Chapter 13: Siege Warfare

When Peter and Henry arrived in Budapest, they were met at the airport by their Hungarian contact Miklos Bozsik, along with John Hobhouse. Like Peter and Henry, John was technically assisting in an advisory capacity, but the weight he carried as Interpol's liaison on art crimes would stand them in good stead. The Hungarians were as eager as everyone else to bring Ydrus to justice. John told Peter privately that the head of Interpol had already spoken with Miklos's supervisor and obtained his promise of full cooperation.

Miklos, a burly brick of a man with a shock of dark hair, was a veteran of twenty-plus years in the service. Art crimes weren't normally his bailiwick, but Ydrus's connections to the illegal arms trade had him salivating. John had already briefed him on the case before Peter and Henry arrived.

Sara was waiting for them in the ad hoc command center Miklos had designated for their use at police headquarters, a futuristic-looking circular edifice in glass. Mozzie, aka Leonard Urskwith, was conducting surveillance at the castle. Sara planned to return as soon as the meeting was concluded. John had already met Sara and had worked with her on several cases when she was stationed in London.

"Were you able to see Neal again?" Henry asked as soon as he saw Sara, not commenting on her altered appearance. She was wearing a frizzled curly wig and wire rims.

"No, unfortunately," Sara said, likewise making no mention of their disguises. "Leonard and I spent the day noting traffic patterns. We were both able to sneak in at various times and familiarize ourselves with the layout. Even though I spent as long as I could at delivering linens to the third floor, no one requested I enter Neal's room. Rolf's suite appears to be on the same floor. I was able to catch a glimpse of him coming out of it."

She placed a portfolio on the table. "We made drawings of the floorplan inside as well as key outside areas. The basement contains several locked rooms. They're probably where weapons and any art treasures are stored." She spread the papers for all to study.

"I've secured the necessary warrants," Miklos said. "Obtaining them so quickly would have been more difficult if we'd had to rely solely on the evidence Miss Ellis provided. But Count Lamberg's involvement greased the wheels. The count has been in poor health for the past several years. He hasn't been seen in public for over nine months. Given the count's importance, my chief has given me full authority to verify his condition along with that of your consultant."

"The count's relatives in the UK came to us expressing their concern," John told Sara. "They believe something may have happened to him since they haven't received any information. They fear his staff may have taken advantage of him." In reality, the Count had only one distant cousin in England, an elderly man living in a skilled nursing facility, but the connection was sufficient for the authorities in Hungary to give their blessing to the op.

"The relatives' worries are quite justified," Miklos pointed out. "We were able to track down his doctor. The last time he saw the count was eighteen months ago."

"Early morning will be the best time to make an approach," Sara said. "For the past two days, a delivery truck from a local supplier has arrived at eight in the morning. It's waved through to the back entrance. The guard doesn't bother checking credentials."

Henry jabbed a finger at the sketch of a flight pad on one of the drawings. "How many helicopters do they have?"

"Three," Sara said. "They'll all need to be disabled before we make our entrance."

Miklos jotted a few lines on his notepad. "A couple of the men on our team have experience with such matters." He glanced at Sara. "From what you've told me, your associate is quite adept as well."

"Leonard could disable them on his own if necessary," she agreed.

Henry's cell phone rang while they were outlining their strategy. He excused himself to take the call in the hallway. When he returned, he didn't comment on it, but whatever it was, the news couldn't have been good. Henry's face was even grimmer than before.

Peter waited for a break to speak to him about it. "Bad news from New York?"

Henry's jaw tightened. "That was Travis. Someone sent photos of me and Joanna to Eric. We were in her hotel room . . . I told you she made a play for me. For a while, I went along to see if I could use it to my advantage. She must have installed hidden cameras to record us." His words trailed off into a grimace.

Peter's heart went out to him. He didn't need this complication, particularly now. "How's Eric taking it?"

Henry shrugged. "About like you'd expect. He went to see Richard who informed Travis. Eric had stopped by my office. Caught a glimpse of Dean leaving and was particularly upset that I ignored him." He waved a hand as if to dispel smoke in front of his eyes. "None of this matters right now. I'll deal with it later."

"I'm sure Travis and Richard told him it was a setup and you'd explain when you get back."

He nodded. "If he'll still talk to me. What I can't figure out is why would Python go to the bother? There was no blackmail demand. The note said 'from a friend.' Was this simply to play a nasty trick?"

"It sounds like something Rolf might do. You're under surveillance. He could have used this as a way to determine the closeness of your relationship with Eric."

"In which case, Eric's lucky that Dean took my place. He could be off Rolf's radar now." Henry rubbed his chin. "Or Joanna could have another agenda of her own. Travis warned Eric not to go by my apartment or work. He suggested Eric act as if he'd had it with me." Henry winced. "That's probably not far from the truth."

Peter was more than ever relieved that El wasn't in town. Tricia hadn't reported anyone approaching her, but if they didn't succeed tomorrow, she could quickly become a prime target.

#

"Still asleep?"

Neal awoke with a start as the sheet and blanket were jerked off him.

"Go away." He grabbed for the covers and pulled them over his head. The room was dark, lit only by a nightlight. Why Klaus was dressed at this hour he didn't know and could care less. His headache was a jackhammer in his brain. All he wanted to do was sleep.

Klaus yanked the blanket back once more. "Oh, no, you don't, " he said boisterously. "Don't you remember? I promised to let you experience the sunrise on the roof. If you want to see it, you have to get up." He leaned over to hiss in his ear. "Penfold's coming. You need to escape now. I'll explain on the way."

His legs wobbling like a newborn colt, Neal staggered up. His reprieve from drugs hadn't lasted long. Yesterday evening just after dinner, Klaus was called away. During his absence, Penfold showed up with an orderly and gave him yet another shot.

Klaus shoved him into the bathroom. "Just do the essentials. You can shave later."

While Neal relieved himself, he heard Klaus in the wardrobe, pulling out clothes. He washed his hands and splashed cold water over his face. The jackhammer had turned into an anvil, compressing his skull, crushing thoughts, but there was a sense of urgency in Klaus's tone that broke through the fog.

"Put these on." Klaus handed him a pullover and jeans.

Neal slipped the sweater over his sleep shirt. It was cold in the room. As he dressed, he tried to remember what had happened the previous day. After the patient died, Klaus was convinced Neal didn't have to worry about being subjected to any procedures. Neal had finished the Da Vinci. In the afternoon they'd discussed future projects.

Yesterday for the first time, Neal had felt more like himself, but that brought a different set of issues. Which of his recollections were real? Had Sara actually visited him or was that only a dream? The woman didn't look like her. Neal had spent the past several days imagining she was the face of the painting. He must have done the same thing with a servant. Or the entire episode could have been another in the series of hallucinations that had only stopped yesterday. No one knew where he was. No one was coming to rescue him. He'd have to escape on his own.

Throughout the day, there'd been a wariness in Klaus's expression he hadn't noticed before. Klaus left Neal's room for only a couple of brief periods. Neal had the unsettling impression Klaus was shielding him.

Then dinner. Immediately afterward, Penfold had arrived with the orderly. He claimed the shot was only a mild sedative, but a few minutes later, Neal collapsed on the sofa, his consciousness ripped away.

As Neal tied the laces of his running shoes, Klaus said, "I'll fetch your coat."

When he stood up, Klaus helped him slip on the parka, muttering in his ear, "I'm breaking you out. Do exactly what I say."

Neal gave no indication he'd heard anything, but it was a jolt of triple espresso through his body.

The door swung open. A woman walked in with two men. Neal recognized her at Python. He froze in place, the jackhammer resuming its relentless pounding.

"We haven't met, Neal, and it's past time we did since you've been enjoying my hospitality." Her voice was a low-pitched contralto. She had a British accent with a slight overtone which reminded him of Bianka's accent.

"And you are?" he asked, mentally patting himself on the back that he'd remembered he wasn't supposed to know who she was.

"You may call me Anya," she said.

"Will you be joining us for breakfast? I'll ring the steward for another plate."

Her smile was cold. "Another time, perhaps. Klaus, a word, please." She beckoned toward the open door.

"My pleasure, chérie," Klaus said. As he passed Neal, he pressed the thumb of his left hand against his ring finger, the signal to prepare for an audible.

Was this Klaus's strategy? Leaving Neal to duke it out with two guys who ate tires for breakfast? Bad plan.

Before they reached the door, the lights went out. With the sun not yet up, the room was plunged once more in darkness. Before Neal could react, the guards seized him by the arms.

Anya sighed. "This happens all too frequently in the mountains. Neal, your breakfast may be delayed. My men will keep you safe till the generator kicks in."

That's okay. I'll just see my way out. Despite the pain in his head, things were looking up.

#

In the cold pre-dawn hours, Peter, Henry, Mozzie, and Sara climbed into the back of a grocery delivery truck along with ten elite members of the Hungarian police. Their destination was Count Lamberg's estate. Behind them was a van, also bristling with agents and equipment. Miklos and three other agents were riding in a police car. Stationed further back were armored vehicles with support personnel for what was certain to be a large haul of prisoners and the likelihood of casualties.

The plan was to first blind and muzzle the castle then overpower it with agents. The team had stayed the previous night at a small town a couple of hours away—far enough away that any Ydrus operative wouldn't be suspicious of their presence. Once darkness fell, Mozzie met them at the hotel. He'd instructed the commandoes on the best route to sneak onto the property. The advance contingent left a few hours before Peter. Their mission was to lock down the vehicles and any helicopters. They'd then take out the emergency generator and cell tower at a pre-arranged time. They were all relying on two-way radios to communicate. Peter carried two: one to communicate with Miklos, the other for Mozzie. Once the delivery truck arrived at the security gate, upon Peter's signal the electricity would be cut off.

Based on Sara and Mozzie's scouting reports, the key areas were the basement storage vaults, Neal's chamber, and the offices and suites on the upper floors. Booby traps were their greatest fear. Key areas could have been rigged with explosives. By shutting off the electricity, they hoped to prevent any detonations as well as attempts to scrub the computers.

They had one chance to secure the personnel and records, and they were going to make it count.

The police were divided into teams with one assigned for each floor. Wearing riot gear they'd make use of Tasers and tear gas to neutralize the opposition. The forces had been given photos of Neal, Count Lamberg, Rolf, Klaus, Python, and Penfold. Additional personnel had been allocated to patrol the perimeter and prevent any escapes.

Mozzie and Sara were assigned to assist with the storerooms in the basement. Peter had introduced Mozzie as an expert on safecracking who worked with them as a consultant. Mozzie had embraced the role of a resistance fighter. He'd smudged camouflage paint over his face and had donned the dark twill garb and stocking cap of a black ops fighter. Initially, Peter had been unsure how cooperative Mozzie would be in working with the Hungarian police, but he needn't have worried. In his eyes, they were all fellow freedom fighters.

They were all continuing to wear their disguises. If any of the key players eluded capture or if Neal had been transferred to a different location, the deception would need to continue.

Peter had no window to look out as they rode up the mountain road. He was relying on the driver informing them how close they were. No one talked much during the trip. The engine noise made communication difficult, and everyone already knew their role.

When the truck rumbled to a stop at the security gate, Peter took a breath and nodded at Henry. Game on.

While the driver talked with the guard, Peter pressed the signal for the electricity to be cut. Simultaneously, agents who'd been hiding in the woods overwhelmed the guard. He didn't stand a chance, and he'd have no way to communicate with the castle that they were now under siege.

#

Neal waited anxiously for Klaus and Anya to return. What if Klaus weren't with her? Penfold was coming. Klaus had told him to flee. Now was the time to dream up what would undoubtedly be a spectacular escape plan once he marshaled his muzzy thoughts into action. The guards were talking among themselves. One of them kept a gun jabbed against his ribs.

Note to self: learn Hungarian as well as every other language. Maybe Arkham Neal the linguist could help. In the meantime, when nothing else works, fake puking.

Neal grabbed his stomach and gave a dry heave, bending over double. He staggered up and headed for the bathroom. Once inside, he'd have time to think of his brilliant scheme.

But that plan was foiled when Klaus reappeared at the doorway, holding a flashlight. He barked some command at the guards and they raced out of the room.

As soon as they left, he darted over to Neal. "I don't know what's going on but this is our chance. There's a secret passage leading from Rolf's office. Turn left and enter the third door on your left. That's his office. The opening is in the wall behind his desk. I'll claim you overpowered me."

"Won't Rolf stop me?"

Klaus shook his head. "He's in the basement. I'll make sure he doesn't interfere."

"Where does the passage lead?"

"To a tunnel. It terminates in a wooded trail leading south down the mountain. You'll exit about fifty meters outside the castle." Klaus grabbed Neal's jacket from the bed and helped him into it. "You'll need this. It may be an hour or so before I get away. Stay close to the exit. I'll find you."

"Where do you think you're going?"

They spun around to see a furious Python in the doorway. Her gun was aimed squarely at Neal. "You did this!"

Time stuttered into slow motion as Neal watched her finger squeeze the trigger.

"Stop!" Klaus roared and tackled her to the ground. As they struggled for the gun, he shouted, "Run!"

And leave Klaus to face her alone? While Neal wavered, the gun went off. Both Klaus and Python dropped to the ground, blood splattered on both of them. Klaus's flashlight had fallen to the floor. The beam spotlighted the carnage.

Neal crouched beside them, at first uncertain who'd been shot, his gut twisting into a vicious knot. Python stared at him with dead eyes, blood blossoming over her white blouse.

A bright light shone in his face. "Freeze!"

Peter's voice? Here? Neal was blinded by the glare. He must be hallucinating again. Klaus froze, looking shocked as well.

"Lay down your gun, now! Klaus Mansfeld, you're under arrest."

This time, there was no mistaking that deep voice. Neal felt himself grow weak with relief.

"Neal, move toward me. I'm to your left."

That sounded like Henry. Neal's doubts resurfaced. How could any of this be real? Had there been a third trigger? Neal fixed his eyes on Klaus, illuminated starkly in the beam of the flashlights.

"Go to him," Klaus murmured in German then dropped his weapon. "I surrender," he said in English.

Neal slid toward Henry's voice as someone lunged forward and slung an arm around him, pulling him away from the blood.

"It's me, kiddo. Ignore the wig." Henry's arms pulled him close. Neal clung to him as men surrounded Klaus and handcuffed him. Once the light was no longer in his eyes, he could make out Henry's and yes, it was Peter. He'd seen those disguises, teased them about them. Neal's head spun. Dizzy with relief, he found himself panting and unable to speak.

"Can you stand?" Peter asked. Without waiting for an answer, he told Henry, "Help me lift him. We need to get him out of the room," he added, slanting a glance at the body on the floor.

Neal willed himself not to look at her. "I'm okay," he muttered but he could have held onto the reality of their arms forever. "Did you catch Rolf?"

"I don't know," Henry said and looked toward Peter.

"There's a secret passage in the wall behind his desk." Neal repeated what Klaus had told him, Peter listened speaking into a two-way radio.

"We'll get you to a safe place first," Henry insisted.

"Sara and I can manage that," Mozzie said, rushing in with the housekeeper Neal had seen a couple of days ago. Was that really Sara? She hadn't been a dream, after all? Unless he was dreaming now . . . Neal stopped trying to figure it out. If this was a dream, he didn't want to wake up.

"The monitoring room next door has been cleared," Sara suggested. "Mozzie and I'll stay there with Neal."

Neal gripped Henry's arm. "Don't let Peter go alone."

Henry wavered. "I'm not leaving you, kiddo."

"I'm not going anywhere. Rolf is. Don't let him escape."

"We won't," Peter assured him. With that, he and Henry took off. Mozzie talked with two members of the police who appeared to be Neal's designated bodyguards. Now that the adrenaline had vanished, the effects of the drug were kicking back in, making it difficult for Neal to respond. They hustled him into an adjoining room before he was aware of what was happening.

The sun was rising. As daylight began to slant through the windows, the lack of power was no longer an issue. The room where they took him must have been the surveillance station as one wall was filled with display monitors. Neal sank into a desk chair. Sara brought over another chair and insisted he put his legs up.

"I'm going to keep watch outside," Mozzie said. "Sara, take care of Professor Plum." Mozzie closed the door behind him.

Dazed, Neal watched him depart then turned to Sara. "He knows?"

She nodded as she pulled up a chair to sit next to him. "He figured it out. He knows about Alicia and Matthew, too. Do you mind?"

"No, I want the world to know." He saw a glint of gold at her neck and reached for it. She extracted the necklace from her sweater so he could see the pendant. It was the bird he'd given her. "Did you come to see me? I thought I might have dreamed it."

She stripped off her wig and shook out her copper hair. "I was in your room on Tuesday. It broke my heart to have to leave you." She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him.

Neal stiffened at first. He'd pretended for so long first with Bianka then with the painting that they were Sara. Now she was here. A part of him still worried she wasn't real. But her lips were soft and inviting. He relaxed, not attempting to make sense of what was happening. This was the only reality that mattered.