The Valhalla Prophecy (29 page)

Her shock grew when the two men came face-to-face … and
shook hands. “Oh my God,” she gasped, confused—and suddenly frightened. “That’s why you let him go in Stockholm. And the bomb—he gave it to you, didn’t he? You’re working together!”

Eddie’s uncharacteristic silence was more unnerving than any reply.

“Fuckin’ finally,” Chase muttered as the narrow path he and Natalia had followed since crossing the river joined up with a broader, more well-trodden track.

“How far are we from your friends?” she asked.

The Englishman slung the rifle and shifted the Bouncing Betty and its detonator to the crook of his arm, then examined the map. “Less than half a mile. Should only take us about ten minutes to get there.”

“Good.” Natalia cautiously checked that the track was clear. “Will they still be there?”

“I bloody hope so.” Chase was confident that Castille would have waited for him, and doubted Sullivan would have let him stay in the jungle alone. He regarded the muddy ground. The track, which headed roughly north–south, had been used by at least one vehicle, the chunky tread pattern of off-road tires standing out in the mud. Since the camp from which he had rescued Natalia was to the south, there was a good chance the four-by-four belonged to their pursuers.

The prints didn’t have the sharp edges he would have expected if they were recent, though. They were several hours old. He raised his head, listening intently. No engine noises were audible over the jungle chorus.

“Are we safe?” Natalia asked.

“Think so. But if you hear anything coming, duck into the bushes.” He turned to head north. “Okay, not far now.”

They made their way along the track. The sound of the river gradually returned; the rendezvous point was an abandoned building on one of its meanders. Before long, Chase slowed. “What is it?” asked Natalia, nervous.

He ushered her into the cover of the surrounding vegetation. “I heard voices. We’re nearly there, so it might be my mates … or it might not.”

Senses fully alert, he moved carefully through the undergrowth, Natalia a few paces behind him. The rotted skeleton of a wooden structure came into view ahead. He whispered for her to stay where she was and remain silent, then put down the land mine and detonator before hefting the AKS and creeping silently to the edge of his cover.

The remains of the building stood on the shore beside an equally moldering wooden platform extending out into the river. Parked on the track nearby was a mudspattered but otherwise new Toyota Land Cruiser. Four figures stood beside it, talking.

Chase’s heart leapt with relief: One of the men was Castille. His friend had waited for him, just as he’d hoped. The Belgian had changed into civilian clothes, drab camouflage gear replaced by a gaudy shirt emblazoned with cheerful patterns of brightly colored birds. Beside him was Sullivan, the New Zealander wiping sweat from the top of his bald head. To the Englishman’s surprise, the third member of the group was Ivor Lock, looking out of place and uncomfortable in the humid heat. The expensive four-by-four was probably his, then; he must have been concerned enough on learning that his daughter had not been among the rescued hostages to come and wait for news in person.

The fourth man was Hoyt.

Cold anger rose in Chase at the sight of the cigarette-smoking American. Whatever his reasons for ransacking
the Russian laboratory and trying to take Natalia, he undoubtedly now meant to cover his tracks. Of the group, he was the only one with a weapon at the ready, his AK-47 hanging at his hip. Sullivan’s gun was shouldered, and Castille’s propped against a tree.

Hoyt’s plan was clear. If Natalia showed up, he would kill everyone else and take the young German.

Chase wasn’t going to let that happen.

A brief glance back to make sure that she was still hidden, then he stepped out of the bushes—with his gun pointed at Hoyt. “Don’t move!”

The four men looked around in surprise. Lock flinched at the sight of the gun, Castille and Sullivan reacting with confusion—but Hoyt immediately grasped his own weapon. “I said don’t fucking move,” Chase snarled. “Drop it!”

The American froze, but the rifle remained in his hands. “You’re missing your mag there, Chase,” he said, eyeing the AKS-74U.

“It’s still chambered.”

Hoyt’s gaze flicked down to his older Kalashnikov, and its fully loaded magazine. “One bullet against thirty?”

The AKS did not waver. “I only need one.”

“Reckon you do, at that.” Hoyt spat his cigarette from his lips and reluctantly lowered the AK to the ground by its strap.

Chase glanced at his friend. “Hugo, grab his gun.”

Castille did so, though with a bewildered expression. “Edward, what is going on?”

“That’s a very good question,” said Sullivan. “What the hell’s this about, Chase?”

Lock had questions of his own. “Where’s my daughter? Did you find her?”

“Natalia’s fine.” Chase considered calling her out of cover, but decided to wait until the situation was resolved. “Hugo, have you got anything you can tie that arsehole up with? I don’t want him causing any more trouble.”

“What trouble?” Sullivan demanded.

“This bastard’s the reason we got into a firefight at the camp,” the Englishman explained as Castille, keeping a wary eye on Hoyt, went to the Land Cruiser. “He wasn’t just there to rescue the hostages. He was there specifically to get Natalia—and steal all the research on whatever the fuck the Russians were doing to her. He knew what they were up to all along.”

“What?” gasped Lock. He rounded on Hoyt. “What were they doing to my daughter?” The mercenary remained silent.

“When we went into that cabin to get her, first thing he did was start taking all their notes,” Chase went on. “One of the Russians was already in there. I told Hoyt to watch him while I helped Natalia, but instead he shot him in cold blood. Then he pointed his gun at me and told me to carry her out of there.”

Sullivan looked at Hoyt as if expecting a denial, but the American still said nothing. “Why did you do it?” he asked. Hoyt’s only response was a disdainful sneer.

“Edward,” called Castille from the rear of the Land Cruiser. “There is nothing to tie him with—but look.” He held up what Chase recognized as Hoyt’s pack, opening it. “You are right. It is full of papers, disks, a computer …”

Sullivan unshouldered his own gun and pointed it at Hoyt. “All right, you. I want some answers.”

“I got nothin’ to say,” Hoyt replied.

Chase lowered the AKS and joined Castille. “Did you get the other hostages out all right?”

The Belgian nodded. “We came here from the camp last night and put them on the boat. Lomax and Rios went with them—they are all safe in Da Nang now. I waited for you, and Hal stayed with me. Hoyt arrived a few hours later.”

“And decided to stick around until I got here with Natalia,” Chase added, glaring at the prisoner. “Hal, how long have you known this twat? What’s his background?”

Sullivan was concerned by the revelations. “I haven’t known him long, but he was recommended to me by
someone I thought I could trust. All his references were excellent.”

“They usually are when you’re a spook.”

“Where is my daughter?” Lock asked, impatience rising over his concern.

“She’s safe—I’ll fetch her once we’ve got him secured. Hugo, take the strap off his AK—we’ll tie his hands with it.” Chase crossed back to Hoyt. “You going to tell us who you’re really working for?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Hoyt replied.

Chase gave him a crooked smile—then punched him hard in the face. Hoyt fell to the ground, a bright fan of blood spraying from both nostrils. “Never heard of ’em. They got a website? Go-fuck-yourself-dot-com?”

“Mother
fucker
!” Hoyt spat. He wiped his mouth, wincing as he touched his now broken nose. “You just made a big fuckin’ mistake.”

“You made a bigger one,” said Sullivan. “I don’t appreciate being lied to, or being used. So either you give us some answers, or I’ll leave you here for the Vietnamese and their Russian friends to find.
After
I’ve let Eddie get his licks in.”

“Speak up,” said Chase, kicking Hoyt hard in the side when no reply was immediately forthcoming.

The American clamped a hand to his bruised ribs. “You cocksucker! All right, okay,” he hurriedly added as Castille joined the group and drew back one leg to deliver a blow of his own. “But if I talk, I get to walk out of here, okay?”

Sullivan reluctantly nodded. “You’ve got my word.
If
I believe you.”

“Okay.” Hoyt took a deep breath. “Right. This is what’s happening. The Russians have a biological warfare department they call Unit 201. It’s been active since the Cold War, and it’s one of their biggest secrets—only people at the very top levels of the Russian government and military know about it. The Ruskies at the camp? They’re part of 201.”

“Biological warfare?” said Castille uneasily. “Why did they kidnap the aid workers?”

“They don’t give a fuck about the aid workers. They’re only interested in the German girl, Natalia.”

“Why do they want her?” Sullivan demanded.

“Natalia’s family,” Chase remembered. He quickly glanced back at the surrounding vegetation to make sure she was still hidden; there was no sign of her. “Her granddad—he was Russian, and he was a biowarfare scientist. He tried to defect to the West with his research, but didn’t make it. That’s the connection, isn’t it? They want her. Or rather, they want what’s
in
her.”

Castille and Sullivan were both confused, but Hoyt nodded. “Yeah. They think they can use her DNA or whatever the hell it is they’re after in their experiments.”

“Well, since you started gunning ’em down, then stole their work and set everything that was left on fire, I’m guessing you don’t work for the Russians,” said Chase scathingly.

“You’re goddamn right I don’t,” Hoyt replied vehemently. “Thing is, though, Unit 201 is like a fucking fortress. It works out of a maximum-security bunker at one of their nuclear bomber bases. It’s impossible to get in. So the only way we could get our hands on their work … was by getting them to come
out
.”

“You set them up,” Chase realized. “You told them about Natalia so they’d try to get what they were after from her.”

Hoyt wiped his nose, then gave the Englishman a twisted smile. “You ain’t quite so dumb as you seem, Chase. Yeah, we set them up. We fed Unit 201 information about Natalia, and they took the bait. She was working in a country friendly to Russia, so it was easy for them to get permission to do whatever the hell they wanted to get her. When they made their move, we were ready.”

“You little bastard,” snarled the New Zealander, baring his teeth. “How long have you been planning this?”

“Long enough. But it was worth it. We drew 201 out of Russia to somewhere we could reach them. And once they were out in the open, well …” Another unpleasant smile. “We took their research, we destroyed everything
they’d been working on, we killed some of their top scientists—about the only way things could have gone better would be if their head honcho had been there so I coulda blown the fucker away as well.”

“You didn’t get everything you were after, though,” said Chase. “You didn’t get Natalia.”

Hoyt snorted. “We will. You think this is over, Chase? You dumb limey fuck. We’re only getting started—”

Chase slammed his boot deep into Hoyt’s stomach, leaving him gasping and writhing. “So are we.”

Jaw clenched in anger, Sullivan stood over Hoyt, pointing his rifle at the treacherous mercenary’s head. “I want answers, Hoyt. You kept saying ‘we’—who are you working for? Who’s your employer?”

Hoyt stared up defiantly at the three men. Sullivan’s finger slowly tightened on the trigger—

The sharp crack of a gunshot echoed around the riverbank.

But it didn’t come from Sullivan’s gun. The mercenary leader flinched, confused shock rising on his face … then he toppled and crashed to the rotten wooden decking. Blood gushed from a wound in the center of his back.

Chase and Castille whirled—to find the smoking weapon now aimed at them.

“You want to know Hoyt’s employer?” said Lock, the slim chrome-plated Glock 26 pistol in his hand rock-steady. “That would be me.”

“So, how long are you planning to ignore me?” asked Eddie.

Nina refused to turn her head toward him, keeping her gaze fixed on the dawn-lit steppes of southern Russia as they rolled past far below the small business jet. “I’m not ignoring you. I’m just so
mad
at you right now that if I looked at you, I might have trouble stopping myself from punching you in your goddamn lying face.” She jabbed an angry finger at the man on the other side of the cabin. “How long have you been working with your Russian friend over there?”

“He’s not my friend,” Eddie insisted, exasperated. “The only reason I was working with him was because … I had to.”

“You
had
to,” she echoed sarcastically. “You
had
to let him go after he tried to kidnap Tova.” The Swede, who was in the row of seats behind them, sleepily raised her head at the mention of her name. “You
had
to try to sabotage the expedition. You
had
to plant a goddamn
bomb
on the runestone!” She finally looked around at her husband as her voice rose to a shout. “And you still won’t tell me
why
you had to do all of this? Why not, Eddie? Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”

The conflict was clear in his voice. “Because … because I made a promise. I told you, I can’t say any more.”

“But I can,” said the Russian.

It had taken considerable cajoling by Eddie to persuade Nina and Tova that the Russian was not a threat, but neither woman was willing to trust their mysterious—and until now taciturn—benefactor. At the lake, he had radioed for a helicopter of his own to fly Nina, Eddie, and Tova away from the scene of the battle, though Nina had insisted that he also alert the Norwegian authorities so Matt and the other survivors could be taken to safety. A jet waiting at a small airport had then flown into the night to deliver them to a destination deep inside the vast former communist country.