The Secret Crown

From his jacket pocket, the goon pulled a two-way radio and called Krueger, who was still making his way up the slope.

‘Come in,’ the goon whispered in German.

A few seconds passed before Krueger replied. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I found something big.’

‘What is it?’

‘Some kind of building.’

Krueger paused. ‘Did you say building?’

The goon nodded. ‘It’s underground, like a cave or something.’

‘You mean a bunker?’

‘Yeah! A bunker. A very old bunker.’

‘How old?’ Krueger demanded.

‘I don’t know. I haven’t gone in yet.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because it’s a bunker. I’m not going down there without backup. I shot some guy and he fell inside. I have no idea if he’s dead or alive.’

‘Give me the coordinates. I’ll be there soon.’

Payne couldn’t speak German, so he had no idea what had been discussed during the brief radio conversation. However, based on the goon’s reaction when he peered into the bunker, Payne could tell that he hadn’t been there before and wasn’t one of Kaiser’s men.

That meant he needed to die.

From his current distance, Payne figured he had a 99 per cent chance of a killshot with his Sig Sauer. The problem was the noise it would make. Sometimes noise was a good thing. It could lure the enemy to a particular spot where they could be eliminated by an explosive or a well-placed sniper. Originally, that had been the plan he had discussed with Jones. Lure the enemy to the cul-de-sac, and then mow them down.

Unfortunately, a major part of the equation was missing. He needed Kaiser’s radio to coordinate the attack.

Without it, Payne couldn’t risk attracting any attention to the area – especially one where he would be pinned against a cliff with no way to escape. Furthermore, if Kaiser was hiding in the nearby woods, there was a decent chance the advancing troops might spot him during their charge towards the bunker, and if that happened, Payne probably couldn’t save him.

For the time being, the noise wasn’t worth the risk.

Thankfully, Payne knew many ways to kill quietly.

The goon leaned forward, hoping to see the man he had shot in the back, wondering if he was dead or if he would require another blast from the Remington. Just to be safe, he raised the tip of his rifle and pointed it in the hole, looking forward to pulling his trigger one more time.

A few seconds later, the goon was a goner.

Moving with incredible stealth, Payne sprinted across the clearing and grabbed the goon by the neck before he knew someone was behind him. Without hesitation or remorse, Payne twisted the goon’s head so hard and at such an awkward angle that the vertebrae in his neck popped like corn in a microwave. Instantly, he became dead weight in Payne’s arms.

But just to be sure, Payne twisted his head the other way – even harder.

Not wanting to leave the body in plain sight, Payne inched forward and was ready to dump it down the hole when he noticed a battered figure on the concrete floor beneath him. At first glance, he couldn’t tell who was unconscious in the shadows of the bunker, but once his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Payne gasped in horror.

The bloodied man was Kaiser.

32

After using a tree to lower himself to the access trail, Jones glanced into the cul-de-sac below and spotted a hulking shadow gliding across the clearing towards an unsuspecting target. Jones had been on enough missions with Payne to recognize his stride and his tactics, and knew the man near the hole would soon be dead.

A broken neck later, Jones was right.

Strangely, during the ten seconds of action, the sniper didn’t take a shot even though he had more than enough time to shoot the man by the bunker. In Jones’s mind, that meant one of three things: Kaiser’s sniper was working with the enemy, he had been killed and replaced, or he was a reluctant shooter. Jones hoped for number three, but prepared for one and two by raising his weapon and picking up his pace along the narrow path.

The bird’s nest was up ahead, and Jones could see the sniper. He was lying on his stomach, perfectly still, just as a sniper should be. Leaves and branches provided adequate cover, especially for an unwary intruder, but to an experienced soldier like Jones, who used to hunt snipers for a living, the shooter stood out like a neon sign.

Looking through his scope, the sniper eyed his target in the crosshairs. Someone as big as Payne would be tough to miss with a DSR-1, a bolt-action sniper rifle that was used by the GSG 9, the elite counter-terrorism unit of the German Federal Police. Loaded with a five-round magazine of .308 Winchester cartridges, the expected accuracy of the DSR-1 was within .20 inches from a distance of a hundred yards.

‘Don’t even think about,’ Jones growled as he aimed at the sniper, who was ten feet away. ‘Let go of your rifle and put your hands behind your head.’

Not wanting to die, the sniper cursed to himself and did as he was told. The instant he released the DSR-1, which was supported by a bipod for maximum stability, the barrel tilted skyward. For the time being, it was no longer a threat to Payne or anyone else.

‘Now slowly turn on your side and look at me.’

Once again, the sniper followed orders. Only this time, his reaction was much different. As soon as he saw Jones, recognition flashed across his face, and he breathed a huge sigh of relief. ‘Thank God!’

Jones stared at him. ‘For what?’

‘For you,’ he said in perfect English. ‘You’re one of Kaiser’s friends.’

‘You know me?’

The sniper nodded. ‘You flew in yesterday. You and the big guy.’

‘What big guy?’ Jones asked him, still trying to decide with whom the sniper was working.

He tilted his head to the right. ‘The guy down there.’

‘The one you were about to shoot?’

‘What? I wasn’t going to shoot anyone! I swear! I was using my scope to identify him. That’s all! I didn’t even know you guys had returned.’

‘From where?’

‘How should I know? Kaiser never tells us anything! All I know is three of you left this morning. The big guy, the black guy and the fat guy. But I don’t know where you went!’

Jones scowled for effect. ‘Which one am I?’

‘What?’ he said, as his voice squeaked. ‘You’re, um, the …’

‘Never mind.’

‘Can I put my hands down?’

‘Not yet. Why didn’t you shoot the guy near the bunker?’

‘What?’ he asked, confused.

‘You had plenty of time to kill him but didn’t take the shot. I want to know, why?’

‘Why? Because I watched him kill Kaiser. After that, I didn’t know if I should keep fighting or I should run away. Why keep shooting if I won’t get paid?

Jones’s face flushed in anger. ‘Kaiser’s dead?’

He nodded. ‘The guy shot him in the back, and he fell in the hole. That’s what the guy was staring at when your friend killed him.’

Jones glanced below. Payne was no longer there. ‘Where’s your radio?’

‘It’s in my pocket.’

‘Get on your knees, and hand it to me slowly.’

The sniper did as he was told, then waited for further instructions. ‘Now what?’

‘Now you have a decision to make, the most important decision of your life.’ To emphasize how serious he