Hanley addressed the six armed men from the U.S. “Anthem says her father would only be here if there was a bigger mission than a hostage taking. She thinks the plague will soon be released on everyone here. I am going to have to trust her judgment on this. We need to take this facility back, and it needs to happen soon.”

Brewer said, “Matt, there is something like one hundred Scots Dragoons outside. You think these six men have a better chance of—”

“Yes,” he interrupted. “Right at this moment, I do. Zakharov doesn’t know these men are Ground Branch and SAD singleton assets; he thinks they’re just bodyguards. He probably also thinks he killed us all with those frags they threw into the library. That gives us an advantage. He won’t expect an attack to come from inside the building; therefore, an attack must come from inside the building.”

Jenner said, “You need protection, too, sir.”

Hanley pointed out that there were already two Scottish security men here, and it was a secure room. He and Brewer would be fine here watching what monitors were still up and providing intelligence for the counterattack.

Everyone put in radio earpieces and set them to the same channel, and soon the half dozen men, led by Jenner, began moving through the bar and back towards the second-floor corridor.

* * *

• • •

They found the east wing staircase barricaded. When Travers managed to get the door open a couple of inches, he looked through the gap and saw wires coiling over the table braced on the inside that seemed to be attached to the door itself.

He turned back to Jenner. “Booby-trapped. Could be explosives.”

“Okay, we’ll make our way to the first floor via some other route.” Looking at Hightower he asked, “Any ideas?”

“I walked around the castle for an hour earlier. Suggest the main staircase. They might have tripwires or something, so keep an eye open, but there are no doors so it probably won’t be blocked.”

Jenner nodded. “Let’s keep it tight, all angles covered. We move as a team.”

“Roger,” Zack said, and again they set off up the corridor.

CHAPTER 64

   Feodor Zakharov returned to the great hall, along with Rutherford and Capshaw, who both went back to their tables while the Russian stepped over to Fox. Softly, and in Russian, he asked, “Is it done?”

“Finished distribution of the spores five minutes ago, sir.”

“Very well.” Zakharov looked at his watch. “We start the time now.”

Fox nodded.

“You’ve taken your antibiotics?” Zakharov asked.

“As I was climbing the stairs.”

“Good. I will read statements once every other hour on the stage, with an open phone line to the outside, and then I will begin the negotiations for a helicopter. That will take six to eight hours. We will egress via the passageway to the loch as the helicopter lands.”

Fox said, “We only have one group of two men searching the castle for more conference attendees hiding out. I suggest we put more roaming patrols out in the building. They will eliminate any threats inside our defenses, and will serve as a tripwire in case those outside enter the building. We have this room covered, and have men to spare.”

Zakharov said, “Very well. Send the other sleepers out, and one more two-man patrol from the mercenary force. That’s three teams. And get me a handgun. I will help keep the people in here compliant.”

* * *

• • •

   Zoya had been ordered to sit at one of the round tables along with a group of senior intel analysts from New Zealand, near the center of the room full of round tables. The mood around her was somber; those who whispered said they were sure the whole building had been wired to blow, and once this unknown man and his unknown force made their statement, they would set off the bombs.

One of the men surprised Zoya by saying, “Doesn’t that guy look a little like General Zakharov, the old GRU chief who died? Chechnya or Dagestan, I think it was.”

“Yes, but this fellow is obviously English,” a woman replied.

Zoya received several strange looks from her tablemates because no one recognized her, and she wasn’t in a ball gown. Instead she wore jeans and a black tracksuit top, no makeup, with her dark hair back in a ponytail.

Everyone seemed to assume she was one of the young MI5 members serving as the castle staff, and they left her alone.

And Zoya did not interact with them at all. No, her focus was on Court, as well as the others up in the room. A pair of grenades had been thrown in, and she heard no shooting after that, but she’d been hustled down here and didn’t know if the Russian attacking force had gone into the room to engage any survivors.

She had no way of knowing if Court had made it, and no way of knowing his condition if he had managed to survive.

* * *

• • •

Jenner sent Court and Zack to check the second floor for stragglers, and now they moved through the wardrobe, a large dressing and storage area for the lady of the castle. It had been converted into a conference room, but it retained antique paintings and furniture around a long oval table.

Matt Hanley came over the men’s earpieces suddenly. “Romantic and Violator. Halt.”

Both men stopped in their tracks. Said nothing, knowing Hanley would fill them in.

“The room in front of you just had its camera go dark. Could be a technical glitch, or there might be someone in there. Advance with caution.”

“Roger.”

The two men with the SIG Rattler rifles moved up to the closed door quickly and silently and stepped to either side. After a look from Zack, Court reached over and picked up a brass candlestick from a table next to him and heaved it across the room. It landed on the far side of the conference table with a clang.

The door flew open, and flashlight beams streaked across the room.

A voice with an obvious Russian accent spoke English. “I hear you, friend. Come out and join the others.”

Zack gave Court a quick hand signal, indicating he thought there were two shooters, judging from the swaying beams, although he was flush with the wall and couldn’t tell for sure. He lowered his Rattler on his chest and grabbed the shotgun on his back, bringing it forward.

“Who is there?” the man called. “Who is there?”

Zack Hightower knelt and spun into the doorway, fired a blast, pumped the fore-end of the weapon, and fired again.

“It’s America, motherfucker!” Zack blasted three more shells from the shotgun, covering the darkness with steel shot, then spun back to concealment to reload.