hoping to give Payne a chance to hide them inside.
To buy some time, Jones replied in Spanish. ‘No hablo Ingles.‘
Unfortunately, Schultz spoke Espanol a lot better than Jones did. ‘!Levante sus manos! !Deje su arma!‘
Jones grimaced. His tactic had backfired. So he decided to switch to Russian. He had learned some on a recent trip to Saint Petersburg. ‘.’
Schultz wasn’t stupid. He had been willing to give Jones the benefit of the doubt with Spanish, but he knew damn well Jones wasn’t Russian. ‘Stop stalling. I know you and your friends can speak English. Your pilot told us that and more.’
Jones glanced over Schultz’s shoulder and spotted Baptiste in the back of the golf cart. His hands were tied, and his face was bloodied. ‘What do you want?’
‘I want you to raise your hands and drop your gun.’
To buy more time, Jones decided to press his luck. ‘Are you sure about that? Because if I raise my hands first, I’m liable to drop my gun on my head. And between you and me, scalp wounds are rather messy.’
Schultz smiled, then calmly pulled his trigger. A silenced round whizzed past Jones’ ear and burrowed into the rocky mound behind him. ‘So are bullet holes.’
Jones quickly dropped his gun. ‘Good point.’
‘Now take three steps forward, then kneel.’
‘Big steps or baby steps?’
Schultz didn’t answer. He simply readjusted his aim. His new target was a spot between Jones’s eyes. From close range, it would be tough to miss. With Schultz’s patience wearing thin, Jones decided to follow his orders. As things stood, he had already bought Payne more than enough time to hide their friends in the grotto and to plan an attack.
If the goons went inside, Payne would kill them.
If they didn’t, Payne would escape through the tunnel.
Either way, Jones had done his duty.
The rest would be up to Payne.
68
Payne refused to take any chances with Heidi and Ulster. Instead of stashing them in the darkness of the grotto, he ordered them to hide in the secret tunnel. He knew the concrete would protect them from gun fire, and in a worst-case scenario, they could exit through the fake tree stump and escape through the castle grounds. Surprisingly, neither of them complained. They jumped in the water and swam towards the Grotta Azzurra where they would enter the stalagmite.
Meanwhile, Payne eyed his surroundings and planned his assault. Unless the goons had recently toured the Linderhof, he knew he had the tactical advantage inside the grotto. Thanks to the man-made cavern and the special effects, it would be like fighting a war in an amusement park. To tilt the terrain in his favour, he hustled to the control panel and turned on the waterfall. Within seconds, water gushed from its spout and splashed into the lake. Next he turned on the wave machine and turned off the underwater lights. Suddenly the dark water resembled an angry sea, its waves crashing against Ludwig’s boat and the nearby path.
Payne smiled at the sight. Back in the Special Forces, he had spent many nights in similar conditions, sneaking onto foreign shores and taking out targets. He had enjoyed it then, and he would enjoy it now. About the only thing missing was Jones by his side. And yet, somehow Payne knew that his best friend was fine and that they were still working in unison.
Jones would lure them in, and Payne would take them out.
Just like old times.
Near the bottom of the control panel, Payne spotted a large dial that looked like the volume control on a stereo. Hoping to limit his opponent’s communication, Payne turned the knob. Instantly the soaring vocals of Richard Wagner’s Tannhauser, one of Ludwig’s favourite operas, filled the grotto. Payne grinned and cranked the volume even louder. In a confined space, the music and the darkness would conceal his movement until he was ready to strike.
Now all he had to do was wait.
The goons entered the grotto completely unprepared. No flashlights. No maps. No advanced surveillance. They just stormed into the darkness en masse, a cluster of three soldiers on a well-lit path. Apparently they hadn’t been briefed on the shootout in the gorge; otherwise they would have thought long and hard about a frontal assault against a highly skilled soldier.
Of course, that was the problem with most goons. They weren’t trained to think.
Payne crouched in the dark lake, allowing his body to rise and fall with the surging tide. He was close enough to the path to be accurate, but far