Page 4 of Ground Truth

Flint could see the shelter from his position, but it contained only spindly metalwork designed to roll the ladder easily. The ladder itself had not been installed. The escape mechanism wasn’t usable.

Quickly, Flint looked across the study and weighed his options. The only safe route out of the château was to return the way he came, through the wet room.

He used the endoscope to check the corridor. All clear.

Flint stepped out, raced to the laundry room, and down the ladder inside the wiring closet.

No one was in the wet room. They were all at the party.

He took a snowboard and strapped his leading boot securely into the binding.

The area to the side of the building was somewhat flat. Which meant he’d need his other foot free to gain speed when he stepped outside.

He checked the package and confirmed that it was still securely attached to his back. He placed a hand on the exit door and breathed hard to oxygenate his body.

He needed to turn left immediately and get to the end of the building. Then he’d angle across the downslope to the trees to reach his microlight. There was little cover on this side of the building. He’d be exposed to view and the risk of discovery was high.

He’d need to be fast. No room for error.

A buzzer sounded. Flint turned toward the sound.

A red light flashed on a white box at head height on the far wall. An alarm.

He couldn’t read the labels given the distance, but the outline of the château illuminated on the white box was obvious. The red light blinked on the top floor.

Flint caught his breath. No time to waste. They had discovered the missing Stradivarius.

He ripped the door open. Another alarm sounded. A second light flashed on the white box.

They were onto him. Stealth meant nothing now.

Flint threw himself out the door, leading with the snowboard and pedaling his back leg hard and fast. But not fast enough. He gained no speed. Lights from the château revealed the ground at this point was frustratingly flat.

Flint had a hundred feet to cover before he reached the edge of the château. He strained to keep moving, pedaling with his back leg, wobbling too much on the snowboard.

The château’s exterior lights were extinguished. Darkness enveloped the entire snowy, frigid mountain.

Flint stumbled and rolled, his sense of balance thrown in the dark. He stood and pushed forward, holding his arms out to improve his balance while protecting the Stradivarius.

He searched the horizon for anything that would provide a reference point in the dark. But he saw only glowing red dots high up around the building.

The red dots outlined the building and indicated where to find the corners, but he knew what they really meant. Hedinger’s security team had infrared goggles. They’d be able to see while he was, quite literally, in the dark.

An engine started behind him. The angry buzz of a snowmobile. They’d found the wires he had disconnected and reconnected them.

A second engine started. A rumbling noise followed. Which must have been the door to the outside rolling up to open. The engines revved and roared. They’d escaped the wet room.

Flint reached the corner of the building and angled across the slope. The faint moonlight reached downslope. The cluster of trees where he’d left the microlight was protected in a silhouette.

He pushed off, clipped his rear boot into the binding, and gained speed at last.

The board bucked and twisted. Flint kept his knees flexible and arms out fore and aft, absorbing the shocks and steadying his balance.

Speed combined with cold, cold wind and made his eyes water. But he grinned. Even though it was hard to tell in the dark, the wind and the cold confirmed that he was moving fast.

The bad news was the snowmobiles were moving fast, too. Engines screamed as they followed, gaining ground.

Flint heard the engine notes change in a moment as they crested the slope by the corner of the building. They were heading down toward him now.

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