The Milestone Protocol Ernest Dempsey (best short novels of all time .txt) 📖

façade, highlighting the contrast between the cream-colored exterior walls and the black roof that sloped at a slight angle before rounding off at the top.

He veered around the curved driveway and parked the stolen vehicle facing toward the gate. Sean knew that Magnus kept his cars in a massive six-car garage down below and around back. The setup wasn’t totally unlike his home back in Buckhead near Atlanta.

After locking the SUV, Sean trudged up the wide set of steps leading into the home. Just before he reached the top, a servant opened the tall black door. The man wore a white button-up shirt with a black tie and matching pants. His shoes gleamed in the light shining from the house.

“Welcome back, sir,” the butler said.

“Thank you, Christian,” Sean said. “Good to be here again. You’re looking good. Been working out?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you for noticing.” The butler appeared to be sincerely appreciative of the compliment.

Sean slapped him on the shoulder and cast one last look out to the circular driveway. The fountain in the center featured an angel pouring water from a jug into a thirsty traveler’s mouth, though at the moment no water flowed. Sean imagined they cut off the water during the winter to keep the statue from being damaged in the inhospitable Swedish cold.

Stepping into the lavish mansion’s foyer, Sean sucked in a gulp of warm air. It was laced with cinnamon and spruce, and he immediately felt like he’d walked into a Christmas party.

“They are waiting for you in the study,” Christian said. “Shall I show you to it?”

“No thanks,” Sean answered. “I remember where it is.”

Sean left the butler to his tasks and continued forward. His shoes tapped on the gleaming tiles. Portraits of Sorensons down through the ages filled the walls with regal figures. Most of the men were dressed in their finest military attire. A few stood atop wooden ships, signifying their roles in the Swedish navy. The women’s portraits displayed the female members of the family in extraordinary gowns and dresses fit for a queen. While the Sorensons hadn’t been royalty, at least as far as Sean knew, they lived a life that could have easily been mistaken for it. While their mansion was grandiose, it was also no royal house. The palaces of the kings and queens from most nations dwarfed the place, making it look like little more than servants’ quarters for their obscenely massive castles.

Turning to the left, Sean entered a hallway with a twelve-foot-high ceiling. The dark blue wallpaper was broken up by white stripes every ten feet and more picture frames—though smaller than those in the hall. These portraits featured children from the Sorenson line, and some of the pets that had belonged to the family throughout the centuries. There were dogs, cats, and several horses, all with their names attached at the bottom via a placard.

Sean could hear laughter coming from the other end of the corridor as it drifted through an open door. He smelled an intoxicating mix of scented candles and a wood fire burning in the hearth.

Not wanting to make a scene, Sean stepped into the study quietly. His stealthy entrance was dismantled by a creaking floorboard under his shoe. He grimaced at the sound.

Everyone in the room spun around and looked at him. His lips spread into a boyish grin. “Glad you guys could make it here in one piece.”

Magnus stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Sean as a father to a prodigal son. “I’m so glad you made it out of there alive,” Magnus exclaimed.

Sean returned the hug, albeit with less vigor, and patted the older man on the back. “I’m okay, Magnus. I’ve seen worse.”

The Swede took a step back and assessed his American friend with an arched eyebrow. “Worse? Those gunmen were literally pouring out of the stairwell. And they were armed!”

Tabitha stood in the corner with arms crossed. She had a look of concern mixed with utter astonishment on her face. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anything like that,” she drawled.

“Like what?” Sean asked. His question was innocent enough, at least to him, but he sensed something akin to fear in her eyes.

“You killed those men, armed men, without any weapon of your own.”

“I think Magnus covered that already.”

Tabitha shook her head. “They looked like they were trained. Probably mercenaries.”

“They were. But not all mercs are as lethal as you might think.”

“They’re professional soldiers, Sean. And you executed them like they were training dummies.”

“It wasn’t as easy as it might have seemed,” Sean insisted.

“Either way, you’re alive, and I assume they’re all dead.”

Sean nodded reluctantly. “They gave me no choice. And when they started firing at the helicopter, that sealed their fate in my mind. I had to make sure you guys could get away safely.”

“An admirable trait in a soldier,” Magnus said.

Sean only let out a short “hmm” then said, “I’m not a soldier anymore, Magnus.”

“Well,” Tommy said, clapping his hands together. “I’m glad you made it okay. But we have a lot of questions to answer.”

“Right down to business, then,” Sean said cheerfully. “Good. I was starting to think you guys were going to start crying or something.”

Magnus chuckled and walked over to the fireplace. The wood popped a few times as he neared, walking across the huge fur rug. He reached up to the mantel and plucked a glass half-full of scotch from it.

“Before you arrived,” Magnus began, “we were discussing the mysterious message on the tablet Dr. Clark discovered." He gave a nod to Kevin, who had, up to that point, been silent.

Kevin stared awkwardly at Sean as if he were an alien, suspicious and untrusting of the bizarre creature. “Yes. Thank you, Magnus. And I appreciate you bringing us here. I know I said that several times already, but you’re taking a big risk letting us come to your home, especially if those goons are still out there.”

“Well, those goons aren’t,” Sean corrected. “But I’m sure there are others.” He