AJ and VanCleave crouched side-by-side, peering around the corner of the main entrance into the nave. VanCleave had his laptop open, balanced precariously on his thighs, while he wirelessly piloted the spiders toward the scaffold. Each spider was equipped with an internal self-destruct charge, designed to erase any trace of the device after the completion of a data-reconnaissance mission. VanCleave’s plan was to use this self-destruct charge as the detonator for the payload of plastic explosive each spider carried on its back. In theory, his tactical improvisation should work, but it had never been tested.
A baritone organ blast caused him to bobble his computer, and he nearly dropped it onto the marble floor. AJ ducked by his side. Recovering their wits, both men turned and looked up at the organ balcony in time to see a female shape — bathed in moonlight — fall onto the organ keyboard and then collapse to the balcony floor.
A. Archer—RS: Bio: “Oh, God. Social must have used the organ to distract the sniper, but I think he just shot her!”
R. Parish—Coordinator: “Social, this is the Coordinator, over … Social, this is the Coordinator, do you copy?”
E. VanCleave—RS: Technical: “She’s not responding. Bio, go help Social. But don’t be stupid. Stay below the balcony railing, or the sniper will take a shot at you too.”
A. Archer—RS: Bio: “What about the spiders?”
E. VanCleave—RS: Technical: “They’re almost in position. I can handle this. GO.”
VanCleave glanced to the center aisle, where a scuffle had just broken out. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead and plopped onto the keypad. Every passing second could be Kalen’s last. Were he a religious man, VanCleave thought to himself, he would be praying.
VanCleave’s computer screen flashed a message.
POSITION GEOMETRY OBTAINED
PRESS “ENTER” TO INITIATE SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE
COUNTDOWN TIMER: 0 SECONDS
Prayer answered.
He pressed the ENTER key.
The explosion roared through the cavernous main hall of the Karlskirche like a twelve gun salute from a battleship. The power of VanCleave’s shaped-charge blew out a two-meter section of steel in the southwest corner of the scaffold frame, causing the platform tiers at each level above to tip abruptly downward in the direction of the break. Stefan Zurn was jolted out of his prone shooting position into a sideways slide; his body skidded uncontrollably toward the dipping corner of the platform. Reflexively, he let go of his sniper rifle with both hands and flailed desperately for a handhold. The sniper rifle sailed off the platform edge and bounced on the marble floor below with a triple clack. Like a thousand burning needles, splinters from the plywood decking raked the pads of his fingertips and palms of his hands as he clawed wildly for his life. His right forearm contacted a metal strut. He tried desperately to grab the strut as he slid by, but the side of his head slammed into the corner post, knocking him senseless. His limp body rolled over the edge and started to fall, before abruptly jerking to a halt. Nearly five stories above the unforgiving marble floor of the Karlskirche, Stefan Zurn swung, upside down and unconscious. He was saved by the calf strap of his ankle holster, which snagged a protruding bolt on a scaffold clamp affixed to the corner post. Seven detonations of plastic explosive, erupting simultaneously, provided Kalen a stay of execution. Raimond, who was facing the scaffold when the charges blew, stumbled backward in shock.
“Stefan!” he cried, as he watched his younger brother fall off the scaffold platform into shadow.
Taking a page from Kalen’s playbook, Will seized the moment.
He picked up Kalen’s walking cane, closed the gap to where the others stood, and swung it at Zurn’s head.
The blow connected squarely with Raimond’s mouth; blood exploded from his lower lip like a bursting piñata. His head snapped back and then forward. Howling in pain, Raimond pulled the trigger on the Sig Sauer, but Kalen had already moved clear of the line of fire. Kalen performed a scissor kick, sweeping the bounty hunter’s legs out from underneath him. Raimond landed flat on his back; the impact jarred the handgun loose from his grip, and sent it spinning across the marble floor, until it came to rest at Julie’s feet. She bent and picked it up.
Julie looked at the pistol in her hand with a glassy, distant stare.
All three men fixated on her. She was standing in the middle of the center aisle, six feet from where they were clustered.
Her face flushed, and her eyes erupted with fire. Her neck and chest glistened with her own blood, and her disheveled hair glowed like a golden halo in the moonlight.
She pointed the gun at Raimond.
Will shivered.
“And behold, the angel of death came to pass judgment upon him,” Kalen mumbled under his breath.
“You’re a monster,” she seethed, her eyes fixed on Raimond.
“And you’re a traitorous bitch.” He laughed and raised himself into a sitting position, his legs extended in “V” in front of him. “Should I tell your boyfriend how you betrayed him? That you’ve been working with Meredith Morley all along.”
“That’s a lie.”
“We’re on the same side, you and me. We’re both working for the same goal — to put this lab rat back in his cage.” Raimond turned to Will. “Don’t look so surprised, Yankee. Never trust a beautiful woman. Just an hour before we came here, she was begging me to fuck her like a whore.”
Will looked at Julie. Her lip was quivering; her hand was trembling. “Julie, don’t do it. He’s not worth it. This guy is a psychopath. His words are poison …”
The muzzle flashed, illuminating the church like a strobe. Raimond jerked and reflexively clutched his crotch as the bullet ricocheted off the marble tile in between his legs, inches from his groin.
Will walked to where she stood and peeled the pistol from her grip before she could fire another round. She turned and faced him, tears streaming down her cheeks. He put his arm around her and pulled her into his chest.
“It’s over now,” Will said softly.
AJ knelt beside Albane’s fallen body at the base of the organ. She faced away from him, sprawled on her right side. He stroked her left cheek with his hand.
She stirred. “Oaagghh.”
“Albane? Albane, can you hear me?” he whispered.
“It feels like someone ripped my spine out of my body,” she moaned. “I think the round hit my upper back. How long have I been out?”
“I don’t know. Not long. Do you have your vest on?”
“Yes. Kalen made me wear one with ceramic armor inserts.”
“Good. Can you feel this?” AJ asked, squeezing her right hand.
“Yes.”
“Can you feel this?”
“Yes, that’s my foot.”
“Very good. Next, we need to check if the bullet penetrated through your vest. To see if you’re bleeding. Also, we need to determine if you have any broken vertebrae; if you do, moving you could damage your spinal cord.”
“That would be bad. How do you know this stuff, AJ?”
“Before grad school, I was an EMT-in-training for two years.”
“You’re full of surprises today.”
He smiled. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I want you to stay very still; I’m going to slide my hand underneath the vest to check for blood.”
“You just want an excuse to get your hands up my shirt, don’t you Bio?” Albane said feebly.
“You’re right, I should probably check your chest first to see if the bullet passed clear through.”