Encrypted (55 page)

Cautiously
,
they made their way back to the fork in the hallways. The paintings they needed
were
stacked to the side.

Zach indicated to the framed canvases. “If this goes sideways…”

Francois nodded to
ward
the acetylene torches. If they couldn’t get the pictures to Ronnie, they could at least burn them
,
and she could record the symbols. But Zach didn’t want to walk too far down that path. If Ronnie wanted to burn them in a specific order, that was what he was going to made sure happened.

He felt the heft of the weight of the boomerang in his hand. The carved wood shaped in a lazy “V” didn’t seem nearly heavy enough to do the job. It was either the boomerang or start chucking statues at the armed men. How many years had it been since he’d thrown a boomerang
,
though? College? Childhood? Would he have the speed or even accuracy to take down one, let alone two
,
men?

Francois crouched next to him ready to unfurl his attack.

Thankfully, like all sentries, the two men had let down their guard just a hair. One faced toward them, but the other had his back to them. All the better. It would give Zach time to get off at least one good shot if not two before they started firing.
W
hen it came down to it, they were bringing a boomerang and a didgeridoo to a gunfight.

Zach gripped the smooth end of the boomerang in his right hand and kept the other ready in this left. Turning sideways
,
he cocked his arm back. It was a lot like shooting a baseball from first base to catch a guy stealing second base. Using every ounce of strength he could muster from his sore muscles, Zach flung the boomerang at the man facing in their direction.

The weapon whistled through the air, spinning sideways. Not waiting for that one to connect, Zach tossed the second boomerang into his right hand, reeled back
,
and let it fly.

The first hit the assailant in the left shoulder. Luckily
,
that was the guy’s gun arm that got knocked back. The other boomerang hit the gunm
a
n right at the base of the skull. He stumbled forward before catching himself on the wall.

Francois got that dappled didgeridoo whipping as he charged, cracking one assailant in the back of the knee. The first boomerang whisked its way back. Zach caught it
in
mid-air, turned it over
,
and flung it again, hitting the man in the chest
and
knocking him back as Francois brought his staff squarely to his belly.

As the second boomerang came back, Zach caught it. Instead of letting it fly, he raised it. The first gunm
a
n recovered, bringing his semiautomatic rifle up, but Zach was there first, using the crook of the boomerang to hook the gun, jerking it from the man’s hands. The metal clanged on the floor and skid
ded
out of sight.

Zach pulled the stone knife from his belt.

This was more like it.

* * *

Francois shifted his weight to his back foot, bunching the muscle there, preparing for the explosive movement forward, cracking the staff across the gunman’s temple. The skin split, sending the man staggering back. Blood gushed down the assailant’s forehead. Still
,
his lips curled in a snarl dating back to a Neanderthal challenge.

Despite his aching flesh and weary joints, Francois was more than happy to oblige. He arched the didgeridoo back around, slamming into the man’s shoulder. They had to keep the men from firing. The sound of a gun’s discharge would surely bring
Lino
back.

For the briefest moment
,
Francois’ arms locked as he remember
ed
the cruelty in the young man’s eyes.
Lino
fed on destruction and mayhem as others ate a meal. His assailant seized the distraction and lashed out with a kick, nearly dislocating Francois
’
leg from his hip. He truly was getting too old for this. In his young
days
? Fresh from his years of training
,
this man would not have stood for three seconds
.

Now though, it took every bit of grace and training
for Francois
to prevent
himself from
falling to the floor. He tried to bring the staff up, but the gunman
’s
hand darted out, hitting Francois in the throat. Choking, dizzy, and disabled
,
Francois stumbled away
—
watching the gun rise, aiming straight for his heart.

* * *

Ronnie’s hands flew up to her mouth as the muscles in the gunman’s arm tensed, ready to fire. Then Zach was there. The flash of a stone blade as the assailant doubled over
,
clutching the bone hilt sticking out from his chest.

“Dang,” Quirk said from beside her. “They are going primeval on their asses.”

She couldn’t disagree. The FBI agent blocked a blow from the first man with his boomerang
,
and
then followed up with a right hook. Francois seemed recovered as he brought the staff around and smacked the guy in the jaw.

With that the two assailants were down.

Ronnie watched Zach bring his hand up to his ear, opening their line. “On our way.”

“Oh
,
crap,” Quirk said next to her.

“What?”

Her assistant pointed to the screen that had been following
Lino
and the other assailant. They had left a breadcrumb trail leading away from the European
M
asters toward the emergency exit. Quirk had even created the scenario that one of them
was
injured and the other
was
going back to help them make it out. Her assistant had woven a story of triumph and tragedy for this little mockingbird scenario.

And it had worked perfectly… until now.
Lino
seemed to sniff a rat as he paused next to the door. He argued with his tech guy. Ronnie chewed her lip. They really, really, really needed him to buy it and leave.

In the end
,
though,
Lino
backhanded his assistant
,
then turned directly to the camera. Ronnie cringed as the man walked up until his face filled the frame and then smiled.

“Zach,” Ronnie said as
Lino
sprinted down the hall, coming right for them. “You’ve got to haul some ass.”

“Working on it,” Zach replied. “We’re carrying about a billion dollars worth of art.”

Ronnie glanced
at
the screen. They weren’t making good enough time.
Lino
would get
t
here first. “Dump it.”

“No way.”

On
-
screen
,
they watched Zach grab one of the paintings from Francois, freeing
up
the older man. But now it was Zach lagging behind.

“Get the gate ready,” Ronnie instructed Quirk.

“Aren’t we leaving?”

She shook her head. Zach was right. The whole point of this endeavor was to gather the paintings. And since they couldn’t get a single one off the walls of this gallery, they needed to come up with a plan…
what
were they up to? Plan
G
?

“We’ve got to
t
ake our stand here.”

Quirk glanced around. This gallery was clearly a dead end. “Then how are we getting out?”

“I have no freaking idea.”

CHAPTER 25

Metropolitan Museum of Art

10:55
a
.
m
.,
E
ST

“What the hell?” Zach asked
,
running as fast as he could
while
carrying what felt like a ton of bricks. “Are these paintings made of lead?”

“Um,” Ronnie answered in his ear, “Yes. Some of the frames have lead weights to discourage snatch and grabs.”

Okay. Good to know. At least he felt less the weakling. Francois rounded the corner ahead of him at just about the same time a bullet hit a statue and ricocheted right past Zach’s nose.

Francois must have been hit as he careened to the right. An arm lashed out and grabbed the older man, dragging him into the European Masters room. Coming right for Zach were
Lino
and another man, firing away.

Zach swung
The Wave
in front of him
,
praying that Ronnie was right about that lead thing. Sure enough, the bullets pinged off the lead backing
and
deflected harmlessly. But that wouldn’t last forever.

As the metal gate rattled, closing off the room, Zach chucked the paintings, sliding them across the floor and into the gallery. With one last heave, he dove forward, hitting his shoulder hard,
and
then rolling into the room.

The metal gate clanged shut.

Alarms went off
—
ringing, blaring, flashing lights. So much for their stealth entry and exit. Of course
,
the blond guy shooting at them wasn’t helping much
,
either.

He came up, pulling the gun he’d nabbed from the other gunmen.

“No!” Ronnie yelled, but he’d already squeezed off half a dozen rounds. All of which bounced off the mesh, zipping around the room. “That’s titanium
-
hardened steel.”

The good news
,
though,
was
that
if Zach couldn’t shoot out
,
Lino
couldn’t shoot in.

Although the young
,
blond man didn’t seem at all discouraged by
that
fact. He walked up to the metal gate, surveyed its periphery
,
and
then sneered.

* * *

Francois limped forward amongst the cacophony of alarms. “Leave,
Lino
!
”

The acolyte did not seem inclined to obey. His words
were
flavored by a thick Slavic influence. “Trapping yourself. How
insightful
of you.”

Lino
was
like
a cub prancing about as a full-
maned
lion. How sure of the world Francois had been at that age. Still righteous in his belief that the Hidden Hand fulfilled God’s work rather than made a blasphemy of it.

“You must know, somewhere in your heart,
Lino
, that your path is corrupt. That God would not want such destruction brought in his name.”

The young man’s cruel smile only spread. “We are here to finish the work He started. We are
His
Hand.”

Perhaps Francois could reach
Lino
the way another brother so long ago had reached Francois. “Why not allow God to move in his own time? If he wished this destruction
,
could he not so easily do it himself?”

“Ah,”
Lino
sighed. “Why then
,
did God give me the means to bring the world so low, Brother
Loboum
? Why indeed?”

Sirens sounded in the distance
,
rising above even the clamor around them. Francois had to admit that
Lino
was not like him. Not in full. For even in his youthful arrogance, somewhere within Francois’ heart doubt brewed. The man
who
stood before him had no such reservation
s
. He had been forged as steel to carry out the Hand’s macabre mission.

There was no reasoning with the man. Francois slid the knife through the thin slit of the metal mesh into
Lino’s
side. Was it wrong to take pleasure in the look of surprise on the whelp’s face? It was not a fatal blow, but to
Lino’s
ego? Yes, a fine blow indeed.

As the young man pulled his hand away from the bloody wound in his side, Francois found that glimmer of doubt he had been looking for.