“The man in charge of the Munich investigation. It just posted on Süddeutsche Zeitung. Listen to this. ‘The search for Ingrid Weiss, owner of the home destroyed in this week’s blast in Munich, is over. Bavarian State Police authorities have located Weiss near Oberammergau and plan to take her into protective custody later this evening. In a statement, Christian Ulrich of the Bavarian State Police said that while he understands Weiss’s desire to remain hidden while her safety is compromised, he believes the police are better suited to provide her security than her current location. Ulrich promised another briefing tomorrow following his interrogation of Weiss.’ ”

“How the hell did they find out where we are?” said Ingrid, anger and bile rising in her like a geyser.

“How did who find out?” said Dietrich, just entering the room hand in hand with Eva.

“The police,” said Gottfried. “They’re on the way here.”

“If this is your fault,” spat Ingrid, turning on Dietrich and Eva, “I will never forgive you. You were supposed to be on patrol.”

“We were on patrol,” protested Eva.

“Looks like you were patrolling one another,” said Gottfried.

“Which one of you betrayed us?” said Ingrid, pulling her Luger out of her belt.

“Ingrid, calm down,” said Eva. “None of us betrayed anyone.”

“She’s right,” said Dietrich. “How could we have? We haven’t seen anyone. We don’t even have phones. Only Gottfried can communicate outside this place.”

“Don’t look at me,” said Gottfried. “If I wanted the police to come here, would I tell you they were on the way?”

“Then how the fuck did they find out?” shouted Ingrid, her voice echoing through the cavern.

“Listen,” said Eva. “It doesn’t matter how they found out. What matters is what we do. If the police are on their way here, we’ve got to get out.”

“She’s right,” said Gottfried.

Ingrid stood staring at the damp ceiling for a moment, then let out a wail of frustration and anger, firing three rounds into the dimness overhead.

“Feel better?” said Eva.

“No, I do not fucking feel better,” said Ingrid. “But you’re right,” she added in a calmer voice. “We need to go. We’ll move up the transfer. Gottfried, call the bank in Zurich, then pack everything that can be traced to us into the car. I’ll drive the truck.”

“You can’t drive the truck,” said Gottfried.

“Why not?” said Ingrid, turning on him, her gun still drawn.

“You’re the one they’re looking for. If they put up roadblocks and see you driving a dump truck, the game is up.”

“He’s right,” said Eva. “Gottfried and Dietrich should drive the truck. You and I can go in the car. You should ride in the trunk until we’re out of the country.”

“Lovely,” said Ingrid in a bitter tone.

“Remember,” said Gottfried, “this is for Himmler.”