“I only tell you what Maurer demands.” Bisch’s voice was flat, controlled. “I am not suggesting you accept.”
“Then tell him we don’t accept,” I said. “Tell him we meet on our terms or not at all.”
“If I do that, he will disappear. He is already frightened. He knows what happened to Aldric and Weber. He knows he could be next.” Bisch looked at the Baroness. “He trustsyou, Baroness. Only you. If you send anyone else, he will run.”
The Baroness was quiet for a moment, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup. “Where?”
“A warehouse in the industrial district tonight after dark.” Bisch pulled a folded paper from his pocket and set it on the table. “The address is here.”
I snatched the paper before anyone else could reach it. “You set this up? You arranged the meeting?”
“Yes.”
“Just like you arranged the meeting with Weber?”
The words came out harder than I intended. Bisch’s pale eyes met mine, and something flickered behind them. Anger, maybe? Or hurt? It was hard to tell with him.
“You suspect I betray the Baroness,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
“I suspect everyone.” I held his gaze. “Someone is feeding information to the Order. Someone who knows our movements, our contacts, our plans. Thelist of people who knew about Weber is short, and the list of people who could have set up Hoffmann is even shorter.”
“And I am at the top of both lists.”
“You said it, not me.”
The kitchen went silent. I could feel Will’s tension and the Baroness’s careful stillness. Bisch stood motionless in the doorway, his face a mask of stone.
“I have served the Baroness for decades,” he said finally. “I have bled for her, killed for her, and I have done things that haunt my sleep because she asked me to and because I believed in what we were doing.” His voice never rose, never wavered. “If you believe I would betray her—betray everything I have sacrificed—then you do not understand loyalty. You do not understand me.”
“Maybe I don’t,” I said. “But I understand patterns, and the pattern says someone in this room is a traitor.”
“Thomas.” The Baroness’s voice sliced through the tension. “Enough.”
I turned to look at her. She was on her feet now, her imperial composure back in place, her eyes hard.
“I will meet with Maurer,” she said. “Alone, as he requires.”
“Baroness—”
“This is not a discussion,” she snapped. “Maurer knew Aldric better than anyone. He knows things that died with my source, things that could unlock this entire conspiracy. I will not lose that intelligence because we are too frightened to take risks.”
“It’s not about being frightened,” Will said quietly. “It’s about being smart. If this is a trap—”
“Then I will walk into it with my eyes open.” The Baroness picked up the paper with the address and tucked it into her pocket. “You and Thomas will pursue the other lead, the property Engel mentioned. Adlerhorst.”
I blinked. “You want us to go to the mountain estate? Tonight?”
“I want you to scout it. Learn what you can about the security, the layout, the activity. If that is where they are taking people, if that is where they took Aldric’s papers and where they are planning whatever happens on February 15th, we need to know.” She took a breath. “Bisch will remain here, coordinating communications. If either operation encounters trouble, he will know.”
It was a neat solution. Split us up and give everyone something to do. It also kept Bisch in a position where he could help or, if my suspicions were right, betray us all.
“I don’t like this,” I said.
“I did not ask you to like it.” The Baroness moved toward the door, then lookedback at us. “We are running out of time. February 15th is less than three weeks away. Every day we delay, every hour we spend arguing among ourselves, our enemies grow stronger. I will not let caution become paralysis.” Her eyes met mine, and I saw the grit beneath the weariness. “Trust me, Thomas. If you cannot trust anyone else, trust me.”
She left before I could respond.
The drive to Adlerhorst took four hours.
