underpants, socks and-although it made her whimper to do it-her favorite pullover sweater into strips, then used the scissors to chip away groves in the rungs and uprights. She used only the soundest of the remaining rungs, spacing them far enough apart that they would enable her-she hoped and prayed-to climb high enough to open the trapdoor and pull herself through it.
She pulled the last knot tight, then quickly stuffed everything back into the now-lighter sewing bag and once again looped it over her shoulder. With scissors in hand and the flashlight in her waistband, she propped the makeshift ladder against the trapdoor’s thick wooden frame set into the ceiling and, trying not to think about the reliability of her untested and unskilled handiwork, hauled herself cautiously, step by step, up the ladder.
At the top, as she’d feared, she found the trapdoor stuck tightly shut. But, after some diligent chipping and digging with the scissors, she felt it begin to give.
And so did the ladder.
She gave a squawk of panic and one final desperate shove with the points of the scissors. The trapdoor toppled over, away from the opening. She managed to grab hold of the frame with both hands and hoist herself over the edge, just as the ladder gave way under her feet and fell into the chamber below.
Half sobbing, half laughing, Lucia hauled herself onto the floor of the cistern Corbett had shown her just…How long had it been? Two days ago? Three? She’d lost track. And of the hours, as well. She understood, now, why she hadn’t been able to see daylight through the crack in the trapdoor. She hadn’t seen it, because there wasn’t any. Days were short this close to winter solstice. While she had been working her way up the chimney shaft, night had fallen.
She rolled onto her back and lay still for a few minutes, resting. Looking up at the stars. More stars than she’d ever seen, except maybe for those long-ago camping trips in the High Sierras. She thought she’d never seen stars so beautiful, and she thought of Corbett, and the skylight above his bed, and his words:
Now, she understood.
In the quiet suburban neighborhood that surrounded the hospital complex, a taxicab rolled slowly and almost silently through wet streets that reflected the displays of Christmas lights in a cheery kaleidoscope of reds and greens. Few other cars were out and about, and those splashed briskly past on their holiday errands, paying no attention to the cruising cab.
On its third pass down a deserted side street a block or so from the well-lit hospital parking areas, Corbett leaned forward to speak to the taxi driver.
The driver, who had been well paid already, protested volubly that it had been no trouble, and he would be more than happy to drop the gentleman someplace more hospitable. Corbett clapped him on the shoulder and pressed another wad of euros into his waiting hand. The driver gave an elaborate shrug and pulled to the curbside. Corbett opened the street-side door and stepped out into the steady drizzle. The driver muttered,
When the taxi’s taillights had winked out around the far corner, Corbett turned up the collar of his coat, put his hands in the pockets, hunched his shoulders and began to walk toward the car that was parked on the street a short distance away. It was an unremarkable car, dark in color, small, German-made, though not recently. Droplets of rain shimmered on the hood and on all the windows, making it impossible to see who was inside.
As Corbett approached the driver’s side of the car, deep in his right coat pocket, his fingers flexed and tightened around the butt of a Walther P38.
He drew level with the window and it slid silently down. From the darkness inside came a voice with a familiar Australian accent.
“About time you showed up,” Adam Sinclair said. “I was beginning to lose faith in you, mate.”
Lucia stood in the ruins of the medieval castle, looking down on the rooftops of the village below. It couldn’t be too late, she decided, since the streets and many of the houses were still showing lights.
That was the good news.
The bad news was, her plan to go knocking on doors until she found someone with a telephone she could borrow was probably not the best idea. By this time, Kati and Josef would have spread the word that she was missing. In a town so small, it was a sure bet everyone would have received the news by now.
Still, what other choice did she have? The night was clear and growing colder. She’d freeze to death if she didn’t get down off this mountaintop and into someplace warm, and
After studying the straight, snowy drop straight down to the village, she turned reluctantly to the winding path-the longer, but infinitely safer way down the hill. And vowed, as soon as possible after all this was over, to ask Corbett-assuming he was still speaking to her-to teach her to ski.
“Had no choice, Laz. We were being hacked. I had to shut down in a hurry.” Adam stared straight ahead at the spangled windshield. His profile was grim.
“How far did they get?” Corbett asked in a flat voice.
“Far enough. I terminated all the ops we still had running, called in our agents and told ’em to go underground until they hear from you.” In the dim light of the streetlamps, Adam’s grin flashed at him briefly. “’Course, they didn’t do any such thing. They’re all here, cocked and ready, just say the word. Didn’t have time to get word to you and Lucia, but I had an idea you’d be showing up here once you found out the whole system’d gone dark. I’ve been parked here since yesterday-well, in the neighborhood, anyway. Just in case.”
Corbett allowed himself a wry smile. “How did you know I’d find you?”
“Truth is, I didn’t. I’ve got our lads watching every way there is into that bloody hospital up there. Couldn’t risk it myself-our S.N.A.K.E. charmer knows me on sight.” He held up a cell phone. “I’m supposed to get a heads-up call if you show.”
Corbett stared narrow-eyed at the lighted medical complex just ahead. “She’s still there, then?”
“Hasn’t left the boy’s side since the shooting. She’s got a bed in his room. So they tell me.”
Corbett nodded, and after a moment felt Adam turn to look at him. “So. What’s the plan?” Once again he waved the cell phone. “We’re ready to move. Just say the word.”
He’d had plenty of time to think about it, on the flight from Salzburg and on the taxi ride into the city. He knew what he had to do. What he didn’t know was how much he dared tell Adam. How far he could trust him. He couldn’t afford to guess wrong. Doubt sat in his stomach like a rock.
“Too late to do anything now,” he said. “Prison wing will be locked down-I’m assuming that’s where they’ve got him?” Adam nodded without speaking, watching him narrowly. “So since she’s not going anywhere tonight, my immediate plan is to find a bed and a shower and something to eat. Not necessarily in that order. Got any suggestions?”
Adam grinned and reached for the ignition key. “I’m way ahead of you, mate.” Then, with the engine idling and the heater beginning to cough out chilly air, he paused and asked casually, “How’s Lucia? Not too happy about being left behind, I guess.”
“No, not happy,” Corbett said with a dark smile. “But safe.” He paused, then added, “Or…she will be, if she stays where I put her.”
Adam gave a bark of laughter. “Good luck with that,” he said as he put the car in gear.
Lucia wasn’t quite sure whether to be glad or sorry to find no one abroad in the village’s main street. At least she didn’t have to worry about meeting anyone. But, if anyone
Then there was the problem of how she was going to find a telephone. Knocking on the door of someone’s home seemed out of the question. But a gasthaus, perhaps…or a pub? She could explain that she’d had car trouble…a flat, maybe. Or run her car into a ditch. But, assuming someone didn’t immediately phone Kati and Josef, or the local authorities, what then? Even if she could find a phone, who would she call? What transportation service would likely be available in such an out-of-the-way place at this time of night?
