Page 126 of Stuart Woods' Golden Hour

“Contact me immediately if there’s any deviation.” He hung up and said to Rolf, “It’s time.”

The back door of theBLS Suburban opened, and Mr. Braun climbed in and sat next to Jillian.

She gave him a tight smile into which she hoped he didn’t read anything.

That morning, he’d called her to his office and told her that she would be joining him and Dieter at the film festival.

“I want that steel-trap mind of yours nearby, in case something unexpected comes up,” he’d told her.

She’d wanted to protest, but she was sure that would have only made him angry, and he would have still insisted she go. So, all she could say was, “Yes, Mr. Braun.”

A fashion expert and a makeup artist had been brought in to turn her from her everyday, disheveled self into someone she barely recognized.

Braun looked her up and down. “You look acceptable.”

Not knowing how else to respond, she said, “Thank you.”

The door opened again, and Dieter and Rolf entered.

“So?” Braun asked.

“The van has been in place for an hour,” Dieter said. “Backup team is on its way there.”

“And the hit—” Braun paused, glancing at Jillian before he continued. “The teams covering everyone else?”

“I heard from the last of them thirty minutes ago. They’re all in position and awaiting your word.”

Braun smiled, while Jillian tried to look like she hadn’t been paying attention. It took all her will to keep the horror she was feeling from showing.

The van carrying the Centuriongroup was nearing the opening-night venue when Teddy received a text from Hans.

Braun just left. Dieter and two others withhim.

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“Wow,” Peter said, looking outthe window. “They are going all out.”

“The organizers did say they wanted to make a splash,” Billy said.

“Why am I suddenly feeling nervous?” Adriene asked.

Tessa put her hand on her friend’s. “Just think of it as a reward for all your hard work.”

Banners touting the World Thriller Film Festival’s opening night lined the road leading up to Berlin’s Haus der Kulturen der Welt—House of World Cultures. Many featured images of Mark, Tessa, and Adriene fromStorm’s Eye.

The complex’s beautiful main building was lit up by waves of pulsating light. Near the entrance, several spotlights shot their beams high into the darkening sky as a steady stream of cars dropped off their passengers at the end of a red carpet.

From the front passenger seat, Lizzie said into her phone, “Uh-huh…uh-huh…Great. Got it, thanks.” She hung up and looked back at the others. “Okay, folks. We’ll be there in about a minute. When we stop, get out in the order we discussed. Congratulations, everyone. This is your night!”

“If we haven’t said it already, thank you, Lizzie,” Billy said. “We couldn’t have done this trip without you.”

“We’re not quite through yet, but you’re welcome.”

The van inched toward the drop-off point.

“How’s my hair?” Adriene asked.

“As beautiful as always,” Hattie told her.

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