“Trying to get this drawer out,” she said, pushing at it from beneath. “I’m hoping there’s a false bottom. It won’t—” There was a soft click, and the drawer slid out. “Bingo.”
She scooted out, then stood, a slight frown on her face as she reached into the drawer. “One gold bar—”
“Not bad,” Sam said.
“If it’s the rumored Romanov Ransom, there’s not much of it here,” she replied, pulling out a thick stack of bills and placing it next to the gold. “A key. And this…” She held up a familiar-looking square tin, placing it on the desk. “Typewriter ribbon… Clearly, this is the favored Nazi brand.” She opened the tin. “Surprise! Typewriter ribbon.”
Sam picked up the tarnished brass skeleton key, turning it over in his hand. “A key and money.”
“Do you know what I don’t see?”
He glanced at the tin and realized the moment she said it. “An office with no typewriter.”
Sergei and Gustaw stopped their search, Gustaw asking, “Why would that be important?”
“Not sure.” Sam handed his pack to Remi and she placed the found items inside it. “But we have someone who can research it for us. Let’s finish up in here and get moving.”
They went through every last crate but found nothing but canned goods inside. A few minutes later, they left. Once they hit the railroad tracks, Sergei stopped to look back.
“What’s wrong?” Sam asked.
“Who knows what else is down there. It’s a shame we can’t explore farther.”
“We can always come back another time.”
“Of course,” Gustaw said. “You know where I am. Anytime you want to come back, you come see me.”
They reached the cave entrance, climbing over the boulders that had bridged the creek bed. A shaft of sunlight lit the floor, dust motes floating up and around the rope they’d left hanging.
They climbed out, emerging into the bright sunlight, but the peaceful sound of the water trickling beneath them was broken by the buzz of Gustaw’s phone. He pulled it from his pocket, looking at the screen. “Someone’s here…”
Sam scanned the area in the forest below, not seeing anything. “Where?”
“Everywhere.” Gustaw looked up from his phone in shock. “We’re surrounded.”
36
How many men out there?” Sam asked, his eyes on the woods.
Gustaw swiped through the various screens on his phone, each showing a different area where the alarm had tripped. “Eight. No, ten. Four, just coming up to the cabin. The other six are fanning out. If any of them have tracking skills, it won’t be long before they notice our trail up here.”
Sam realized they had very little time. The thick trees of the forest below would shield them from view for a bit, but not for long. He grabbed the double strand of rope hanging from the birch, handing it to Sergei. “You wanted to do a little more exploring? Looks like you’ll get your wish.”
Sergei turned a worried glance toward the forest. “I didn’t mean now.”
“Sorry,” he said, drawing his gun. “Not a lot of options.”
Sergei climbed down.
“You’re next,” he said to Remi.
She dropped down.
A moment later, a half dozen armed men crashed through the forest into the clearing. So far, they hadn’t been seen. He doubted their luck would hold.
“Hurry,” Sam whispered to Gustaw, aiming at the approaching men. Gustaw slung his rifle over his back, then lowered himself into the shaft.
“Da oben!”
A shot whizzed by Sam’s head.
He returned fire.
The men below scattered.
Sam grabbed the two strands of rope, ripped off another shot, holstered his weapon, then slid down. The second he landed, he gave a tug, and the rope snaked down into the cavern at his feet.
Sergei watched as Sam coiled it, then slung it over his shoulder. “How will we get out?”
“Quiet,” Sam said. He motioned toward the rocks that separated them from the outside. Last thing he needed was for the gunmen to realize how very little stood between them. At least if they came down the air shaft, he could pick them off.
A moment later, they heard the sound of running outside as the men converged on the cave entrance. “Da oben!” someone shouted again, then something more that Sam couldn’t understand.
“Up there!” Remi translated. “They’re calling for someone to bring a rope.”
Sam took the flashlight from his pack, hoping to find a place of defense when he heard the unexpected scrape of rocks at the cavern entrance.
“Sam…”
He was alarmed to see the light bleeding through the rocks, reflecting off the barrel of a gun. “Hurry!”
They scrambled over the other side as the sharp crack of gunfire peppered the cavern.
Sam grabbed Remi’s hand, and they raced down the tunnel, Sergei and Gustaw at their heels. At one point, the echo of gunfire was so fast and so loud, Sam had to look to reassure himself that the Guard hadn’t made entry. For now, the tunnel behind them was clear.
As they followed the tracks around the curve, Sam glanced back, trying to listen. The gunshots had stopped, replaced by shouting. “Can you hear what they’re saying?”
No one could. They hurried down the tunnel, stopping at the point it divided into two. Sam looked both ways, then turned to Gustaw. “I vote left. What do you think?”
“There’s more of a chance of an outlet toward the castle. Why else would the Nazis have gone to the trouble of tunneling down below it?”
“It’s not even finished,” Sergei pointed out.
And it wasn’t. Sam glanced down the long stretch of reinforced tunnel to the right. Who knew what the Nazis were contemplating when they built it? A deeper place to bury the Gold Train? Or something else entirely?
It didn’t matter. What did was finding a way out. Whether it led to the castle or a dead end, he wasn’t sure. “To the left,” he confirmed, hoping anyone chasing them would think they’d gone down the finished tunnel.
They continued at a run, the sound of their pursuers echoing toward them. They were growing closer. Soon, the smooth floor gave way to loose rock and uneven terrain, slowing their progress. At one point, Sam felt the movement of air across his face, along with the familiar smell of must and mold. He hoped that meant they were nearing another tunnel entrance, but the scent quickly disappeared. As the shouts and footsteps of the Wolf Guard grew louder, Sam drew his gun, covering them from the back.
Remi stopped at the turn. “Sam.”
“What’s wrong?”
“The tunnel. It ends here.”
37
Sam rounded the corner, the beam of his flashlight bouncing off a thick wall of rock and rubble that filled the tunnel. Someone had blown up that entrance as well.
“What now?” Remi asked.
“Back the way we came.”
“But—”
“I think there may be a way out.” He led them to where he felt the air moving and smelled the musty odor of dead leaves. A deep crevice angled off to the right. “Here. Smell that?”
Remi stepped closer, breathing deeply. “Yes.”
“What is it?” Sergei asked.
Sam reached into the crevice, pulling out a handful of debris. “Remember the smell of leaves where we came in? That’s what this is.”
“Another air shaft?”
“Possibly.”
Gustaw looked in. “I don’t see any sunlight.”
“The dead leaves got in there somehow.”
A shout echoed down the tunnels, and they all turned, startled at how close it sounded. Sam turned back to the crevice, shined his light into it, examining the cracks and fissures within view. Plenty of finger- and toeholds, and narrow enough that they could brace themselves without need for a rope. What he didn’t see was any light at the top. “It’s a risk, but it’s our only option. If we’re lucky, it’s our way out.”