“We had a deal,” Baldwin said. “They were to drop this quest immediately and leave Europe. They’ve broken their end of the bargain.”
Helen cocked her head to the side, letting her auburn hair cascade down past her shoulder. “Sometimes deals have to be broken, if it’s for the right reasons.”
“Your friends have been warned. We will go to England. If your friends are there, we will let you go. If they aren’t, we will use you as bait.”
“Sorry,” Mac said. “But we’re on vacation. Don’t have time to take in England on this trip.”
A sinister grin crept across Baldwin’s lips. “It wasn’t a question. You’ll be coming with us. And you’ll come peaceably. And if you think those guns you have under that blanket are going to save you, you are sadly mistaken.”
He raised his right hand and snapped his fingers.
Instantly, two red dots appeared on Helen's and Mac’s chests.
Mac swallowed back the fear that welled in his mind. “You know, I was wondering where the other five were. Smart to put them outside like that. I don’t know about you, Helen, but I like this guy’s style.” He tried to remain calm, appearing cool on the outside.
“Yeah,” she said. “Pretty clever. Well, honey, I guess we’re going to England after all.”
Baldwin motioned to his men, and they moved toward the Americans. “Hand over your weapons to them. We leave for Glastonbury immediately.” He turned to make his way back to the door and stopped abruptly. He twisted his head around and looked at the couple as they peacefully surrendered to his men. “By the way, there are only eight of us now.”
He walked out of the chalet, leaving everyone inside with the somber thought. When he was outside, he looked down at the crumpled paper in his hand. It would make sense for Sean and his companions to mislead the Brotherhood. But what if he wasn’t lying? Why would Wyatt want Baldwin and his men to find them, especially after they’d immediately broken their bargain?
Baldwin didn’t know why, but something in his head told him Sean and the McElroys weren’t lying.
Chapter 22
“How did they know we were coming?” Han-Jae asked his three men. “The Americans knew we would be there, and when. Someone must have warned them.”
“Wyatt or Schultz?”
Those were the first names Han-Jae had considered, but there was no way to know for sure. They’d dropped off the grid after being arrested. Han-Jae called in an extra asset to watch the jail in Cologne. His man reported seeing the Americans escorted out of the building and put into two cars. He followed them to an old church on the other side of town in a quiet area full of rundown buildings.
After they were taken into the abandoned church, he didn’t see them again. If they left the building, they went out a different way than they went in. What was more troubling was the men who’d taken them from the jail.
Han-Jae’s tail reported that the man who appeared to be in charge had short blond hair and matched the description of the guy he’d seen talking to the Americans outside the Cologne city hall. The same guy who’d showed up at the hotel with eight other armed men.
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” Han-Jae said after a long moment of reflection. “What’s done is done. We were lucky to get out alive. Now we have to figure out our next move.”
“Which is?” Shaved Head asked.
“The McElroys said they had something important, something that might help Wyatt and his friends figure out the location of the sword.”
“Yes, but we don’t know where the McElroys went. Or Wyatt, for that matter.”
It was their biggest, really their only, problem at the moment. Sure, they were wanted men, and every cop in the country would be looking for them. Except they weren’t in France anymore.
After dropping down from the hotel window, the four men made a mad dash back to their car. They were barely able to get away before the police arrived and swept the area.
Roadblocks were set up mere minutes after they escaped Bellevaux. As Han-Jae and his crew sped toward the Swiss border, they knew they were racing against time. Heading to Switzerland was a gamble. While most of the borders were open and easily crossed, occasionally security would be tightened. That sort of thing usually happened when there were terrorists or criminals involved.
Fortunately, when they arrived at the border, the four men had no trouble getting across. Word about the hotel shootout had, apparently, not spread quickly enough.
Stuffing two of the men in the trunk may have also helped, since any reports would have suggested there were four men on the run. It was also to the North Koreans’ benefit that France and Switzerland weren’t big fans of profiling. Sometimes it seemed they’d rather let a murderer go free than arrest someone because they looked like the suspect.
Han-Jae rubbed his eyes. He was exhausted and could see the fatigue on his men’s faces. They needed to rest. He glanced down at his watch. Local time was 2:27 in the morning.
They’d found an old convenience store that had long been closed for business and broken in through one of the back doors. There were no usable supplies inside, but it gave them a place to regroup and get some rest. Han-Jae hadn’t been willing to risk getting a room anywhere. Even with their new passports, four Asian guys matching the description from a shootout in France would raise even the least suspecting person’s suspicions.
After rummaging through the office in the back and the former storage closet, they found a few jackets, packets of toilet paper, and even a tattered blanket, all things that could be used as pillows.
It wasn’t first class, but it would do. Han-Jae knew his men were hearty enough to endure far worse conditions. They’d been forced to sleep in muddy ditches during their training as soldiers. Their spy training had been even more rigorous, forcing them to go days with mere minutes of sleep. That intense training was a huge part of why any of them were still functioning.
“That’s it,” the youngest of the group said, breaking the long silence.
Han-Jae’s eyes perked slightly. “What’s it?”
“Cologne city hall.”
“What about it?” Buzz-Cut asked.
“When we were there, I heard the Americans talking about a symbol on the side of the building, the one where the priest was atop that… strange pedestal.”
“I remember which one you’re talking about,” Han-Jae said. “They said something about a church.”
“Yes. An abbey in England that Joseph of Arimathea supposedly founded. They said something about King Arthur.”
“He’s right,” Shaved Head agreed. “I heard the same thing, but I didn’t hear the exact location. There must be thousands of old churches in England.”
“It could be any one of them,” Han-Jae said.
“Not necessarily,” the youngest insisted.
He pulled out his phone and checked the battery life. The device still had 30 percent left before it needed a charge. He typed in a few words and then hit the search button. A moment later, the screen changed and displayed several results. He tapped the first one and scrolled down until he found what he was looking for, then turned the phone around so the other three could see it.
“Glastonbury,” he said. “This is where they claim King Arthur is buried.”
“Very good,” Han-Jae said. “But that doesn’t mean the sword is there. And the codex the McElroys had is long gone.”
“Maybe,” the young man said. “But if Wyatt and Schultz were able to get away from those other men, this would be the first place they would go. It’s the next logical step.”
“Okay. I see where you’re going with this, but if the Americans went there, they’d be long gone by now,” Buzz-Cut argued.