To Run With the Swift

by Gerald N. Lund

  I was barefoot, of course, not having seen my shoes since waking up in my cell. But that was perfect for moving quietly on marble floors, so I ignored the cold. Stepping carefully, I started in the direction of the main entry hall. As I passed a window on my right, I could see a thick swirl of snow outside and several inches on the windowsill. In the darkness it was hard to tell, but it looked like it was near whiteout conditions outside.

  As I approached the great entry hall, I moved in behind a huge porcelain urn filled with artificial flowers that were taller than me. I listened intently, concentrating inwardly, desperately hoping that if I was about to walk into danger, Le Gardien and I were reconciled enough that I would sense it in time to take evasive action.

  The sounds from downstairs suggested there was still a frantic hunt for Cody going on, but I thought I’d better check to make sure. “Cody?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you still okay?”

  “A little cramped, but yeah. They’ve looked in here four times now. The one time I thought the guy was going to shove his elbow in my face, but I managed to duck down.”

  “Okay. Hang tight until I give you the word. I’m going up to the library now.”

  “Got it.”

  I darted across the big hall and took the stairs three at a time. As I reached the top, I didn’t hesitate, even though the hallway ran in both directions. I turned left and headed for the library. Stopping only for a second to listen, I grabbed the bronze latch and pushed down. It didn’t give. It was locked. Just as I had feared. It was time to follow my own advice. I stepped back, focused my eyes on the keyhole, then fiercely concentrated in making it open. Nothing happened. There was no click, no sound whatsoever. I tried it again. Still locked. Great. So much for having Le Gardien open the way. For Cody, yes. For me, no way.

  I closed my eyes this time and sent a pleading cry through the doorway, picturing the desk and the drawer where the pouch was. Please!

  Nothing. A huge disappointment, but not a big surprise. Par for the course about now. Just then I heard something that turned my blood into ice water.

  Gisela’s voice rang out over the intercom speaker above my head. “Raul! He’s not anywhere down here. Take your team and search the main floor. Jean-Claude, you take the second floor. Check the library first. He may be after the pouch.”

  That was almost instantly followed by men shouting and the sound of boots pounding up the basement stairs. Locks not unlocking suddenly dropped to the bottom of my priority list. I had only one choice. They’d be coming up that grand staircase any moment.

  I took off and raced to the next door. Locked. Two more. Locked. All of the doors so far were exactly the same. I passed by three more on a run, my heart pounding like those pile drivers you see when they’re building bridges. Up ahead of me, I saw that the next door was different. It was much larger. As I reached it, my heart leaped with hope. It was a set of double doors, both much larger than the others. A drawing room, perhaps?

  The voices behind me were growing louder, and I knew that at any moment someone would be at the top of the stairs and looking straight down this hall at me. In near panic mode now, I tried the huge, ornate door latch and gave a little cry of triumph. It opened and the door swung inward. I ducked inside and pushed it shut behind me, making certain I made no noise.

  Seeing a small brass knob above the latch, I turned it and heard a deadbolt slide into place. Good. But instantly, I changed my mind and unlocked it again. If this door was normally open and they found it locked, it was a dead giveaway. Whoops! Bad choice of words. A sure giveaway. I turned and moved through a small alcove into the room.

  This was not a drawing room or a sitting room, as some people called them.

  This was definitely not that. Two small lamps in sconces on the walls were lit, providing enough light to show me I had entered a very large bedroom. A massive four-poster bed with richly embroidered drapery hung from ceiling to floor dominated the room. Directly above was a large, delicate, crystal chandelier, a smaller version of the one in the library. One wall was filled with a floor-to-ceiling mirror. Several armoires and large wardrobes were strategically placed along two of the walls. There were chairs clustered around a large coffee table off to one side. Here, as in the library, the place reeked of luxury.

  All well and good, but none of that helped me. I knew they would search every possible hiding place. What I needed was a way out. I walked quickly to a third door and yanked it open. It led to a bathroom. My warning bells were clanging like crazy now as I checked a couple of the wardrobes. Chock-full of men’s clothing in both cases. I could hear doors slamming now, and the noise was rapidly growing louder. Getting more frantic with every second, I moved on, passing a draped section of the wall. Curious, I stopped and lifted the curtain.

  Nearly shouting for joy, I yanked the drape aside to reveal a set of French doors looking out onto a small, snow-covered, stone balcony. I unlocked the deadbolt, then pulled down on the twin door handles. The right one gave way, and, with a soft creak, the door opened. Instantly, a cold blast of swirling snow assaulted my face and I felt the cold pinpricks of snowflakes on my bare arms and cheeks.

  “Check every room,” I heard Jean-Claude shout. “Even if they’re locked.”

  I moved forward hesitantly. On the balcony there was a single ornate metal garden chair and a small table in front of it. Both were covered in snow. I looked at the floor. Five inches at least. Maybe six. I stuck my head out. Beyond the stone wall that enclosed the balcony, I could see a vast expanse of perfectly white snow—lawns, I supposed—and then a line of dark trees barely visible in the lights from the castle.

  I stood there, torn with indecision. Before me was an escape. But I was barefoot. How far could I go in that snow with no shoes? And was I ready to leave Cody and Mom and—I jumped as a door slammed very close by and the chandelier above me tinkled softly. That simplified my decision. I pulled the doors open wider, then, bracing myself for the shock, lifted my foot and leaned forward. Then I caught myself, my foot in midair as I looked down. Right where I was about to step, a left footprint suddenly appeared. It was a crisp, perfect impression in the new snow.

  I just stood there, frozen in time for a moment. My foot hadn’t touched the ground. Then something else hit me: This print was not made by a bare foot! I leaned forward. How weird was this? It was a couple of sizes bigger than my own feet and it was made by a man’s athletic shoe! It looked familiar. Could that be the pattern of the Nike shoes that Cody always wore? I leaned in closer. And there between the sole and the heel I saw the imprint of the Nike symbol.

  Even as I stood there gawking at it, another print appeared just ahead of the first. This time it was the right foot. Then another from the left. I watched as the footprints skirted around the table and stopped at the stonework. Then it hit me. For some crazy reason, Cody had come up here.

  “Cody? Is that you?” I silently cried out.

  “I’m here, Danni. Still hunkered down. Are you ready for me to get out of here?”

  “You’re still in the mechanical room?”

  “Sure. Where’dja think I was?”

  “Never mind. Gotta go.”

  Totally dumbfounded now, I watched as about a two-foot wide swath of snow was brushed off the top of the stone railing. Then, next to it, a handprint appeared, turned sideways, the way you would place your hand if you were going to vault the wall. There was no sound at all, but moments later, in the faint light from the window, I saw footsteps start appearing one after another in long, leaping strides across the grass. They went off into the darkness.

  Goose bumps were doing this little dance up and down my arms and my back. And they weren’t from the snow or the cold.

  “Jean-Claude!” It was Gisela’s voice, and very close. Then I realized it was coming through a radio, probably a handheld one. “Be sure you check carefully in the
Saxony bedroom.”

  There was no time to think. Leaving the door wide open, I sprang to one side, jerked open the nearest wardrobe door, and dove inside. It was a wardrobe full of men’s coats, and I split them apart like I was dividing the seas. Scrambling wildly as I hit the floor, I pulled a couple of coats down with me, then twisted around and pulled the doors shut behind me. As I heard the heavy bedroom door open, I shrank back into a corner and pulled the coats up over the top of me.

  I don’t think Jean-Claude and the men with him were in the room more than fifteen or twenty seconds. The footsteps had barely reached my hiding place when I heard him give a yelp of surprise. “He’s jumped the window,” he screamed. I heard the crackle of a handheld radio. “Lady Gisela. The boy jumped out of the window in the Saxony bedroom. He’s headed for the trees.”

  Instantly, pandemonium broke loose. Gisela started screaming into her own radio. She called to someone else in English and told them to secure all exits and entrances to the grounds and to send out the dog patrols immediately. She was raging. Me? I was soaring. So what if Le Gardien wasn’t doing it my way? It was back. And that filled me with enormous relief.

  I moved slowly at first, stopping before entering the hallway. I peered out, but there was no one in sight, no nearby voices, no approaching footsteps. I could hear the faint sounds of the pursuit outside, joined now by a chorus of barking dogs. I shook my head, marveling again at how neatly Le Gardien had emptied the house.

  Moving more confidently now, I started back for the library, remembering that I had a locked door to contend with. Would the pouch open it for me now? But to my further shock, the one door was ajar when I reached it. I guessed that in their haste, Jean-Claude’s searchers had not locked it again. I reached for it, then stopped. Leaning in, I put my ear against the panel. The last thing I needed was to bust in and find that Gisela had come to her office to direct the search for Cody.

  There was no sound, and so I slowly pushed the door open a few more inches and peeked in. The lights were off, but someone had added a new set of logs on the fire, and the room was dimly lit by the firelight. Almost dizzy with relief, I quickly slipped inside and locked the door behind me. It had been locked earlier, so locking it again now seemed like the thing to do.

  Crossing the room swiftly, I went around behind the desk. Offering a quick, silent prayer that Gisela had not locked the drawers since we were here with her, I reached out and pulled the top drawer open. And there it was. Underneath the sheaf of papers—which I saw was the copy of my journal—I saw the braided rope handle. Yes! I pumped my fist in the air.

  Totally elated, I pulled the pouch out from under the papers and clutched it to my chest. I glanced upward. “Thank you,” I murmured. But this was not a time to sit back and revel in my success. I slipped the pouch over my shoulder, shut the drawer again, and straightened.

  “Rick! Cody!” I sent my thoughts flying outward. “I got it. I’ve got Le Gardien.”

  “Great!” Rick answered almost instantly.

  “Yahoo!” Cody cried.

  “Are you coming back down here, then?” Rick wondered.

  “Yes, but not yet.” I quickly explained to them about the footprints and the hunt going on outside. “While they’re still out there, I’m going to try to find Mom and Dad.”

  “Danni?”

  “Yes, Code?”

  “I want to be with you and Rick.”

  That wasn’t what I had expected. “Uh ... not a good idea, Cody. Not yet. If I find Mom and Dad, hopefully my key card will open their cell. Then we’ll come and get you and Rick and we’ll get out of here. But I have to hurry before they give up the search and come back in.”

  “Uh ...” There was a long silence, then a forlorn “Okay.”

  “You all right, Code?”

  “Yeah. Um ... I just have this awful feeling. It’s creeping me out.”

  “I think Cody needs to go back to his cell,” Rick said. “Go inside and lock the door again.”

  I started to protest, then suddenly changed my mind. “Good idea. That way if they do come back, this will totally knock them off their balance. Code? Are you still invisible?”

  “I think so.”

  “Then do it. If I find Mom and Dad, I’ll come for you first, okay?”

  “I guess.” It was said with total lack of enthusiasm.

  I started around the desk, but stopped again a moment later. I had been half looking at the computer stuff on her desk. “Hey, hold on a sec.” I was staring at the fancy telephone beside the computer’s keyboard. I took a step closer, an idea forming in my mind. It came quickly. “Hold on, guys. I’ve got a phone here. I’m calling Clay,” I said. “I’ll get back to you.”

  “No, Danni, wait.” That was from Rick.

  “There’s no time. Gotta hurry. ’Bye.”

  I picked up the phone and heard the dial tone immediately. On my phone, Clay’s number was in my favorites list, but I knew it by heart too. I started to punch in the numbers, trying to listen with one ear for any sounds out in the hall. I jumped when some lady started speaking to me in rapid German. I hung up quickly. What the heck? Then I realized my mistake. I probably needed to get an outside line. So I tried again, punching 9 first. Good. There was a momentary pause, then a different-sounding dial tone started. I keyed in the number again.

  The call took a few seconds to go through, but when it finally rang, Clay picked it up instantly. “Hello?” It was cautious and tentative and with no self-identification.

  “Clay, it’s me!”

  “Danni? Thank the Lord. Where are you?”

  “I’ve only got a minute,” I said. “We are being held captive in a castle in Bern, Switzerland, called the Schloss von Dietz. We’re by a lake, and I can see the Alps in the distance.”

  “Switzerland? No wonder. We’re still in Caen trying to find out what happened to all of you.”

  “Me, Rick, and Cody are all right. Mom and Dad are here too, but we haven’t seen them for a while now.” My voice caught in my throat. “And Grandpère’s dead.”

  “What? Is that what they told you?” I heard him cover the phone with his hand and speak to someone.

  I went on, “He tried to escape and his car went into the river.”

  “But the police here haven’t found his body yet. Maybe he—don’t give up hope yet, Danni.”

  “Clay, I saw the body. Gisela brought it here. He’s dead.”

  “What? No, Danni.”

  There was nothing to say to that.

  He was silent for a moment, then, “Who is Gisela?”

  “Juliette Dubois, our landlady at the château.”

  I was getting nervous now. Since they obviously weren’t going to find Cody outside, that search couldn’t last very much longer. “Did you get to talk to Louis Girard?”

  “Yes, he’s here with us. We know the full story now.”

  “Well Juliette Dubois is the daughter of Horst Kessler. Her name is Gisela von Dietz. She and her son, whom we knew as Philippe Dubois, but whose real name is Niklas von Dietz, are the ones running this whole operation.” It all came out in a rush, and I wondered if I was making any sense at all.

  Suddenly I realized I could no longer hear the dogs barking. “Gotta go, Clay. Hurry. Things are not good here.”

  “We’re tracing your number as we speak. We’re on our way.”

  “Be careful. Doc and Jean-Claude are here.”

  He whistled softly. “Not good.”

  “You got that right. There are other guards too. A lot of them. Please hurry! We need you badly.”

  I didn’t wait for an answer. Slamming the phone down, I took off. I had to get back to my cell before they got back in. As I passed one of the windows in the hall, I saw flashlights through the falling snow, coming toward the house. “Rick. Code. They’re coming. Sit tight. I’m on
my way.”

  “Are you coming for me?” Cody asked.

  “No, not yet. I’ve got to be in my cell before they come back. Once I’m there, we can figure out what to do next.”

  “Where you gonna hide the pouch, Danni?” Rick asked me as I stopped for a moment at his cell door.

  “Not sure. They won’t know I’ve been out of my cell, so hopefully they won’t search me for it for a little while.” Reaching out, I briefly touched his hand. “But I have the pouch, Rick. We’re going to be okay.”

  “Danni, this is Code. My cell door is locked. And the key card’s not opening it. I can’t get in. I’m coming to you.”

  “No, Cody. They’re coming.” But I saw Rick nodding vigorously. “Okay. You’re right. We’ll hide you in one of the empty cells and hope you stay invisible. But stay where you are until they get back in. We can’t have them bumping into you. Give it five minutes.”

  “Ten-four. But hurry.”

  I started to back away from Rick’s cell. “You’d better be thinking hard, Rick. I have no idea where we go from here.”

  He pulled a face. “I will. But you did great, Danni. You’ve got the pouch, and they don’t know it yet.”

  Niklas, Jean-Claude, and Raul, or Doc, came to our cells about five minutes later. For a moment, I didn’t recognize the latter two. They had weird-looking helmets on their heads and looked like some kind of aliens. Then I realized they were wearing night-vision goggles, like you see army guys wear in the movies. Which made sense if you were searching for a kid out in the night.

  Again they said nothing, just peered into my cell and rattled the door to make sure it was secure. Niklas looked especially grim as he glared at me. Obviously, he was still chapped about our first kiss. As he started to back away, he turned his head and spoke into a lapel mike clipped to his collar. “She’s here. So’s the boyfriend. All is secure.” He paused a moment, then, with obvious strain in his voice, said, “I’m telling you, Mama, the footprints just stopped. We followed them into the trees, where they simply ended. There weren’t any signs of anyone else. They didn’t stop and tramp around. They just stopped. Like someone had snatched him up from the sky.”