Page 72 of The Last Kingdom

“To ram it down our throats,” Bryie said. “Or sell it to the Germans. The Chinese. Or blackmail us. The list is endless. But whatever their intentions, they’re not honorable.”

“Who’s leading them?” Koger asked.

“Jason Rife.”

Cotton stared at Koger.

“What is it?” Bryie asked. “What do you two know?”

“Those German nationals I mentioned who were contacted last night. That came from Rife personally,” Koger said.

He told the other two about Rife and the six men with guns.

“That’s confirmation,” Miller said.

Bryie nodded.

“The Scythe are definitely here.”

Chapter 38

RIFE PRESSED THE CONTROL STICK FORWARD AND THE MD-520Nchopper knifed through the cold lucid air twenty-five hundred feet above Munich. He’d leased the helicopter from a local airport, glad one was available. The two-seater was used routinely by police departments around the world because at five hundred feet the blades could barely be heard over street traffic.

Extensive flying lessons had been a part of his CIA training, including helicopters and all sorts of military aircraft, and he marveled at the responsiveness of the high-tech machine’s sensitive controls. The lack of a tail rotor was unusual, but the pressurized air that passed out the boom provided excellent directional control and further lessened noise.

He sped across downtown Munich. Ribbons of highway, rooftops, office buildings, apartment complexes, and hotels raced by below. He left Old Town and headed for the northern edge and the more modern section, high-rises rolling by in succession beneath the undercarriage.

Ahead lay the building. Twenty stories of multi-use space, mainly corporate offices, law firms, accountants, and a multitude of other businesses. Among them was a suite of offices on the eighteenth floor that belonged to a Belgian corporation, which was a wholly owned subsidiary of a Dutch entity. He’d been inside several times and was familiar with the building’s layout.

As was Terry Knight.

Like any large office complex, there was security that provided controlled access to the employees of the various tenants or their acknowledged guests. Nothing fancy. Just what one would expect in today’s day and age. Which allowed the CIA to work out of the building with a high degree of anonymity and a moderate amount of protection.

He looped the chopper up and over the roof, circling from above. He stayed high and used the morning sun and altitude to further conceal the turbine’s soft staccato. He spotted the rooftop landing pad and reached for the phone, sending the text already typed in for Terry Knight.

And counted down five minutes.

* * *

LUKE WAITED TO HEAR WHAT WAS GOING TO COME OUT OF TONI’Smouth next. Her admission as to knowing who the spy was among the prince’s minions shocked him.

So he readied himself to react.

“Explain,” Stefan said to her.

Toni pointed at Christophe. “He’s a black hood.”

* * *

STEFAN EVALUATED HIS THREE EMPLOYEES.

Christophe he’d known for a long time. But the other two? They were strangers, hired on Christophe’s recommendation after background checks had been run. He knew that Smith was ex-military, dishonorably discharged. A man with the requisite skills and a bad attitude. Perfect. And, so far, Smith had worked out fine. Lexi Blake? She, too, had passed a check. As he recalled, she was a freelancer who’d worked for a variety of private corporations doing things they could not do openly. A person-for-hire, with no particular allegiance other than to more-than-fair compensation. He couldn’t hold that against her. Greed was not unusual for people with the skills he desired. In fact, it was a trait he could easily work with.

“Three days ago, I followed him,” Lexi said. “Something didn’t ring right. I saw him meet with men I traced to the Guglmänner.”

He watched Christophe, who stood silent.

“What motivated you to follow him?” he asked her.