They descended into the cellar. There were no electric lights down here, and nary a window, so that they had to rely on candles and flashlights. The dancing light revealed thick stone walls dripping with moisture, massive floor beams, some with the bark of ancient trees still clinging to them or hanging down in crumbling strips, and a dirt floor. The air smelled of dirt and damp, not to mention decaying wood. It was not an inviting place. Madame Jouret stopped in front of an ancient wooden cupboard that was dripping with cobwebs. With surprising ease, the cupboard was pushed out of the way to reveal a thick wooden door.
And beyond the door, a tunnel.
The dark tunnel was not inviting, to say the least.
Dirty spiderwebs ringed the entrance, and Cole noted a fat, pale spider that must have lived its whole life in darkness retreating into a crevice. Beyond the bit of light from their candles and flashlights, the tunnel looked black and pitiless as the muzzle of a cannon. The still air wafting from the tunnel depths smelled even more musty and earthy than the old cellar.
“This emerges in the woods, near a springhouse in the forest,” Lena explained. “You must go now, while there is still time before the next attack on the house.”
Madame Jouret poured forth more unintelligible words at a feverish pace and began pushing Lena toward the tunnel entrance. It became clear that Lena and her mother were arguing, but in the end, Lena appeared to relent. Her face had become a mask of twisted emotions, both tears and anger.
“What is it?” Lieutenant Rupert asked with concern.
“She says that I must go with you, as a guide. You will need to find your way through these woods to a road, and it will be difficult to do so on your own. I know these woods well.”
As they prepared to leave, Madame Jouret made no effort to join them. Rupert noticed and asked, “What about your mother?”
“My mother will stay here. She says she is too old to flee through the forest. She will hide again in the attic, this time in a place where no one will find her. And if they do, they will not harm her. Or so she would like to believe.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he said.
Cole knew that Madame Jouret was gambling with her life if her hiding place was discovered. He decided that the Americans wouldn’t hurt her. He trusted that even someone like Brock must have some basic morality, but then he thought about the Germans. All bets were off, considering that Messner and his men had already murdered American POWs. This Belgian lady would be the least of their worries.
More arguing between Lena and her mother ensued, but once again, Lena yielded. Madame Jouret was staying behind and would not be swayed. The rest of them would escape through the tunnel.
“She insists that there is no other way,” said Lieutenant Rupert, who had been listening in.
“I’ve got to agree with the old lady on this one,” Vaccaro said.
The others looked to Cole. There were two officers present — although the opinion of the German didn’t really count — but they had all come to view Cole as their best hope to get out of this mess.
It looked to Cole as if they had two choices — either make a last stand in the château or plunge themselves into the gloomy tunnel.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”
Cole was prepared to lead the way, but Lena slid ahead of him without hesitation. Vaccaro followed Cole, then Bauer, with Lieutenant Rupert bringing up the rear. Bauer still carried the lieutenant’s Webley revolver, but Cole had long since stopped worrying about that. The German would have had plenty of opportunities to use it on his captors if he had chosen to do so. Instead, he had joined them in fighting for their lives.
Behind them, Madame Jouret pulled the door shut. They heard the cupboard sliding back into place. The darkness inside the tunnel was complete, but he could sense the damp walls and low ceiling. Cole couldn’t avoid the sensation of moving through a long, narrow grave.
The girl did not seem intimidated by the darkness ahead. This was probably not Lena’s first time using the tunnel. It occurred to Cole that this could be why they had seen no tracks in the snow leading to or from the château. Using a tunnel would have been a clever way to give the appearance that the château was abandoned by avoiding any footprints around it.
He had to admit, the two women of the house had been full of surprises.
“It’s dark as the inside of a black alley cat in here,” Vaccaro muttered. Although they had candles and flashlights, the intense darkness beyond the reach of their candles and flashlights seemed ready to snuff out their lights. “Do you think this actually comes out somewhere?”
