“Switzerland, sir. As you know.”
“What I know is that you went dark for three days after telling me you were going to continueonlygathering intelligence. Then I get secondhand,fragmentary reports of some kind of incident at a mountain fortress.” A pause, heavy with controlled fury. “Please tell me that wasn’t you.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Goddamn it, Shaw.”
“The Baroness was taken, sir, kidnapped from her hotel. They were holding her at Adlerhorst, the fortress I mentioned in my last report. We went in to get her out.”
“You went in.” His voice was flat. “You assaulted a fortified military installation against my direct orders.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How many men did you have?”
“Three. Myself, Jacobs, and a local asset.”
“Three men against a fortress.” Manakin laughed, more scoff than amusement. “And you’re still alive. I don’t know whether to be impressed or furious.”
“Both would be appropriate, sir.”
“Don’t get smart with me, Shaw. You’re in no position.” He exhaled heavily, and I waited in silence as he gathered himself. “All right. Talk. Tell me what happened.”
I walked him through everything that had happened since we’d last spoken. He didn’t say a word, only listened. I could hear the scraping of his pen on paper as he took notes I hoped would never find their way into any official record or file.
“They knew we were coming,” I said. “The Shadow said they’d been watching us since Bern. Someone told them.”
“Your mole?”
“Yes, sir. We still don’t know who, but someone in the Baroness’s circle has been feeding them information. They’ve known about every meeting we’ve had, every contact we’ve reached out to. They’ve been one step ahead the whole time.”
“Any suspects?”
“We thought it might be Bisch, the Baroness’s longtime butler. We didn’t know it, but he’s deeply involved with the Baroness’s intelligence work. His duties as her butler are a cover. We suspected him largely because he arranged most of the compromised meetings, but his actions at the fortress . . .” I shook my head, though Manakin couldn’t see it. “He went back for a wounded man in the middle of a firefight, and he collapsed a tunnel to cover our escape. Those aren’t the actions of a traitor.”
“So you’re back to square one.”
“For now. The Baroness is working on it. She’s . . . she’s not in good shape, sir, but she’s thinking and analyzing. I think focusing on the situation actually helps her cope with everything else, gives her an escape from what she went through. She’ll figure it out.”
“In the meantime, February 15th is still approaching.”
“Yes, sir. We still don’t fully understand what ‘Chamber Session’ means, but whatever it is, it’s happening in—” I did the math. “Eight days.”
Manakin was quiet for a moment.
“Casualties?”
I closed my eyes. “One dead. Otto Hartmann. He was the Baroness’s driver, though I think he was more like family to her than staff. He went into the fortress alone, before we arrived, determined to rescue her. They beat him badly. He died two days ago.”
“I’m sorry, son.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“And Jacobs?”
“Wounded. Bullet to the shoulder. He didn’t even notice until we were in the car driving away. He lost a lot of blood.” I felt the memory rise—Thomas slumped against the window, his skin cold and clammy, my coat pressed against his wound. “He’s recovering, sir. The doctor says he should be operational in a few days.”
“Should be?”
