“She should have checked in by now,” Thomas said, stopping mid-pace. “The meeting was scheduled for nine-thirty. It’s nearly ten.”
“The clerk might have been late. These things take time.”
“Or something went wrong.”
Bisch stirred in his chair. “The journalist keeps a suite at the Bellevue. If the meeting went long, she may have moved there for privacy.”
“Or she could be dead in an alley somewhere with a spearhead card on her chest.” Thomas’s voice was harsh. “Like everyone else who’s tried to help us.”
“Thomas.” I turned from the window. “Breathe. We don’t know anything yet.”
“That’s the problem, isn’t it? We never know anything until it’s too late.”
He resumed his pacing. I turned back to the window.
The minutes crawled past like wounded things.
The phone rang at eleven-thirty.
I crossed the room in three strides, snatched the receiver from its cradle, and pressed it to my ear.
“Hello?”
“William.” Otto’s voice. “Something has happened.”
My blood turned to ice. “Where is she?”
“I do not know. I followed her to the hotel and watched her go inside. She was supposed to meet in the lobby bar, but she never appeared.” His voice cracked. “I waited twenty minutes, then went inside to look. The suite—she must have gone there instead—it is destroyed. There are signs of struggle and . . . there is blood on the carpet.”
Thomas was at my shoulder now, his face pale. I tilted the receiver so he could hear.
“The concierge?” I asked.
“He says he saw nothing, heard nothing, but he is lying. I can see it in his eyes. Someone paid him, or threatened him, or both.” Otto’s breath was ragged. “I found a witness, a maid. She saw men taking a woman down the service stairs. She described the Baroness. They put her in a black van with no markings. It left the car park and drove east.”
East. Toward the mountains. Toward Adlerhorst.
“Otto, where are you now?”
“Still at the hotel, but I am leaving. I am going after them.”
“Wait for us. We’ll come to you. We’ll—”
“There is no time.” His voice hardened with something that sounded like grief transformed into purpose. “I know the roads and the shortcuts. If Ileave now, I may be able to reach them before they get her inside those walls.”
“Otto, if you go in alone, you’ll die. You know what that fortress looks like. One man against—”
“Then I will die trying.” His words were quiet. “She saved my life, William. She gave me everything I have. I cannot sit idle while they take her to that place.”
“Otto—”
“Tell Bisch that he was right about the eastern drainage channel. It is the way in.” A pause. “And tell him . . . tell him I am sorry I doubted him. He is a good man. I should have seen it sooner.”
The line went dead.
I stood there holding the receiver, listening to the empty static. Thomas’s hand was on my shoulder, gripping hard enough to bruise.
“Will.” His voice was rough. “Talk to me.”
