The Venetian Betrayal

frames filled with a raging blaze.

Cassiopeia rose, with Viktor’s aid.

“Seems he is a help,” Thorvaldsen said, noticing, too.

Viktor pointed at the two guards and barked out orders in what she thought was Russian.

The men dashed away.

Cassiopeia fled toward the house.

They followed.

MALONE TOPPED THE STAIRS BEHIND ELY AND REENTERED THE library. Thumps echoed from somewhere inside the house and he immediately noticed a change in temperature.

“Those things have been activated.”

Outside the library door fire sprang to life. More thumps. Closer. Plenty of heat. Building. He bolted to the door and glanced both ways. The corridor at each end was impassable, flames were consuming the floor and headed his way. He recalled what Ely had said. I have that stuff all over me. He turned and studied the towering windows. Maybe ten feet by eight feet. Beyond, in the valley, he noticed something burning in the distance. There would only be a few more seconds before the fire arrived.

“Give me a hand.”

He saw Ely stuff the flash drive into his pocket and grab one end of a small settee. Malone grasped the other. Together they tossed it through the windows. Glass shattered as the sofa propelled outward, clearing a path, but too many shards remained for them to leap through.

“Use the chairs,” he yelled.

Fire wrapped itself inside the doorway and started its assault of the library walls. Books and shelves erupted. Malone gripped a chair and rammed it through what remained of the window. Ely used another chair to scrape away jagged remnants.

The floor started to burn.

Everything basted with Greek fire quickly identified itself.

No more time.

They both leaped through the window.

CASSIOPEIA HEARD GLASS BREAK AS SHE, VIKTOR, THORVALDSEN, and Stephanie ran closer to the destruction. She saw a settee fly out and crash to the ground. She’d taken a chance killing Zovastina, with Malone and Ely still inside, but, like Malone would say, Whether right or wrong, just do something.

Another chair flew out the window.

Then Malone and Ely leaped out as the room behind them filled with waves of bright orange.

Malone’s exit was not as graceful as it had been in Copenhagen. His right shoulder slammed to the grass and he tumbled. Ely, too, hit hard, rolled a few times, his arms shielding his head.

Cassiopeia ran to them. Ely stared up at her. She smiled and said, “You having fun?”

“About like you? What happened to your face?”

“Got the crap beat out of me. But I had the last laugh.”

She helped him to his feet and they hugged.

“You stink,” she noted.

“Greek fire. The latest fragrance.”

“What about me?” Malone grunted, as he stood and brushed himself off. “No ‘how are you?’ Good to see that you’re not a crispy critter?”

She shook her head and hugged him, too.

“How many buses ran you over?” Malone asked, noticing her face.

“Just one.”

“You two know each other?” Ely asked.

“We’re acquainted.”

She saw Malone’s face sour as he spotted Viktor. “What’s he doing here?”

“Believe it or not,” she said, “he’s on our side. I think.”

Stephanie pointed to fires in the distance and men running toward them. “Zovastina’s dead.”

“Terrible thing,” Viktor said. “Tragic helicopter crash. Witnessed by four of her militia. She’ll be given a glorious funeral.”

“And Daniels will have to make sure that the next Supreme Minister of the Central Asian Federation is more friendly,” Stephanie said.

Cassiopeia spotted dots in the western sky growing larger. “We’ve got company.”

They watched as the aircraft drew closer.

“They’re ours,” Malone said. “Apache AH64s and a Blackhawk.”

The American gunships swooped in. One of the Apache’s compartment doors swung open and Malone spotted a familiar face.

Edwin Davis.

“Troops from Afghanistan,” Viktor said. “Davis told me they’d be nearby, monitoring things, ready when needed.”

“You know,” Stephanie said to them. “Killing Zovastina that way may not have been smart.”

Cassiopeia sensed the resignation in her friend’s tone. “What is it?”

Thorvaldsen stepped forward. “Vincenti’s computers and Lyndsey were on that chopper. You don’t know this, but Vincenti found the cure for AIDS. He and Lyndsey developed it, and all of the data was on those computers. There was a flash drive, which Vincenti had when he died. But, unfortunately”-the Dane motioned to the burning house-“that’s surely gone.”

Cassiopeia saw a wicked look form on Malone’s dirty face. She also noticed Ely smiling. Both men looked exhausted, but their feeling of triumph seemed infectious.

Ely reached into his pocket and held out his open palm.

A flash drive.

“What’s that?” she asked, hoping.

“Life,” Malone said.

NINETY-FOUR

MALONE ADMIRED ALEXANDER THE GREAT’S TOMB. AFTER EDWIN Davis arrived, an army special forces unit had quickly taken control of the estate, disarming the four remaining troops without a fight. President Daniels authorized the incursion, Davis saying he doubted there’d be any official resistance from the Federation.

Zovastina was dead. A new day was coming.

Once the estate was secure, as darkness began to claim the mountains, they’d all climbed to the pools and dove into the tawny eye. Even Thorvaldsen, who wanted desperately to see the grave. Malone had helped him through the tunnel and the Dane, for his age and deformity, was a surprisingly strong swimmer.

They brought flashlights and additional lights from the Apaches, the tomb now ablaze with electric illumination. He stared in wonder at a wall of glazed bricks, their blues, yellows, oranges, and blacks still vibrant after two millennia.

Ely was examining three lion motifs formed with great skill from the colorful tiles. “Something similar to this lined the ancient Babylon’s processional way. We have remnants. But here’s one totally intact.”

Edwin Davis had swum through with them. He, too, had wanted to see what Zovastina had coveted. Malone