Escape

John got to his feet and Cotten rushed to throw her arms around him. “Thank God,” she whispered.

John held her tightly. “How did you find me?”

“The photo, your hand on your neck.”

“It was a long shot. I never thought anyone would figure it out. Such a dumb clue.”

“It worked. That’s all that matters.”

John looked at Burns, then at another man standing in the doorway, a man with a pistol in his hand. “Whoever you are, I can’t thank you enough.” Then he turned to Burns.

“He betrayed you,” Cotten told John. “He set you up.”

Ivanov pulled the ski mask from his face. “Time to go.”

“Archbishop Roberti? Is he safe?” John asked Burns.

“Where is he?” Ivanov poked Burns in the back with his gun barrel.

“Next room.” Burns motioned toward the wall.

“Why did you do it?” John asked.

“He’s Nephilim.” Cotten stepped away from John to face Burns. “This whole thing was to distract me from a much larger issue. But it didn’t work the way they planned. They never figured I’d show up here so soon.”

Ivanov moved into the hall. “Hate to spoil reunion, but time to go.”

John grabbed his coat. “I’ll go awaken Luigi.” He headed into the hall with Cotten behind him. Stopping short, he saw the dead man. Making the sign of the cross over the body, he went to the next bedroom door.

“Want me to shoot Nephilim piece of shit?” Ivanov called to them as he aimed his pistol at Burns.

“Lock him in the room,” Cotten said. “If they thought it was a good enough prison for John, then it’ll do for him.”

Ivanov locked Burns in, using the key he had recovered from the dead guard. He followed John and opened Roberti’s room.

“Luigi, wake up,” John said. He shook the priest until the man turned and stared at him.

“What’s going on?” The older man looked terrified.

“You’re safe, Luigi.” John threw back the blanket and helped Roberti swing himself out of bed. “It’s good you slept in all your clothes.”

“It was freezing,” Roberti said.

“Put on your shoes and coat,” John said. “We’re getting out of here.”

“What about Michael?” Roberti asked. “We must awaken him.”

“He’s already awake,” John said. “Luigi, Michael betrayed us. He was in on our kidnapping.”

Roberti’s eyes grew big, and he seemed even more confused than when John had burst into the room. “Impossible.”

“Discuss later,” Ivanov said.

Roberti stared at the man with the gun.

“He’s a friend,” Cotten said.

For the first time, the archbishop noticed Cotten. “Sweet Jesus, what are you doing here?”

“She and this man have rescued us,” John said. “But we must leave now. Please, Luigi, hurry. We’ll explain everything later.”

“This must be a nightmare,” Roberti said, tying his shoes. He stood and John helped him into his coat. “All right, I am ready … I think.”

“This way,” Ivanov said. He directed them to the stairs leading to the great hall.

“What about the guard at the entrance?” Cotten asked the colonel. “The one Burns told us about.”

“Victor has relieved him of duty.”

“Are you sure?” Cotten asked.

Ivanov stopped short and turned to her. “Trust Vladimir, future mayor big shot of Chisinau.”

She smiled. “Forgive me, Vladimir. I trust you with my life.”

He looked at John. “Smart lady.” Then he turned and started down the stairs.

At the bottom, they entered the great hall. Ahead, near the main doors, Cotten saw a dark heap on the floor. Standing nearby was Victor, his machine pistol at the ready. As they got closer, Cotten noticed the spreading pool of blood and gaping slit in the guard’s neck.

“Nice work,” Ivanov said.

“Caught him sleeping on job,” Victor said with a smile.

They burst through the doors into the snow-blown night. Cotten spotted the limousine near the front gate, clouds of steamy condensation billowing from its exhaust. The drawbridge was down and Krystof was in the driver’s seat. From across the courtyard, Alexei ran toward them, his sniper rifle in his hands.

Everyone converged on the ZIL at almost the same moment. “Quickly,” Ivanov ordered. “We must go.”

Once they had piled into the car, Krystof shoved the accelerator to the floor, and the old engine roared as the car barreled through the gate and across the bridge.

With sickening thuds, bullets slammed into the metal trunk lid. Ivanov turned to look out the back window. “Last two guards woke up,” he said.

Cotten peeked above the back seat for a second and saw the muzzle flashes as the two men fired from the steps of the main hall. But just as quickly as the bullets hit the old car, it swerved around a curve and raced down the steep mountain road. Cotten leaned into John next to her and rested her head on his shoulder.

Behind them, the imposing silhouette of Dracula’s Castle disappeared into the driving snow.