Spence drew his sidearm from its holster and stepped through the door. As Elna followed him, she moved to one side, brushing the wall, so she could see past him. Spence was a big guy, so broad and muscled that he almost blocked the entire narrow corridor. Many of the lights in the hall were burned out, which created big wells of shadow. Near the end of the hall, perpendicular passages split off in either direction. However, the one on the right was full of what appeared to be junk machinery, and the one on the left was blocked by an enormous metal box.
“Some of the exits are not accessible,” Spence said.
At first, Elna thought he was talking to her, and she started to respond. Then she realized he was speaking into his two-way radio.
“Got it,” came the staticky reply from Prig.
It took almost ten minutes to walk to the very end of the hall, and Elna began to feel mounting claustrophobia. She could barely make out the light shining through the open door into the game room behind her. At the end of the hall, they found more debris, mostly empty crates and some rotting cardboard. Elna and Spence spent a minute moving them aside, creating just enough space to squeeze through.
On the other side, they found a set of stairs leading up, but this section was utterly dark. Elna pulled out a small flashlight and shone it up the stairs, revealing another metal door about thirty feet above them. It had a heavy L-shaped latch in the center.
“That’s the one that leads to the vineyard,” she said. “We should have a straight shot to the guesthouse from there.”
“And then what?” Spence said, giving her a wry smile. “Let’s assume we get inside the guesthouse. What’s the next step, according to you?”
“Well, if they don’t see us coming, that gives us combat advantage, doesn’t it?” she said.
Spence blew his breath out and said, “Wow, you’re ready to kill some mercs, aren’t you? You may get that chance, but we’d better check the door first.”
He headed up the steps. Elna followed, keeping the small flashlight trained on the door. When they got there, Spence struggled with the door latch. Finally, he had to holster his gun and use both hands on the latch, putting his full strength into it. Suddenly, with an ear-straining squeal, it turned, and the door swung outward on creaking hinges. Elna expected sunlight to shine down. Instead, she saw more steps leading to a small landing and then a second door. When they reached the second door, they found that it slid to the side, disappearing into the wall. Spence opened it. Again, there was no sunlight. Indeed, the space beyond was utterly dark, but a sudden, familiar smell swept over her. The smell of stone, wood, cork—yes, she knew it well.
She trained her light into the room and saw stone walls in a broad, low-ceilinged room with numerous wooden racks on all sides. Most of the racks were bare, but she spotted a few stray bottles of wine here and there—apparently, they’d been overlooked in previous lootings.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Elna muttered. “This is the wine cellar beneath the guesthouse. How the hell can this tunnel lead to our very own house? What the hell, Spence?”
“What the hell, indeed?” Spence replied. “You figure they dug this out after your family moved in? That’d be some trick, wouldn’t it?”
“My whole life was a lie,” Elna muttered. “My business, my home, my family, it was all just cover for a covert government facility. I’m so pissed off, I can’t see straight.”
Spence slid the door back into place. “Well, hold on to that anger. Take it out on the mercenaries. Anger helps you do things that common sense or conscience might otherwise resist.” He nodded at her. “Trust me on this. Now, let’s go back and tell the staff sergeant what we found.”
They were crowded around the tables in the game room again. Elna could scarcely stand still, so she found herself walking a circle around the people, endlessly wringing her hands in a vain attempt to quell the rage boiling inside of her. Spence and Prig were discussing the various exits out of the bunker, but Elna had the sound of blood rushing in her ears. Malin finally started to walk the circle with her. She felt him try to take her hands, but she pulled away.
“Sorry, just…lost in thought right now, okay?” she said. “Just trying to get a handle on my feelings.”
“I understand,” Malin replied. “I wish I could make it better.”
“Nothing can make it better,” Elna said. “I just want to rescue Pop and Selene. That’s it.”
She heard Prig speaking then, and his words caught her attention. She finally came to a stop behind Norman and Cat, peering through the narrow gap between them at the staff sergeant.
“I think the best approach is going to be from above ground,” Prig said, tapping the unfolded map on the table. “I don’t like the idea of being funneled into that narrow corridor.”
“No,” Elna said, surprised at herself for speaking so forcefully. Prig lifted his gaze from the map. “We have a door that leads right inside the guesthouse. It’s the perfect approach. They’ll never expect us to come from that direction.”
“I realize that, Elna,” Prig said, tightly, “but we’ll also expose the mercenaries to the bunker. If we don’t manage to take them out during the initial raid, they could get in here, and then it’s all over. The risk is huge. Under no circumstances can we allow them to find an entrance into the bunker. In fact, I say we blow up that corridor, bring it all down, and close the way.”
“This is our best chance to rescue my
