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“If coverage is good.”
“Describe the layout of the orphanage.”
Between Mattie and Ilona they gave it to him. The front entry. The offices on the immediate right. The kitchen. The dining hall. The staircase. The rooms upstairs. The rotting floors. The caved-in roof.
“Is there a rear entrance?” Burkhart asked.
Ilona said there were three: one at the kitchen, and two others at either end of the building that led to back staircases to the upper floors.
They passed Halle and headed east. With every mile, Mattie felt more and more on the verge of a nervous breakdown. First her mother. Then Chris. And now Niklas? Though she considered herself spiritual, Mattie was not by nature religious.
Still, as they got closer and closer to the ruins of Waisenhaus 44, she found herself praying to God to save her son. He was only a boy. Nine years old. Her little boy. Her most precious gift.
CHAPTER 121
BURKHART’S FIRST PLAN called for Ilona Frei to remain behind in the car and call Private and Berlin Kripo while he and Mattie made a rescue attempt.
“But he’ll kill Niklas if I’m not there,” Ilona said.
“I’ll tell him I couldn’t find you,” Mattie replied. “He only gave us ninety minutes. You’ll stay in the car. Let Burkhart and me handle it.”
Ilona chewed on her knuckle in the backseat. Then she shook her head.
“No. I won’t do that. I’ve spent my life running from him. It’s driven me insane on more than one occasion. If I’m going to have any hope of a life, I have to face him, tell him what I think of him, what he did to me, and the others. And then, honestly, I’d like to see him die.”
“New plan then,” Burkhart said as he slowed to a stop about a mile from the orphanage. “We get suited up, and then five hundred yards shy of the place, you let me out. You two park on the road, go up the drive and in the front. I’ll follow through the woods and circle round the back.”
They got out and took the tactical gear from the trunk. Mattie and Ilona Frei put on the bulletproof vests under their jackets.
“You’ll be unprotected, Burkhart,” Mattie said.
“But unseen,” Burkhart replied, pulling out the H&K rifle and night-vision scope. “This guy doesn’t know what one invisible man can do to another.”
Mattie clipped the tiny fiber-optic camera through the buttonhole on her lapel. She did the same with Ilona.
“Bury the bud,” Burkhart said. “The mic, too.”
Mattie pushed the bud deep into her ear and slipped the mic under her wristwatch before climbing in the driver’s seat with Ilona as front passenger and Burkhart in the rear.
“We should call Private,” Mattie said.
Burkhart dialed Jack Morgan’s number and explained what was happening. Morgan was furious that they had not contacted him or Kripo earlier.
“We’re trying to save my son’s life, Jack,” Mattie insisted.
“We’re heading to the airport,” Morgan said. “We’re renting a helicopter.”
“No,” Burkhart said. “Not unless you can land a mile away. He’s smart. He’ll know we’ve called in backup if he hears a chopper.”
“I’ll call Dietrich,” Morgan replied and hung up.
Mattie put the car in gear and drove. A few silent moments later, rain began to spatter the windows. Lightning flashed in the distance, but it was enough to reveal the blades of the huge wind turbines spinning in the breeze.
“It’s right up ahead on the left,” she said. “Five hundred yards.”
“Ready?” Burkhart asked as she slowed to a stop.
“No.”
