The Emperor's Revenge (Oregon Files 11)

As soon as she finished sending the message, three different men came out of the cathedral. The three uniformed utility workers were hauling an antique trunk.

FIFTY-TWO

After leaving Linda and finding a side door that was easily jimmied, Juan and the others were inside the Vilnius Cathedral, looking at the dead body of a beefy man sporting sideburns down to his jaw. He was lying at the top of the stairs leading down to the catacombs.

Juan searched the corpse and found a card identifying him as Robertas Kulpa, an employee of the local energy utility. He found Kulpa’s phone, but this one didn’t have a thumbprint reader, like Marie Marceau’s did, so he couldn’t unlock it. They’d have to try to crack it for clues later.

“Now we know how they staged this,” Gretchen said in a low voice.

Juan’s phone vibrated. He quickly pocketed Kulpa’s phone before he read the text from Linda on his own that said Police coming inside. Another came only seconds later: Three men carrying trunk coming out. One fits your description of Golov.

So the captain of the Achilles himself was here. Juan realized this might be the perfect opportunity to stop their scheme in one shot. And with the van crippled with a flat, now would be the time to strike. Juan peeked into the cathedral nave, where he saw two more bodies lying on the floor at the far end. Both were wearing police uniforms, and blood was pooling on the marble tile.

The sound of two sets of footsteps approached from the catacombs below. Juan motioned for Gretchen, MacD, and Trono to press themselves against the wall opposite Kulpa’s corpse, their pistols at the ready.

One of the men coming from the catacombs was speaking into a radio. “Jablonski and I are done setting the charges,” he said in English. “Nine minutes, and counting, before the treasure is toast. What should we do with Kulpa?”

A voice Juan recognized as Golov’s replied, “Put him in the chamber. We’ll take the policemen down there, too. It’ll look like an accident long enough for us to get away.”

“Got it. How long to fix the flat?”

“Sirkal and O’Connor are changing the tire now. We’ll be back inside in two minutes.”

Their radio conversation ended, Jablonski and his comrade marched up the stairs, discussing what they were going to have for dinner as if they were on any ordinary job. Juan couldn’t believe his luck. With a pair of ambushes, they could capture Golov and his men in one fell swoop, quietly and bloodlessly.

That plan lasted all of six seconds. Just one ding ruined it.

While reading Linda’s text, Juan had forgotten to turn off the ringer on Kulpa’s phone. He didn’t know if the utility worker’s cell had received a text or just announced a calendar reminder, but it didn’t matter. The problem was that the phone—the only one that should have been there—was no longer on the same side of the room as its owner’s body. One of the men coming up the stairs must have realized that because he stopped dead.

“What is it?” Jablonski asked.

“Something’s wrong,” the radio guy replied.

“What do you mean . . . Wait, wasn’t Kulpa on—”

The surprise was gone. Juan couldn’t wait. He dived to the floor at the top of the stairs, his pistol aimed where he’d heard the closer voice.

Two athletic ex-military types were side by side on the stairs. The man on the right held a radio in one hand and already had his gun raised in the other. Juan’s sudden appearance on the floor caused him to snap off a shot before he could adjust his aim. Juan put a round through his forehead and the man dropped like a rag doll.

The blond man to the left had to be Jablonski. He was pulling his own weapon from its holster when Juan’s barrel shifted to point at his face. Jablonski froze mid-draw.

“Drop it!” Juan yelled.

Jablonski complied and the gun clattered as it tumbled down the stairs.

Juan kept his gun on the man as MacD brought him up the steps and Trono retrieved the dropped weapon.

“Golov had to have heard those shots,” Gretchen said.

“And it won’t take long for them to figure out what happened,” Juan said. “These two might not be important enough to wait for.”

His phone buzzed. Linda was calling. At the same time, the radio came to life.

“Monroe, are you there? What happened?”

Juan picked up the radio, gave it to Jablonski, and pointed his pistol at the blond’s temple. “Tell him that one of the policemen wasn’t dead. He shot Monroe and you need help carrying him out.”

Jablonski stared at Juan for a moment, then nodded and spoke into the radio. “This is Jablonski. One of the cops was still alive. He got Monroe, but I killed him. Monroe’s still breathing, but I need help bringing him out.”