Rise of the Order (3 page)

“No. I saw him with the woman and called him on the phone. He never mentioned her.”

“Maybe she was just a friend,” he assured her.

“What's he doing here now?” Toni asked brusquely, changing the subject.

Kurt thought for a while, his eyes concentrating on the paramedics finally shoving the first body into the back of the ambulance. Did Jake even know that Toni was now the new Agency station chief in Vienna? He doubted Jake knew. She was right. How could he know? When the new Agency was first formed, combining the old CIA, FBI, NSA, DEA, ATF, and all of the various military intelligence agencies, Jake had already gone private. Although he had been called back into service as recently as a year ago in China, Kurt was sure that Jake's most significant contact with the new Agency was Toni Contardo.

“It's not like the Agency took out a press release and said you were in charge here now,” Kurt said.

“That's not my point,” she said. “I need to know why Jake is involved with someone we happen to be looking into. That's all.”

“We would have known more if the phone tap had been in place,” Kurt reminded her. Although they had just started their investigation of Grand Master Gustav Albrecht, it had become clear that they should move to a more intrusive investigation. Especially following the murder of the priest in Bratislava.

“I know,” she said. “You were right. We would have known about this meeting.” She paused for a moment. “You think Jake is working for Albrecht?”

“In what capacity?”

“That's what we need to find out. Take care of the car and meet me back here.”

“What about Albrecht?”

“GPS has his car near Schonbrunn Palace. Stopped for the past fifteen minutes.”

“We gonna talk with Albrecht tonight?”

“No. Yeah, we better. Someone's out to kill him. We need to know why. Know if he's tied up with this whole thing. Or if he's just a target.”

“In the meantime,” Kurt said. “Jake can baby-sit the guy.”

“Well, it looks like that might be what he was hired to do. See you in thirty?”

“Right. I'll do the car and head right over.”

●

Two blocks farther down the road, adjacent to the Donau Canal, the woman sat behind the wheel of the black Audi Quattro, her eyes stuck to the Zeiss binoculars, focusing on the man who had just gotten out of the Audi A6 and walked to the VW Golf.

Her phone shook in her pocket and she quickly flipped it open, her gaze still on the man making his way up the sidewalk.

“Ja?” She listened carefully. “Are you sure?”

According to her contact, the man was an American who worked for a communications company in Vienna. Interesting. Then what was he doing checking into a crime scene? She thanked her contact and shoved the phone back into her pocket.

Down the street, the man looked up and down the avenue before pretending to slip on the ice and then swiftly sticking something under the back bumper. Then the man got up, brushed off his khaki pants, and walked back to his car.

Nice move, she thought.

Once the Audi pulled away, the woman cast her gaze through the binoculars on the unmarked green Polizei Mercedes outside the front of the Donau Bar. She figured Franz Martini would get the call. Maybe that was a good thing.

“Super,” she said softly aloud.

The best way to hide someone was to do something completely out of the ordinary for that person. For instance, Jake wouldn't hide a monk in a monastery any more than he'd hide this respectable priest in one of Vienna's many churches. Instead, he burned much of a tank of gas driving around the city's inner ring. Then Jake had found an all-night sex club with a two-drink minimum, and the two of them had nursed their beers in a dark corner for a couple of hours.

Satisfied they had burned enough clock, Jake had driven to the eastern train station, parked Albrecht's Mercedes three blocks away in a ramp, and, the Grand Master in tow, had purchased two tickets on the night train to Bratislava, in the Slovak Republic. It was a local train that followed the Danube River and would be in the Slovak capital in about two hours. That had given Jake time to pump Albrecht for information. The man had no clue why someone had tried to kill him. He only knew that his Order was under attack. The priest in Bratislava had warned him just hours before the man was found murdered, his body battered with a wooden object.

Now the train was some thirty minutes or less from reaching Bratislava, the darkness outside nearly complete, with the exception of an occasional barge moving up or down the river, its running lights the only indication anything was there on that cold water. In the past, Jake knew, they would have had to stop at the border. But after the fall of the Iron Curtain, Europe was a free travel zone. Sure the border guards into the Slovak Republic would still take a cursory glance at passports, but that was the extent of inconvenience, especially with its tenuous inclusion into the European Union.

The changes Jake saw coming to Europe, although geared toward free trade and freedom of travel, seemed to be stripping away the identity of each country—not only with the switch to the Euro. Maybe Jake's identity was changing also. For years he had known who he was—a man who saw injustice and did every damn thing within him to make things right. But now the differences between right and wrong was becoming as blurred as the national borders. He looked at his reflection in the train window and wasn't sure who was staring back at him.

Albrecht slept now to the left of Jake, the man's head planted against the window rocking gently with the train's sway. The man looked vulnerable, Jake thought. He was obviously out of his element.

Jake nudged Albrecht. “Hey. We're almost there.”

Albrecht's eyes shot open, as if he was reliving the shoot-out at the Donau Bar. “What?”

“We're almost to Bratislava,” Jake said.

The Grand Master sat up straighter and rubbed his hands across his face and through his hair. Part of Jake wanted to simply drop the guy off somewhere—a gasthaus perhaps in some tiny village—and pick the guy up in a few days. Once Jake had a chance to figure out who had it in for Albrecht. But he thought, for now, it would be better to keep the guy close to him. At least Jake would provide some protection. It would also put Jake's life at risk, but he was used to that. Didn't like it. But he was familiar with the prospect at least.

A short while later they reached the main Bratislava train station, and walked five blocks to St. Michael's Cathedral. Albrecht knew the parish priest there and guessed he might have information about the Order priest who had been killed. The two priests had been ordained at the same time almost thirty years ago.

The cathedral had been built in the fifteenth century. It was cold and dank with a constant breeze that seemed to tickle the hairs on the back of Jake's neck. He had put his leather holster over his sweater inside his wind breaker, so at least he could draw his 9mm without catching the barrel sight on his pants pocket. He unzipped his coat open and felt the comfort of his gun with his left arm.

Something wasn't right. Jake was sure of it. He watched Albrecht, a few steps ahead of him down the main aisle, pause at the front row of pews, kneel, and then cross himself, just as he had when he first entered the church. Jake rushed forward and grabbed Albrecht by the shoulder. Then, a finger to his mouth, Jake drew his gun and quietly clicked the hammer back, his CZ-75 leading the way to the right of the altar toward a back room, where a dim sliver of light pointed out to them.

Jake could feel the breeze stronger on his face. They reached the edge of the door, which was wide open, the wind sucking through like that of a mountain tunnel.

Sniffing the air, Jake could smell it now. The iron of blood. Feces and urine, a natural response to death.

Albrecht bumped into Jake. “What's the matter?” he whispered.

“Shhh.”

With one swift motion, Jake rushed into the room, his gun shifting from left to right and then pointing down at the stone floor. Laying face down in a puddle of blood was a priest in a black robe.

“My God,” Albrecht mumbled from the door, his hand on his mouth.

Jake turned for a moment and then hurried to the head of the priest, but he already knew the man was dead. The blood was too dry for life. He checked for a pulse. The priest was still warm but dead.

The killer could still be there, Jake thought. He reached into his pockets and pulled out a pair of leather gloves. He shoved them on as he rose to his feet. “Is that your friend?” Jake asked Albrecht.

The Grand Master was frozen in time, his eyes wide with horror.

“Is this the priest you know?” Jake said abruptly.

Albrecht nodded.

“Let's go. We've gotta get out of here.”

“We can't leave him like this,” Albrecht pleaded.

“We have no choice,” Jake said, his hand on Albrecht's arm. “We'll call it in to the police once we get outside.”

Finally, Albrecht nodded approval and the two of them hurried toward the front door. Half way down the side aisle, the Gothic pillars to one side, the front door burst open and men starting moving down the main aisle, guns drawn.

Jake stopped. They couldn't talk their way out of this. Nor could Jake explain his gun. Jake pulled on Albrecht to reverse course. The two of them quietly made their way in the shadows toward the back of the cathedral. They passed the room with the dead priest and continued through the darkness.

Now Albrecht pulled on Jake to follow. He had to know another way out. Moments later Albrecht shoved through a large wooden door and they pushed out onto a back stoop.

A light clicked on. A flashlight. Then a man screamed in what Jake knew must have been Slovak, but he didn't speak the language.

Two men with guns. Standing in front of a Skoda police car.

Albrecht said something to the men as he moved toward the two cops. They clicked the hammers of their guns. The man on the left yelled at them again.

Albrecht stopped. They were now just feet away from the two Slovak police.

“What'd you say to them?” Jake asked.

“I said I am a priest,” Albrecht said.

“And?”

“Basically? He said bullshit.”

One cop said something to the other one and the cop put his gun away and pulled his cuffs from his belt.

Damn it, Jake thought. He couldn't allow this. They'll be stuck in jail for months trying to answer questions. Slowly, Jake moved forward and turned his hands behind his back, as if allowing the man to cuff him.

As the cop reached down to Jake's arm, Jake spun to his right, grasped the cop's right hand, pulled his arm toward Jake, and simultaneously chopped the man in the throat with his left hand. Then he kicked the man in the face, dropping him instantly. Swiveling to his left, Jake's roundhouse kick hit the wrist of the second cop, sending his gun flying into the air. Now Jake snapped the cop's knee, stepped in closer and elbowed the man in the jaw, crumpling him down to the cobblestones. The sailing gun finally stopped clanking across the alley.

“Let's go,” Jake said, sliding into the driver's seat.

Without thinking, Albrecht ran to the passenger side and got in.

Slowly Jake. Take it nice and easy.

He drove down the alley and hoped like hell these guys were as clueless as the last two and didn't think about closing off the alleys on all sides. Jake was right. Dumb fucks.

He cruised out to a side street, glanced down to his left at two police cars closing off the road in front of the cathedral, and turned right. He would have to dump the car in a hurry. If the Bratislava cops had any clue at all, the car would have a GPS tracker. He doubted they did, but he didn't want to take a chance.

Jake drove toward the Danube River in an industrial part of the city.

Suddenly, a frantic voice came across the radio, followed by an equally distressed response.

“What was that?” Jake asked.

“Not good. They're looking for us.”

Checking the rearview mirror, Jake saw two cars round the corner a few blocks back. More words on the radio.

“Shit,” Jake yelled. He shoved down on the gas and the car revved forward until he smashed it into fourth gear. They were now on a four-lane divided street that dissected the old town from the new town.

Blue and red lights came on the cop cars behind them as they closed on Jake. He glanced at the dash and found the toggles for the lights and siren, switching both on.

“What are you doing?” Albrecht demanded desperately.

“Hang on,” Jake yelled as he cranked the wheel, downshifted, and then exited onto a street that headed back toward the old downtown, the tires squealing and the front end shaking with his drastic maneuver.

Albrecht gasped, his right hand grasping a handle above the window and his left holding onto the seatbelt.

Jake slammed the stick back to fourth and the car responded instantly. A sign indicated the Austrian border was just across the river, but Jake hit the brakes hard before entering the bridge, the back end sliding to the left. He ground the stick into second and hit the gas, the tires spinning and then digging into the cobbled street.

Looking into the mirror, Jake saw that one cop car had turned sideways and the second had t-boned the first. But they were both still operating and taking up the chase.

“Switch through the frequencies,” Jake said to Albrecht.

The Grand Master was in shock, his face white and his eyes wide.

“I said, check the damn frequencies,” Jake yelled. “They must have switched off their normal channel.”

Finally, Albrecht did as he was told. He moved the dial until they heard voices.

“What are they saying?”

“They're trying to corner us and set up a road block. My god.”

“What?”

“They've blocked the border.”

“I guessed they'd do that.” Jake turned down a narrow street and hoped like hell it wasn't a dead end. Cars were parked on both sides, so Jake guessed it was a downtown residential area. Looking back, he saw just one car. Damn it. One must have turned down the parallel street, he thought.