Fire Ice nf-3 Page 39

  His hands were both full with the crown, so he didn't close the secret panel in the back of the closet. He would deposit the crown in the back of the car, come back and seal Dodson off for eternity, then kill the housekeeper and dispose of her body in the river.

  As Razov carried his burden toward the back of the house, he heard a rap at the front door. He froze.

  Zavala's voice called out. "Lord Dodson. Are you home?" Then the knock again, louder this time. Razov turned and headed for the kitchen.

  Dodson had left the door unlocked when he went out to see if the wind was blowing. Zavala and Austin stepped inside, guns in their hands. Zavala called out again. They made their way down the hall and stopped at the open closet where light streamed from the secret chamber. They exchanged glances, then Austin stepped inside, Bowen at ready, and descended the stairs while Zavala covered his back.

  Austin saw Lord Dodson sitting on the floor and peeled the tape from the Englishman's mouth. "Are you all right?"

  "Yes, I'm fine. Go after Razov – he has the crown." Austin used his Buck knife to cut the tape binding Dodson's hands and feet, and they climbed from the cellar. Dodson smiled when he saw Joe. "A pleasure to see you again, Mr. Zavala."

  "Nice to be back, Lord Dodson. This is my partner; Kurt Austin."

  "I'm very pleased to meet you, Mr. Austin."

  "The back door is open," Zavala said. "He must have gone that way."

  Dodson looked worried. "My housekeeper. Have you seen her?"

  "If you're talking about the large and very angry lady we found tied up in the backseat of a rental car, she's fine," Austin said. "We sent her for the police."

  "Thank you," Dodson said. "Razov may try for the river when he finds his car is gone. There's a boat there he may use in an attempt to escape."

  Zavala started for the back door.

  "Wait," Dodson said. "I know a better way. Come with me."

  To the puzzlement of the NUMA men, Dodson led them back through the closet into the underground chamber. He twisted two more wall brackets and opened another section of wall. "This is an old escape tunnel. It comes out at the bottom of a dry well near the river. Use the hand and footholds to climb out. You may be able to get to the boat ahead of that dreadful man. The crown will slow him down."

  "Thank you, Lord Dodson," Austin said, ducking his head as he slipped through the door.

  "Don't go into the river after him," Dodson called out.

  "The shallows are dangerous to walk on. The mud is like quicksand. It can swallow a horse."

  Austin and Zavala barely heard the warning as they bent into a running crouch and made their way through the tunnel. They had no flashlight and had to feel their way down the narrow, sloping passageway. The smell of stagnant water and rotting vegetation grew stronger. The tunnel ended abruptly, and if not for the shaft of moonlight they would have slammed into the curved wall.

  Austin groped around the stones and found the foot and handholds, then they climbed over the low walls around the well and saw the small boathouse silhouetted against the river's sheen. They made their way to the river and took up their stations on either side of the pier.

  Before long, they heard the pounding of feet and heavy breathing. Razov was running their way. It seemed as if he would walk directly into their trap, but as he neared the pier, a patch of sky opened in the clouds and the riverside and Austin's pale hair were bathed in a silvery light. It was only an instant, but Razov veered off to avoid the ambush and ran along the banks of the river.

  "Stop, Razov!" Austin shouted. "It's no use."

  The crackle of broken branches came from ahead as Razov crashed through the bushes bordering the river. They heard a splash. Austin and Zavala followed the sound until they stood on the grassy bank that rose a few feet above the river. Razov was trying to ford the river, but had only made it a few yards from shore before his feet became encased in the soft bottom mud. He had tried to scramble back to land without success. Now he stood in the water waist deep, facing the bank, the crown still clutched in his arms.

  "I can't move," he said.

  Austin remembered Dodson's warning of quicksand. He found a limb broken off a tree and extended it toward Razov. "Grab this."

  Razov was sinking almost to his armpits, yet he made no effort to reach for the branch.

  "Drop the damned crown!" Austin yelled.

  "No, I've waited too long. I won't let it go."

  "It's not worth your life," Austin said.

  The water had reached Razov's chin, and his reply was unintelligible. He lifted the crown high and placed it on his head. The weight only served to push him under the surface more quickly. His face disappeared until only the crown was visible, seemingly floating on the water, its surface glittering with a silver fire. Then it, too, disappeared.

  "Dios mio," Zavala said, reverting to his native Spanish. "What a way to go."

  They heard a huffing and puffing. Dodson had retrieved his rifle and ran toward them with a flashlight.

  "Where is that scoundrel?" Dodson asked.

  "There." Austin threw the useless branch into the river where Razov had disappeared. "The crown, too."

  "Dear God," Dodson said. He pointed his light at the brown, muddy water. Only a few bubbles marked Razov's position and soon they, too, were swept away by the slow-moving current.

  "Long live the tsar," Austin said.

  Then he turned and walked back to the house.

  38

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  AUSTIN ROWED IN the misty golden light, so intent on his strokes that he barely noticed the powerboat that crossed the river until it took up a position behind him. Austin stopped and the boat did the same. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, took a pull from his plastic water bottle and rested on his oar handles, squinting against the glare. As he gazed back at the unmoving boat, Austin began to wonder if life still pulsed in a stray tentacle of Razov's vast organization.

  As a test, he started to row. He had only taken a few strokes before the boat stirred and followed him again, keeping an even distance. He let the scull coast to a halt. The powerboat stopped again.

  A quick glance up and down the river told Austin he was on his own. The river was empty of boats, which was why he rowed so early. Austin set the scull into a wide easy turn and pointed the needle-sharp bow back the way he had come. He picked up the pace, keeping in mind that rowing was more technical precision than power. As he drew nearer, he saw that the boat had a white hull, although he couldn't tell how many people were aboard. He pulled harder, and the scull shot toward the boat with the unerring accuracy of a cruise missile.

  He was nearing a section of shoreline that bulged into the Potomac like a beer gut. Austin knew that the current flowing near the knob of land described a peculiar curlicue that could suck an unwary boater in close to land before spitting him out. Although his rowing created a straight-line illusion, he was actually being drawn closer to the bulge.

  On his next stroke, Austin kept one oar out of the water and used the other as an impromptu rudder. The scull veered suddenly and he finessed the abrupt change in direction without overturning, pointing the scull toward land. He heard the angry buzz of the outboard motor.

  He had hoped to catch the watcher off-guard and hadn't expected such a swift reaction. The powerboat quickly rose up on plane. Austin saw he'd never make shore and that he'd be at his most vulnerable, broadside to the approaching boat. He jettisoned his original plan, did another quick turn and sent the scull directly toward the fast-approaching powerboat. The boat was slightly shorter than the scull, but seen from water level it seemed to loom like the QE2. Any collision with the arrow-slim scull would be as devastating as an encounter with an ocean liner. Austin hoped that the boat would veer off at the last moment, or at the worst, that the hulls would come together with a glancing blow. Just when they seemed about to collide, he hoisted one oar on his shoulder as if preparing to throw a javelin, and braced himself.

  The
motorboat throttled back, came off plane and settled down in the water, where hull resistance brought it almost to a stop a few feet away. Austin heard a familiar barking laugh and looked up to see Petrov's cold-chiseled face looking down at him. The Russian was wearing a baseball cap and a Hawaiian shirt with palm trees and bikini-clad women on it.

  Austin replaced the oar in its outrigger. His heart was still thumping in his chest. "Hello, Ivan. I was wondering when you'd show up again. How'd you know I'd be out here?"

  Petrov shrugged.

  Austin smiled and said, "You might be interested to know that I checked into your dossier. Seems you've only become – Ivan Petrov in the last couple of years."

  "As the poet said, what's in a name?"

  "When do you leave for home?"

  "Tomorrow. Your president has turned the tsar's treasure over to my country. I'll be returning to Russia as a hero. There's even talk of political office. With the disappearance of Razoy, his Cossack forces are in disarray and the moderates have a chance of staying in power."

  "Congratulations. You deserve it."

  "Thank you, but to be honest, can you really see me sitting in the parliament?"

  "Guess not, Ivan," Austin said. "You'll always be a man of the shadows."

  "Do you blame me? It's where I belong and where I'm the most comfortable."

  "Maybe you could answer a couple of questions before you take on your next identity. Was Razov really descended from the tsar?"

  "That's what he was told from his father's deathbed. When he met Boris, the mad monk saw it as a marriage made in heaven. We have definite proof that Boris was directly descended from Rasputin."

  "The original mad monk?" Petrov nodded.

  Austin shook his head in amazement. "And Razov?"

  "His father was ill, advised. The village priest who kept the family records was a bit of a drunkard. He had heard the story of the tsar's daughter surviving, and used it to pry vodka money from Razov's father."

  "So there were no descendants from Maria."

  "I didn't say that." Petrov's lips widened in an enigmatic smile.

  Austin raised an eyebrow.

  "The Grand Duchess Maria had two descendants who are still living. A man and a woman. I've talked to both of them. They are happy in their lives and aware of the repercussions that would result if they revealed themselves. I will respect their wish for privacy. Now I have a question. How did you know Razov was headed to see Lord Dodson?"

  "We searched his yacht and found some papers indicating that the crown had been sent to Dodson's grandfather. We hopped a NUMA jet to England. Razov was traveling alone, luckily. I don't think he wanted anyone to know he had to steal the crown. Sorry we couldn't save it."

  "Don't be. It's probably better off where it is. If ever an inanimate object harbored a malignancy, that was it. Every one of those jewels was paid for with the blood and sweat of the serfs." Petrov watched a hawk making a lazy circle over the river and said, "Well, Mr. Austin – "

  "Kurt. We're beyond formalities."

  Petrov saluted. "Until we meet again, Kurt." He kicked up the throttle and raced down the river until the boat disappeared around a curve. Austin resumed his rowing and was back at the boathouse in a few minutes. He stowed the scull and climbed the stairs that took him to the main level. Stripping down to his shorts, he made a fresh pot of Jamaican coffee and gathered the ingredients for a gourmet breakfast.

  "You're certainly an early riser." Austin turned to see Kaela Dorn coming down the stairs from the turret bedroom. She was wearing a silk pajama top and a smile.

  "Hope I didn't wake you," Austin said.

  She came over and inhaled the fragrance from the coffeepot. "I can't think of a nicer way to wake up." Her brow wrinkled as she traced some of the scars on Austin's tanned back with her fingers. "I didn't see these in the dark last night."

  "You had your eyes closed."

  "So did you. I must say we made up for all those dates we didn't have."

  "Hope it was worth the wait." She kissed him lightly.

  "Was it ever.”

  The coffee was ready. He poured two steaming mugs, and they went out on the deck overlooking the shimmering river, The air was fresh and clear. Austin raised his mug in toast, "Here's to your new career with CNN."

  "Thanks to you, it never would have happened without my exclusive on the Ataman plot, I'm going to miss Mickey and Dundee, though. I don't know how I can repay you," He gave her a Groucho Marx leer. "You already have."

  "You mean to say that you gave me that exclusive just so you could get into in my pants?"

  "Can you think of a better reason?"

  She put her finger on her cheek and cocked her head. "No. Not really."

  Austin had called Kaela before he left London to tell her he was coming home. They'd arranged to meet in Washington after he reported to NUMA. As promised, he gave her an exclusive on Razov's plot. He had to leave out some details, but she had enough leads to chase down on her own. The story ran for three nights on all the networks, and all at once Kaela was the hottest journalistic property in town – so much in demand that Austin was surprised when she called and suggested they get together for dinner at a quiet inn in the Virginia countryside. The reunion had then shifted to Austin's boathouse, and nature had taken its course.

  Austin excused himself and went to the front door, which looked out on a rolling green lawn. He gave a whistle, and two white blurs shot out of a copse of trees and raced across the lawn. The excited wolfhounds followed him back onto the deck.

  "What are you going to do with these characters?" Kaela said, scratching Sasha's bony head.

  "They'll be my houseguests for the time being. I'll find a new home for them when I go on my next assignment. In the meantime, I'd like to take you on a boat ride."

  She laughed lightly. "What kind of boat do you have?"

  Austin said, "NUMA and I recently came into possession of a very large yacht."

  She put her arms around him and gave him a long and lingering kiss. In a husky voice whose tone was unmistakable, she said, "Just make sure they have room service."

  The End

  FB2 document info

  Document ID: fbd-d2f0e6-b2f6-7a4a-f69f-b829-2c1f-e64e71

  Document version: 1

  Document creation date: 03.01.2012

  Created using: calibre 0.8.21, Fiction Book Designer software

  Document authors :

  Clive Cussler

  Source URLs :

  About

  This file was generated by Lord KiRon's FB2EPUB converter version 1.1.5.0.

  (This book might contain copyrighted material, author of the converter bears no responsibility for it's usage)

  Этот файл создан при помощи конвертера FB2EPUB версии 1.1.5.0 написанного Lord KiRon.

  (Эта книга может содержать материал который защищен авторским правом, автор конвертера не несет ответственности за его использование)

  http://www.fb2epub.net

  https://code.google.com/p/fb2epub/