Black Order (Sigma Force 3)

"Heads up," Monk mumbled, nodding to the left.

Up on the canopy trail, a guard marched slowly into view, limned against one of the lamps, rifle on his shoulder. Gray glanced to Monk. Where there was one, there must be more. An entire army could be hidden up in the canopy. Escape seemed less and less likely.

At last they reached a set of steps that led up to a wide porch of polished zebra wood. A woman waited, a twin to their escort and as nattily attired. The man stepped forward and kissed each of her cheeks.

He spoke to her in Dutch. While not fluent with the language, Gray was familiar enough to catch the gist.

"Are the others prepared, Ischke?" he asked.

"We just wait word from grootvader." She nodded to the illuminated conservatory at the far end of the porch. "Then the hunt can begin."

Gray struggled for any clue to their meaning, but he was too much in the dark.

With a heavy sigh, the blond man turned back to them, fingering a stray lock of hair back in place. "My grandfather will see you in the solarium," their guide said, biting off each word. He headed down the length of the porch toward it. "You will speak to him civilly and with respect, or I will personally see you suffer for every word of disrespect."

"Isaak…" the woman called to him.

He stopped and turned. "Ja, Ischke?"

She spoke in Dutch again. "De jongen en net meisje? Should we bring them out now?"

A nod answered her, followed by a final order in Dutch.

As Gray translated this last bit, he had to be tugged to move. He glanced over a shoulder at the woman. She vanished inside the house.

De jongen en net meisje.

The boy and the girl.

It had to be Ryan and Fiona.

The two were still alive. Gray took some consolation in the revelation—but Isaak's last words chilled and terrified him.

Bloody them up first.

5:18 a.m.

AIRBORNE OVER AFRICA

Painter sat with a pen in hand. The only noise in the plane was the occasional snore from Gunther. The man seemed oblivious to the danger into which they were flying. Then again, Gunther did not have the same time constraints as Anna and Painter. Though all three were headed toward the same place—devolution—Anna and Painter were in the fast lane.

Unable to sleep, Painter had used the time to review the history of the Waalenberg clan, gaining as much Intel on the family as possible.

To know your enemy.

The Waalenbergs had first reached Africa by way of Algiers in 1617. They proudly traced their family history back to the infamous Barbary pirates along the North African coast. The first Waalenberg was a quartermaster for the famous pirate Sleyman Reis De Veenboer, who operated an entire Dutch fleet of corsairs and galleys out of Algiers.

Eventually, rich upon spoils from the slave trade, the Waalenbergs had moved south, settling into the large Dutch colony at the Cape of Good Hope. But their piracy didn't end there. It just went aground. They gained a powerful stranglehold on the immigrant Dutch population, so that when gold was discovered in the lands they settled, the Waalenbergs profited the most. And the gold found was not a small amount. The Witwatersrand Reef, a low mountain range near Johannesburg, was the source of forty percent of all the world's gold. Though not as ostentatious as the famous diamond mines of the De Beerses, the gold of the "Reef" was still one of the world's most valuable storehouses of wealth.

It was upon such wealth that the family set up a dynasty that transcended the First and Second Boer Wars, and all the political machinations that became South Africa today. They were one of the richest families on the planet—though for the past generations, the Waalenbergs had grown ever more reclusive, especially under the auspices of their current patriarch, Sir Baldric Waalenberg. And as they disappeared from the public's eye, rumors grew around the family: of atrocities, perversions, drug addictions, inbreeding. Yet still the Waalenbergs grew richer, with stakes in diamonds, oil, petrochemicals, pharmaceuticals. They put the multi in multinational.

Could this family truly be behind the events at Granitschlofi?

They were certainly powerful enough and had ample resources. And the tattoo Painter had found on the blond assassin definitely bore a resemblance to the "Cross" of the Waalenberg crest. And then there were the twins, Isaak and Ischke Waalenberg. What was their purpose in Europe?

So many unanswered questions.

Painter flipped a page and tapped his pen on the Waalenberg crest.

Something about the symbol…

As with the history of the Waalenbergs, Logan had forwarded information about the symbol. It traced back to the Celts, another Nordic tribe.

Emblematic of the sun, the symbol was often found emblazoned on Celtic shields, earning it the name of shield knot.

Painter's hand paused.

Shield knot.

Words filled his head, spoken by Klaus as he died, a curse cast at them.

You will all die! Strangled when the knot tightens!

Painter had thought Klaus had been making a reference to a tightening noose. But what if he had been referring instead to the symbol?

When the knot tightens…

Painter turned over a fax sheet. He sketched while staring at the Waalenberg crest. He drew the symbol as if someone had cinched the knot more tightly, drawing the loops together, like tying a shoelace.

"What are you doing?" Lisa materialized at his shoulder.

Startled again, he scooted his pen across the paper, almost tearing it.

"Good God, woman, will you please stop sneaking up on me like that!"

Yawning, she settled on the arm of his chair, perching there. She patted him on the shoulder. "Such a delicate disposition." Her hand remained there as she leaned closer. "Really. What were you drawing?"

Painter suddenly was too conscious of her right breast next to his cheek.

He cleared his throat and returned to his sketch. "Just playing with the symbol we found on the assassin. Another of my operatives saw it on a pair of Sonnekonige in Europe. Twin grandchildren of Sir Baldric Waalenberg. It must be important. Perhaps a clue we've overlooked."

"Or maybe the old bastard just likes branding his offspring, like cattle. They're certainly breeding them as such."

Painter nodded. "Then there was something Klaus said. Something about tightening a knot. Like an unspoken secret."

He finished the sketch with a few more careful strokes, cinching it down. He put one beside the other. The original and the tightened.

Painter studied both drawings and realized the implication.

Lisa must have noted the slight intake in his breath. "What?" she asked, leaning even closer.