The Secret Crown

pistols and sound suppressors. Ordered by Mueller to follow the chopper’s beacon, the squad would have entered the grotto a lot sooner had they been able to figure out the secret door; now that was no longer an issue. They were standing in a semi-circle in front of the opening, all of them poised to shoot.

Schultz, the lead goon, stepped forward. ‘Raise your hands!’

Jones cursed under his breath. He was severely out gunned, and he knew it. Even if he killed their leader, the other three would mow him down in less than a second. Things would have been different if he had been alone. He would have bolted back inside the grotto in the hope of losing the goons in the darkness, but he couldn’t risk it with Heidi and Ulster standing behind him. Without instructions, they wouldn’t know what to do or where to go. So Jones decided to stand his ground as long as possible, hoping to give Payne a chance to hide them inside.

To buy some time, Jones replied in Spanish. ‘No hablo Ingles.‘

Unfortunately, Schultz spoke Espanol a lot better than Jones did. ‘! Levante sus manos!!Deje su arma!‘

Jones grimaced. His tactic had backfired. So he decided to switch to Russian. He had learned some on a recent trip to Saint Petersburg. ‘

.’

Schultz wasn’t stupid. He had been willing to give Jones the benefit of the doubt with Spanish, but he knew damn well Jones wasn’t Russian. ‘Stop stalling. I know you and your friends can speak English. Your pilot told us that and more.’

Jones glanced over Schultz’s shoulder and spotted Baptiste in the back of the golf cart. His hands were tied, and his face was bloodied. ‘What do you want?’

‘I want you to raise your hands and drop your gun.’

To buy more time, Jones decided to press his luck. ‘Are you sure about that? Because if I raise my hands first, I’m liable to drop my gun on my head. And between you and me, scalp wounds are rather messy.’

Schultz smiled, then calmly pulled his trigger. A silenced round whizzed past Jones’ ear and burrowed into the rocky mound behind him. ‘So are bullet holes.’

Jones quickly dropped his gun. ‘Good point.’

‘Now take three steps forward, then kneel.’

‘Big steps or baby steps?’

Schultz didn’t answer. He simply readjusted his aim. His new target was a spot between Jones’s eyes. From close range, it would be tough to miss. With Schultz’s patience wearing thin, Jones decided to follow his orders. As things stood, he had already bought Payne more than enough time to hide their friends in the grotto and to plan an attack.

If the goons went inside, Payne would kill them.

If they didn’t, Payne would escape through the tunnel.

Either way, Jones had done his duty.

The rest would be up to Payne.

68

Payne refused to take any chances with Heidi and Ulster. Instead of stashing them in the darkness of the grotto, he ordered them to hide in the secret tunnel. He knew the concrete would protect them from gun fire, and in a worst-case scenario, they could exit through the fake tree stump and escape through the castle grounds. Surprisingly, neither of them complained. They jumped in the water and swam towards the Grotta Azzurra where they would enter the stalagmite.

Meanwhile, Payne eyed his surroundings and planned his assault. Unless the goons had recently toured the Linderhof, he knew he had the tactical advantage inside the grotto. Thanks to the man-made cavern and the special effects, it would be like fighting a war in an amusement park. To tilt the terrain in his favour, he hustled to the control panel and turned on the waterfall. Within seconds, water gushed from its spout and splashed into the lake. Next he turned on the wave machine and turned off the underwater lights. Suddenly the dark water resembled an angry sea, its waves crashing against Ludwig’s boat and the nearby path.

Payne smiled at the sight. Back in the Special Forces, he had spent many nights in similar conditions, sneaking onto foreign shores and taking out targets. He had enjoyed it then, and he would enjoy it now. About the only thing missing was Jones by his side. And yet, somehow Payne knew that his best friend was fine and that they were still working in unison.

Jones would lure them in, and Payne would take them out.

Just like old times.

Near the bottom of the control panel, Payne spotted a large dial that looked like the volume control on a stereo. Hoping to limit his opponent’s communication, Payne turned the knob. Instantly the soaring vocals of Richard Wagner’s Tannhauser, one of Ludwig’s favourite operas, filled the grotto. Payne grinned and cranked the volume even louder. In a confined space, the music and the darkness would conceal his movement until he was ready to strike.

Now all he had to do was wait.

The goons entered the grotto completely unprepared. No flashlights. No maps. No advanced surveillance. They just stormed into the darkness en masse, a cluster of three soldiers on a well-lit path. Apparently they hadn’t been briefed on the shootout in the gorge; otherwise they would have thought long and hard about a frontal assault against a highly skilled soldier.

Of course, that was the problem with most goons. They weren’t trained to think.

Payne crouched in the dark lake, allowing his body to rise and fall with the surging tide. He was close enough to the path to be accurate, but far enough away to be unseen – until his muzzle flash lit up the cavern like a lightning bolt. If he’d had more time to work with, he would have picked them off silently, using his bare hands and his blade. Unfortunately, Jones was in immediate danger, so the clock was ticking.

He was forced to make his move now.

For Payne, the first shot would be the easiest. He raised his Sig Sauer above the waterline and aimed at the lead goon’s throat. Because of the undulating waves, Payne knew his aim might be affected vertically. If he shot high, he would hit the face. If he shot low, he would hit the chest. If his aim was true, he would hit the jugular. No matter what, the goon would go down. After that, Payne would have to swing his weapon to the right and get off two more shots before the last goon spotted Payne’s position in the water. If that happened, things would get interesting.

The blaring music masked the blast as Payne pulled his trigger. The bullet caught the lead goon under his chin and killed him instantly. He collapsed on the narrow path, effectively blocking the two men behind him. Payne wasted no time and fired at the second goon. The rising water pushed his aim high, but not high enough for the guy to survive.

Just like that, there was one goon left.

His name was Faust, and he was smarter than the others.

He quickly fired a shot towards Payne’s muzzle flash, then jumped into the dark lake even though he wasn’t a good swimmer. For Faust, it had been a spur of the moment decision, one that helped him survive since the lit path had been a shooting gallery and his team had been the targets. Another moment and he would have been killed like his colleagues.

In the water, at least he had a chance.

Three days earlier, Payne had been swimming on the bottom of the Ohio River, blindly looking for a lost bottle opener. Now he was searching for prey in a man-made lake.

In his mind, this would be far easier.

With a knife in his hand and his lungs full of air, Payne glided underwater towards the panic-stricken Faust. The lake was deep enough and dark enough to conceal Payne’s approach, so he wasted no time once he spotted the thrashing legs of his target. Attacking from behind, Payne grabbed the back of Faust’s collar and yanked him under the surface of the water. Faust bucked and flailed, trying to break free, but Payne ended the battle with a quick slash of his blade. Blood gushed from Faust’s neck as he dropped his gun and tried, in vain, to hold the fluid inside his body. But it wasn’t to be. Within seconds, the life had drained out of him.

Payne held on until the struggling stopped, then he pushed the corpse aside and swam hard towards the