Sam looked around, then trotted over the open-hearth fireplace, grabbed a steel poker from the mantel rack, and returned. He went to work. Though the poker’s end was slightly spatula-shaped, it was still wider than the gaps between the stones so it took a precious ten minutes of inching the block outward before together they could pull it free. Remi reached her hand into the alcove.
“Hollow spot around the footer,” she murmured. “Hang on. . . .”
She lay down on the floor and wriggled her arm into the hole until she was elbow deep. She stopped. Her eyes went wide. “Wood.”
“The footer?”
“No, I don’t think so. Pull me out.”
Gently Sam grabbed her ankles and dragged her away from the wall. Her hand emerged from the alcove, followed by an oblong wooden box. Hand clenched like an eagle’s talon, her fingernails were sunk an eighth of an inch into the lid.
Silently they stared at the box for a long ten seconds.
Then Remi smiled. “You owe me a manicure.”
Sam smiled back. “Done.”
The heft of the box told them it wasn’t empty, but they checked anyway. Snug in its bed of straw and enveloped in its oilskin wrappings was another bottle from Napoleon’s Lost Cellar.
Sam closed the lid and said, “I don’t know about you but I think I’ve had enough sightseeing for one day.”
“I’m with you.”
Sam stuffed the box into his rucksack and they stepped outside into the clearing. This far from the boathouse they wouldn’t have been able to hear the sound of a returning speedboat, so they moved quickly but carefully, stopping frequently to hide and watch until finally they were back at the chapel.
“Almost there,” Sam said. Remi nodded and hugged herself. Sam embraced her and rubbed his hands vigorously on her back. “We’ll be drinking warm brandy in no time.”
“Now you’re singing my song,” she replied.
They circled left around the chapel, following the straight and curved walls until they reached the front of the building. Sam stopped ten feet short, signaled for her to wait, then crab-walked ahead and peered around the corner. After a few seconds he pulled back and returned to her.
“Anything?” Remi whispered.
“Nothing’s moving, but the door’s partially shut. I can’t tell how many boats are inside.”
“How about the landing?”
“Nothing there, either, but with the snow—”
“Shhh.” Remi cocked her head and closed her eyes. “Listen.”
After a few seconds, Sam heard it: faintly, somewhere in the distance, came the buzzing of an engine. “Somebody’s out there,” Remi said.
“They wouldn’t have just given up on the decoy,” Sam reasoned. “They’re either still chasing it or on their way back.”
“Agreed. It’s now or never.”
After one last check around the corner, Sam motioned for Remi to move up. Hand in hand they broke from cover, sprinted to the boathouse, and ducked inside. In addition to their decoy boat, the right-hand boat was gone.
Remi jumped aboard the remaining boat and settled into the driver’s seat while Sam set aside his backpack, then lifted the engine cover, quickly installed his makeshift solenoid wire, and bent the brush arm back into place. He closed the engine cover, shimmied under the dash and hotwired the ignition.
“Okay,” he said, crawling back out, “let’s—”
“Sam, the door!”
Sam spun. A figure was rushing through the boathouse door. Sam caught a fleeting glimpse of the man’s face: Kholkov’s partner. Turning, squaring up through the door, his hand came up holding a snub-nosed revolver. Sam didn’t think, but reacted, snatching up the nearest object—a bright orange life vest—and hurling it. The man batted it away, but it had bought Sam the second he needed to leap to the dock and charge. He slammed into the man and they crashed back into the wall. Sam grabbed the man’s gun wrist and twisted hard, trying to break the delicate bones there. The gun roared once, then again.
The man was a professional; instead of fighting the torque on his wrist, he went with it, twisting his body while swinging his left arm in a tight hook that slammed into Sam’s temple. Sparks burst behind Sam’s eyes, but he kept his grip on the man’s wrist, then got his right arm inside the man’s punching arm and wrapped him in a bear hug. Vision still swimming, Sam jerked his head back and slammed it forward. The head butt found its mark. With a muffled crunch the man’s nose shattered. The gun clattered across the planks. With a grunt, the man levered himself against the wall and together they stumbled backward. Sam felt his foot step into empty air. He felt himself falling. He took a gulp of air then plunged into the water.