Page 85 of Beehive

The morning sun rose higher, bleaching the ruins with harsh light. Smoke drifted from some distant fire. Somewhere a dog barked, then fell silent.

We crossed through a courtyard filled with twisted metal beams and overturned carts, sticking to the shadows when possible.

Within half an hour, we were back near the safe house. Approaching from the rear, just as we’d planned, we slipped through a narrow gap in a crumbling wall. As we neared, I listened for voices or the shuffling of steps, anything to indicate our grumpy host was at home and waiting with a loaded weapon. If Visla could betray us, that old man could, too.

The house stood silent.

I tapped the coded knock on the back door.

No one stirred.

We waited.

Five minutes passed. I tried the knock sequence again.

When no answer came, Will whispered, “Remember the gunshot we heard? I bet she shot him on her way out.”

I’d been so focused on chasing the fleeing men that I hadn’t fully registered the shot that sounded in the house during our exit. Shit, Will was right. Nodding once, I reached for the handle.Surprisingly, it turned. That was as much a red flag as the shot we’d heard.

No one left a safe house door unlocked—not ever.

We stepped inside, pistols raised.

I swept left, Will right.

Two perfectly choreographed dancers, we worked from the kitchen to the front of the house. On the floor by the front door lay our host, his face flat against the hardwood, a good portion of his life pooled about his unmoving body. The back of his head revealed one hole, one exit wound. The bullet was nowhere in sight.

“Our fucking handler’s work?” Will hissed.

I raised a finger to my lips and pointed upstairs. Will nodded, lifted his gun, and followed.

The stairs creaked.

The house remained quiet.

“Clear,” I said from the bathroom before stepping back into our bedroom.

Everything was as we left it, the bed overturned, the furniture scattered. Nothing was in its place, yet everything lay where it belonged. This was a house of death, and I never wanted to see it again.

“We have what we came for,” Will said. “We should get back to our sector and let the nerds sort it out.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I said, reaching down and picking up a shirt I’d tossed on a side chair.

We gathered our belongings, stuffing our suitcases with the formal clothing Antonov had bought us, then headed downstairs to stock up on food. There wasn’t much in the kitchen, but we took what staples we could carry. Without a solid egress plan, I didn’t like the idea of wandering the city while hungry. Will foraged through the room Visla slept in, then rummaged aroundour host’s bedroom, returning with a few Reichsmarks and a pack of cigarettes.

“You know neither of us actually smokes, right?”

“They’re good for our cover.” He shrugged. “You ready?”

“Yeah, let’s go. We should head to the Plan B signal and set the alarm for an urgent meetup.” I tried to hide how badly my shoulder hurt. The last thing I needed was Will to worry about me as we ran for our lives; but, as I took my first step toward the door, the room spun. I reached out to brace myself, but I missed the doorframe, and darkness closed in.

31

Will

Ifelt a hollow ache in my chest before my eyes drifted open, and I remembered where we were. A single window let in a wedge of daylight. My hand reached out beside me and felt nothing but empty floor.

Thomas.