The Devil's Path (An Alexander Scott Novel Book 1) Page 22

  Scott knew it was about them. He suspected the Turkish authorities knew all about Soult, but ignored him, as long as he steered clear of local politics.

  “Do you have another way out?” asked Scott, looking at the patrons streaming out the back door. “I doubt we could walk out of here so easily.”

  Soult smiled. “Of course, I have another…it is just that I have never used it.”

  Kate and Father Vasilliou emerged out of the side room and stood there looking at the empty café.

  “Did I miss something?” asked Kate.

  “We don’t have time to talk,” said Soult bluntly. “Grab whatever you need from your rooms and meet me here in two minutes,” said Soult, stepping behind the bar and then disappearing into the back kitchen.

  “Alex, what is going on…I’m scared,” said Kate as she grabbed hold of Scott’s arm.

  “We have to leave right away. Come, let’s do as Soult says and pack our bags tout de suite,” said Scott with a reassuring wink.

  Less than a minute later, Scott, Kate, Gray, and Thomas assembled in front of the bar, where they had left Father Vasilliou and Sarik. Scott and Kate each had a small pack on their backs, while Gray and Thomas had insisted on carting their heavy wooden box between them.

  Soult stepped out from his kitchen. In his hands were several oil lamps, already lit. Bending down, Soult pulled back a threadbare dirty gray carpet from the wooden floor; underneath was a trap door. With a grin, Soult pulled up on an iron latch on the trapdoor and pulled it open. The pungent smell of raw sewage floated up from below.

  “Not again,” moaned Scott, remembering the escape route they had taken through the bowels of Mont Saint Michael.

  A loud rap at the front door of the café made everyone’s head turn and stare at the locked door.

  “If we’re real quiet, perhaps they’ll think we’re not home,” offered Gray.

  A second later, there was another louder knock at the door. A voice called out in English, “Miss O’Sullivan, Colonel Scott, my name is Colonel Asker, commanding officer of the Eleventh Regiment of Line Infantry. I know you are hiding in there, walk out with your hands up and surrender immediately or face the consequences.”

  “That’s not too subtle,” said Scott.

  “I have been authorized to tell you that if you do not show yourselves in the next thirty seconds, then harm will come to Miss O’Sullivan’s father,” said the man outside.

  Kate, her face betraying her concern, made a move to the door.

  Scott reached out and grabbed her by the arms. “It’s a bluff,” said Scott firmly. “We have to go, before it is too late.”

  Kate turned and looked at Scott. She was torn. She knew they had to leave, but she also needed more than anything in the world to know that her father was still alive.

  Karl Wollf and his sister sat inside their covered carriage and watched as the Turkish Colonel negotiated with the people inside the café.

  “This is a waste of time,” snapped Viktoria, losing what little composure she had. She stepped out of the carriage and walked over beside the men guarding Professor O’Sullivan. Grabbing the O’Sullivan by his coat lapel, she dragged him into the middle of the street, drew her pistol, and jammed it so hard into O’Sullivan’s skull that she drew blood.

  “Call to her,” ordered Viktoria, forcing the barrel of the pistol deeper into the wound on O’Sullivan’s forehead. “Do it or so help me God, I will shoot you!”

  “Never,” muttered O'Sullivan defiantly.

  “Suit yourself,” snarled Viktoria as she pulled the pistol back, cocked its hammer and then fired a shot right beside the defenseless professor’s head.

  Jumping back in fright, O’Sullivan fought against the vice-like grip of Viktoria’s hand.

  “The next one won’t miss,” said Viktoria, adjusting her aim.

  “Run Kate, run for your life,” yelled O’Sullivan at the top of his lungs.

  Viktoria fired.

  “Father,” screamed Kate at the sound of his voice and the second shot firing. Pulling free of Scott, she dashed for the door, her mind fixed on one goal: saving her father.

  Scott was a second too slow.

  Kate made it to the door, her heart beating wildly in her chest as she pulled back the deadbolt and then with tears in her eyes she heaved the door open.

  “No!” wailed Kate at the sight of her father sitting on the ground, blood pouring through his hands. A large part of her father’s right ear lay in a pool of blood at his feet. A leather-clad, malevolent-looking woman stood over him with a smoking pistol in her hand.

  The Turkish Colonel standing beside the open door saw Kate and reached out to grab her.

  Scott instantly drew his pistol and fired it point-blank into the colonel’s face. His body tumbled back and then fell to the dirty street.

  An order rang out. Weapons everywhere were made ready.

  The sound of Scott’s pistol firing snapped something deep inside Kate. She had to get out of there. She had to run and help her father. She ran headlong to her father’s side, just as the world exploded all around her.

  Scott had moved a millisecond before the shooting started. Like a swarm of enraged Hornets, the bullets whizzed past Scott, striking the wooden frame of the door, shredding it. Splinters flew everywhere. Diving for the floor, Scott heard the sound of glass being shattered and wood being torn apart as hundreds of poorly aimed shots struck Soult’s café. Crawling on his belly, Scott made for the relative safety of the thick wooden bar.

  Kate, tears streaming down her face, threw herself onto the ground, her arms reaching around her bloodied father.

  “I’m alright, dear,” said O’Sullivan, overjoyed to see his daughter again, even under these terrible circumstances.

  “Your ear,” mumbled Kate, digging into a pocket and pulling out a white handkerchief, which she quickly applied to his wound, trying to staunch the bleeding.

  Viktoria looked down at Kate, her face blank, emotionless. “He’s lucky I didn’t shoot off something more vital,” said Viktoria.

  Putting her father’s hand on the kerchief, Kate stood up, her face only inches away from Viktoria Wolff’s, her green eyes filled with hate and anger.

  “No, you’re lucky you didn’t do something worse,” snarled Kate. “Or you would have to answer to me.”

  Viktoria laughed and hauled off to slap Kate with her right hand, only to have her hand grabbed from behind by her brother.

  “No, you don’t,” warned Karl. “You have done far too much today already. Leave them with me and return to the train…immediately.”

  Viktoria bared her teeth and snarled with rage.

  “Now!” said Karl, pulling his sister back away from the Kate and her father.

  Spinning on her heels, Viktoria stormed off cursing to herself.

  “Fetch my doctor,” yelled Karl to his secretary. He was pissed, but his sister had gotten what they were after, just not in the manner he had wanted. He needed Professor O’Sullivan and his daughter weakened, not more defiant, which after today, he feared they would now become.

  “Over here, sir,” yelled Thomas to Scott. The sound of the café being shredded to pieces as hundreds of bullets flew through the shattered glass windows or struck the outside walls was deafening.

  Scott saw Thomas’ large hand reaching for him from behind the bar.

  Thrusting his hand out, Thomas grabbed hold and in one yank, Scott was pulled behind the bar.

  “Thanks,” said Scott, looking over at Thomas. “Where is everyone else?” asked Scott, only seeing Thomas behind the bar.

  “They’ve all gone down into the old Roman sewer,” replied Thomas, looking past Scott, his eye searching for Kate.

  “I’m alone. They’ve got Kate.”

  Shaking his head, Thomas said, “We got to go, Colonel. The others they are waiting for us.”

  “After you,” said Scott. A moment later, Thomas, with a loud grunt, forced his large frame through the narrow h
ole in the cafe floor.

  Scott placed a foot on the ladder leading below. His heart told him to stay, to turn himself in and be with Kate, but he knew that his only option now lay in getting his hands on the Grail before their attackers, and then he would have something over them, something he could bargain with.

  Pulling the trapdoor closed as he climbed lower down the ladder, Scott could see his compatriots waiting for him in the dimly lit tunnel underneath the café.

  Scott swore.

  Lying on the dirty stone floor was the priest struggling to breathe. By the amount of blood pooling around him, Scott could tell that the priest had been hit in the chest. He knew the man was going to die.

  “Come here, Colonel,” said Sarik hurriedly. “Father Vasilliou wants to talk to you.”

  The sound of the gunfire above slowly relented. Scott knew they did not have very long before the soldiers came looking for them.

  Bending down, Scott looked at the cleric’s ashen-white face; his breathing was becoming more labored. Seeing Scott, the priest smiled and then weakly waved for Scott to come closer. Placing his head close to the priest’s lips, Scott struggled to hear the raspy words escaping the father’s lips.

  Sarik bent down and placed his ear beside the priest, trying to catch the man’s last words. After a few seconds, the priest stopped talking, his eyes rolled up inside his head. He was gone.

  Scott reached over and closed the priest’s open eyes, before wearily standing up.

  “What did he say?” Scott asked Sarik.

  “He said that he thought you were a good and brave man,” said Sarik with a lump in his throat. “The Father wants you to go to Mount Ararat and climb the western plateau. It is there where you will find what you are looking for.”

  The sound of shooting suddenly stopped.

  “Gentlemen, we have to go,” said Soult. “Our friends will be coming shortly and trust me. We don’t want to be around when they arrive.”

  “Colonel, the priest?” asked Gray.

  “Leave him,” said Scott. “There is nothing we can do that would help the Father now.”

  Falling into line behind Soult, Scott fought to control his growing anger over the loss of Kate. He knew that they would try to force her to tell them what she knew to protect her father.

  It was now a race…a race he intended to win.

  A thin, Turkish Army Captain nervously edged to the open doorway, his pistol aimed inside the café. He fired off two shots into the ruined establishment before stepping inside. Shattered glass crunched under his polished boots. With a wave of his pistol, several more soldiers joined the captain inside the café. Tables, chairs, and broken glasses were strewn all across the floor. Like Swiss cheese, bullet holes riddled everything.

  “Show yourselves,” ordered the officer, puffing out his chest.

  Silence answered him.

  The captain grew curious. They couldn’t have escaped. He had men covering the back as well. They must be hiding…but where? Walking over to the bar, the captain peered over and saw the closed trapdoor.

  “Over here,” said the captain to the nearest man, a barrel-chested sergeant.

  The sergeant moved closer and looked at what the officer was pointing at.

  A strange smell slowly rose from behind the bar. Before the sergeant could call out a warning, the café exploded, instantly killing everyone inside. Wood and shards of glass like deadly projectiles flew out into the streets, killing or wounding more than a dozen other soldiers standing around outside the café.

  The sound of the café blowing apart reverberated down the old Roman aqueduct. Once a vital part of the city’s water supply, it was now just another part of the sewer system that ran like a maze for miles under the streets of Constantinople.

  “What the hell was that?” said Gray, ducking down as the blast shook dirt and muck from the roof showering the people below.

  “I left a little surprise for our uninvited guests,” said Soult over his shoulder.

  As soon as Scott had pulled the trapdoor closed, he had activated a slow-burning fuse that had detonated exactly five minutes later.

  “Where are we going?” asked Scott as he looked down arched tunnel that seemed to go on forever into the darkness.

  “I am really not sure. I have never walked it before,” said Soult. “I was told that it comes out near the harbor, which will be good for us as I believe that you need to get out of the city and across the straits as soon as possible.”

  “You’re not coming with us?”

  “No, I must find a way back to France. My work here is done,” said Soult. “I will ask Sarik to accompany you to Mount Ararat, as none of you can speak Turkish, and he has family connections all across the country,” explained Soult.

  Scott reached out and patted Soult on his shoulder. “I know there is no way I can ever repay you for what you have done for us,” said Scott.

  Soult stopped and looked into Scott’s eyes. “Yes you can. Do what you must, but make these bastards pay dearly for what they have done, that’s what you can do for me.”

  Scott stuck out his hand, a grin etched on his dirt-covered face. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  Chapter 28

  Kate cradled her father’s head in her lap. A fresh bandage had been applied to his wound, although the blood still wept through making it look worse than what it was. He was fast asleep. They had treated his wound and then given him some laudanum for his pain when they arrived back at Karl Wolff’s train.

  Looking about, Kate could see that they were locked inside a spacious first-class cabin. Aside from two single beds, there were four high-backed chairs covered in green leather accompanied by a mahogany table at the far end. Expensive artworks adorned the egg-white-painted walls.

  Laying her father’s head gently down on a pillow, Kate stood up and walked to the nearest window. Reaching over, she pulled on the window but found that it was locked. She had not expected anything else.

  A knock at the door startled Kate.

  Taking a breath, Kate turned about, ran her hands through her hair, and then down her crumpled dress. She may have felt awful, but she refused to look like it.

  “Come in,” said Kate, mustering her courage.

  The door opened. Karl Wollf stepped inside. He had changed into a suit that mirrored his charcoal gray eyes. A calm, almost relaxed aura hung over the man.

  “How is your father doing?” asked Karl in flawless English, his voice composed and caring.

  “He is doing well enough considering that he has lost most of one of his ears,” Kate said, trying to stay calm.

  “I am sorry. I apologize; my sister exceeded herself earlier today.”

  Kate gritted her teeth. What the hell did he mean by exceeded? These maniacs could have killed her father.

  “My father’s wounds are still bleeding. I need some more clean bandages,” Kate said.

  “I will see that it is done right away.”

  Kate thanked him and then stood there feeling his unwelcome gaze on her. Looking down, she wondered what the man really wanted.

  Seeing the look on Kate’s face, Karl apologized for staring and then with a smile indicated with a hand to the nearest chair.

  Kate sat down, as did Karl.

  “I suppose you have a myriad of questions for me,” said Karl. “But first, I think it only proper that I introduce myself. My name is Karl Wollf, son to Marius Wollf, of Vienna. I am almost sorry to say, but the woman who shot your father is my twin sister Viktoria.”

  “You already seem to know my father and me,” said Kate tersely.

  “Yes, very much so.”

  “I take it my father was being less than helpful, and that is why you went to all that trouble to get your hands on me.”

  Karl Wolff nodded his head.

  Kate continued. “What I don’t understand is why you want the Holy Grail so badly that you would be willing to kill so many innocent people to possess it?”

  “
You are very astute, Miss O’Sullivan,” complimented Karl. “I need you to get your father to tell me what he knows about the resting place of the Grail, or perhaps you can be convinced to translate his work for me, either way, by tomorrow morning, I expect your full cooperation.”

  Kate looked into Karl’s soulless gray eyes. She wanted answers. “Mister Wollf, if you expect me to help you, I still want to know why you want to possess the Grail.”

  Karl decided he had nothing to lose in telling her the truth. “Very well then, Miss O’Sullivan,” said Karl. “The Order, to which my family belongs, has been collecting ancient artefacts from all over the world for centuries. The possession of such relics has allowed us to control and guide from the shadows the course of human history in a manner that is both highly profitable and manageable. We allow changes in nations to be made, changes that are sometimes slow and imperceptible; sometimes they are short and violent, like your Civil War. It does not matter; all of these changes are driven by us and will ultimately bring about great wealth and power to a select number of families, three hundred to be precise,” explained Karl as if it were common knowledge. “All of that is inconsequential I suspect as far as you’re concerned. To answer your question, the Grail is reputed to have great powers…powers that I desperately need to save my father.”

  Kate could scarcely believe what she was hearing. How could such a secret organization exist without the governments of the major powers in Europe knowing…could they also be a willing participant? wondered Kate. It all sounded too fantastic to believe.

  “Please, I don’t understand. Who are these families, Mister Wollf?” asked Kate, trying to tease out more information.

  Karl smiled. “That part of the puzzle, Miss O’Sullivan, shall remain secret. Suffice to say the growing adoption of large-scale industrialization will see the world change in ways no one could have imagined at the turn of the century. My friends and I intend to use it to become even richer and more powerful than anyone else in the history of the world,” Karl said with a gleam in his eye.