Anger surged through him and he clicked off two shots McCollum’s way, but they only damaged the far wall.

Haddad lay motionless, a lake of blood forming around his head.

“The old man had guts,” McCollum called out. “I was going to kill him anyway. Maybe he knew that?”

“You’re dead” was all Malone said in response.

A chuckle from the other side of the hall. “Like you said about yourself. You might find that hard to accomplish.”

He knew he had to end this. The Guardians were counting on him. Haddad had been counting on him.

Then he saw Pam.

Inside the doorway leading out. Just in the shadows, the angle making her invisible to McCollum.

She held a gun.

Trust what you know.

Haddad’s last words.

He and Pam had spent most of their lives together, the past five hating each other. But she was a part of him, and he of her, and they always would be linked. If not by Gary, then by something neither one of them could explain. Not necessarily love, but a bond. He wouldn’t allow anything to happen to her and he had to trust that she wouldn’t to him.

She won’t let you down.

He popped the magazine from his gun, then aimed toward McCollum and pulled the trigger. The bullet already in the chamber thudded into one of the tabletops.

Then a click. And another.

One more to make the point.

“End of the line, Malone,” McCollum said.

He stood, hoping his adversary would want to savor the kill. If McCollum chose to fire from his concealed position, he and Pam were both dead. But he knew his enemy. McCollum stood, gun pointed, and advanced from behind the table, weaving a path close to where Malone stood. Now his back was to the doorway. Not even his peripheral vision would help.

He needed to stall. “Your name Sabre?”

“The name I use over here. My real name is McCollum.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Kill everyone here and keep this all to myself. Real simple.”

“You don’t have a clue as to what’s here. What are you going to do with it?”

“I’ll get people who know. My bet is there’s plenty. Just the Old Testament thing is enough to make my mark on the world.”

Pam had not moved. She’d certainly heard the clicks and knew that he was at McCollum’s mercy. He imagined her fear. Over the past few days she’d seen people die. Now the terror of her killing another person must be surging through her. He’d felt that uncertainty himself. Pulling the trigger was never easy. The act came with consequences, the fear of which could absolutely paralyze. He only hoped her instincts would win out over her terror.

McCollum raised his gun. “Say hello to Haddad for me.”

Pam rushed from the archway and her footsteps momentarily distracted McCollum. His head jerked right and he apparently caught sight of movement in the corner of his eye. Malone used that instant to kick the gun from McCollum’s hand. He then jammed a fist into the other man’s face, sending McCollum staggering back. He lunged to pound the bastard, but McCollum recovered and propelled himself forward. Together they slammed onto one of the tables and rolled off the other side. He brought a knee into the stomach and heard the breath leave his opponent.

He stood and grabbed McCollum off the floor, expecting him to be winded. Instead, McCollum rammed his fists into Malone’s chest and face.

The room winked in and out and he shook the pain from his brain.

He whirled and saw a knife in McCollum’s hand.

The same knife from Lisbon.

He readied himself.

But never got the chance to do anything.

One shot.

McCollum acted surprised. Then blood flowed from a hole in his right side. Another shot and his arms went into the air and he staggered backward. A third, then a fourth, and the body tilted forward, the eyes rolled skyward, blood spurted from his mouth with each exhale, then he thudded face-first to the floor.

Malone turned.

Pam lowered the gun.

“About time,” he said.

But she said nothing, her eyes wide at what she’d done. He stepped close and lowered her arm. She stared at him with a blank expression.

Figures emerged from the shadows of the doorway.

Nine men and women quietly approached.

Adam and Straw Hat were among the group. Eve was crying as she knelt beside Haddad’s body.

The others knelt with her.

Pam stood still and watched.

So did he.

Finally he had to interrupt their mourning. “I assume you have communications equipment?”

Adam stared up at him and nodded.

“I need to use it.”

VIENNA

THORVALDSEN WAS BACK IN THE LIBRARY WITH GARY-BUT this time Hermann and the vice president knew he was there. They were alone with the door closed, the security men just outside.

“They were here last night,” the vice president said, clearly agitated. “Had to be there somewhere.” He motioned to the upper shelves. “Damn place is like a concert hall. He called the attorney general and told him everything.”

“Is that a problem?” Hermann asked.

“Thank God, no. Brent will be my vice president once all this happens. He’s been handling things in Washington while I’m gone. So at least it’s controlled on that end.”

“This one,” Hermann said, pointing at Thorvaldsen, “took my daughter yesterday. He did that before he heard anything last night.”

The vice president grew even more agitated. “Which begs a whole host of questions. Alfred, I didn’t question what you were doing here. You wanted the Alexandria Link, and you got it. I was the one who managed that. I don’t know what you did with that information and I don’t want to know, but it’s obviously become a problem.”

Hermann was rubbing the side of his head. “Henrik, you will pay dearly for striking me. No man has ever done that.”

Thorvaldsen was not impressed. “Maybe it was about time.”

“And you, young man.”

A knot clenched in Thorvaldsen’s throat. He hadn’t planned to place Gary in jeopardy.

“Alfred,” the vice president said, “everything is in motion. You’re going to have to handle this situation.”

Sweat beaded on Thorvaldsen’s brow as he realized what those words meant.

“These two will never breathe a word of what they know.”

“You’d kill the boy?” Thorvaldsen asked.

“You’d kill my daughter? So what? Yes, I’d kill the boy.” Hermann’s nostrils flared and his eyes bristled with the rage that clearly coursed through him.

“Not accustomed to this, are you, Alfred?”

“Taunting me will accomplish nothing.”

But it would buy Thorvaldsen time, and that was about the only play he knew. He turned to the vice president. “Brent Green was a good man. What happened to him?”

“I’m not his priest, so I don’t know. I assume he saw the benefits of taking my job. America needs strong leadership, people in power who aren’t afraid to use it. Brent’s that way. I’m that way.”