ChapterOne
Melene Collier stayed close to her fourteen-year-old guide’s back as they worked their way along the narrow path above the ocean. One wrong step and she’d plummet to the surf and the rocks a hundred feet below. Probably a death sentence, but she’d escaped so many death sentences over the years in her humanitarian work, what was one more?
Sorry, she said mentally to her guardian angels.Not trying to make your job harder.
Her Gramma Larue always claimed she made her guardian angels work overtime. Melene never meant to cause trouble or extra work for anyone, but her life of service was often “sketchy,” as her younger sisters would say.
It was a semi-dark night with a pretty half-moon glinting off the smooth waves of the Baltic Sea. If she wasn’t in such a precarious spot, she’d savor the beauty. She’d enjoyed the August nights near Poland’s coastline as she worked with refugees from the conquered country of Banida, providing them food, shelter, and hope.
Her stomach churned. Hope was getting a little short as Commander Frederick had renamed himself King Frederick and was now setting his sights on Poland. Banida was a small country sandwiched between the northern ends of Germany and Poland. If Frederick had his way, Melene, the other volunteers, and these innocent people in desperate need and already displaced from their homes would be in the middle of a war zone. With no support and no escape.
The path turned inland from the ocean trail and they made their way through the thick forest. Visibility lessened and the trail became harder to follow. The tree canopy blocked out the moon’s light and they didn’t dare use a flashlight.
An at-risk family was heading their direction from Banida. Melene and Thomas were to assist the mom and her five small children to the relative safety of their camp while the husband went back to protect their home and farm and fight with the rebels still attempting to stand up to Frederick.
She shivered even though it wasn’t cold. Frederick was evil clear through. The psychopath claimed he was a descendant of Frederick the Great and the rightful heir of all of Europe. He ruled with intimidation, threats, bribes, conspiracies, and murder. Melene had heard stories that would give grown men nightmares.
In Africa last year, she used to read Michael Vey books to the older children and teenagers at nights to help them with their English and to bond together. They all agreed Dr. Hatch was the most disturbing and evil villain imaginable, and she’d often skipped reading aloud the most sickening paragraphs of those books.
Sadly, the stories about “King” Frederick weren’t fiction. It was all too reminiscent of Hitler’s rise to power, and Melene prayed daily for the blameless people in danger and for the United Nations to pull their heads out of their rears before Frederick grew too strong to stop.
Thomas stopped so quickly that Melene ran into his bony back. He steadied her with his arm. They were far enough away from the ocean trail and in thick dense trees, so she wasn’t in danger of falling off a cliff. Why had he stopped her?
Her ears perked up as she heard voices. The family they were searching for?
Two male voices carried through the trees, and she felt instantly disappointed and concerned. These two strong male voices were definitely not their misplaced refugees. One of them had a heavy European accent, possibly German, the other crisp tone was definitely British.
She froze and listened. The voices wouldn’t project far through this dense foliage, which meant the men were less than twenty feet away. That was horrifying. She and Thomas had almost walked into two unknown men. As close as they were to the fighting, these could be rebels or Frederick’s men. Either way, she and Thomas wouldn’t be safe. Even the rebels whose families Melene and her associates were feeding and clothing might shoot first and ask questions later with how jumpy and outnumbered they were.
Should they backtrack?
The men weren’t moving, and neither was Thomas. She imagined any movement from her or Thomas might be heard and investigated. She prayed she could keep the teenage boy safe and be impressed to know when to make their getaway. But what about their family? They couldn’t desert them to whoever these men were.
The men shifted, and she held her breath and stayed still so they couldn’t see or hear her. She could now clearly see the guy facing her as the man with his back to her held up a cell phone, showing him something on it. The man was tall and had sharp features, paler skin, and dark eyes and hair. He would probably be considered classically handsome, but Melene could see cruelty in his features. With all she’d seen and experienced in her charity work throughout the world, she’d come to recognize ruthlessness and steer far away from it.
She tugged on Thomas’s arm, but he didn’t move.
The man holding the phone explained slowly in accented English, “The yacht isMy Lady. It leaves Marina Lubmin at nineteen hundred hours. Chancellor Kohl and staff on board. Your bombs must be setbeforeit leaves.”
Melene’s eyes widened. They were planning to assassinate Germany’s most powerful leader. These men had to be Frederick’s. Would they take on Germany before Poland? Were the threats against Poland only a smoke screen? Was Frederick strong enough to fight on two fronts?
Melene would pass the information on and hope the right people could stop the assassination attempt. She shivered. What she and Thomas had just overheard was their death sentence if these men discovered them. She yearned to back away and tug Thomas with her, but she was afraid to make any noise.
“Do not presume to instruct me on my mission,” the Brit sneered at the German in crisp, articulate tones. What was it about that voice? That face?
Her horror tripled and her body shook so hard she was afraid she’d hit into a tree branch. Melene recognized him. General Carl Phillip. She’d seen him on television, on the right hand of King Frederick. He’d defected from Britain’s army and was now a hired mercenary who Frederick had appointed as one of his generals. Phillip was extremely wealthy, connected, and well-trained. He had a reputation as a cold-blooded killer and a womanizer who didn’t take no for an answer.
Her pulse raced and ice pricked at her neck. What kind of nightmarish mess had they stumbled on to? How could she get Thomas to safety? She prayed desperately for some miracle that she and Thomas would stay safe and that their family wouldn’t appear and blunder onto these men like they nearly had.
Against all she hoped and prayed, the two men started walking in their direction. Her stomach dropped. No, no, no! There was no chance the men wouldn’t bump right into them on the path.
The man with the phone was groveling loudly his apologies and that of course the general was “the expert.”
Thomas glanced back at her, the fear in his eyes palpable. “Run,” he mouthed.
Melene nodded. It was run or the men would walk right into them. Melene could run fast, and so could Thomas. She often organized foot races with the youth to get them exercise and distract them. Thomas was one of the few who could beat her consistently.
But what if these men shot them in the backs?