Page 110 of Once a Hero

“Then Beatrice is in grave danger. Or dead.”

Chapter Forty-Four

“Behold, the door.” Molyneux stood in front of an old steel door so unusually located in the catacombs that Beatrice suspected it had been transported here from somewhere else.

When was the last time she had seen a steel door installed two floors beneath an old unused church in the middle of nowhere?

Not once.

Beatrice wanted to ask about the history of the door, but she felt constricted. The vest tied around her chest was ridiculously heavy and loaded down with enough C-4 explosives to take out half the church above. She wanted to sit down on the floor, but she was afraid of setting something off.

Molyneux seemed unperturbed by her discomfort. She kept talking, kept swinging that remote control in her hand.

What if she dropped it?

Beatrice started to sweat, but it was nothing like Dad. Kneeling at the door, trying to get it to open, his hands started to shake. He was sweating bullets. His hair was all matted.

Only twelve hours before, Dad had seemed normal. Now he looked pale and ill.

“Dad needs a break,” Beatrice finally said.

“He gets one when he gets the door opened.”

“Obviously you need a key.”

Dad panted. “Or we can blow it up.”

“You know the church will cave in and whatever is behind that door will be gone.” Molyneux wasn’t smiling. “If you want to go that route and kill us all, go ahead.”

“It’s an idea.” Dad paused to catch his breath. “This vest is heavy, Imogen. Must you?”

“You were taking too long,” Molyneux said. “Chatting with your daughter when you two should be working.”

Beatrice believed she had heard their conversation at the far end of the catacombs. Then again, Molyneux already knew almost all the things that Dad had said.

In fact, Beatrice suspected that Molyneux was responsible for Philomena’s death. If Dad found out, would he do something irrational or drastic?

Dad turned to Beatrice. “Want to give it a go?”

“Me? I’d rather not.” Beatrice wanted to stretch time. That could give Benjamin an opportunity to send Ansel to Poland—wherever they were. Flight from Charleston to Poland would take at least ten or twelve hours, she figured.

So, yeah, the longer they waited, the greater the chance they’d be rescued.

Dad sat down.

Molyneux pointed to the door. “Now.”

Beatrice didn’t move.

Once again, the guards came and hauled her over.

She glanced at Dad. He had a twinkle in his eye. Did he approve something?

Beatrice looked at the brooch box on the floor. It was the same box that Kenichi had worked for six months to prepare. The one they had paid a lot of money to the now-deceased jeweler to reproduce.

The all-important fake box.

A Trojan horse.

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