The Romanov Ransom

40

Rays of sunlight broke through the treetops, lighting up the forest floor, as Sam, Remi, and Sergei followed Gustaw. An hour after that, they came to a cabin in the woods. “There it is,” Gustaw said, pointing.

It was slightly bigger than the one he lived in. No smoke from the chimney. A bad sign, Sam thought.

“Wait here,” Gustaw told them. “I’ll see if he’s home.”

They watched as he broke cover and walked up the dirt drive to the cabin. He knocked on the door, the sound carrying down to them. After a moment or two, he walked around to the side, then disappeared around the back. Five minutes later, he returned.

“He’s not there.”

“What about a car?” Sam asked.

“I checked. Nothing. It’s possible he’ll return.”

The faint whistle of the train drifted up to them. It was moving again. Which meant the Guard was done searching.

“They’ve got to know we’re in the woods. Let’s keep going. The more distance between us and the train, the better.”

Gustaw nodded. “Our only option at this point is to head higher into the woods or try to get to one of the towns between here and Wrocław. They’ll set up checkpoints, so we’ll have to find a way past them. Once we do, there are plenty of people who are against the Guard who will help.”

They continued on. After fifteen minutes, they heard the rumble of an approaching vehicle — a large one, by the sound of it.

Sam motioned everyone to the ground. He peered through the bushes, seeing a red World War II Opel Blitz truck bouncing down the road. Used for cargo or soldiers, this truck had been refurbished, the once-open cargo bed completely enclosed with hard siding. White lettering on the door read CC’s Antykwariat.

“Antique dealer,” Remi said.

“I’ve seen the shop in town,” Gustaw added. “The man who owns it as well. I think he’ll help.”

The truck pulled into the drive of a nearby cabin, backing in. The driver, a tall white-haired man with a gray, neatly trimmed beard, got out of the truck.

“Worth a try,” Sam said, watching as the man unlocked the back of the truck, rolling up the door. If they didn’t do something soon, the Guard would catch up to them. “Ask if he can give us a lift.”

Gustaw called out.

The man turned, his green eyes regarding them with curiosity as they approached.

Gustaw spoke rapidly. The only word Sam understood was American.

The man eyed each of them, rattled off a response to Gustaw, then settled his gaze on Sam, asking, “Got yourself into some trouble?”

“You’re American?” Sam said, surprised. “Running antiques in Poland?”

“Started off collecting cars and branched out a bit. Interesting work that keeps me busy. Never know what’ll turn up from one day to the next. So what is it I can do for you?”

“We’re looking for a ride into Wrocław.”

“I’m headed that way. If a couple of you don’t mind riding in the back… Not enough room up front.”

“About that,” Sam said. “Might be better if we all hid in the back.”

The man stroked his beard a moment. “Exactly what sort of trouble are you in?”

“Don’t suppose you’ve heard of the Guard?”

His brows went up. “How’d you cross paths with them?”

“Sort of a long story.”

“Give me the condensed version while I load the truck. Get us out of here that much faster.” He unlocked the cabin door, dropped the keys into his pocket, then rolled the dolly in.

Sam, Sergei, and Gustaw followed while Remi kept watch out front. A few boxes were stacked by the door next to a table and, beside it, two wooden crates. “What goes in the truck?” Sam asked.

“Everything. Couldn’t get it all in the first trip. This is the last of it.” Sergei and Gustaw carried the table out as Sam helped move the two crates onto the dolly, all while giving a quick version of their hunt and the Guard’s pursuit.

Once everything was removed from the house, the man locked the door, then met them at the back of the truck. “It’s a good thing I happened along, then, isn’t it?”

“Definitely,” Sam said. “So you’ll help?”

“Gladly. But we’re going to want to move those boxes to the other side of the truck bed.”

“What’s wrong with them?” Sam asked.

“They’re covering the trapdoor to the false bottom.”

Sam eyed the truck, only then realizing that the rear bumper and side panels concealed the hidden compartment beneath the raised floorboards so that it couldn’t be seen from the outside. “You think we’ll all fit?”

“Three of you, it’ll be tight. It was used to smuggle supplies so the Nazis couldn’t find them. Occasionally, children and resistance fighters were smuggled out as well. Someone will have to ride up front.”

“I’ll do it,” Sergei said. “I’m probably the last person they’re looking for. And I speak Polish.”

Sam jumped into the back of the truck. “Let’s get this show on the road.”