If not, then this was going to be his party alone.
He knew a little about Linderhof. The compact palace was Ludwig’s version of the Trianon at Versailles, a favorite of Marie Antoinette. Not a replica, more another re-imagining. A rococo jewel, richly articulated by windows, balconies, banded pilasters, wrought iron, gilt, and crowns, all standing atop a lower story of rusticated blocks enclosed by a balustrade. Like at Neuschwanstein, floodlights illuminated the exterior, the white walls sparkling in the night. It sat off by itself, in peaceful repose, secluded in the alpine foothills among acres of trees, parklands, and gardens, miles away from any town. It had been Ludwig’s favorite and the king had spent a lot of time there. The only one of his projects to come to completion.Though, to Ludwig, nothing was ever really finished.
The chopper touched down in a small clearing about a hundred yards from the palace. He’d noticed nothing but black as far as he could see on the way down. Which meant they were alone. Except for two guys waiting beyond the wash of the blades. Not Fenn’s brothers. These were Chinese operatives, each toting an automatic rifle. The chopper’s rotor wound down and they exited out into the cold. A profound silence once again overtook them, broken only by a frigid breeze.
“These men are here to make sure you behave,” Ming said. “I have more on the way.”
“As do I,” Fenn said.
All good to know.
“Where are we to go?” Ming asked.
Fenn pointed off toward the north and the palace. “It’s beyond there, up on the hill. The Venus Grotto.”
“How do you know this is the right place?” Cotton tried.
“We just do,” Albert said.
“There are cameras and security inside the palace,” Fenn said. “Nothing much outside. No on-site security people, either, this time of year. We have the place to ourselves.”
Also good to know.
So far he’d bought nearly an hour in time.
Was it enough?
* * *
DERRICK STUDIED TONI SIM’S PHONE, WHICH, LIKE TRINITY’S IN THEfront seat, displayed a schematic for the grounds at Linderhof. About a hundred and twenty acres. That’s a lot of real estate. Plenty of buildings, too, scattered all around. The curator said they were headed to the Venus Grotto, which, according to the map, sat at the extreme north edge of the property. It had been excavated out of the ground, watercourses altered, then a structure formed from iron, cement, and brown linen, the interior walls coated in antimony to simulate glittering stones. The layout had been modeled after a famous grotto on Capri, complete with an underground lake into which a waterfall emptied. The first electrical service in Bavaria had been installed inside to power a prismatic array of red, green, yellow, and blue lights that cast more of the illusion.
Sounded weird and expensive.
“What are they after there?” he asked himself.
“Malone had to lead them,” Trinity said from the front seat.
“Thank you for those words of wisdom,” he said. “They aren’t much help. But I’m so glad we have them.”
“You feel better insulting me?” she asked.
“I’ll feel better when we’re there. This isn’t an office in DC or a Langley briefing room. This is friggin’ real, and somebody’s butt is on the line.”
“I appreciate the reminder. I forgot about that.”
He told himself to lighten up. He knew TOO cared about the people who worked for her. But he felt so damn helpless. He should not have gone after Rife. That was a personal payback, which had left Malone exposed.
But it had to be done.
“We’re almost there,” Luke said.
Outside it was nearly pitch-black, only the scarcest of lights breaking the darkness. They were deeper into the Alps with their combination of highs and lows, speeding through one of the valleys toward some nineteenth-century castle built by a guy that many people called mad.
Looking for a hundred-and-twenty-year-old deed.
The whole thing sounded nuts.
He studied the schematic again. “We need to avoid the main entrance. There’s a road that parallels the northern perimeter of the property that’s close to the grotto.”