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CHAPTER 11



Within an hour, they were hunched in the shadows near the stone-haloed door. Kyle gestured to Wade, who nodded back and eased closer, low to the ground and under the shadows created by the sickle crescent of moon. He nodded and disappeared into the dark entrance.

Then it was Kyle’s turn, through the thin trees and mud and down into the culvertlike passage.

Wade had a tiny glowstick in hand, which lit the hole brightly to NVGs. His face was ghastly in green, his goggles bulbous in front of his eyes.

“Here,” he hissed. Kyle slipped closer and looked where Wade was pointing.

There was a threshold. It appeared that someone had broken in in the past and removed the bottom panel of door to gain access. The damaged door had been blockaded as an expedient fix, but it looked fairly easy to climb over. Or at least it would have been without rucks and weapons.

Shortly they were up and inside, stepping on each other and pulling each other in. And inside was totally black ahead of them.

“Let’s use the IR lights,” Kyle said in what he thought was his softest whisper. It echoed in the confined space into something menacing and macabre-sounding.

Wade said nothing, but in moments they both had the illuminators for their goggles, revealing the way ahead without letting anyone not similarly equipped know of their presence. Wade slipped the glowstick into a pocket. It showed a bare spark through goggles.

The passage ahead was carved from stone—narrow, low, and musty. It would be a slow walk at a crouch to get anywhere. Not only was it just wide enough for one person but not two, but the rock was cold and damp.

“You first,” Kyle said. Wade’s AK was a better weapon if they ran into trouble, being able to put out enough fire to let them retreat. That was Kyle’s rationale. It wasn’t fear. He told himself so again.

Wade eased forward in a duckwalk, then rose to a slight crouch. They were both going to have very sore spines and knees before this was over, Kyle decided.

Around them, the walls turned to bedrock rather than laid stone. They were well into the hillside. Ahead, the passage widened for what was probably the elevator shaft that had been built in the 1920s. A hasty, nervous glance behind showed the space over the door to be a tiny sliver just visible with night vision. Kyle wondered briefly what it would have been like first tunneling this, then moving through it by torch or lantern light, and shivered.

The shiver was due to the cold. He told himself that.

Shortly, they came to the dead end, which had an arch over a shallow recess. Or so it seemed until they got right up to it.

“Well shaft,” Wade whispered, and again it echoed off into hisses and laughs. Kyle clamped down on his guts. Christ, this was creepy.

Without speaking, they squeezed side by side and looked up and down. Across from them there were elevator controls, which the books said had been installed by Queen Marie in the 1920s.

It took only a moment to determine there was nothing down lower. The shaft above went quite high, and nothing could be seen in the low light sources they had.

Wade leaned very close and whispered in Kyle’s ear, “Do those controls look nineteen twenties to you?”

“No,” Kyle replied, and felt ripples up his spine. “And that wiring is newer, too. Much newer.” The plastic-insulated wires were ripped out and it was obvious the elevator hadn’t worked in some time. Leaning back, there was little to see ahead in the IR illumination. The light source was only good for about ten meters, and there was nothing in that range except elevator supports and rock. But beyond that, high up, was a faint glow that might be from a side passage. “See that?” he said.

“Yes,” Wade answered.

He spoke again. “I dunno, Ceauşcescu brought chicks here to screw? Had a secret torture chamber he inherited from Vlad? What do we do?” He hated to stop talking. The echoes were bothersome when he did.

“I suppose we go back and have Cafferty do a check,” Wade murmured almost inaudibly. The echoes were apparently getting to him, too. Soft voices actually resounded less than the sibilants of whispers.

“Check for what? With what?” Kyle asked. All they’d found so far was a hole, which everyone already knew existed. There was light up above. That light hadn’t been on for eighty, thirty, or even ten years.

“I hate to think what you’re going to say next,” Wade said.

“We ground our gear and climb,” Kyle said. “Me first.” Then he gulped, because he really didn’t want to do it, but there didn’t seem to be anything else to do.

“Thanks, buddy,” Wade replied.

“Don’t mention it,” Kyle said. It wasn’t what he wanted to do, but it made sense. They had to take a look, and there was nothing legitimate up there. Add in the disappearance of shipments in this area, and the mystique involved in “Dracula’s Castle,” and you had a great place to hide stuff where it wouldn’t show at all. Even though it had been only an administrative center and may not even have been visited by Vlad, there was a fear associated with the place, and it was far more secure than any building in town.

With gloves and boots, the elevator rails and rock, it was quite practical to do a modified chimney ascent, legs splayed in front and behind and using hands to grip. It was a technique they’d both had to do before, and the dark helped in that it was hard to notice the drop below. But the creep factor was still very much there, seeing everything in monochromatic green and for only a few feet around.

Even with gear grounded, they were still loaded down. They needed their vests for cameras, pistols, batteries for night vision, and water. Under their arms they had slung their rifles, and another pocket held spare magazines for each. They’d considered leaving the rifles at the bottom, but there was no guarantee they’d return that way, and both wanted weapons with them even if it was awkward.

There definitely was light above. Kyle paused, swallowed and waited. Was that light from something in the courtyard far above? Or was it from a level between his current position and the top?

Very carefully, he drew a hand free from the rail and tilted his goggles back, smearing his cheek with dust and moss as he did so. Below him, Wade shifted slightly but waited without complaint.

It was a side passage, about another twenty feet up, and there was a dim glow as from under or around a door. It was on the far side of the shaft.

Taking a slow, deep, measured breath, he lowered his goggles and looked down at Wade, who nodded back. He’d seen it, too. And he looked downright scared.

There was nothing to do but resume climbing. Whatever was there had been built by people, and the worst threat was bullets or stupidity. The location was a mere coincidence, or chosen for fear factor, and it wouldn’t do to let it overrule logic.

So he kept telling himself.

Two minutes later, he came almost level with the passage. Straining his neck, he tried to see.

Well, there was a door there, but the light coming in underneath it glared enough to make it hard to discern much else. There was no one waiting for them, of that Kyle was certain, and that helped a lot. Gingerly, he started crabbing sideways around the shaft, taking another two minutes or more to get directly below the opening. There was a tense moment when the rifle twisted under his coat and wouldn’t unsnag. He couldn’t move his arm, and didn’t dare try to slide backward against his other arm, because he could feel his left foot slipping slightly.

Gritting his teeth, he rolled his body to free the rifle and coat, straining to hold himself in place with one foot, a weakly placed hand, and his butt. His Camelbak sloshed water and shifted on his shoulders. He hoped it didn’t rupture and spill, though it was of very tough construction.

Then his arm came free, pulling the fabric with it and scraping the rifle across his ribs. But he could climb again.

He rose until he was level with the opening, then grasped the edge with his left arm and swung into the hole. There was just enough room for him to stand and leave a bare space for Wade.

Wade slid in, panting from exertion. The sweat evaporating from him could be felt as a fog. Kyle wondered why he wasn’t as worn, then realized he was. He had sweated through to the coat and hadn’t realized it. It was a cold, greasy sweat.

They were almost face to face, and had to be careful of each others’ goggles. Wade whispered, “So what now?” Echoes sounded.

Kyle felt for a knob or handle. There was an old style latch, and the door was heavy timbers. It was rectangular but not neat, and had heavy iron rivets holding it together. The latch moved under his thumb, grinding and squeaking.

“We really need to look first,” he said as he released it. “But I’m not sure how.”

Wade looked around, the goggles poking like a pig’s snout. “I’ll bend sideways,” he said. “You hold my legs and I’ll look through one of those cracks at the bottom.”

“Right,” Kyle said, glad it was Wade’s suggestion. He sure as hell didn’t want to do that.

Kyle flattened against the door, legs wide. Wade bent over and braced a hand against the far side, then raised a leg. Kyle caught it and held it, with the sudden realization that a mistake would cause them both to drop somewhere around sixty feet. He leaned as hard as he could against the door.

Wade slowly straightened back up and stood. “Hallway, doors,” he said. “No sign of people in hallway.”

“So let’s go in. There can’t be anything honest in there. Assume enemies and shoot if needed. But only if needed.”

Wade muttered, “Roger that. Wish I’d brought wooden bullets.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

The latch was stiff and rusty, and so were the hinges. It was lucky, Kyle thought, that the door opened inward, or they would have had to swing around it over empty space to get in. But it moved at a push and groaned. Steeling himself, he eased it inch by grumbling inch so as keep the racket minimized.

Inside was lit, but it was only due to the time they’d spent in total blackness using goggles that they could see at all. It was a bare glimmer from ahead.

Once there was room to squeeze between the wooden door and the rock, Kyle did so. Wade followed at once and they eased it back into place. It made a little less noise, and Wade placed a hand on one of the hinges to absorb the vibration. There was good news in that; it meant the wooden slab wasn’t moved very often, so no one came through this way.

And that, Kyle thought, indicated another entrance elsewhere.

The passage they were in was another one tunneled into the rock and irregularly arched. Ahead a few feet, chambers were visible to both sides. Beyond that were alcoves and the doors Wade had seen. There had been lightbulbs here at one point, hung from the low ceiling in cages. The place seemed for all the world like a freezer, submarine, or execution chamber.

Communicating with signs and expressions, he and Wade unslung their weapons from inside their coats, reattached the quick-detach slings and moved noiselessly forward. They stayed on opposite walls, clearing the area ahead and across by eye, feet placed step by cautious step with a hand running along the wall for stability and tactile input. As they neared the two side passages, they slowed to a creep.

Wade gave Kyle a thumbs-up; his side was clear of anything threatening. So Kyle returned the gesture and stepped across the bare two feet of space to the other side and into the entrance. His IR light was still on, and he dropped down his goggles.

Weapon low and ready, he took careful, measured steps, raising his feet high enough to avoid catching on any protuberances. The walls were drier this high up, halfway to the castle, and were dusty but with little mold or moss.

The side passage opened into a pit, and Kyle recoiled mentally at once, trying not to do so physically. OhmyGod ran through his mind, and he gulped hard as his stomach flopped.

Bodies. Rotten ones.

A shiver shook him from toes to head, then his brain caught up with his visceral response. The top layer was two recently dead adult males, local-looking and scruffy, emaciated and pallid. One had had his throat cut, the other had been shot through the head. Someone had dumped them here to hide them. The smell was just starting to rise.

Below them, however, were older, bodies reduced to mostly gristle and bone, and below that was a pit of bones, hacked and broken and still wearing moldered rags of fabric and leather. One skull had a diamond-shaped hole from a sword thrust through it. The bones were old and blackened. Even in night vision, the cut ends were dry and withered. They’d been dumped here decades, even centuries earlier.

Just what every home needs, he thought, a pit to hide the bodies in. He took a quick scan around to determine there was nothing else, just the bones in a chamber about ten feet across and quite some depth. That determined, he backed out slowly. He turned to keep both the pit and the main passage in sight, and skittered back to where Wade was. He nodded and waved Wade in the other direction.

Wade nodded back, his face a tight mask, lips and teeth clenched, and stepped into the other passage. He disappeared in a moment.

Kyle sweated. His eyes scanned the door, the rough-hewn corridor, and the dark shadow that led to the bone pit. It seemed to open wider and reach for him. He knew it was irrational, but he couldn’t help it. He shuffled back against the heavy door and hunkered down.

Movement! He clutched at the rifle and swung it up toward the flicker he’d seen.

Then something tapped his shoulder.

Bats. It’s got to be bats, he thought. Another motion flashed and he stared hard at it.

Water drops.

Right. Cave, water drops. Reasonable. He tried to let out the breath he was holding and couldn’t. It wasn’t the dark, or the rock, or the enclosure, or the bodies, or the mystique of the old castle and its sociopathic, larger-than-life former resident, or the fact that terrorists who wanted him dead had likely been here within the last few days and might be here now waiting to kill him.

It was all of that combined. He wasn’t too macho to be afraid, and this was a jackpot of triggers. And Wade, his partner and what felt like the only human being in this world, was out of sight.

What was taking so long? Either there was something extensive back there, or Wade had run into trouble. He was shifting his feet, hesitating and wondering if he should follow, when the shadows shifted and Wade reappeared. He smiled, showed a thumb, and waved Kyle over.

They swapped places, shuffling around each other, and Kyle stepped into the tunnel.

It was only an alcove, about ten feet across. Kyle scanned around and saw no signs of any opening. There was a slight depression at the end, about three to four inches deep at a guess, and it held a puddle.

Suddenly he was trying not to laugh hysterically. There was absolutely nothing here but a small depression, and Wade had taken a moment to relieve his probably considerable bladder pressure. It wasn’t necessarily a great idea, as it did leave evidence. On the other hand, when a man’s got to go, a man’s got to go. And anyone familiar with the tunnels wouldn’t bother coming down an obvious dead end that had never been put to any purpose.

Kyle had a gallon or so he needed to lose, too. He took the chance while he could, trusting Wade to guard his back.

Then he turned and walked back out, shoulders brushing the narrow walls. He grinned,

Wade grinned back, and they resumed their search much more comfortably.

Farther along, the stone had a smoother, neater finish and the walls were wider, enough for two people to pass. The caged bulb sockets were still empty, but the light from ahead was getting brighter, and there were noises.

The first one made them freeze and drip cold sweat. They stood stock still, straining to hear anything else. An eternity later, there was another one. It was a soft, low sound. Kyle leaned far over to put his lips almost in Wade’s ear to keep the echoes down. “Sacks being stacked.”

Wade nodded. So there was someone here, and they’d want to get a look without being seen themselves.

Kyle realized it was getting quite late. It was near 5:00 a.m. now, and they were a solid thirty minutes from the entrance they’d used, even allowing for the fact that they knew the route and could travel much faster on the return. They were likely even farther from another potential exit. There was no way to use the cell phones or radios in here, and they had a deadline less than eighteen hours away, which sounded like plenty, but if they had to hide here . . .

The only good part of that was that eventually someone would be looking for them, and probably in force. Though Kyle would prefer to get out on his own feet, and soon.

Two doors to the left were barricaded. Kyle saw no reason to try to force them yet. Both were about four foot high, two foot broad, and made of heavy timbers. They had various initials and graffiti carved into them in Cyrillic, so someone had been down here since the Communists moved in. That was after World War II.

They crept forward, the passage twisting down and to the left. Wade stuck an arm out and Kyle stopped, waiting. He took a sniff and grimaced. He could smell a combination of sewer, chemicals, and mustiness. Something was down here.

Ahead, just visible around the curve, there was a sizeable cavern. It might be eight to ten feet high. It was lit from within, and that was the light that had filtered some hundred feet down a passage and around to the entrance. Kyle had known that about caves but never experienced it: A little light went a long way when there was nothing to interfere with it.

He paused to consider the tactical situation for a moment. What they wanted to see was likely in that room, as was any potential exit. It was lit brightly by fluorescents, the hallway was not. So unless someone came into it they should be invisible in shadow.

He sank to his knees and then flattened his body for a crawl. He indicated for Wade to follow and get photos.


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