Kluge felt the walls of the cramped tunnel rumble all around him as he made his frantic way back out to the staircase. He tore ragged holes in his coat and pants as he crawled recklessly through the pitch-dark wetness.

  The support stone had kicked away with surprising ease. The series of key stones had interlocked like some ancient puzzle. As soon as the cornerstone was gone, the others began collapsing in around it.

  He had dropped his flashlight in his haste.

  The walls drummed like thunder all around him as the corridor and rooms collapsed. He only knew he was going in the right direction because it was impossible to get lost in the long burrow.

  His claustrophobia had nearly robbed him of all sense. He wanted to scream, wanted to panic. Logically he knew that it would do no good, but logic had nothing to do with the almost paralyzing terror he felt. It was like being trapped in the black epicenter of a massive earthquake.

  Scurrying like a rat in a hole, Kluge suddenly slammed against something solid with his head.

  Panicked now, he grabbed forward, shoving hard against the object. The stone toppled away. It was the same one he had pulled in place behind him upon entering the tunnel.

  He scampered out beneath the stairs—lungs aching, heart pounding.

  He was alive!

  There was enough weak light filtering down the stairs to illuminate the small pile of gold that still remained. The corridor was gone. Buried behind a wall of rock and earth.

  Get the panic under control.

  Deep breaths. No! Save it for outside.

  Outside.

  He headed for the stairs, casting one final glance at his end of the collapsed corridor.

  The others were dead. The gold was all his. He could collect whatever was left at the bottom of the stairs later.

  Exhilarated by his success, Adolf Kluge raced up the staircase to the distant square of light.

  . . .

  The icy water crashed down in an enormous burst of frothy, churning white. The floor flooded in seconds.

  “Back!” Chiun commanded.

  The skinheads were already running in panic through the waist-deep water toward the rear rooms. “I don’t think that’ll do any good!” Remo shouted over the roar of the waterfall.

  “It will give us time!” Chiun insisted.

  Bony arms pumping in furious motion, the Master of Sinanju fought against the lethal, swirling current. Remo followed. Heidi struggled after them.

  Heidi had not taken more than a few fumbling steps when she tripped against a shattered chunk of toppled stone. She fell beneath the rapidly rising water. Thrown forward on the waves, she lost all sense of direction. She swam for what she thought was up, bumping against the floor of the flooding cavern. Or was it the wall?

  No time to decide. She kicked off, pushing up to the surface. A wave caught her midway, tumbling her sideways. She no longer had any sense of up or down.

  Heidi began to panic.

  Strong arms suddenly grabbed her by the armpits. She was hauled, spluttering above the water by Remo. It was now as high as their chests.

  Remo carried her along with him, taking a few swift strides across the room. The water was at their chins by the time they made it into the second room.

  The skinheads were in hysterics. They were clawing at the walls and at one another, trying to climb above the water. Screaming and crying, they pushed up on the shoulders of their confederates. One body floated face down in the water. Another skinhead attempted to ride it like a raft.

  Chiun was treading water.

  “There’s no way out of here!” Remo shouted to him.

  “There is one!” Chiun yelled back.

  Beyond the door, they could see the river pouring relentlessly through the broken ceiling. It was so steady it was like a single, huge column of water.

  “It’s too dangerous!” Remo shouted.

  “I am open to suggestions!”

  There was a massive rumble. They watched as a new section of the outer ceiling began to give way. It fell in huge irregular blocks to the rising, churning water.

  The water was only a few feet from the ceiling now and rising ever more rapidly.

  “Go!” Remo yelled to Chiun over the roar of the river.

  The Master of Sinanju nodded sharply. Twisting up, he ducked below the waves. His spindly legs appeared for an instant as he jackknifed underwater. Then he was gone.

  They were at the ceiling now. Heidi held her face up to the approaching rock, breathing desperately.

  “Take a deep breath!” Remo yelled.

  She was so disoriented she didn’t know where Remo was any longer. The skinheads were screaming as the water swirled up around them. Heidi craned her neck to see Remo.

  “What?”

  “Do it!”

  Heidi did as she was told. The instant she had filled her lungs, Remo grabbed her around the waist. Pulling her close to him, he threw himself into the swirling torrent.

  The push of water was like a fist shoving against him. Dragging Heidi beside him, Remo kicked hard against the racing current.

  The freezing water was murky and filled with swirling plants and mud.

  As they passed out into the remnants of the outer room, Remo felt a series of muted booms behind them. The roof of the room they had been in was collapsing. The stones of the ceiling were crashing in slow motion to the new riverbed.

  A few scissor-like kicks brought them to the largest waterfall. It was like fighting against the mighty spray of a jet-powered firehose.

  Remo pushed them into the center of the driving water.

  He had to fight against the force of the incoming river. It was hard enough to do alone; carrying someone else made it all the more difficult.

  The roar of the flooding water pounded against his ears as he propelled the two of them forward. His limbs were like leaden weights.

  Chiun’s fault. He had forced Remo to haul his precious booty for almost twenty hours. The heavy labor had taken its toll on his arms and legs.

  Remo’s muscles ached as he pushed up through the remnants of ceiling and earth. For an instant, it seemed as if he might be thrown back down through the opening.

  He kicked a final time, hard.

  They were propelled upward against the tide. A new current caught him, pushing him away from the ragged opening. The legitimate bed of the Danube began to slide rapidly beneath him.

  Remo caught the bottom of the river with the tips of his toes and pushed. The force was gauged to bring them at an angle through the racing current of water. Remo and Heidi were propelled up to the surface. In an instant, sunlight exploded all around them.

  Heidi pulled in a ragged gulp of air.

  Remo gave her little time to fill her lungs. Cutting across the roaring river, he swam swiftly to the shore, dragging her behind him.

  In a few seconds, they were pulling themselves up onto the grassy riverbank, drenched and weary. But alive.

  The Master of Sinanju was there to greet them.

  “He has stolen my gold!” Chiun cried. His sopped kimono clung in mud-encrusted sheets to his bony frame.

  “Who?” Remo asked, pulling himself to his feet. His clothes dripped icy water.

  “The thieving scion of the scoundrel Siegfried and his army of pinheads, of course,” Chiun huffed. “Hurry!” He bounced, dripping wet up the weed strewed bank.

  Remo climbed up the embankment and looked out over the meadow. Most of the Nibelungen Hoard was still there, but Kluge’s trucks were gone from the nearby access road. There was no sign of the skinheads or defecting border police.

  “He only took some of it,” Remo offered.

  “It was not his right to take one precious ingot!” Chiun said, stomping his feet.

  “Fine,” Remo said, exhaling tired frustration. “We’ll go after him. But you’ve got to promise me, Chiun. When we find him, we kill him. I’ve had it up to here with this stupid gold fever of yours.”

  “We will kill him,” Chiun replied icily.

  “Good,” Remo said.

  “For stealing my treasure.”

  Rolling his eyes, Remo turned to Heidi.

  She was panting and drenched behind them. Her blond bangs clung in dripping sheets to her forehead. “Keep an eye on this stuff till we get back?” he asked.

  “Only if our fifty/fifty deal still stands,” she said.

  “Fine with me.”

  Chiun jumped forward. “I do not trust her.”

  Heidi began to speak, but Remo interjected. “All that’s left is my crummy rental car,” he complained. “She’s not hauling all of this out in that.” He indicated the field and its piles upon piles of gold and jewels with a sweeping motion of his hand.

  Chiun was faced with a vexing problem. To part with the bulk of the treasure in pursuit of a small portion, or to sacrifice a small portion to guard the larger mass.

  His eyes passed indecisively from the access road to his mounds of precious booty. He finally reached a decision, though it obviously gave him little happiness.

  “I warn you,” he said threateningly, raising a long fingernail to Heidi.

  The old Korean said not another word. He spun on his heel and raced for Remo’s borrowed jeep.

  “Do us both a favor,” Remo warned with a knowing nod.

  Leaving Heidi alone, dripping, shivering and surrounded by the Nibelungen Hoard, Remo took off through the field after Chiun.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Adolf Kluge waited alone in the small Berlin warehouse.

  He didn’t dare leave. Not with the amount of gold piled on the floor.

  The few skinheads who remained after he had collapsed the underground storehouse had returned with him to the city. Kluge sent them out to rent more trucks and gather more men.

  It was unbelievable. The actual Nibelungen Hoard.

  The treasure piled in this warehouse didn’t seem like much compared to the huge amount he knew was waiting for him in that desolate clearing next to the Danube, but he knew as he looked down upon it that he was gazing at a fortune.

  He had enough here alone to reestablish IV. The secret neo-Nazi organization would be stronger than it ever had been in the past. With the wealth at his disposal, it might even be time to begin considering the true mission of IV.

  A global fascist government.

  With himself as its leader.

  He had never dreamed he would have the operating capital to carry out such a plan. But now…

  Now it could be a reality. Kluge had come to believe only recently that anything was possible.

  Stooping, he picked up one of the gold bars. It was still flecked with dark fungus. He scraped the growth away with his thumbnail. Pulling out his handkerchief, he buffed the surface to a high luster. Anything was possible. Anything at all.

  Kluge smiled as he held the bar up to examine it in the weak light of the warehouse.

  He caught something reflected in its gleaming surface. A pair of dark shapes silhouetted in the door. Men. But the door was closed and bolted from the inside.

  Kluge turned around slowly, still holding the gold bar.

  “Here’s a tip. If you want to keep your hideout a secret, don’t trust skinheads,” Remo Williams said, stepping into the room.

  Chiun took this as a cue. He marched over to Kluge and snatched the heavy gold bar from his hand. He examined it as if it were a baby the IV leader had physically assaulted.

  “Thief,” the Master of Sinanju announced. Cradling the gold bar delicately, he walked back over to the door.

  “He told me he was careful,” Kluge gasped. He looked as if he were seeing a pair of ghosts. “I even told him to use a false name when he rented this place. How are you alive?”

  Remo ignored the question. “He used a false name, all right,” he said. “The same one he used to rent one of those trucks. These baldies aren’t the brightest bulbs on the circuit, Dolph.”

  “The truck?” Kluge asked. He was totally bewildered. He obviously didn’t see a connection.

  “I don’t know how my boss does it,” Remo said with a shrug. “Chiun remembered the number on the truck. Smith managed to use his computer to track you. Now we’re here.”

  “Smith,” Kluge said. He was coming back to his senses.

  “Yeah,” Remo said “The guy you knocked on the head. He sends his thanks for that, by the way. I just found out he’s going into the hospital today. They’re going to have to drain fluid from around his brain because of the crack you gave him. I don’t like him, but I respect him. For that, you suffer.” Smiling grimly, he advanced on Kluge.

  “This is not how the House of Sinanju is supposed to do business,” Kluge called quickly over to Chiun.

  “Did you not read your contract?” Chiun asked blandly.

  “Of course,” Kluge said. “We had an ironclad deal.”

  “You obviously did not read the section written in Korean,” Chiun noted.

  “I do not understand Korean.”

  “Do not blame me for your inadequacies,” Chiun said simply. He heated the gold bar in his hand with a warm puff of breath, polishing off the condensation with the sleeve of his clean, sea green kimono.

  “The one thing I don’t get,” Remo interjected, “is why you sent all those letters.”

  “Letters?” Kluge asked. “What letters?”

  “The email you sent to the bank people, the chancellor, even the freaking border police.”

  Kluge was shaking his head in bewilderment. “I sent no letters.”

  “Well, one of your lackeys did. They mentioned Four, the Hoard. Even the fact that you were searching in the Black Forest. You’re like a guy who wants to be caught.”

  Kluge was baffled. He kept trying to think of who would report on them or even know that they had set out to find the Hoard. And why email? They might just as easily have used a phone.

  Then it struck him.

  “They would not be able to use a phone,” he said numbly to himself. He remembered the trucks that had escaped during the firefight with the Border Police. The men in them were not skinheads. They were Numbers. It was her. She wanted a diversion so that she would be able to search on her own. Remo was nearly upon him.

  “Wait!” Kluge cried desperately. He was grasping at straws, desperate to avoid what he knew was coming. “That woman. The one you were with.”

  “Heidi?” Remo asked, stopping.

  “Yes. She is not normal,” Kluge insisted.

  “Given your friends, Cuddles, I don’t think you’re the best judge of that,” said Remo. He strode toward Kluge.

  “You do not understand,” Kluge begged. “She is a Number. They are the ones who emailed. They cannot use a telephone. They must be working with her.”

  Remo stopped once more. “What are you talking about?”

  “The blond-haired men,” Kluge explained hastily. “The identical mutes? They are called Numbers. They were part of a wrong-headed genetic experiment.”

  “And Heidi is one of them?” Remo asked. He sounded doubtful.

  “Somehow,” Kluge admitted. “The rest of them were freaks by design. They were created to be fiercely loyal to Four. I don’t know if she has that as part of her genetic programming or not. But if she does, and it has somehow mutated, she could pose a far greater threat than my organization ever did.”

  “What do you mean?” Remo asked.

  “It was a program designed to create the perfect Aryan man. There were not supposed to be any women. I don’t know how she even came to be.” He shook his head, as if he were speaking to a complete moron. “Do you not understand? She should not exist. And she should never have opposed me in my search for the Hoard.”

  “Does this affect my treasure?” Chiun asked from across the room. He was clearly anxious to leave.

  “What?” Kluge said. “No. No, of course not.” Chiun promptly walked out the door.

  Remo advanced on Kluge.

  “I can help you,” the IV head offered desperately. “With her. With the Hoard. I have men coming.”

  Remo shook his head. “I’d rather go this one alone,” he replied. “Thanks just the same.”

  And because Remo had seen so much killing in the past few weeks and was so bone-tired, he simply reached out and crushed Adolf Kluge’s skull.

  Afterward, as he looked down on the crumpled body of the dead IV leader, Remo had no feeling of satisfaction.

  Hauling Kluge up off the floor, he carried the corpse over to the concrete wall of the warehouse where a series of pegs jutted from the wall. He hung Kluge from these, arms spread across the pegs, legs dangling.

  Finding a half-empty bucket of red paint in a store room, Remo painted a large swastika on the bare wall next to Kluge. He enclosed it in a circle, cutting a single red line across the symbol of hate it contained. It was the international sign for “No.”

  Beside it, he painted a simple legend in English. A few brief words: IV Ends Here.

  Remo left the warehouse to find Chiun.

  . . .

  The Master of Sinanju insisted that they first had to store the gold Kluge had stolen somewhere. Only when this was done were they allowed to return to the Danube. They weren’t able to go back until early the next morning.

  When they came to the end of the access road, Remo felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Beside him in the jeep, Chiun let out a pained wail. He was out of the jeep before Remo had even slowed down.

  “No, no, no!” Chiun cried, running across the empty field.

  Heidi was nowhere to be seen.

  The only signs that anything heavy had been stored in the meadow were the large indentations in the earth and the huge patches of crushed grass. The treasure itself was gone.

  Remo checked down the dank staircase. The area down below had begun to fill with slowly seeping water, but the level was low enough for Remo to see that what little gold had remained down there was gone, as well.

  He came up and shrugged.

  “Sorry, Chiun,” Remo said helplessly.

  The Master of Sinanju didn’t appear to even hear him.

  He just kept repeating the same word over and over as he wandered aimlessly around the field. “No, no, no, no, no…”

  After a half hour of this, Chiun got hold of himself. Afterward Remo—feeling intensely guilty—helped Chiun search the clearing for hours for even a single ruby or diamond. They found nothing.

 

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