and that. The intruder was plainly astonished; he picked up handfuls of heavy coins, standing stock still to let them trickle through his fingers.
Unaccountable blasts ... both of the Francezcis in plain view out there in the night... strong-room ... intruder!
It al came together in the disbelieving watchman's mind. His jaw had falen open; he snapped it shut to bite off a half-hissed, 'Shit!' - then grinned as a red flashing light on the console told him that the vault's cameras had been activated along with the lights. Whoever it was down there, he was having his picture taken! One way or the other, he was already a dead man. And sliding the window open al the way, the guard shouted down to the Francezcis: 'Intruder! In the vault!
Intruder!'
At first they failed to hear, or perhaps they didn't understand, accept. But who would? Then it sank in. 'What?' Anthony Francezci caled up, as he and Francesco glanced frowningly at each other and began walking, then running, towards Le Manse's main doors. 'What's that you say? In the vault? What vault?'
'He's on-screen!' The guard's voice was hoarse with excitement. 'He's in the strong-room!'
The brothers knew what it meant. Of course they did. It was one of theirs, could only be one of theirs. The bomb blasts had been a decoy. Treachery! But it was unheard of, unthinkable. To a man, these people were al in thral. In any case, how could anyone even think to get away with it?
'Weapons!' Francesco caled out, his voice booming into the night. He snatched his dark glasses from his face, and his eyes were scarlet. 'Everyone up and on the alert. Man the wals. Any stranger you see, take him alive - or if you can't, then shoot him dead! In or out of the house.' And pointing at the security guard in the tower window: 'You -what about the cameras?'
They're activated, yes.' The guard shouted back.
But by then the Francezcis were into Le Manse and gone from view ...
The Necroscope hadn't noticed the cameras in the ceiling. Since switching on the lights he'd noticed nothing, except the extent of the hoard. And even then his mind couldn't take it in, only the fact that it was massive and ill-gotten.
From stacks (literally stacks) of 'lost' Old Masters - one or two of which, in rich gilt frames, were actualy hanging on the naked rock wals - to the coins of forgoten realms; from the books and iluminated manuscripts of antiquity, to the jeweled ornaments of Byzantium; from pirate gold to modern paper money in bundles inches thick, Harry's eyes were drawn this way and that as the mass of it sank in.
It was far more than Darcy Clarke had hinted, because Darcy hadn't known. But the Necroscope did know, and knew what he must do.
The place had ventilation; he could hear a faint whirring and feel a gentle current of dry air being circulated. And when he looked closer, sure enough there were ducts behind the racks. Doubtless the system was an extension of Le Manse Madonie's air-conditioning. Harry grinned (for what felt like the first time in a very long time), and thought Well, and why not add insult to injury? This is for Humph. Something of what he's owed, anyway.
He took two tear-gas canisters from his belt attachments, positioning them on shelving close to the ventilation ducts .
... But first he had his own needs.
He unzipped the top half of his track-suit and stuffed it to bulging with wads of deutschmarks, sterling, dollars; filling the jacket until it bloated obscenely on him and threatened to split at the seams. Then he took up two smal, ridiculously heavy burlap sacks and hung them from hooks on his belt. It was as much as he could manage; it would have to do.
He yanked the ring-pulls on the gas canisters, backed off across the concrete floor and turned his face away. There came the threatening hiss of hot gases expanding under pressure.
Harry conjured a door and held it steady. He took two grenades from his belt, armed them, tossed them among the shelving. Wanton destruction of priceless treasures, but so what? No way the Francezcis were ever going to release any of this stuff or let anyone else see it, or even admit that it was here! It was here because it was theirs; ownership was everything.
He stepped through his door, exiting the Continuum between Humph's doors, in the airlock section. Quickly, he fiddled with the