I looped the spool of braided line through a strap on the back of Miriam’s tactical vest, and tested it. The line spun off without any issues. I tied the end to the clasp knife. The knife was an Opinel, famous French brand with a signature wooden handle and locking mechanism. I threaded the closed knife through the belt loop on my pants, and stuck it in the back pocket. That way, I’d stay in touch, and the Opinel wasn’t going to fall out of my pocket. And if the line got stuck, I’d use the knife to cut it. Miriam went out the door, back the way we’d come. The girls formed in a single file after her, each one of them holding loosely to the braided line, letting it run through their hands. The last one out the door looked back at me for a moment. I leaned against the wall and counted two minutes in my head.

Then, I turned to the locked security door and pounded on it for thirty seconds straight. I figured that would get someone’s attention.

Chapter Sixty-Two

For a while, nothing happened. I stopped pounding on the door, and the deep subterranean silence returned, fast. Then a mechanism inside the fancy steel plate snicked. A second later, the door swung in about an inch. I gripped the edge with my fingers and pulled it open. On the other side was another room, about the same size as the dormitory. But very different, and very empty.

The room was something out of a French royal pleasure palace. A place where it wasn’t difficult to imagine Marie Antoinette eating a slice of strawberry shortcake, helped down with a coupe of champagne. Or worse, Mayor Marbot dressed like Louis XVI, which was a distinct possibility. The big room was divided into four circles. Each one more than ten yards across. Each circle had a domed ceiling, painted with a sky motif, edged with ornate ceiling cornices in gold leaf. Below each dome was a massive circular red velvet sofa banquette. The carpeting was blue and gold. It looked like an even fancier version of one of Madame Vaugeois’ Hermes scarves. The four circles formed the organizing principle of the room. From there, the interior designers had been inspired to include all manner of antique furniture. Two and three-person love seats, pillowed platforms with seats gathered round for observers, footstools, and upholstered chairs. Large tables held candelabras. The walls were papered in red and gold arabesque. I guess they’d gone for the expensive look and succeeded.

This wasn’t a movie set, it was the real thing. Marbot and his friends had been hosting parties here. Parties that featured the captive girls. The videos were one thing, shocking enough. But this was on another level entirely. I’ve seen bad things, very bad things. But this was brazen, an evil and cynical abuse of power.