Eckert shook his head. “My orders are to bring you to Germany.”
Paul gave him a stiff smile. “I will not be separated from my daughter. If you abduct me, I won’t work. You’ll have to shoot me. Why don’t you let me go home to my little girl—in exchange for my tank designs.”
“You have them here?” Eckert sat up straighter. “I must see.”
The suitcase sat to the right of the door, Eckert to the left. The door opened outward. To survive would mean sacrificing a treasure.
Holding his hands up by his waist, Paul edged across the room. “They’re in my suitcase.”
Eckert leaned forward and folded his fingers around the gun. “Turn it so I can see what you’re doing.”
Paul pivoted the suitcase, opened it, and slid out a manila envelope. One glance inside revealed green crayon. With the envelope tucked under his arm, his heart thrumming in his ears, Paul latched the suitcase.
He had no gun. All he had was his determination to get home.
Eckert stood by the door, taller than Paul and heavier. And he pointed a gun. “Show me.”
“Yes, sir.” Paul stepped to Eckert’s right, facing the door, close enough to show the designs but not close enough to threaten the man.
Paul slid the designs partway out of the envelope and chuckled. “I’m afraid my little girl colored on the back. Thank goodness, not on the front.”
He flipped through, showing partial pages—lines and numbers a banker wouldn’t understand—and not enough to reveal the designs were for the Au-ful truck. Not a tank. “It’s all here. Specifications, configurations, years of work.”
Paul worked it back into the envelope. “These plans are all you’ll ever get from me, whether you take me to Germany, kill me, or let me go home. So I ask you, in light of my work for Schiller, for how willingly I give these plans to Germany, and out of consideration for a motherless four-year-old girl, to let me go.”
Something moved in Eckert’s hazel eyes, and he took the envelope.
Paul gritted his jaw and held his breath.
“I have my orders.” Eckert gestured to the suitcase. “Pick up your luggage—slowly—and come with me.”
Paul’s chest and his hope deflated. He only had one more chance, and it was slim. He’d probably die. But he’d rather die than commit treason. And if Lucie and Josie still lived, he owed it to them to try.
He reached for his suitcase, angling his body sideways to the Abwehr agent. Feet planted wide, Paul wrapped his fingers around the handle.Lord, help me. I want to live.
With all his might, Paul swung the suitcase up into the man’s gun arm.
Eckert cried out. A shot exploded, hitting the ceiling.
Paul lifted his knee and drove his foot into the man’s belly like a piston.
Eckert fell, tumbled backward over the chair.
The gun clattered to the floor.
Paul flung open the door and ran down the hall.
“Aubrey! Come back! You will not get away from us!”
Us? What if the Abwehr had someone waiting out front? In the lobby?
The service stairs! Paul banged open the door and took the stairs two at a time, jarring his knees.
Four flights, and he burst out into an alley. No one there.
He ran close to the building, his chest heaving.
Alive. But for how long?
