The Secret of Excalibur (6 page)

Rust smiled back. ‘No. But it was through those alliances that the sword found its way to the Middle East. When Frederick took over Jerusalem in 1229, many Crusaders actually refused to follow him - he had been excommunicated by Pope Gregory IX, and they feared that allying themselves with him might earn them the same fate. But Frederick was able to persuade a few Crusaders to support him, including a young knight called Peter of Koroneou - though that title came later. As a reward for his loyalty, Frederick presented Peter with the sword. Then in 1231, when Gregory lifted Frederick’s excommunication, it was seen as vindication for Peter’s actions, and he gained considerable influence as a result. As well as territory in the Holy Land, he was also granted a castle on Koroneou, in the Greek islands.’

‘So Caliburn is on Koroneou?’ Nina asked. Although she still had doubts, Rust’s research was definitely becoming interesting.

Rust shook his head. ‘If only. Peter was killed when he returned to the Holy Land to defend his territory against the Mamelukes in 1260. His sword, the one presented to him by Frederick, was broken in battle - as I said, a reforged sword is never as strong as a new one. Peter’s men returned his body to Koroneou for burial, along with pieces of the sword. I believe I have located one of these pieces, surprisingly close to home . . . but the current owner of the castle in which it may be hidden refuses to let me search for it. Perhaps someone of your fame would be more persuasive.’ He gave her a wry smile, which quickly evaporated as he spoke again, gaining urgency. ‘But I know exactly where the tip of the sword, is - or rather, where it
was
, until three weeks ago. This is why I could trust only you.’ He tapped the disc case. ‘Why I had to destroy all my notes except this one copy - I could not risk anyone else getting hold of them.’

‘Bernd, what’s going on?’ Nina asked. ‘You said your life was in danger - why?’

‘Through my research, I learned that the tip of the sword found its way back to Sicily,’ Rust told her, ‘to a church with a historical connection to Frederick, in the village of San Maggiori. I would have gone to see it for myself, but ever since Sabrina left me money has been a problem. I could no longer go to academic sources to fund my research, so I had to look elsewhere. I tried private sources across Europe, but nobody was interested - until I was approached by a Russian. He seemed
very
interested.’ He glanced cautiously around the room again. ‘Unfortunately, I told him too much - and just two days later, the priest at San Maggiori was murdered - shot - and his church burned to the ground.’

‘You think this Russian tried to get the piece without you? And he killed to get it?’

‘I am sure of it,’ Rust insisted. ‘The local police think it was the Mafia, but the timing . . . it cannot be a coincidence. That is why I went into hiding, why I could not let anyone but you see my work. This man cannot be allowed to find the rest of Caliburn, to find Excalibur. The risk to the world is too great.’

Nina was back to being sceptical. ‘Why? I mean, it would be an incredible archaeological find, but Excalibur’s still just a sword.’

‘Excalibur is more than just a sword,’ said Rust, his eyes deadly serious. ‘In the ancient Welsh text called the
Mabinogion
, Arthur’s sword is said to have a design of two snakes on the hilt, and when he drew it . . .’ He paused to recall the exact words. ‘“What was seen from the mouths of the two serpents was like two flames of fire, so dreadful it was not easy for anyone to look.” And in
Le Morte d’Arthur
, when Arthur drew his sword, “it was so bright in his enemies’ eyes that it gave light like thirty torches”. It is no ordinary blade. Everything you need to know is in my notes. Please, see for yourself.’

She opened up her laptop and double-clicked on the file she had copied from the disc. ‘Okay, but I have to say this does sound a bit . . .’ She wanted to say ‘crazy’, but instead settled for ‘paranoid. So what’s the password?’

‘
Zum Wilden Hirsch.
All one word, no capital letters.’ Nina looked at him oddly. ‘It was the name of the guest house where I was staying when I encrypted the files. I needed something the Russians would never guess, even if they somehow got the disc.’

‘Russians, plural?’ Nina asked dubiously as she carefully typed in the letters. The computer chimed - the password had been accepted, giving her access. A folder opened, revealing dozens - no,
hundreds
- of files within. ‘Wow. You’ve, ah, made a lot of notes.’

‘Another security precaution,’ said Rust. He tapped his forehead. ‘The only index is in here. Without it, it will take days for anyone to sort through it all. But with my help, you will be able to see what I have found very quickly - and I hope it will convince you that I am right, that I know how to find the pieces of Caliburn . . . and that Caliburn will lead us to Excalibur.’

‘Well, we’ll see.’ Nina looked up at Rust. ‘So which file should I read—’

She froze.

An intense pinprick of pure green light had appeared on Rust’s chest, unnoticed by him. It slipped across his crumpled clothing, stopping directly over his heart . . .

The high-pitched crack as a small hole was blown through the window beside Nina was drowned out by the crash as Rust flew backwards, a vivid gout of blood exploding from the bullet wound in his chest.

4

N
ina leapt to her feet - partly in shock, but also in case the sniper was lining up a second shot on
her
.

But the laser spot flashed away and was gone. Nina ran to the window. A hole as wide as her finger had been punched through the glass. Beyond it, on the roof of the International Centre, she saw the sniper - a woman, hard-faced, ragged hair dyed bright orange - swing up her rifle, then duck away behind the edge of the building.

‘Hey!’ someone shouted from behind her. ‘He’s stealing your laptop!’

Nina spun to see the big man charging for the exit with her MacBook and the disc, his huge hand making the machine seem no bigger than a paperback.

Rust—

One look told her that he was dead, eyes wide and still, mouth half open as if about to speak. But he would never speak again - and whatever he had been about to share with Nina was now heading out of the door.

‘Call 911!’ she shouted as she started after the bearded man. ‘I mean, whatever number it is here, call the police!’

The hulking thief ran deeper into the hotel. Nina pursued him. The young guy followed, eager to prove himself a hero. But his steel faltered somewhat when he realised just how
big
his target was. ‘Did you call the police?’ Nina demanded, seeing the phone still in his hand. He fumbled with the keypad, slowing slightly as his attention was diverted.

Ahead, the big man reached a junction. He too slowed, looking each way, first in confusion, then frustration, before going right.

Nina rounded the corner to find herself in a clone of the corridor she’d just left. A maid was closing the door of one of the rooms, her housekeeping trolley angled across the passage. The bearded man yelled something in a foreign tongue -
Russian?
Nina thought - as he stumbled into it, scattering spray bottles of cleaning products. The maid shrieked.

The man looked back, saw Nina and her companion running after him—

And picked up the entire trolley, hoisting it almost effortlessly and flinging it down the corridor at them.

‘Jesus!’ Nina threw herself against a door. The slight recess gave her just enough space to dodge the angular missile - but the young man was less lucky, looking up from his phone a moment too late. The trolley smashed into him and knocked him down, its remaining contents flying everywhere.

Nina straightened, but the bearded man wasn’t finished. Now he picked up the
maid
and hurled the screaming woman at her. This time Nina had nowhere to go. Both women tumbled to the floor amongst the debris.

Their attacker let out a satisfied grunt at the chaos, then turned and ran again.

‘Son of a
bitch
!’ Nina gasped as she struggled upright. The maid seemed more shocked than hurt, but the young man was moaning, clutching a broken wrist. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked the woman, getting a confused nod in reply. She pointed at the injured man. ‘Help him!’

His phone lay amongst the scattered soaps and shampoos, screen glowing. Nina snatched it up and broke into a pained run after the giant.

He reached another junction, frustration now evident as his head snapped from left to right and back again. He was lost, Nina realised - trapped by the bland conformity of the corridors, and apparently unable to read the signs directing guests through the maze.

He looked back at her and scowled, the scar on his forehead twisting the lines of his skin. Nina slowed. If he changed tactics and attacked her instead of running, she wouldn’t stand a chance.

But instead he turned away, going left.
Wrong way
, she thought, reading the sign as she ran after him. If he couldn’t find the exit, there was a chance he could be caught before he got away or hurt anyone else.

But she needed help, someone who could take down the overmuscled giant . . .

Chase was guiding the Focus through the traffic, his grandmother sitting beside him with a bag of shopping on her lap and several more lined up on the back seat, when his phone rang. He sighed and fumbled in his pocket. ‘Can you answer that for me, Nan?’ he asked, handing it to her. ‘Don’t want to get in trouble with the police on my first day back in the country.’

He expected it was Nina calling, as he doubted Holly would have got her new phone charged up so quickly, and the likelihood of Elizabeth’s phoning him for a chat was extremely small. ‘Ooh, hello, Nina,’ Nan said, proving him right, before adding unnecessarily: ‘It’s Nina.’

‘Thought it might be,’ he replied, opting not to treat his grandmother to any of his usual sarcasm. ‘What’s she want?’

A procession of increasingly surprised
oohs
and
aahs
followed, Chase glancing sideways to see Nan’s expression turn to one of utter disbelief. ‘What?’ he asked.

‘She says the man she went to see was just assassinated, and she’s chasing another man who stole her laptop round the hotel.’

‘Oh, sh . . . oes,’ blurted Chase. He shoved down the accelerator.

‘You know, I didn’t get the impression she was the type for practical jokes.’

‘She’s not,’ he told Nan grimly. ‘I can’t bloody take her anywhere!’

Nina rounded another corner - to find herself facing a dead end. The bearded man lurched to a stop ahead of her, letting out another angry exclamation. He turned and glared at Nina.

‘Er . . . hi,’ she said, horribly aware that their roles in the chase had suddenly reversed. He took a step towards her. ‘Okay, how about you
keep
the laptop? It’s insured . . . I think . . .’

The man took another step. Nina fearfully backed away, passing a bright red fire extinguisher attached to the wall.

A weapon—

She yanked it from its clips, and hurled it at him with all her strength.

He brought up a hand, but too late, taking the blunt end of the extinguisher on his face with a flat metallic
blong
. He reeled back . . .

And
smiled
at her.

‘
Daaaa
,’ he moaned almost ecstatically through bloodied teeth. His demented grin widened, eyes fixing on Nina.

‘Aw, crap . . .’

He grabbed the fire extinguisher, and flung it back at her. She dived out of its path, the end of its hose slashing across her back. The extinguisher hit the opposite wall with a bang and punched straight through it like a giant bullet, wood and plaster splintering.

Nina expected him to attack while she was down, but instead she heard a crack of breaking wood. Looking up, she saw he had kicked a door off its hinges and entered an emergency stairwell.

Wincing at the cut on her back, she went after him. The smell of food wafting up from below told her she was heading for the hotel’s kitchens. There was a loud crash of doors being flung open followed by angry yelling, then a metallic cacophony of cascading pans and a shriek of pain.

Nina reached the bottom of the stairs. The doors were still swinging wildly like the entrance to a Wild West saloon. She barged through them, seeing a man in chef’s whites - now spotted with red from his broken nose - sprawled on the tiled floor amongst pans from an overturned trolley. Other staff were desperately trying to get out of the bearded man’s way as he ran for another set of doors at the kitchen’s far end.

She jumped over the battered chef, her heel catching one of the pans and sending it clanging across the aisle. The man glanced back and saw her. Another foreign curse - and then he yanked a cleaver out of a side of beef and threw it at her.

Nina yelped and dropped to the floor as the razor-sharp slice of steel whistled over her head and buried itself two inches deep in the wall. She took a cautious look over the edge of the nearest counter, hurriedly ducking back as the hefty chunk of meat itself bounced off the metal just above her. More heavyweight culinary missiles followed - a bucket-sized can of baked beans, a whole turkey, and a glass jar that exploded on impact and showered her with pickled onions. Vinegar splashed the cut on her back, stinging.

‘What is this, a goddamn
food fight
?’ she cried.

More shouts came from the other end of the kitchen, followed by a colossal crash of breaking crockery. Nina risked another look over the counter, seeing the doors swinging and thousands of fragments of plates and bowls skittering over the tiles where another trolley had been overturned. The man was gone.

‘Shit!’ She jumped up and ran past the kitchen staff, skidding and slithering over the smashed china into the hotel’s dining room. The bearded man had seemingly got his bearings, and was racing towards the exit to the reception area. She followed.

Chase powered down the hill alongside the Imax, triggering a speed camera in his haste to reach Nina. He just managed to hold in an obscenity on seeing the double flash in his mirror. Beside him, Nan clung tightly with one hand to the door handle, her other arm hugging her bag of shopping.

He swept over the elevated road above the broad pierfront esplanade and back up the hill towards the International Centre. As he braked sharply to turn into the Paragon’s car park, he saw he wasn’t the only one in a hurry - a gleaming black Jaguar XK convertible screeched in ahead of him from the opposite direction, a woman with punkish orange hair at its wheel.

Somehow, he
knew
she was connected with whatever trouble Nina had got herself into. If Nan hadn’t been with him, he would have rammed the Focus into the Jag to stop the woman from making a getaway, but instead all he could do was watch helplessly as a huge bearded slab of a man ran out of the hotel, swatting a doorman aside with a sweep of one arm.

He had an Apple laptop in his other hand. It had to be Nina’s . . . The Jaguar skidded to a halt. The man vaulted the door and landed in the passenger seat, the car visibly tilting under his weight. The woman stamped on the accelerator, skidding the car round to head back the way it had come.

Nina charged out of the hotel and ran to the Focus. ‘That’s them, they killed him!’ she shouted, pointing after the disappearing XK. She was about to open the front passenger door when she realised the seat was occupied. ‘Oh!’

‘You remember my nan, don’t you?’ Chase said sheepishly.

‘Yeah, ah . . .’ The Jaguar disappeared from view; she stared desperately after it, then pulled open the rear door and jumped in, shoving shopping aside. ‘They’re getting away, go go
go
!’

Chase gave her a despairing look. ‘Nina, my
grandmother
’s in the car!’

To their mutual surprise, Nan spoke up. ‘Go after them, Edward!’

Chase’s eyebrows shot up. ‘
What?
’

Nan shoved the bag on her lap into the footwell and gripped the door handle with both hands. ‘I always wanted to see what my grandson does for a living.’

‘But—’

She glowered fiercely at him. ‘Edward, they’re getting away! Go on, get after them!’

He revved the engine. ‘This is such a fff . . . lippin’ bad idea . . .’ And with that, Chase brought the Focus screaming round after the Jaguar.