“Ten years.” She smiles and takes a few moments, seeming to prepare whatever she’s about to say. “Was I a good wife?” I hesitate too long.
“Yes,” I say. “A good wife. Of course you were.” She ponders my face and I try to hold an expression consistent with my answer.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have been scared off by your father,” she says. I work harder on my expression. “Maybe that was just the first in a string of terrible decisions I’ve made.” I smile but neither of us speaks for a moment. “Will you tell me the full story after this is over? Tell me what I missed out on?”
“In appalling detail, unexpurgated” I reply, smiling.
THIRTY-EIGHT
The plan had been made. Admittedly, a plan that calls for more than one miracle is a flawed plan, but it had been the best one Gallie, Bess, Jenn and I could come up with.
It’s three AM. Gallie and I are behind the tree line, kneeling and looking at Jenn over the foliage for the signal to go. Our faces are blackened with dirt. My pulse is racing. I’m staying positive despite every impulse of my nature. Unlikely things happen all the time, so why not the success of this plan? Either way, we won’t be returning to the barn. I know that much. No possible outcomes have us returning.
Jenn raises her thumb. This is it. That means she saw the flapping curtain. Gallie and I run to the edge of the forest and now we’re looking at the back of the mansion. We see the silhouettes of the sentries under the oil lamps at each side of the house, but no one at the back. We exchange a glance that says, we’re really going to do this, and then we launch ourselves. We’re crouched and running toward the mansion. We know that we need to hit our spot the first time. Fumbling around on the grounds will get us caught for sure. Gallie sees it first and pulls my arm. I scan around us as Gallie grabs the hatch handle. If Bess hasn’t unbolted it, this is over. Gallie opens the hatch and I exhale. She lowers herself in, I follow and then close the hatch behind me. We pick up the two lit candles waiting for us in their holders. We protect the flames with our palms as we descend the steps and set out along the passageway ahead. It’s dank and the light from the candles is feeble, barely illuminating six feet ahead. Gallie looks back at me, her face haunted in its own flickering shadows. I feel for the pistol in my pocket and nod that I’m fine. The passageway is frigid and the air is stagnant. All I can hear is my own panting.
I see a small spot of light ahead. We get closer. It’s a keyhole. The passageway ends at the door. I knock. Nothing. This is taking too long. I lift my hand about to knock again and the door opens. Bess is looking back at us.
“He’s in the kitchen?” Gallie asks.
“Yes, usual routine. And Kasper’s out cold,” Bess replies. “Stay behind me.” She leads the way. We follow her up the steps from what must be the cellar, she slowly opens the door at the top and puts her head out. No sentries in the house unless there were questionable guests was the rule as Bess had described it. She waves us to follow and we enter what looks like a library, although the tiers of bookshelves that reach to the high ceiling are all empty. We scurry across the room and when she opens the next door, we see the grand staircase. Under it, directly opposite, is the doorway leading to Asmus’s Center. I look at Gallie and nod encouragement. Bess tells us to stay put and then runs over to the door. She opens it, looks around, and then beckons us energetically. Once we’re all in, she shuts the door and now it’s safe to hyperventilate.
“Fuck,” I say, and Gallie and Bess agree.
“Now we wait,” Bess says. “He usually stuffs his face for about twenty minutes. So it could be any minute now.”
“We know what to do?” Gallie asks. We nod. Bess moves down the corridor, I take the middle position and Gallie stands by the door. I remove the handgun from my pocket and we wait. The sound of three people panting fills the long, narrow corridor.
It’s an eternity. I look at Bess as if to ask has something gone wrong? Then I hear the footsteps. I raise the gun and point it at the door–what I guess to be chest level. Gallie is up against the wall, next to the handle side of the door which we know opens toward the outside. It opens and she reaches out, grabs Mancini by the collar and drags him in. I step forward, rack the pistol slide and point it at his head as Gallie shuts the door behind him.
“Not a word,” I hiss. Gallie gives him a shove and I pull him ahead of me. Bess stands aside and I push him forward.
“Seers, hud?” he says, regaining his composure.
“Don’t know what the fuck that means, but keep walking.”
“It means ‘you can’t be serious’,” he says. “What are you trying to do?” Within a few paces of the door he stops. I push him but he resists. “There’s no way I can let you in there. That can’t happen.”
“Then your ‘seers hud’ ass will be shot.”
“You’re not going to shoot me. You’re not a murderer. And if you did, where does that get you?”
I’m thinking of my reply when Bess snatches
