The Secret of Excalibur

numbers on each box. ‘That one!’

Mitchell and Chase quickly removed the crate and placed it on the floor, using the pickaxe as an impromptu crowbar to prise it open. Inside were several objects wrapped in waxed paper.

‘It’s got to be this,’ said Chase, taking out the largest. He unwrapped it . . .

‘Wow,’ whispered Nina.

It was indeed the hilt of a sword, gemstones set into the steel, lines of gold and silver twined around them. But they weren’t what caught Nina’s eye: instead, she looked at the broken stub of the blade, sheared off some five inches below the ornate guard. Inscribed in the metal was a symbol.

A labyrinth. Just like the ones on the piece they had recovered from Syria.

She took the sword from Chase, holding it up to the light. ‘I think we have a match,’ she announced.

‘Awesome,’ said Mitchell. ‘Now we need to—’

The door was kicked open with a bang.

A rangy, hollow-cheeked man with hair shaved down to a black stubble stood outside, a pistol aimed into the room. Everyone froze. The man entered, momentary surprise at his surroundings quickly vanishing as he focused on his objective. He pointed at Nina. ‘You,’ he said, accent thickly Russian, ‘give me sword.’

Mitchell moved in front of her, hands raised. ‘Stay calm,’ he ordered. He took another step, passing Chase. The Russian regarded him suspiciously. ‘We already have the blade, and without it your boss will never find Excalibur.’ He added something in Russian.

The man replied in kind. Nina had no idea what he said, but he was certainly vehement about it. ‘Worth a try,’ Mitchell sighed, backing away. ‘Nina, give him the sword.’

‘You just want to hand it over?’ Chase said.

‘It’s that or get shot. Nina, go on.’

Hesitantly, Nina stepped forward. The Russian nodded: Come here. She advanced again. ‘You want the sword?’ she asked. ‘Catch!’

She tossed the hilt at his face.

He instinctively snapped up his own hands to catch it, the gun clanging against the ancient metal. But it only took a moment for him to recover, anger flaring as he brought the gun back down—

Whock!

The Russian abruptly spun through ninety degrees, wobbled, and slumped face first on to the black tiles. Chase looked down at him with satisfaction . . . then gave a startled ‘Ugh!’ and dropped his makeshift cosh - the largest of the dildos - as it occurred to him what he was holding and where it had probably been.

He picked up the unconscious man’s gun. ‘Bloody hell. I’ve done a lot of weird stuff in my life, but I never, ever thought I’d break a man’s jaw with a foot-long rubber cock.’

‘We need to get out of here and call the police,’ said Mitchell. He took out his phone. ‘Shit. No signal.’

‘We are in a cellar,’ Nina reminded him as she retrieved the sword hilt. She turned to Staumberg and Kurt. ‘They’re after us and the sword, not you. Is there anywhere down here you can hide?’ Staumberg nodded.

‘Go there and wait for the police,’ Chase told him. He checked the gun, a Steyr M9 - fifteen 9mm rounds, fully loaded - and moved to the door. Nobody else in the wine cellar, and no sounds of movement. ‘Nina, Jack, come on.’

They hurried back through the cellar. ‘How the hell did they find us?’ Nina asked. ‘They couldn’t have gone through Bernd’s notes this quickly!’

‘Guess they weren’t as hard to decipher as he thought,’ said Mitchell. ‘No point worrying about it now, though.’

Chase stopped at the door to check ahead. Still no one. The Englishman taking point, they headed for the stairs.

Halfway up, they heard a door slam. ‘Wait,’ Chase whispered, creeping upwards until he could see the main passageway on the upper cellar level. Nobody there, though he could hear activity off to one side. He warily peered round the corner and saw an open door, lights on beyond it and the bangs and rattles of somebody looking through cupboards. Presumably Rust’s notes hadn’t offered any specific suggestions about where the Nazi hoard might be hidden. ‘Okay, come on.’ Nina and Mitchell advanced as quietly as they could, Chase keeping the gun trained on the open door as they passed him and ascended the next flight of stairs.

‘What’s the plan?’ Nina asked as he followed them.

‘Get to the car and get out of the Schloss Adler here. Soon as we’re clear, we call the cops. We just need to stay ahead of them until we can get help.’

‘Maybe, but we still have to reach the SUV,’ said Mitchell as they reached the top of the stairs. Chase made sure the way was clear, then they ran to the double doors of the great hall.

He eased them open and looked through. He couldn’t see anyone in the hall, but his view of the balcony above was limited, and the main doors at the far end were open. There could be intruders in the courtyard.

Mitchell looked over his shoulder. ‘Is it clear?’

‘Have to chance it.’ He darted through the doors, whipping the gun from side to side. ‘Okay, come on.’

They ran down the hall towards the exit—

Someone shouted in Russian.

‘Shit!’ Chase yelped, whirling to bring up his gun. Another man was on the balcony to his left, a sinister little Czech ‘Skorpion’ machine pistol in his hand. Chase unleashed four rapid shots, splintering the wooden railing and forcing the Russian to dive to the floor. He shouted again, this time for help.

‘Get into cover!’ ordered Chase - but Mitchell had already done so, pulling Nina between the hanging tapestries and suits of armour into the area beneath the damaged balcony, the spiral staircase at its rear. Chase quickly backed across to the opposite side of the hall, gun at the ready. The moment his opponent showed his head, he was going to lose a chunk of it . . .

More shouts, but now from the far end of the hall. Three people ran in through the front doors.

All armed.

‘Oh, fuck!’ Chase gasped, hurling himself behind one of the thick oak pillars supporting the balcony as a spray of sub-machine gun bullets ripped into it.

13

‘Shit! What do we do?’ Nina cried, looking across at Chase. He was in the cover of the pillar, but it would only take a few seconds for the new arrivals to reach a position where they could either shoot directly at him, or force him into the line of fire of the man above them.

‘There’s nothing we can do!’ Mitchell told her. He pulled her towards the metal spiral staircase. ‘Come on!’

Chase saw them move. On the stairs, they’d be visible to the bad guys at the other end of the hall, easy targets as they climbed . . .

He leaned round the ravaged pillar and let off three shots, as much to distract as to kill. As he’d hoped, the Russians ran for cover.

The Skorpion’s high-pitched clatter echoed from the balcony, another burst of bullets tearing chunks out of the oak. Chase shielded his face as splinters flew around him. He had to find better cover.

Nina scrambled up the stairs, Mitchell right behind her. She looked down the hall as Chase fired another two shots. ‘Jesus! It’s her!’ One of the trio running towards the stone staircase at the end of the balcony opposite was the female sniper she’d seen in Bournemouth, her hair now dyed a vivid red.

‘Dominika Romanova,’ said Mitchell.

‘She killed Bernd—’

‘I know. Keep going!’

Chase blasted two more suppressive shots up at the balcony. Metal clanged as one hit a suit of armour. The Skorpion stopped firing as the Russian ducked again.

Move—

He sprinted for the pair of broader wooden columns supporting the corner of the balcony at the hall’s rear. More bullets flew after him, setting the tapestries flapping and causing one of the suits of armour to crash in pieces to the floor. He dived, rolling behind the rectangular base of the two pillars. From here he was shielded from the