The Alchemist’s Code by Martin Rua

stood just a yard away from the door and flattened themselves against the wall. It was important at this point not to be discovered. There would certainly be another soldier on guard, and he had to be eliminated.
    Nathan gave Vladimir a knowing look, and he nodded in reply. The captain threw a stone at the door, and the reaction was not slow in coming.
    â€œWho’s there?” said a voice. “Bauer, is that you?”
    â€œYes, I need a hand – can you come?” said Vladimir enigmatically, keeping his voice low to avoid being discovered.
    â€œWhat the hell—?” said the sentry.
    The few seconds that it took the soldier to reach the eight men seemed interminable. Aware of the need to keep absolutely still, they held their breath, their muscles and their nerves stretched to breaking point.
    In the semi-darkness of the corridor, Nathan, who was crouching, saw the barrel of the rifle poking out of the sentry post. He knew he would have to act rapidly and with precision to prevent the man from pulling the trigger first.
    The soldier stepped forward a few centimetres and had just noticed a presence against the wall when two hands grabbed his rifle and tugged at it violently. Simultaneously, Nathan’s dagger pierced his heart from below while a hand was clamped over his mouth to prevent him from screaming.
    It was a quick and silent death. The group had managed once again to avoid being discovered. They moved towards the entrance of the underground basement, where Sean Bruce and François David were loading their guns with a powerful sleeping gas.
    â€œNow we can put the lucky ones to sleep,” Nathan hissed.
    The eight men poured down the narrow staircase leading to the basement, as silent as wild beasts stalking their unsuspecting prey, and continued to descend until a faint light from the lower level gave them to understand that the basement was nearby. They stopped a few steps before the bottom of the narrow staircase and stood there motionless for a few seconds – just long enough to understand that the men below were sleeping, completely unaware of them.
    When everyone had put on their gas masks, Nathan motioned for Sean and François to proceed. They arranged themselves in the best positions for firing their gas cannisters into the room, exchanged a glance of understanding, and fired.
    The sound of the shots aroused some of the soldiers who woke their companions. “Alarm, Alarm!” they screamed, “we’re under attack, wake up!”
    But thanks to the gas and its sedative effects, their reaction was limited. One attempted, coughing and stumbling, to climb to the top floor, but as soon as his nose appeared on the stairs he was shot down with devastating accuracy by Vladimir’s silenced pistol, which spared no one.
    The reaction lasted only a few seconds, and then silence reigned once more in the basement. Before anyone could continue, Sean and François fired two more cannisters of sleeping gas. A few more seconds passed, then they all entered the narrow room, covering each other’s backs.
    All the men guarding the idol had been put out of action, some temporarily by the gas, some permanently by the bullets.
    While the others tied up the stunned soldiers, Nathan walked about the room in search of the man who had obliged them to come to Berlin, and to his surprise found him embracing the object which they had come to get, having been knocked out by the gas within seconds of approaching the idol. He had even pulled out his pistol, which was still clutched in his right hand.
    â€œWe’re done, Nathan,” said McCourt, approaching him. Nathan nodded while still gazing at the ground.
    â€œAh, good,” Kirk said, “it seems that you found him. The lousy traitor.”
    â€œYeah,” said Nathan, his voice muted by the gas mask.
    â€œSo, shall we proceed?” McCourt asked.
    â€œYup.”

7
The Fog Lifts
    Events reconstructed by