The Venetian Betrayal

“You can go to hell.”

Forty feet away, Cassiopeia appeared in the doorway. She was wet, looked tired, and carried a rifle. Stephanie watched as her friend spotted Ely. She’d taken a huge chance going with Zovastina from Venice, but the gamble had now paid off.

Ely spotted her, too, and released his grip on Lyndsey.

Behind Cassiopeia, Irina Zovastina materialized and nestled the barrel of a rifle against Cassiopeia’s spine.

Ely froze.

The Supreme Minister’s clothes and hair were also wet. Stephanie debated challenging her, but the odds shifted when Viktor and three soldiers appeared and leveled their weapons.

“Lower the guns,” Zovastina said. “Slowly.”

Stephanie locked her gaze on Cassiopeia and shook her head, signaling this was a battle they could not win. Thorvaldsen took the lead and laid his weapon on the table. She decided to do the same.

“Lyndsey,” Zovastina said. “Time for you to come with me.”

“No way.” He started to back away, toward Stephanie. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Zovastina said, and she motioned to one of the soldiers, who rushed toward Lyndsey, who was retreating back to where the concealed panel remained open.

Ely moved like he was going to grab the scientist, but when the soldier arrived, he shoved Lyndsey into him and slipped into the back passage, closing the door behind him.

Stephanie heard guns raised.

“No,” Zovastina yelled. “Let him go. I don’t need him and this place is about to burn to the ground.”

MALONE NAVIGATED THE MAZE OF ROOMS. ONE AFTER THE OTHER. Corridor to room to another corridor. He’d seen no one, but continued to smell fire burning on the upper stories. Most of the smoke seemed to have risen to the third floor, but it wouldn’t be long before the air here became tainted.

He needed to find Cassiopeia.

Where had she gone?

He passed a door that opened to what looked like an oversized storage closet. He glanced inside and noticed something unusual. Part of the unfinished paneled wall stood open, revealing a concealed passage. Beyond, bulbs tossed down stagnant pools of weak light.

He heard footsteps from inside the opening.

Approaching.

He gripped the rifle and flattened himself against the stinking wall, just outside the closet.

Fast steps kept coming.

He readied himself.

Someone emerged from the doorway.

With one hand he slammed the body into the wall, jamming the gun, his finger on the trigger, into the man’s jaw. Fierce blue eyes stared back at him, the face younger, handsome, without fear.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Ely Lund.”

NINETY-TWO

ZOVASTINA WAS PLEASED. SHE CONTROLLED LYNDSEY, ALL OF VINCENTI’S data, Alexander’s tomb, the draught, and now Thorvaldsen, Cassiopeia Vitt, and Stephanie Nelle. She lacked only Cotton Malone and Ely Lund, neither one of which were of any real importance to her.

They were outside, heading for the chopper, two of her remaining soldiers parading the prisoners at gunpoint. Viktor had taken the other two militia and retrieved Vincenti’s computers and two of the robots they’d not used inside the house.

She needed to return to Samarkand and personally supervise the covert military offensive that would soon begin. Her tasks here had ended with total success. She’d long hoped that if Alexander’s tomb were ever found it would lie within her jurisdiction, and thanks be to the gods that it did.

Viktor approached, carrying the computer mainframes.

“Load them onto the chopper,” she said.

She watched as he deposited them into the rear compartment along with the two robots, both marvels of Asian engineering, developed by her engineers. The programmable bombs worked with near perfection, delivering Greek fire with an expert precision, then detonating on command. Expensive, too, so she was careful with her inventory and glad these two could be salvaged for reuse elsewhere.

She handed Viktor the controller for the machines still inside. “Take care of the house as soon as I’m away.” The upper floors were all ablaze, only a matter of a few minutes before the whole house became an inferno. “And kill them all.”

He nodded his consent.

“But before I go, I have a debt to repay.”

She gave Viktor her gun, stepped toward Cassiopeia Vitt, and said, “You made me an offer up at the pools. About giving me a chance to be even with you.”

“I’d love it.”

She smiled. “I thought you might.”

“WHERE ARE THE OTHERS?” MALONE ASKED ELY, AS HE LOWERED the rifle.

“Zovastina has them.”

“What are you doing?”

“I slipped away.” Ely hesitated. “There’s something I have to do.”

He waited for an explanation, which had better be good.

“The cure for AIDS is in this house. I have to get it.”

Not bad. He understood the urgency of that quest. For both Ely and Cassiopeia. To his left, one of the spewing dragons passed by at the intersection of two corridors. He was pushing it, hanging around inside the house. But he needed to know, “Where did the others go?”

“I don’t know. They were in the dining hall. Zovastina and her men had them. I managed to get inside the wall before they could follow.”

“Where’s the cure?”

“In a lab below the house. There’s an entrance in the library, where we were first held.”

The excitement in his voice could not be disguised. Foolishness, surely. But what the hell? That seemed to be the story of his life.

“Lead the way.”

CASSIOPEIA CIRCLED ZOVASTINA. STEPHANIE, HENRIK, AND LYNDSEY stood, at gunpoint, to one side. The Supreme Minister apparently wanted a show, a display of prowess before her men. Fine. She’d give her a fight.

Zovastina struck first, wrapping her arms around Cassiopeia’s neck and hinging her spine forward. The woman was strong. More than she’d anticipated. Zovastina deftly dropped and tossed Cassiopeia over her, through the air.

She hit hard.

Brushing off the pain, she sprang to her feet and planted her right foot into Zovastina’s chest, which staggered the other woman. She used the moment to shake the pain from her limbs, then lunged.

Her shoulder co

MALONE ENTERED THE LIBRARY. THEY’D SEEN NO SOLDIERS ON their careful trek across the ground floor. Smoke and heat were rising. Ely darted straight for a corpse that lay on the floor.

“Zovastina shot him. Vincenti’s man,” Ely said, as he found a silver controller. “She used this to open the panel.”

Ely pointed and pushed one of the buttons.

A Chinese wall cabinet rotated one hundred eighty degrees.

“Place is like an amusement park,” Malone said, and he followed Ely into the darkened passage.

ZOVASTINA’S ANGER BOILED. SHE WAS ACCUSTOMED TO WINNING. In buzkashi. In politics. In life. She’d challenged Vitt because she wanted this woman to know who was better. She also wanted her men to see that their leader was not afraid of anyone. True, there were only a few present, but tales of a few had long been the foundations of legends.

This entire site was now hers. Vincenti’s house would be razed and a proper memorial erected in honor of the conqueror who chose this spot as his final resting place. He may have been Greek by birth, but he was Asian at heart, and that was what mattered.