It wasn’t enough.
“I keep thinking about what Manakin said,” Will murmured, low enough that Bisch wouldn’t hear over the engine noise. “About his team arriving in four or five days.”
“That’s too late.”
“I know, but I keep thinking if we survive this, if we actually pull this off, maybe they can help with what comes next.”
“We need to survive this first,” I said without looking up from the pistol I’d just examined for the third time.
“Optimism, Thomas. Try it sometime.”
I reached over and took his hand. “I’m optimistic that I love you. I’m optimistic that whatever happens tonight, I’m glad we’re facing it together.”
He squeezed my fingers. “That’s a start.”
The mountains rose around us, black against the darkening sky.
We found Otto’s car forty minutes later.
It was pulled off the road near the base of the mountain, half hidden in the shadow of the pines. The engine was cold. There was no sign of struggle—or of Otto.
We approached cautiously with weapons drawn. Bisch covered us. Will checked the interior, then emerged holding a folded piece of paper.
“On the dashboard,” he said. “Held in place by the sun visor.”
I took the paper and unfolded it. It was Otto’s careful handwriting, cramped and urgent:
They took her inside. I am following. The eastern drainage—it is clear. I found the entrance. If I do not return, use it.
Do not let them win.
Will handed the note to Bisch.
He read it, and for the first time since we’d known the stoic man, his eyes filled with emotions hecouldn’t hide. “He went in alone,” he said quietly. “The fool. The brave, stupid fool.”
“He’s not dead yet,” I said. “And neither is she.”
“You do not know that,” Bisch said.
“No. But I’m choosing to believe it until proven otherwise.” I checked my pistol one final time and looked up at the fortress looming above us, its lights blazing against the darkness of the alpine night. “Now, are you going to help us get in there, or are you going to stand here mourning a man who isn’t dead?”
Bisch stared at me for a long moment, then slowly, the ghost of a smile crossed his face.
“The drainage channel is this way,” he said. “Try to keep up.”
13
Will
The entrance was a dark mouth in the cliff face, breathing cold air and the stench of things I didn’t want to name. Bisch crouched at the opening, playing his flashlight across the interior. The beam revealed rough stone walls slick with moisture, a shallow stream of runoff, and a passage that angled upward into blackness. There was a grate, but its hinges had long since rusted and fallen into uselessness. It likely weighed as much as our car, but the three of us managed to shove it aside where it sank beneath the snow.
“Otto was right,” he said quietly. “It is clear.”
Thomas was already checking his weapon one final time. “How far to the interior?”
“Thirty meters, perhaps forty. The passage connects to the fortress drainage system, which feeds into the service corridors.” Bisch looked back at us. “It will not be pleasant.”
“I’m pretty sure we left pleasant back at the safe house,” Thomas said.
