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Warren Murphy: The Empire Dreams

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The Empire Dreams: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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A Thousand Year Nightmare A vacationing Harold Smith finds himself in the middle of a war zone when World War II planes bomb London and Nazi-attired skinheads goosestep through the streets. To complete the weird  déjà vu, the guy responsible is a raging Nazi, part of a secret brotherhood with a high-tech agenda for recapturing the dream of a certain evil visionary. But this rogue Nazi devised a new blueprint for world domination that sets him on a path of violence in pursuit of the glorious dream. Just in time. Now Remo has a little something to keep his mind off all the troubles in the world: saving it.

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The young Master of Sinanju was running down the road after him.

He glanced in the mirror on the far side of the cab. The old one was reflected there. And he was coming closer.

Impossible!

Schatz pushed harder against the accelerator. It was already to the floor.

He glanced in the side-view mirror once more. Remo was almost upon him.

Schatz glanced frantically around the cab for a weapon to use against them. All he saw was his beloved walking stick.

The driver's-side door suddenly popped open. Schatz noted it dully.

A second later, the passenger's-side door opened. The Master of Sinanju slid into the front seat. He didn't even look in Schatz's direction.

Schatz felt Remo's strong hand on his shoulder. They passed one another at the door frame. Somehow, in the wink of an eye, Remo was seated behind the steering wheel and Nils Schatz was hanging by Remo's left hand out over the flashing roadway. "Thanks for keeping my seat warm."

With a flick of his wrist, Remo flung the new fuhrer backward.

Schatz sailed through the air, landing on the seat of his pants in the middle of the road. Remarkably he was not killed. Friction burned the flesh of his backside painfully away as he slid in a seated position all the way back to the stack of ancient ordnance.

Smoke poured from his trousers as he landed with the gentlest of touches against the explosives.

Schatz looked up at the digital counter. Ten seconds left.

As he reached for the timer, he glanced back in the direction from which he had just come. The truck continued speeding away.

He saw a hand appear from the driver's-side window, throwing something back in his direction. Whatever the object was, it was long and dark. It flew at him slowly, end over end. Moving almost hypnotically.

Five seconds.

His hand froze over the timer as he realized what it was Remo had thrown. In the cheerful glow of the floodlights, he could see the bronze tip of his cane.

Two seconds. Still time to stop the countdown. The slowness was an optical illusion. The cane flew in at supersonic speed. The metal end of the walking stick impacted with the shell casing of an old artillery shell.

The collision sparked the combustible material within.

Fire swelled from a single spot, bursting out around the screaming, bitter old Nazi.

"Noooo... !" Nils Schatz shrieked as the pile of old ordnance erupted in a massive conflagration that shook the ground for miles around.

And as the fire consumed him, another, greater fire welled up around the self-proclaimed fuhrer. To Schatz, it felt as if the very earth had opened up and the flames into which he slipped and which took firm hold of him burned unquenchably for a thousand years. And beyond.

REMO SLOWED the truck to a stop. He and Chiun looked back on the flames burning at the base of the Eiffel Tower. A gift shop had caught fire, as well as several trees. However, the tower itself had weathered the blast remarkably. It remained fully intact.

"They just don't build eyesores like that anymore, Little Father," Remo commented.

Putting the battered truck in gear, they drove back through the silent streets to the presidential palace.

Chapter 32

For several blocks before the Palais de l'Elysee they had begun encountering French troops. At more than one stop along the Metro line, demineurs in protective gear were hauling ancient ordnance up from the subway system.

"I smell Smitty's hand in this," Remo said.

At the palace itself they encountered little resistance. Remo and Chiun made their way into the small auditorium where they had left Smith. Everyone but Smith was gone.

The CURE director lay unconscious on the floor. Remo and Chiun hurried over to him. After a moment of Chiun's ministrations, Smith came around. "Stop him, Remo," Smith said weakly.

"Stop who, Smitty?" Remo asked gently.

"That man who claimed to be a British agent. After I faxed the pertinent details of the planted bombs to the French authorities, he knocked me out." With Remo's help, Smith climbed uncertainly to his feet. "It is as I feared," he said, inspecting the computer.

The monitor had been pushed to the floor and was smashed. The chassis of the drive system had been pried open. Parts had been wrenched from inside.

"He has taken the hard drive," Smith said, looking into the guts of the system. "Anything we might have recovered from it is lost."

"Did I not mention that he was a Hun?" Chiun sniffed in an I-told-you-so tone.

"That information would have been invaluable to us," Smith said. "With it, I would have been able to track down this elusive IV organization."

Remo shook his head. "Whoever he was, he's long gone now," he said. "We'll have to get them another way. I think your big concern right now is your wife."

"Maude," Smith gasped. He had forgotten all about her.

"That was her name, last I heard," Remo said. Smith glanced around, suddenly realizing the significance of where they were. "Remo, you must get me out of here. I cannot be discovered in the presidential palace of France. There would be too many questions to answer."

"Okay, Smitty, on one condition."

"What?" Smith asked warily.

"Before you finish your vacation, could you pick me and Chiun up a snow globe of the Eiffel Tower?"

"One each," Chiun said quickly.

"One each," Remo agreed with a nod.

"I will see what I can do," Smith said. Smiling, Remo escorted Smith from the palace. For the first time in days, he felt good.

EPILOGUE

Adolf Kluge glanced furtively around the airport terminal in Antwerp, Belgium.

He didn't think he had been followed. Although, he realized bitterly, the men who would be following him would be invisible to him until it was too late.

He had destroyed the hard drive with its crucial IV financial information before leaving France. That would buy him some time. If not for the arrival of French officials on the scene, he would have finished off the man known as Smith.

As it was, Smith was old. It was possible that he would die as a result of the vicious blow Kluge had given him.

He hoped this was so.

Kluge was traveling now under an assumed name. His flight would take him to Spain and then on to Venezuela in South America. From there he would take a short flight to Argentina.

He hoped the men from Sinanju weren't waiting for him when he arrived. Thanks to Schatz, he had much to do in preparation for their inevitable visit.

A voice in French called out his flight on the public-address system.

He still saw no sign of either Remo or Chiun. They were not following him. Now.

Hurrying, Adolf Kluge made his way to the departure gate.

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