Michaels, however, was more than happy to explain it to her. “Your friend Mr. Braden has a decided interest in the treasure, Miss Creed,” he said, over his shark-tooth smile. “And I’m afraid it doesn’t involve giving a share to you.”

Annja felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention as she heard the truth in Michaels’s voice. Behind her, Garin shifted positions, causing the bridge to rock a bit more wildly than before.

What the hell was he doing?

Still, she didn’t dare turn around.

“The treasure’s in the old Genoa Mine,” Garin said. “She told me herself not two minutes ago.”

Annja couldn’t believe her ears. Garin had just given up their one bargaining chip, the one piece of information she’d been risking her life to protect!

Her dismay must have shown on her face for Michaels suddenly threw back his head and laughed. “Did you think I was just going to let you walk away?” he asked.

As Annja groped for an answer, Michaels looked at Garin over her shoulder. “Get rid of her,” he said.

There was no way she could summon her sword, turn and deal with Garin before he shot her. She knew him, knew how fast he was with a handgun. He’d be watching for the sword and wouldn’t hesitate to fire the second she moved.

He had her dead to rights.

She was trapped.

She wasn’t the type to go down without a fight, however, and even though she thought it was futile she was still going to do her best to survive to fight another day.

With a shout she called her sword from the otherwhere, the cold steel blade flashing into existence in the space of a heartbeat. Time seemed to slow as she felt her fingers close tightly around the well-worn hilt, felt the bridge reacting to her sudden motion, shifting and rolling beneath her feet, watched as Michaels’s eyes went wide at the sudden appearance of the weapon.

She had barely started her turn when she felt, and then heard, the gun going off behind her.

The bullet, the one she thought was destined to put an end to her time as the bearer of Joan’s mystical sword, shot past her shoulder so closely that she felt the heat of its passage.

She watched in amazement as a bright red flower blossomed on the front of Michaels’s shirt. She realized at the same moment that Michaels’s expression of surprise didn’t have anything to do with the appearance of her sword at all, but was rather a reaction to the sight of the muzzle of the gun held in Garin’s hand being pointed in his direction.

Garin hadn’t betrayed her at all!

The shot knocked Michaels backward a few feet into the rope railing and for a moment Annja thought he was going to tip right over it. But he managed to grab hold of the rope with his free hand and arrest his fall.

The gun in his other hand began to come up.

Behind her, she heard Garin give a wordless grunt of victory as he pulled the trigger a second time, intending to end this once and for all.

The hammer gave a dry click as it fell on an empty chamber.

In the space of a heartbeat Annja realized that she was too far away to reach Michaels, even with her sword, and they had only a split second in which to react before he fired his own weapon.

This close, the bullet was sure to hit one or the other of them.

Annja didn’t stop to think, she just reacted, stepping backward into Garin and covering him with her body.

The muzzle of Michaels’s gun loomed large before her.

A shot rang out, echoing through the gorge, and it took Annja a moment to realize she wasn’t injured.

She hadn’t, in fact, been shot as she’d fully expected to be.

Her gaze flicked to Michaels and she was just in time to see him drop to his knees on the bridge, his hands covering the eruption of blood that was now spilling from the hole in his throat.

He turned to face her, perhaps to plead for help, perhaps to curse her name with his dying breath, but never got the chance for either.

The wood he was kneeling on chose that moment to decide it had had enough and gave way with a loud crack.

One moment Michaels was kneeling before her, the next he was plunging into the seething waters below.

If he screamed as he fell, Annja didn’t hear it, for the gorge was suddenly filled with the rhythmic sound of a helicopter’s rotors. As she and Garin looked on, the black fuselage of a Dragontech Security helicopter came swooping down from above, armed gunmen leaning out the open doors on either side. The hail of bullets the gunmen sent slamming into the ground on either side of the bridge forced Michaels’s thugs to run for their lives.

A glance upstream showed a dark-suited figure standing on the new bridge with what looked like a long-barreled rifle in his hands. He lifted a hand in greeting and a relieved Annja waved back.

For now at least, the threat was over.

40

“No, not that camera, you idiot! The other one!”

Annja watched Doug Morrell as he stalked over to the intern he’d been addressing and made short work of swapping out the video camera the young man had been holding with another one from the pile of equipment in the back of the van Chasing History’s Monstershad rented to transport their gear. Normally it was Annja who got exasperated from Doug’s undying eagerness and it was nice to see the tables turned for a change.

It had been two months since her rescue from the bridge over Tallulah Gorge by the operatives of Dragontech Security. Of course, they would probably still be searching aimlessly for their boss, Garin Braden, if they hadn’t put two and two together after their systems alerted them to Annja’s phone call with Doug and realizing she was trying to save Garin by finding the location of the treasure. Since Annja had given Doug the coordinates she’d discovered marking the location of the missing Confederate treasury, Dragontech’s senior commander, Matthew Griggs, had quickly put a plan in motion and help had been on the way.

Of course, Annja hadn’t known that at the time, so she’d been convinced that it was all going to end on that lonely windswept bridge.

Several times during the past two weeks she’d almost wished it had. The police investigation into the death of Blaine Michaels had been nothing short of grueling. Annja had spent hours being interviewed by law enforcement personnel from both sides of the Atlantic. Fortunately, her story was backed up not only by Garin himself, but also by several of Michaels’s former henchmen, all eager to avoid harsher sentences by giving up their comrades in plea bargain after plea bargain. The deaths of Jimmy Mitchell, Bernard Reinhardt and Catherine Daley were laid at the feet of Blaine Michaels. In France, his former empire was reeling from revelation after revelation of the activities Michaels and his associates had been involved in. It wasn’t a pretty picture.

In the United States, Annja’s own illegal activities, including the desecration of a federal cemetery, not to mention failure to report a crime and fleeing across state lines, were all determined to be either self-defense or carried out under duress and with the intent of saving lives. Despite some pressure from various police agencies, and with the help of Garin’s considerable influence, Annja was eventually cleared of any wrongdoing.

At last, they had returned to Tallulah Gorge in an effort to locate the final resting place of the missing Confederate treasury. And they were going to film it, as part of a special segment of the Chasing History’s Monstersepisode that Annja had started all those weeks before. She had tried to talk Doug out of it but he reminded her that she owed him so she went along with it.

Doug finally got the intern straightened out and wandered back to where Annja was waiting. With her was Steve Southwood, the park guide they had hired to help them with the day’s shoot. It would be Southwood’s job to lead them into the depths of the Genoa Mine to the coordinates that Captain Parker had indicated in his final message to his partner-in-crime, Jonathan Sykes.