25. Act 5, Scene 5
It was starting to rain.
The cold had turned damp, burrowing into Tennyson’s bones as he stood under the arched doorway in the courtyard, the go bag at his feet.
He should have gone into the secret door, sheltering himself from the weather and the distracting sounds of the party, but he stayed where he was.
It was too early to shut himself inside a passage with no escape routes.
Louna should have made her theft by now, but she was silent—no sparkling conversation, no faint music through her comm.
It was the culmination of the secrets she’d been keeping, the lies she’d been telling, and he wanted to be free to react when they came to a head.
Tomorrow. When Lindsey is free, when we’re all safe.
“Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,” he muttered, falling back on his old habit of reciting during a period of waiting, “creeps in this petty pace from day to day.”
“You’re really going with Macbeth right now?” Lindsey said. “You want to invoke a curse inside a castle?”
“It’s only cursed if you say it in a theater,” Tennyson said.
“This situation isn’t theatrical enough for you?”
“Then you go,” Tennyson said.
“Can’t,” Lindsey grumbled. “Now I’ve got the soliloquy stuck in my head.”
Tennyson crossed his arms, holding in what little warmth he could. “You could always sing something. Johnny Cash. Dolly Parton.”
“I’ve been on a Stevie Nicks kick lately,” Lindsey said, and Tennyson huffed a laugh. Lindsey was always on a Stevie Nicks kick. “You know,” he went on, his voice hushed in the earbud. “When you were playing that symphony—”
“Shh,” Tennyson said, straightening against the door.
Lindsey went quiet, and Tennyson strained for the sound he thought he’d heard through the rain. A long growl of thunder rumbled overhead, but beneath it, there was something—a crackle of static.
A radio.
“Clear,” said a voice, and Tennyson pressed deeper into the shadows of the archway. “We can come in through the courtyard.”
“Where’s Stone?” asked a voice through the radio.
Hartmann.
The guard shuffled into view through an arch across the yard. “I don’t see him. He probably went inside when it started raining.”
“No,” Hartmann said. “He’s outside. Costache, find him. The rest of you, arm yourselves. The guns are in the guardroom.”
Guns. Only the men guarding Lindsey had carried guns—Tennyson had been careful to note every weapone hadn’t anticipated Hartmann storing guns separately.
Before now, there had been no need to arm the guards.
The castle staff didn’t pose a threat, and if any of the guests had seen guns, they would have raised the alarm.
Hartmann had chosen to wait, knowing he could distribute the guns when they were needed, when he was ready to make his move.
Tennyson stepped into the open. “I’m here.”
Costache stopped, and Tennyson walked calmly toward him and took the radio from his hand. “Hartmann,” he said.
There was a pause. “Stone.”
“Is he alone?” Lindsey asked, his voice a low hiss. “How many guys?”
As if answering the question, three more men stepped through arches scattered throughout the courtyard, moving to stand at Costache’s back. “I count four here,” Tennyson said into the radio. “Where are the rest?”
“They’ll be there soon,” Hartmann said.
“And you?” Tennyson said. “When are you joining the party?”
“Momentarily. And then I will repay your girlfriend for the courtesy she’s shown me.”
A bolt of ice went through him, but he seized onto the hope of will repay. Hartmann didn’t have Louna. Not yet.
Not ever.
“Leave it,” Lindsey said urgently. “It’s not worth it. They’ve already shown that they won’t hurt me. Get out of here, and we’ll make another try later.”
Tennyson watched as Hartmann’s men fanned to surround him. There wouldn’t be a later. Hartmann would have contacted Harlow by now, and he would give the order to move Lindsey.
Or he might decide Lindsey wasn’t worth the trouble of hiding anymore.
It had to be now.
“Come out here,” Tennyson said slowly. “And we’ll settle this between the two of us. No one else needs to get involved.”
“You were the one who involved the others,” Hartmann said.
Tennyson clenched his jaw, and Hartmann pressed his advantage.
“You know how this goes. Once the order has been given, there is no taking it back. You had until tonight to return, and now…” There was a faint metallic crash in the background, and then Hartmann continued in a satisfied voice. “Now it is time for the reckoning.”
“Get out of there, Tenny,” Lindsey said.
A footfall drew Tennyson’s attention, and he watched as five more men entered the courtyard. “You were clever,” Hartmann said. “Sneaking around in the night where the guards could hear you. They thought the castle was haunted.”
The men were in position now, and Tennyson shifted to put a wall at his back.
“The problem with you, Stone,” Hartmann went on, “is that you think people are people.”
He set his jaw. “As opposed to?”
“Liabilities,” Hartmann said. “Assets. You thought you were keeping the witnesses safe in the castle. You could have let us chase Zamfir’s boy away that first day, and that would have been the end of it. No party, no threat. Instead, you’ve given me hostages.”
That was why they were coming through the courtyard.
The front door was lit, and the narrow entryway would bottleneck them against the crowd.
But through the courtyard, they would have access to the guardroom, and whatever guns Hartmann had stocked for them.
Then, they could surge directly into the main hall and trap the guests.
Or fire on them.
Tennyson tossed the radio. “Jean-Claude, Philippe, get the guns out of the guardroom.”
Philippe’s voice was firm. “Oui, Sergent.”
“Tennyson,” Lindsey said, half pleading and half commanding. “Get out. Take Louna and get out. I’ll be fine.”
Louna still wasn’t saying anything. She would have, if she could, which meant something had happened. She needed more time. If he could give her that, she would find a way out.
“All right,” he said, lifting his fists. “Let’s do this.”