In Freemasonry he was considered not so much a Mason, but a member of the Higher Brotherhood. Modern-day Masons tried to distance themselves from involvement with the Count, citing the ridiculous accounts surrounding his alchemical discoveries, great feats and long life as proof that the man was an utter charlatan.
But Lauren pointed out the stark facts: kings courted him; battle commanders traveled with him; composers sought his company, theaters his compositions. He facilitated the marriage of a Dutch princess to a German prince, to establish a “fund for France”. All statements of fact.
Why?
The Brotherhood called him an Advanced Adept, and many branches still did not deny him. His intrigues, travels and successes certainly pointed to a man of power, moving within influential circles and swaying minds.
Dahl was more interested in the place he’d stayed whilst visiting Zurich. “Lauren?”
“Yeah, it’s up here.” She jabbed at the screen where a 2D map of Zurich was displayed. Mountains marched beyond the lake and the city, some snow-capped. Lauren’s fingers tapped at one of the tallest.
“We have a GPRS locator?” she asked.
Dahl nodded. “My old job. Never go anywhere without one.”
Kenzie tapped him on the shoulder. “Um, except Barbados, eh?”
“That was different. Stop jabbering.”
He ignored the bleat of protest, listening as Lauren suggested a simple route to a location close to the foot of the mountain in question.
“Webb’s there now?” he asked.
Kinimaka nodded. “Like a virus that can’t be shaken.”
“Kenzie.” He stood up without looking at her. “Get the check.”
Sometime later around lunchtime, the team crowded out of their rented minibus, opened the rear hatch, and took a look at the assorted clothes and implements they’d thrown there. Only Dahl and Yorgi sported smiles.
“Don’t worry,” Dahl said. “It looks more cross-country than hill climb. A totally different kettle of fish.”
The team reached inside the van for jackets, trousers, headgear and then the dreaded skis. Dahl didn’t say a word when Smyth gestured for help or when Lauren fell over, just made sure the guys were okay. Their weapons were secured last, and then Kinimaka sent a final communication over to Argento at Interpol.
They set out, leaving the minibus parked in a large area alongside other vehicles and following tracks already laid out in the snow. The glare was high, the skies bright. Dahl tried to show the others, particularly Kinimaka, how best to employ his poles to help him glide across the snow-covered terrain. The Hawaiian was a fast learner, but in his own words had “no real experience with the white stuff”.
“Use the alternating technique,” the Swede said. “And look on the bright side, it’s not too far.”
The snowy landscape stretched far and wide, rolling hills ahead leading to higher and higher slopes. Dahl felt a chill in the air but knew it would soon dissipate once the team started their cross-country walk. He took the lead, looking back often and shouting encouragement. This was just what he needed, something to interfere with his train of thought and a way to help. When Kenzie fell on her ass he even scooted over to pull her up.
“People actually do this for fun?” she asked.
“Of course. You get used to it, like any pastime. Give it a chance.”
The first rolling hill secreted a sharp slope down which both Kinimaka and Lauren went sideways and tumbling. Dahl helped them up and they continued, checking ahead and seeing at least three more similar hills. To the far right a cable car passed them, trundling slowly up highly tensioned wires.
“See the tracks?” Dahl panted as they paused, his breath pluming. “The popular path veers off that way.”
Kinimaka raised his goggles. “And we go…?”
“Straight on.” Lauren pointed. “Across virgin snow.”
“Crap, that’s just great.”
As a team they persevered and struggled through. Dahl helped when he made them slow down, wary of any lookouts Webb may have posted. There were no more communications from Sabrina and already the day was growing old, the shadows long. They crested a final slope and paused in the shadow of a huge boulder.
Ahead, a gentle slope ran to the base of the mountain. As Dahl studied the terrain a gentle snow flurry skipped up all around them, stinging their exposed faces with bits of ice. Kinimaka complained surprisingly more than Smyth.
“He’s just cranky,” Kenzie pointed out. “Problems at home.”
Kinimaka swore at her. “Keep it to yourself.”
“Relax,” Kenzie said. “She’s fine. I’m sure someone’s taking care of her right now.”
Kinimaka turned his back with obvious melancholy and asked how close they were to the coordinates. Dahl checked his GPS. “A few miles,” he admitted. “Might be best to get a move on.”
Another hour of relentless shambling and they were close enough to their destination to remove skis and continue in thick boots, much to everyone’s relief. The air had already grown noticeably colder and the sky was fast losing its shine. The slopes of the mountain had been rugged for a while, before flattening out into a wide plateau. As the group came up the final part of the hard climb, they peered over the apex and saw a wonderful thing.
Rocks dotted the plateau, which led all the way to the mountainside. Nestling at the foot of the next rock face was a medium-sized house, bland in appearance but ancient; its brick structure weathered and its surrounds being retaken by the mountain. From this distance they could discern no more until Dahl broke the field glasses out.
They crept over the edge and lay amid a clump of trees, snow spilling out beneath them. When Kinimaka bumped into a low branch heavy with snow and dislodged a white shower that covered them all, everyone complained but Dahl — who used the field glasses to see if the movement had been spotted.
Through the lenses he saw golden light beaming through undraped windows, its radiance spilling across the landscape. Each window gave up a secret — the presence of suited men, a table full of untouched food and unused glasses, rows of leather-bound, hardback books lovingly preserved, and more.
Nobody he recognized.
Upstairs he went, training the field glasses carefully. With a slow turn of the adjustment wheel he compensated for the slight change.
And focused in on the face of Tyler Webb, staring out the window and across the landscape back toward Zurich.
Dahl almost gasped. Surprise made him tighten his fists around the glasses, an act that didn’t go unnoticed amongst the team.
“What is it?” Kinimaka and Smyth said at once.
“Webb,” he breathed. “I don’t believe it. Tyler bloody Webb, large as life and twice as ugly, standing before a window on the top floor. Dozens of guards below though. This place belongs to a high-level player.”
Kinimaka grunted, a feral sound bearing all the hatred and pent-up fears reaped from months of stalking both Hayden and he had endured, from afar and from intimately near.
“We go,” he said, forgetting the cell and their line to Sabrina. “We go now. Hit it. Hit it hard.”
Kenzie moved in the snow, her body making it crunch. “Hey, Mano, if you’d used your own advice on Hayden you might still be together.”
The entire team ignored her. Dahl rolled onto his side, snow spilling, and regarded them. “Prepare for a fight. Are you ready?” It was a rhetorical question. “Try Sabrina quickly, Mano. Then we move.”