It really was intolerable. And, she told herself, Corbett had been wrong not to trust her. Wrong to ask her to do something so unfair and unreasonable. Anger rose up in her and spilled over in the tears she’d been keeping bottled up.
Having convinced herself she had nothing to lose, Lucia wasted no time. She scrubbed away her tears with her shirt sleeve, popped the drive out of the computer, zipped it into a weatherproof pouch and left the study, fully intending to go straight to her room, gather up a few essentials and her cold-weather clothes and slip quietly out of the house. Once past the gate, she reasoned, she would make her way to the village, where she would knock on doors until she found someone with a telephone. And sufficient knowledge of English to be able to help her make transportation arrangements as far as Budapest. From there she would take a commercial flight to Paris. Piece of cake. She could be there by…well, either very late tonight, or at the latest, first thing tomorrow.
The only thing was, in order to get from the study to her room, she had to pass through the kitchen. And in the kitchen she found Kati, seated comfortably at the kitchen table as if she’d grown roots there, diligently working away on a piece of embroidery. She looked up when Lucia came in, her round, kind face registering dismay at the obvious evidence of her recent weeping. She immediately put down her sewing and bustled to Lucia’s side, patting her shoulder and cooing her concern in animated Hungarian, inquiring whether Lucia would like some coffee? Some wine? Some cake? Lunch? Food and drink-the cure for all ills.
Lucia smiled tremulously, shook her head, waved Kati back to her work and went into the bedroom, where she lowered herself onto the bed with a dejected exhalation. Escaping from her prison wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d hoped. Clearly, Kati and Josef had been designated her keepers, and given their devotion to Corbett, Lucia was sure nothing short of knockout drops in their
Like…sewing or embroidery. Like needlepoint.
Rising swiftly, she went to her suitcase and took out the large, handwoven bag she used to carry her needlework. She turned it upside down and dumped out everything into her suitcase. Then she put back into the bag a sweater, a change of underwear, several pairs of warm socks, her gloves, some essential toiletries, her flashlight, her wallet with her driver’s license, credit card and a few euros, the flash drive and, lastly, the needlepoint project she’d been working on before that fateful night, the evening that was to have been a fairy-tale date with Corbett to the British Embassy Christmas party. It seemed a lifetime ago.
She sat for a moment staring down at the piece, a chair seat cushion cover that was part of a set she’d been working on forever, it seemed, she supposed in the expectation she might someday have a set of chairs to put them on. Looking at it now, it struck her that it didn’t fit at all with either her lifestyle or her personal taste, which meant it would ultimately end up where all her needlework projects did-hanging on the wall of some elderly relative or rolled up in her mother’s cedar chest. But before it did, this one, at least, might serve a better purpose. She had only the beginnings of an idea of how she might escape her loving watchdogs, but she was sure the rest would come.
Her lips curved in a secret little smile as she placed the square of fabric neatly into the bag so that it covered the items already there. The plastic case containing scissors and needles she dropped in, as well. Who knows, she thought, they might come in handy as a weapon.
She hoped the shiver that rippled through her wasn’t a premonition.
She closed the suitcase and picked up the bag, then stood in the middle of the room and looked around, going over everything again in her mind.
Yes, she thought, the pieces of her plan were coming together. It was going to depend on a lot of things going her way, but it just might work.
When Lucia returned to the kitchen, Kati beamed and nodded, and when she saw the needlework Lucia pulled out of her bag, gave a little crow of delight and hastily pushed her own things out of the way to make more room on the table. The other woman’s obvious pleasure in having company during her assigned vigil made Lucia’s stomach clench with regret.
When Kati asked what was wrong, making it clear from her eager expression that perhaps she could produce the missing item from her own supplies, Lucia shook her head and pointed to her own eyes with a perplexed frown.
“I can’t find my glasses,” she explained. “I know I left them…Oh-no, wait!”
Kati nodded sagely and gave her a sideways look, eyes sparkling with the glee she didn’t try very hard to hide.
Having made it as far as the storeroom, and with the door safely shut behind her, Lucia paused for a moment to lean against it and send up one last prayer for forgiveness. Then she dug her flashlight out of her sewing bag, drew a deep breath and ventured into the cool, damp darkness of the cave.
Lucia was fairly familiar with the path as far as the thermal pool. Beyond that, she’d be venturing into unknown territory. She had no way of knowing whether there would even be a path. She wished with all her heart she’d found a way to explore, maybe even find the chimney, before this. Now all she had was the flashlight and a very powerful incentive.
But as she paused beside the thermal pool, she felt shivers of apprehension and the first real shadows of doubt.
Even if he did forgive her for disobeying his order, he’d probably never forgive her-or Kati and Josef, either-if she got herself killed.
Nevertheless, it was vitally important that she get the information about the identity of the mole to him before he did something that couldn’t be undone. For that, she knew, she’d never forgive herself.
She would simply have to make certain she didn’t get herself killed.
How had she tackled the search for the mole?
In this case she was looking for a tunnel, a chimney that might be a way out of the cave. How had she known about the existence of such a thing in the first place?
It wasn’t that easy, of course. She’d never been a Girl Scout, and those wilderness trips with her parents hadn’t included spelunking. But eventually she did find a spot where there seemed to be a breath of fresh air, apparently coming from an offshoot of the main cavern that appeared to be a dead end.
Her heart beat faster as she made her way into the smaller passageway, and it dropped into her stomach when the passage seemed to grow steadily smaller and narrower, and its ceiling lower, until she had to grope her way forward on her hands and knees, pushing the flashlight and her sewing bag ahead of her.
Nightmare scenarios kept her company in the darkness:
