“Am I always destined to be your alarm clock?”

Lockhart opened his eyes. It was Manoli, almost on top of him, shaking him awake.

“Sorry,” Lockhart yawned. “What time is it?”

“It’s about nine o’clock. We’ve got a couple of rabbits for breakfast.”

The last time he had rabbit was at the Randolph in the June just before the war. It had been their third wedding anniversary—the last one they’d had together.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got some sautéed potatoes to go with it?”

“No, but we’ve got some more raki if you want it.”

“Christ, no,” Lockhart drawled, although his hangover had abated.

They were making small talk, ducking the big issue. Lockhart didn’t want to ask him, not wanting to appear pushy again. They avoided the subject through breakfast, until Lockhart got up and announced he was stepping outside to relieve himself.

“Wait a moment,” said Manoli. “I’ll come and join you.”

They walked out into the snow, making their way to some large boulders that formed an ideal sheltered spot for defecating.

“It’s getting colder,” said Lockhart.

“Don’t you want to know my decision?” asked Manoli.

Lockhart stopped walking.

“Look, I’m sorry. I know what I’ve done seems—”

“I’ll go along with it.”

“You’re sure?”

“You know me well enough. When I make a decision, I stick to it.”

“Thank you, Manoli.”

“There’s no need. But I’ve had an idea.”

“Oh yes?”

“The only people who know about this are Dietrich and Fasshauer—correct?”

“I think so—yes.”

“Well then—if we killed them, you’d be free, wouldn’t you? The deal would be off, and Anna would be safe.”

Lockhart paused.

“But if the SS heard that Dietrich had been killed, they might kill her anyway.”

“They might. But they may never find out. It’s got to be worth the risk.”

“Maybe,” Lockhart replied, although he was deep in thought.

They made their way to the boulders.

“Now,” said Manoli, imitating an English gentleman, “if you’ll excuse me—I’m going to take a shit.”

Lockhart relieved himself and walked briskly back to the cave. Gregori and Vangeli were both holding their hands up to the dying fire. Lockhart sat next to them and did the same.

“Is there any more wood?” he asked.

“Very little,” replied Gregori. “We’ll have to find some more when it gets dark.”

Lockhart shivered. It was going to be cold sitting around in the cave all day. At least they had a few blankets—they would just have to huddle under those. He got up to fetch one. As he did so, a rifle shot rang out.

For a second, Lockhart froze. He looked down at Gregori and Vangeli, who looked back at him blankly. And then a whole fusillade opened up, coming from behind and above the cave. Lockhart ran to the back and picked up Manoli’s Marlin. He checked the magazine and returned, pulling back the cocking handle. Vangeli and Gregori were still transfixed.

“Come on!” Lockhart urged. “Get over here!”