A Brilliant Dawn: An Assassin's Redemption

By Hans V. von Maltzahn

“A Brilliant Dawn: An Assassin’s Redemption” (c.2018)

The Third & Final Novel in “The Black Sun Series”.

Prologue:

Mystery solved! After translating the infamous cuneiform tablets from the Sagalassos and Durrington Walls excavations, Turkish archaeologist, Dr. Ahu Eser now appreciates their importance, and their fresh account of humanity’s evolution. With the discovery of a third set of tablets off the coast of Turkey, she realizes the account of humanity’s past has expanded into prophesies of an ominous future; to avoid a calamity of global proportions, she decides to get this message out at whatever the cost to herself.

Meanwhile with the support of his allies, the United States President personally attempts last-minute diplomacy to avert a catastrophic war in the Middle East, while his forces prepare to fight just such a war. With the two sides digging in their heels, World War III does not seem such a fiction anymore.

Unwittingly, an assassin and his team find themselves entangled in efforts to prevent a power-hungry European leader and an autocratic Russian President from tipping the world toward Armageddon.
If the U.S. President’s actions fail, will these rogue assassins succeed? What will become of Dr. Eser’s warnings, and will they make any appreciable difference in the world events to come? Find out in, “A Brilliant Dawn: An Assassin’s Redemption” (c. 2018).

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hans V. von Maltzahn
• Release date: Nov 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463163580

Hans V. von Maltzahn

Hans Victor von Maltzahn, author of the acclaimed, "THE BLACK SUN ASCENDANT: An Assassins Tale" (2011 & 2015), was born in Dublin, Ireland, and raised in North York, Ontario, Canada.An author of poetry and non-fiction, Hans became serious about fiction in 2006, when he started to write the “Black Sun” book series. Book Three's eBook has been published and the print copy's manuscript will go to the printers before the end of November, and hopefully will be available as a soft cover within a few months - stay tuned!He currently lives in Mississauga, Ontario, Canada with his wife, Joanne, and cat, Benny.For questions, comments or to purchase a signed, limited edition ‘print copy’ of Books 1 & 2 of the Black Sun series ($20.00 CDN each, plus shipping), please email: [e-mail]

Book preview

PROLOGUE

A second cache of ancient cuneiform tablets disappears, and an archaeologist co-leading the excavation in England has been murdered. Compounding this tragedy, the only academic who has unlocked the message behind these missing artifacts, the famed Turkish archaeologist Dr. Ahu Eser, is now missing.

As the wheels of justice are set into motion to investigate these crimes, a team of professional assassins covertly begin their own search for this missing archaeologist, before she too becomes another victim.

Meanwhile, a megalomaniacal German leader and an autocratic Russian president, collude with an infamous Arab sheikh to bring the Middle East to the brink of war. The world’s major powers must choose sides before this day of reckoning arrives. Dr. Eser aside, few realize the ancient tablets’ significance in chronicling the intimate connection between these chief antagonists, the events leading up to a Middle Eastern, military confrontation, and humanity’s ultimate fate.

The world sits precariously upon the edge of a steep precipice; can the tablets’ decipherment aid in restoring peace, or be a further impetus to war?

*****

CHAPTER ONE

"They also which saw it, told them by what means he,

That was possessed of the devils, was healed" (Luke 8:36)

B104 highway south, Mecklenburg, Germany.

Heather Heath maintained her speed and kept both hands firmly gripping the wheel of the stolen Mercedes as she and Dr. Ahu Eser shot from the side road, which serviced the estate of the Baroness von Sonnenfinsternis, onto the B104 south to Neubrandenburg. The usually outgoing and optimistic young woman remained tense, glancing into her rear view mirror to see if there was anyone following them. The absence of headlights pursuing sparked some hope, but she knew that it was too early to count her blessings. With the first signs of rain splashing the windshield, she saw that bad weather was on the way courtesy of a Baltic storm.

What the hell happened back there, Ahu? Heather demanded, What were you thinking? That stunt of yours almost got us killed!

Her adrenaline still up, she knew her verbal attack on the beleaguered archaeologist was not fair, but they had very nearly lost their chance to escape from the estate. Heather Heath had agreed to rescue Ahu from her elegant prison, yet at the sight of the Baroness’ manservant, Apollyon, the archaeologist abruptly fell under his influence and refused to leave when their opportunity finally arrived.

Huddled in the passenger seat, Dr. Eser attempted to regain her composure. Quietly she drew in a full breath of air, and then gently exhaled, repeating the process for some minutes, while keeping her eyes closed, and her head resting against the back of her seat; intermittent tremors still convulsed her body, betraying her deep-seated anxiety.

I…I can’t explain it, the archaeologist finally murmured, trying desperately to sort through her recollections.

Another blast of wind shook the car, and rain now lashed at their windows, undermining the frantic work of their windshield wipers. Still, despite treacherous road conditions, Heather’s fear kept her foot firmly planted on the gas pedal and her eyes glued to the highway in front of her. Still her curiosity regarding her friend persisted.

Addressing the archaeologist again, she said, "Please Ahu, try to tell me what happened."

The academic slowly shook her head wondering where to begin. Turning her moist eyes toward her companion, she said, As soon as that horrible creature, Apollyon, entered the corridor it was as though my thoughts and emotions were brushed aside. Strangely, this evil presence invaded me, and I suddenly became a spectator in my own body. She paused briefly, gazing toward the dark, dreary landscape that sped by, as ghostly visions whirled again in her mind’s eye.

My head became filled solely with Apollyon’s words, she added. I sensed his anger at what we were attempting to do, and yet I remained powerless to act against him. I realized I could make no conscious physical effort of my own against him…

Heather Heath began to sympathize with her friend, as Ahu started to sob quietly at the memory of her defilement. I just stood there…frozen to that spot…in the hall…staring in horror at that spectacle occurring in front of me, Ahu continued sadly.

Glancing over at Heather, the archaeologist sensed her rescuer’s confusion, saying, Heather, I…I can only explain it in this way. It was as if my body was a phone booth and my soul shared this small space with a 900-pound gorilla. I was not able to do anything of my own volition because this creature usurped my willpower, sapped my vitality, and…and rendered me helpless.

It sounds to me like some form of possession…as if Apollyon influenced you in some way, but if that’s true, Heather asked, "then how did you finally break free? What allowed you…no…impelled you to rush down that hallway like some crazed Banshee, take up that assassin’s gun, and fill Apollyon with bullets?"

I forced myself to pray. With a supernatural effort, I pushed aside those evil thoughts and emotions, and filled the void with my prayer to Allah. I prayed for the strength to reassert my will over my mind and body and to avenge the callous possession of my soul!

Ahu turned to face Heather again, her dark eyes shining in the murky predawn light. I felt the divine light of Allah push away my darkness and free my limbs. Then… her voice faded into a whisper, the rest is blank. I don’t remember anything else until I discovered myself sitting in the seat of this car…I’m sorry, Heather, I really am. Then Ahu returned to staring out at the storm.

With her curiosity satisfied, Heather ended her interrogation and their conversation faded into silence. She too was exhausted and growing impatient at fighting the weather, so she decided to drive as far as the town of Neubrandenburg. There they would pay a visit to the nearest police station, where she would hand herself in as an accessory to kidnapping; it was high time, she decided, to get Ahu Eser back to her son.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye she noticed a vehicle coming from the opposite side of the highway, barrelling its way toward their Mercedes. From its size and shape Heather realized it was large - probably a transport truck. The only sound now coming from the passenger seat was a sharp intake of breath, as Ahu too, noticed the impending collision.

*****

B104 highway, northbound lanes, same time.

Rudy Schmidt had had a long day, and it had just become longer. A call from his boss ordered him to take a last-minute shipment from Berlin to Rostock, where a cargo ship waited to receive it. The ship’s early morning departure deadline forced him to hustle, and when he finally picked up the trailer from the yard, he found himself pushing the limits of sleeplessness while wrestling the rainstorm hanging over the B104.

"...And in other news, it seems our night skies are going to get a little more colourful. For further details, we go to our correspondent Robert Sokovenski. Robert, what is this news about increased solar activity?"

"That’s right, Sharon; I am here at the United States National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, NOAA for short, and their special news conference has just concluded…"

Despite the lashing rain, his window was down and his radio loud, all in an effort to keep his tired eyes open. However, the warmth of the cab and the steady ‘thrum’ from the truck’s engine conspired against him, and he felt his body begin to succumb to its exhaustion.

Just another hour, Schmidt, he said aloud. Another hour and you’ll be in Rostock!

"…It seems that astronomers have discovered an unusually high level of solar storm activity on the surface of our sun. They call these solar storms and flares, coronal mass ejections, CME’s for short.

"Typical CME’s produce about 1x10²⁰ joules of energy, and a major storm is usually about 1x10²⁵ joules of energy or the equivalent strength of one billion megatons of TNT explosive…"

He just needed to reach the port by half-past-two in the morning, deliver the trailer, and then he could get the rest he needed in the small sleeper section of his cab. Hang in there Schmidt, you’re almost there! he encouraged himself aloud, hoping that the conscious effort it took to talk to himself might keep his eyes open.

The truck’s radio rattled on. …These solar storms generally occur in eleven year cycles, but it seems we are going to get an early look at the effects of these newly detected tempests churning on the sun’s surface…

A dangerous word suddenly floated through Schmidt’s mind, "Sleep..." and his eyes closed at its prompting.

Still, the action of his head bobbing onto his chest shook him awake, with his eyes popping open. Realizing what had happened he quickly corrected his truck’s direction by putting it back into its lane – a narrow escape! Good thing the traffic on the highway was sparse this time of the morning, he mused.

"…The ejected clouds of electrons, ions, and atoms from these CME’s, travelling to Earth at hundreds of miles per second, are expected to collide with Earth’s magnetosphere in a few days, and when they do, we can expect to see some brilliantly coloured light displays in our night sky. Back to you, Sharon..."

Then it happened again, "Sleep, rest yourself…as tired as you are…" came that soft, deathly voice again, echoing from somewhere deep inside his skull - "Sleep now!" it commanded.

Schmidt’s head drooped again, his eyes shutting tight and he fell into a deep sleep. His large hands, still holding the steering wheel, pulled the big rig to the left and across, into the southbound lanes of the B104 highway - just in time to meet the approaching headlights of a Mercedes sedan.

*****

Reacting quickly, Heather Heath pulled hard to the right, pointing the nose of the Mercedes toward the shoulder of the road. Her swift response allowed the truck to careen past their rear end, taking only the Mercedes’ tail light and bumper, while saving their own lives. The large rig, meanwhile, continued on to the shoulder of the road, then down into the ditch where it rolled, throwing and crushing the truck driver as it did so.

The women’s relief quickly turned to horror as they realized that their momentum pushed them toward the ditch too. Within seconds, they were airborne, their car sailing over the embankment and into a farmer’s field. Finally, as all forward momentum halted and the Mercedes sat stuck up to its axles in mud, the occupants sat hunched and unconscious in their seats; their heads nestled in the remnants of inflated airbags.

Witnessing the narrow brush between the two vehicles, a motorist who was also headed south on the B104 quickly pulled over to the shoulder to see if there was anything he could do to help. However, as he came to a stop and glanced down at the horrifying wreckage in the field, he put in a call to emergency services instead.

*****

CHAPTER TWO

"The murderer rising with the light kills the poor and needy,

And in the night is as a thief." (Job 24:14)

The von Sonnenfinsternis estate, Sundown, northeastern Germany.

Victor Colvin, assassin, melted into the gloom of the treeline that bounded the inside of the estate’s perimeter wall. Silently he watched as a small troop of armed guards jogged north, toward the area he had just vacated. He had left one of their men there, dead or wounded, Victor would likely never know.

As he waited for them to pass, he wondered how many more there were that guarded this residence. He would have to pick his fights carefully, that was obvious; he wanted to avoid harming the one person he had come to rescue, Dr. Ahu Eser. He had caused her enough pain when, on their last meeting over two years ago, she had taken a bullet that was meant for him. The memory of that afternoon was bitter and still gnawed at him mercilessly. Until he had made things right between them, it would continue to haunt him.

When the troop moved out of earshot, Victor picked up his pace and continued southward, toward the mansion whose lights twinkled through the thinning foliage on the grounds. Swiftly, silently, he followed the perimeter wall, stopping only once when he stumbled over a coil of rope concealed at the base of a large oak. Looking above him, into the tree’s canopy, he noticed a stout branch from an adjacent tree on the other side of the wall, which extended its reach over the barrier and into the grounds.

This looked like it could be Adel’s work, he thought, but had she arrived and already begun her incursion into the building? The fact that the rope remained coiled neatly at the base of the tree indicated that whoever laid it there was still within the estate’s boundary. Colvin made a mental note of its location, just in case his own escape plan backfired, and then he turned to continue his trek toward the mansion.

The tree canopy fell away as he approached the edge of the mansion’s north-facing rear terrace. Stopping behind the trunk of an old tree, he surveyed the property in front of him, weighing his options for potential entry points into the building. The predawn darkness gave him excellent cover and was particularly bleak as the clouds rolled in laden with their compliment of rain.

Victor noted a side entrance on the west wall of the mansion, leading out to the estate’s garage complex, which sat just south of the main building. While pondering his alternatives, this door swung open and two armed men exited, turned left and headed to the estate’s front driveway. Pushing back behind the tree, the assassin swung his silenced Heckler and Koch machine gun to his front, cradling it in the crook of his arm. Not sure yet where to infiltrate the manor, he prepared for a closer inspection of the grounds around the building itself; with a little luck, someone may have left a door or window unlocked.

*****

West service wing, Sundown estate, same time.

There, that should stem the blood flow for now but, Ms. Pikantnova, you are going to need some medical attention soon; I’ll see what I can do about that, David Beneker said, as he placed the bandages and first aid kit on the table beside the cot on which Adel sat. She lightly fondled the new wrapping that encased her wounded neck, while admiring the handsome fellow she remembered so well from her evening at the Russian presidential dacha.

David, please call me Adel, she croaked, her throat still aflame with pain. We are acquainted after all, though we may be playing for different teams.

Okay, Adel, speaking of which, Beneker’s voice grew harder, I thought I knew you back there in Sochi, but this woman I see in front of me is not the lady I recognize from our last evening together.

Adel let out a small chuckle, as much as her pain would allow, and David pulled his chair closer to where she sat perched on the cot’s edge, manacled to the staff room radiator.

Gently lifting her chin, Beneker needed to look into those warm hazel eyes again, the eyes that had so captivated him in Sochi not too long ago. Now they looked tired and bloodshot.

Who are you? he asked softly. What are you doing here? Are you the person I have to thank for those deaths on the other side of this door? He suspected that he already knew some of the answers, but wanted to hear them from her.

She smiled weakly, and caressed his cheek with her free hand, You’re too nice to be working for a bitch like Kristi. How did you ever get involved with someone like her, David? she whispered.

That’s not important, Adel, please just answer my questions and then I’ll let you get some rest. Pulling away from her, he settled back in his chair and crossed his arms as he waited for her reply.

Your two men – yes, I killed them; but that awful creature, that walking corpse, no, that was the little archaeologist, Dr. Eser, and I would have never thought she had it in her. Adel chuckled at the memory, but the resulting pain cut it short and she coughed up blood from the effort. Beneker gently applied a handkerchief to her chin to dab at the blood, and she flashed a smile in gratitude as he presented her with the tissue.

A look of dismay crossed the young man’s face. Part of him was furious with her for killing two of his men and helping the archaeologist escape, but part of him wanted…well, was there ever a spark of attraction between them that night in Sochi, or was it all just a game to her?

Though you haven’t said so, my guess is that you came here to rescue the archaeologist? How did you know she would be here? he asked.

In Sochi...Grigorivich’s office…papers on his desk, she croaked, as her throat throbbed with pain.

"So, you were in there! My instincts weren’t wrong after all, that night Ioanin and his thugs prevented me from checking out the study."

Adel only nodded in the affirmative, no sense telling him that it was really Victor Colvin’s discovery; it didn’t matter anymore anyway. Her energy waned, her neck burned, and her head swooned with her loss of blood and lack of sleep. Having not seen a bed in over twenty-four hours, she craved rest, even just a little to get her thinking straight again and maybe dull her aching neck.

Beneker could see she was fading, Okay, last question, and then I’ll let you be, he said gently. Can I expect anyone else tonight? Are you working with someone by the name of Victor Colvin?

She looked up at him and grimaced at the mention of the assassin’s name, He’s come too late to do any good, David, his precious archaeologist has flown the coop and I’m here, locked up with my wings clipped. Turning away from the young man, she fell silent and closed her eyes; in her mind, the interview was over, her fate now resting in this man’s hands.

To David Beneker, Adel resembled a wilting flower. Get some rest; I’ll get you medical attention as soon as I can. Regrettably, he needed to deal with another intruder first. Kristi had been right again, when she had predicted this man’s visit to her estate.

He rose and walked to the door, but then turned to take a last look at the woman that had once so captivated him. As she lay there, with eyes closed and her breathing erratic, a feeling of frustration at their predicament surged within him, and shaking his head, he turned his back on her, shut off the only light, and locked the door behind him.

*****

The security office sat approximately ten paces away, on the opposite side of the corridor to the staff room and the German made a beeline towards it; as he approached, he heard the monotonous drone of the nightly news.

"…The latest warning from NOAA and NASA estimate that the solar flare spray to be at 1x45 joules of energy, and possibly much greater. This amount of ejected energy is supposed to give Earth some wonderful light shows, and scientists say that both polar borealis’ could extend well beyond their usual latitudes. However, on the downside the Earth’s communications systems and power grids could be severely affected, so much so, that those less technically advanced countries might suffer extreme, long-term damage to their delicate infrastructures…"

Status report, Andreas, what’s going on out there? Beneker demanded, as the security man reached over to turn down the news story, and then spun around to face his questioner.

The men are still searching for the intruder, sir. One of our men is down, shot at the north field, and a contingent is bringing him back to the mansion; he’s unconscious and bleeding badly.

Get him patched up, but wait before calling an ambulance, just in case a fire-fight ensues. We can’t risk any civilians being caught in this mess.

Yes sir.

What about our intruder?

Keeping a low profile, sir, our men have fanned out and are pressing southward, back toward the mansion, but there is a lot of land to cover.

Anyone thought of pushing north, to try to catch the guy in a ‘pincer movement’? Beneker asked, studying the monitor, and then glancing down at the young guard.

I’m not sure, sir; I can issue the order if you like.

Do that, though my guess is that this person is likely already at the mansion. Get a couple of patrols to recheck the building’s perimeter, Beneker said, as he turned to leave the office.

*****

Donald Heath could not locate the women anywhere along the paths they usually took for their walks. The security staff had been equally unsuccessful in their searches, and so pressed further into the less accommodating areas of the grounds. He was worried; it was not like his wife to put their welfare in jeopardy by disobeying the Baroness’ express orders about keeping Dr. Ahu Eser within sight of the manor.

He had hurried north, attracted by the sounds of a small aircraft taking off, and then gunfire fire. When he had reached the edge of the gardens, as they gave way to a vast field, he had found an injured guard, bleeding from bullet wounds to his torso. Using the man’s radio, he had called for support from a security team and awaited their arrival, while at the same time, trying his best to stanch the bleeding of the unconscious man.

Now the academic traipsed next to the stretcher-bearers as they headed back toward the mansion with their wounded comrade, and reflected on what his friend had said to him earlier that night about how dangerous the evening would be. He noticed other security teams still inspecting out-of-the-way areas of the grounds in hopes of finding the person, or persons who had set off the perimeter alarms. Much of the northern portion of the estate had been cleared, telling the academic that the danger had only migrated closer to the house – when would he strike, this assassin named Victor Colvin?

Parting company with the guards and their wounded man, Heath pushed on across a grassy common toward the eastern steps that led up to the building’s back terrace. With barely a glance behind him, the lanky Scot took the stairs two at a time and then strode toward double glass doors that opened into the mansion’s drawing room. As he let himself in, he neglected to notice a shadow, crouched and moving up the opposite terrace steps, hurrying in the direction of the doors through which he had just passed.

*****

Grim faced, David Beneker met his old friend in the great hall, just outside the doors of the drawing room.

You’ve got a man down, Dave, Heath said.

I know, we’ll do some initial first aid on him, but I don’t want to call an ambulance until we’re rid of this intruder. I can’t afford to have any civilians caught in the crossfire that might result through this encounter with Victor Colvin.

Heath nodded, and then said, I couldn’t find the women on the grounds. However, I heard some of the traffic over the wounded man’s radio, and I got the impression that they never left the building – is that right?

No, they’ve gone! Beneker snapped. They grabbed my car keys and, with the help of an unexpected accomplice, took off through the gates. I was too late to catch them.

The academic emitted a low whistle, and the German continued, Karl and another guard are dead, as is Apollyon.

"Dead – killed by whom?"

Beneker remained silent while he thought about his next move.

Could he be the one tripping off the alarms, and not Colvin as was supposed? Heath persisted.

Beneker shook his head. No, she arrived without tripping any alarms, he replied vaguely.

"The killer is a woman?" Heath was incredulous.

Interrupting his ruminations, Beneker said, Yes, a woman I became acquainted with, while Kristi and I attended that meeting in Sochi. Apparently, she had an ulterior motive for being there that involved getting information to help her find this estate. She and Victor Colvin were planning to rescue Dr. Eser together, though Colvin is too late to be of any use to her now.

Well, your men are nearly done checking the grounds, Dave, you’re sure to flush him out soon, said Heath. So where are you holding the female accomplice?

She’s in the service wing of the mansion, locked in the staff room; I’ve got a man guarding her door. Speaking of which, Don, did you remember to lock the terrace doors after closing them behind you?

The terrace doors… Donald Heath suddenly went pale and the look confirmed the worst to Beneker. Then the sound of something knocking into a piece of furniture came from inside the drawing room, and both men instinctively turned toward the closed doors.

Never mind, Don, run to the security office and alert Andreas that he has to get his men back to the mansion on the double, ordered Beneker. Turning to the entrance, he said over his shoulder, I think Adel’s accomplice has just entered the building.

Donald Heath sprinted toward the west wing and David Beneker removed his .357 automatic, preparing to confront his second intruder of the evening.

*****

…and I got the impression that they never left the mansion – is that right? Victor Colvin heard one of the men say. He did not recognize either of the voices, but bet that one of them belonged to the dark haired stranger he had seen exiting the Mercedes the previous afternoon.

Listening in on the two men’s conversation as it unfolded outside the drawing room, Victor realized that he was too late to help Ahu, she was hopefully already out of harm’s way. However, now Adel needed his assistance. He could not leave a team member behind, no matter how much she seemed to loathe him. Besides, the comment made about his being ‘of little use now’ irked him.

He hid beside a large Prussian cupboard, a piece of furniture that had intricately carved hunting scenes on its lower doors, bevelled glass inlaid in the upper doors and big, solid brass fittings and handles. It was a beautiful piece that stood at least ten feet high and nearly as wide. It sat against the same wall as the drawing room’s entrance to the great hall.

Crouched in the tight space between the bulky cupboard and the entrance, Victor Colvin strained to hear the men’s conversation. He shifted slightly in order to alleviate a sudden cramp, and accidentally bumped the piece of furniture, shaking it enough to rattle its contents. He knew he had given himself away as their conversation abruptly stopped. Quickly sliding over to the far side of the sturdy cupboard, the assassin assumed a defensive posture, while he and his carbine waited for ‘the company’ to come.

*****

CHAPTER THREE

"The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill,

And to destroy…" (John 10:10)

David Beneker quietly crept into the drawing room, his .357 Sig Sauer leading the way as it swept the air from side to side, panning the room in search of the intruder. Unfortunately, the room’s many nooks provided excellent cover for any would-be prowler. So whether it was behind the heavy curtains hanging at the terrace windows or in the dark corners behind pieces of furniture, the German needed to check them all and still keep a wary eye on the rest of the room.

Victor Colvin’s new position on the far side of the enormous cupboard allowed him to observe but remain unseen by the other man. The assassin noted the care the younger man took to keep his back to those parts of the room he had just cleared, as he continued to poke his gun into the shadowy areas untouched by the warm, ambient lighting of the drawing room. Like the stinger of a scorpion, Beneker’s .357 automatic remained ever poised to strike.

"Hold it – right there! Victor demanded. Levelling his assault rifle in Beneker’s direction, the assassin carefully stepped from his hiding place beside the cupboard. Drop your weapon and place your hands on your head."

The German had taken only a second to inspect an alcove, just behind one of the curtains that covered the broad expanse of north facing windows. In doing so, he turned his back to the wall and cupboard that sheltered Victor Colvin; that second was just enough for the assassin. Hearing the intruder’s voice, Beneker realized he was beaten and all he could do now was stall this man until help arrived. Turning to face his antagonist, Beneker let the gun drop and slowly interlaced his fingers as he rested his palms on the crown of his head.

Kick the gun to me, Victor said, then carefully remove that hunting knife from the sheath at your back, and toss it away from where you’re standing.

Beneker followed the assassin’s directions, and sent his gun skittering across the wooden floorboards with a flick of his foot. Then, with his right hand still on his head, he brought his left hand slowly down to the small of his back and carefully removed the knife from its sheath, lobbing it off to one side.

Victor, without warning, fired a shot from the hip with his automatic rifle, startling the younger man and sending his knife’s trajectory into a wild jog, as a spark burst from its keen edge, where the assassin’s bullet had struck it. Now, to the German’s dismay, his knife was further from his reach than he had anticipated. Nice shooting, he grumbled, I know only a handful of men that can make a shot like that from your distance.

Just a precaution, Victor acknowledged, consider this a warning. If I fire at you and miss, it is merely out of courtesy.

I appreciate that…Mr. Colvin, I presume? Beneker asked coolly.

Ignoring the query, Victor countered with, Who are you and why did you try to kill me in Moscow a few nights back?

David Beneker smirked at the question; it was only a matter of time before this man had put two-and-two together. However, before he could answer, the appearance of the estate’s security personnel fanning out onto the terrace drew the assassin’s attention away from him, and now the younger man knew he had his chance!

He quickly lunged forward, hoping to throw Victor Colvin off his guard and gain the upper hand, but he was not fast enough. Victor turned back to suddenly find himself on the defensive. Swivelling his rifle’s butt, he slammed it into Beneker’s midriff, bending the man over and leaving him gasping for air. Colvin rotated again, and delivered a vicious swipe across the younger man’s skull that proved to be the knockout blow. Crumpling to the floor, David Beneker lay still, bleeding and unconscious.

The security staff went on the attack as they saw their boss fall. They unleashed a fusillade, their bullets shattering the room’s windows and peppering everything in their path. In a shower of broken window glass, Victor dropped and rapidly crab-crawled on his stomach toward the drawing room’s entrance, while ignoring the pain inflicted by the tiny glass shards entering his palms.

Just before leaving the room, however, he rolled into a crouch position, and opened fire on the first men entering from the terrace, bringing two of them down. This bought him a few seconds, as he got up and sprinted from the room to the relative safety of the great hall, while the guards’ answering fire shredded the room’s majestic double doors. Victor continued his dash through the main hall toward the first doors he spotted on its western edge, the entrance to the mansion’s kitchen.

*****

Earlier that day Arnie Gutemeyer, after listening to Victor Colvin’s intensions of stealing onto the property, realized that his friend needed an effective exit strategy and suggested that, for such purposes, his Huey gunships might come in handy. The assassin was to locate Dr. Eser and smuggle her out to a rendezvous point large enough for one