The Painted Messiah (37 page)

'Eat your eggs,' Kate laughed, 'and don't worry

about the jump. Odds are we'll all get shot before we touch down.'

They cleared camp quickly. That finished, Kate pulled three parachutes from the van. 'We didn't pack these ourselves,' she said, 'so we repack them now - with gloves.'

What struck Malloy was the compactness of the modern parachute. It strapped onto the back with a container that was smaller than the average backpack. Almost nothing was the same, except that the canopy itself was still as difficult to pack as ever. The problem was getting the air out. It took patience and method, and Malloy had neither at four-thirty in the morning. Ethan came over and helped him. 'I don't see the ripcord,' Malloy told him.

'There isn't one. At the bottom of the pack you pull the drogue chute out. That catches the wind and pulls the bridle. The bridal pops the pin,' he said, pointing to his already packed container, 'and then the D-bag comes out.' The D-bag held the canopy.

'You do this often?' Malloy asked.

'Kate does quite a bit with a group. I join them sometimes on the weekends.'

The pilot arrived at five and began preparing the Cessna C-182 that was parked in the hanger where Malloy had slept. While he did this, Kate ran through the inventory of weapons she and Ethan had collected the previous day with the help of a well-connected friend in Zürich. It was an impressive armory even by Malloy's standards. There were three Viper vests with side and crotch panels, combat headgear, and four AKS-74s - the airborne troop model with folding metallic butts
- and six Steyr tactical machine pistols. Of these, Kate holstered four of them on her person, one at each thigh and two at the belt, handles out for a cross-draw. She stowed two extra clips of 9 mm ammunition. They had half-a-dozen MK3A2 concussion grenades, three each for Kate and Ethan, three headsets for communications and three sets of handcuffs, one for the pilot, one for Corbeau and one just in case. They all had several lengths of rope. In addition to her four machine pistols, Kate carried a holstered Navy Colt .45 at the small of her back and one of the Kalashnikovs strapped across her chest. Ethan carried two Kalashnikovs across his chest with two Steyrs holstered to his thighs. He had climbing rope tucked into his jump harness and an ice pick at his belt that he wore like a handgun. Kate and Ethan each carried a combat knife in the right boot. Everyone wore gloves and a tight fitting hood.

Handing Malloy his armor and one of the AKS-74s, Kate said to him, 'I'm Girl, he's Boy, you're Man. No names, no faces showing, no prints and hopefully no blood. It's okay to leave weapons and clips behind. Everything's been reported stolen. 'What about yours?'

'Clean,' Malloy answered, wiping his guns for prints as he spoke.

'Your job will be to secure the helicopter, preferably with the pilot still alive. After you do that, hold your position. Use your MAC-10 if you need a burst. Otherwise set the Kalashnikov on single shot and keep our retreat clear. If we don't fly out, we don't get out.' Malloy examined his weapon, but he was comfortable with it. Unlike the American M-16, the Kalashnikov's first selector was full auto, the second single shot. The
weapons were otherwise relatively comparable, with the Russian model being somewhat lighter and less inclined to jam but more difficult to handle in a prone position because of the length of the clip.

'Corbeau keeps the helicopter pad at the centre of his backyard. His pilot always flies in from the lakeside and faces the house. You'll come in behind his position a few seconds before us. It will still be dark, but the security lights ought to be on for the helicopter, meaning we don't trip the alarm when we drop in. The last fifty feet or so all three of us will be visible, assuming anyone is looking up, but there's supposed to be a light fog this morning, so we might catch a break. If our timing is right Dr North should be somewhere between the house and the helicopter when we drop. Ethan and you can take out the escorts - headshots if possible. If anyone is wearing armor it will be the people going with the hostage.

'You make sure North gets to the helicopter. If she has trouble walking, you might have to help her. Ethan can provide some cover for you if you need it, but you're going to have to assume at least some of the fire is going to be coming from a position only you can respond to. Once she is inside the helicopter, the light armor should keep her safe from small arms fire. We figure three, maybe four minutes inside the house. It's going to feel like ten, so get down close to the ground and get comfortable. We have one chance at this guy. If we lose him today, he'll hunt us down, and he won't ever stop.'

Inside the tiny Cessna Malloy met the pilot, an amateur flier from Bern and a good friend of Ethan's.

He was preternaturally cheerful considering the hour.

They were in the air less than a minute later, sweeping up alongside the dark shadow that was Mount Pilatus and then circling back under the peak of Stanserhorn. As the plane pushed for altitude, everyone grew quiet. At eleven thousand feet the pilot turned toward Rigi and called out to Kate. Kate took a moment to get oriented with the lake and then checked with Malloy and Ethan. Everyone was ready to jump.

'Make the call,' she said. 'Tell him to meet you at Lake Pilatus on Mount Pilatus. You'll have a bonfire burning, so he can find you.' As Malloy hit the speed dial, Kate signaled to the pilot to turn the engine off. They were floating in the darkness, earth and sky indistinguishable.

Corbeau answered his phone at once. 'Yes?' he said, speaking English.

'I'll meet you at Lake Pilatus on Mount Pilatus. I've got a bonfire started so you can find me. If I don't see your helicopter by . . . six-twenty, don't bother coming.'

'We need to talk, Mr Malloy,' Corbeau answered.

'No we don't.' Malloy disconnected and shut the phone off. Then he looked at his new partners. 'We're on the clock, people.'

Corbeau finished his call and looked at Bremmer, who shook his head. 'He wasn't on long enough, but they got the number and they're tracking it. They should have a location in a few minutes.'

Corbeau nodded and let his gaze sweep across his library bookshelves. He was seated at his desk. Xeno, Jeffrey Bremmer, and Helena Chernoff stood directly before him. Two uniformed guards stood at attention across the room.

'Something is wrong,' Corbeau announced quietly. His manner was thoughtful, as if still putting together his impressions. 'Malloy's voice was not quite right.'

'He's nervous,' Xeno answered. Xeno was leading the team taking North on the helicopter and was already wearing armor.

Corbeau shook his head. 'That wasn't it. It was more like ... a man who is bluffing. I don't think he has the painting.' Having said this, Corbeau looked at Chernoff for confirmation.

'It's possible,' she answered. 'If he sent the painting to New York, he might still try to save North.'

Corbeau looked at Bremmer. 'What does a man do if he doesn't have the money to pay a ransom?'

Bremmer smiled. 'He fills a bag with paper and brings a gun to the exchange.'

'He's setting a trap for us.' Corbeau was suddenly sure of himself. 'He doesn't have the painting.' To Xeno he said, 'I want you to leave North here, and take Helena in her place. When you fly in, if Malloy is exposed, shoot him and get out of there. If he's concealed, wait on him, but don't set down. He'll have people with him, but they're not going to move against you until the hostage is safe. Work it right and you can be out of range before they understand what you've done.'

'What about the others?' Chernoff asked.

'I don't care about the others. I want Malloy.'

'And if he has the painting?' Xeno asked.

Corbeau shook his head. 'He doesn't.'

'Tell the pilot you're to go to Lake Pilatus,' Bremmer added. 'He'll know where it is.'

'Do you know the terrain?' Xeno asked.

'It's somewhere on Pilatus, so I expect—'

'It's on the north slope,' Corbeau said, 'and it's not really a lake. It's a marsh, reputed to be the last resting place of Pontius Pilate, thus the name. The place is isolated with lots of trees and rocks and steep hills surrounding an open meadow. That means Malloy is going to own the high ground if you set down, so make sure you don't.'

Bremmer looked at his watch. 'You have twelve minutes. Let's not keep the man waiting.'

Once Chernoff and Xeno had left, Bremmer asked, 'Do we need Dr North?'

'I suppose not.'

'I was promised an afternoon with her.'

'Take the whole day,' he said. 'As it turns out, she's of no value to us. But when you finish, leave the body where it can be found quickly. If nothing else those who claim the corpse will take us to Richland and Starr.'

Bremmer's cell phone rang. 'That will be the cell phone location,' he said as he reached for the phone. But then he stopped, his eyes locking on the mist just beyond the library windows, as if he could not believe his eyes.

'Oh, my God,' he whispered.

The cold rush of air against his face disoriented Malloy momentarily, but Kate's voice came over the headset. 'Just float and let us catch up with you.'

At the far end of the lake a few lights shining through the fog marked the city of Lucerne. To the east a pale light washed over the horizon. Otherwise the landscape was perfectly black - mountains, lake, and sky. Ethan came floating in beside Malloy, 'We're heading down there,' he said over the headset and pointed at a speck of light.

A freefall from ten thousand feet lasts a little over half-a-minute with normal speeds reaching one hundred twenty miles per hour. Despite the wild sensation that came with any jump, there was an odd feeling of being in control. To an extent that was true. It was possible to roll, perform somersaults, dive for speed, or slow down. All that really mattered was getting stabilized before deployment, and that was the only thing Malloy attempted to do from the moment he dropped out of the plane. When Kate slipped up on his right, her voice sounded in Malloy's headset, 'Deploy chutes on five, gentlemen.' Ethan and Kate arced away as she counted it out.

Instinctively Malloy reached for his ripcord and felt a moment of panic. No ripcord . . . and no reserve. Then he remembered and reached around and pulled the drogue chute out. The small pilot chute caught the air and began pulling the bridal out of the container. He heard his canopy unfurling and then felt the familiar impact of the material catching the air. He looked up, but could not see the slider descending down the ropes. Without the slider, the parachute would have deployed instantly, decelerating his speed too quickly for the equipment to handle. With it the lines stayed untangled, and deceleration was more gradual. At full deployment Malloy took the toggles and tried to get a feel for his equipment. The wind whistled instead of screamed now, but beneath him the world seemed eerily quiet.

'You need to accelerate,' Kate said. 'Pull down on one of the toggles until you make a three-sixty. Not too tight! Nice and easy. That's it. Now just float and steer towards the light.'

As they closed in, Malloy could actually see the cliff rising up over the lake, the helicopter, the high walls surrounding the estate, the villa and the tower - all shrouded in a light mist. They were still above the light, still invisible from the ground, but once they dropped into the light the euphoric silence of the world below would end with a clatter of automatic weapons.

Kate pulled hard on the left toggle. The effect was twofold. First, it sent her into a three hundred and sixty degree turn far tighter than the one Malloy had executed several thousand feet above. Second, as she straightened out of the hook turn, her momentum shot her forward at close to thirty miles an hour. Called a turf-surf among aficionados, the manoeuvre was usually performed a bit closer to the ground and allowed the parachutist to skim a couple of feet above the grass for about thirty metres or so. The risk of the move was unintended impact with the ground, but Kate's danger was different. She was headed right for the second-storey windows of Corbeau's library. A foot too high or low and she collided with a stone wall. On target, she broke glass.

The lights were on. Corbeau sat behind his desk. Bremmer stood in front of him. Two uniformed guards stood at attention by the door.

As she came toward the window, Kate lifted her legs at a ninety degree angle to her body.

The rotor blades on the Bell 407 were whirling as Malloy drifted in closer than he would have liked. The pilot was fiddling with his control panel, not thinking about his blind spot. In fact, he probably didn't have a fear in the world. Just after Malloy hit the ground, while the canopy still fluttered, he cut free and ran toward the pilot's door. He jerked a lean, athletic man about his own age from the cockpit, tossed him to the ground, handcuffed his wrists and tied his ankles.

Ethan came in toward the roof a bit higher than he intended. He pulled down hard on both toggles. This tightened the canopy and caused a sudden drop. He hit the slate roof with the force of a six-foot fall.

He stripped his parachute away and freed one of the AKS-74s. As Kate swept into Corbeau's library, Ethan walked calmly to the edge of the roof. At the sound of Kate's Steyrs he took out the two guards at the front gate and then turned to catch the first security guard exiting the guardhouse on the run. Ethan hit him with two taps. The next guard was at the door before he realized it was an ambush. Ethan's first shot struck his neck, the second his forehead. He tossed a grenade through the window of the guardhouse and then ran along the ridge of the roof toward the other end of the house. Directly above the basement entrance at the side of the house, Ethan saw two men below him. Another was already out in the open and struggling to get his Kalashnikov ready to fire. All three men wore armor,
but North wasn't with them. Malloy took the lead man with a single shot to the head. Ethan dropped a grenade on the other two and then finished them with headshots.