Here was the same.
There were choices.
But none seemed good.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Cotton zipped up the green coveralls that he’d donned over his clothes. He and Stephanie were inside a locker room, part of a building that accommodated one of the shafts used only by the miners. The tourist shaft was in another building, still busy ferrying visitors up and down. Another set of elevators was located farther away, where special groups for a miner’s experience made their way below. Their guide had avoided those hot spots and led them to this employees-only area. The gun from the castle was now safely tucked at his waist beneath the coveralls. He assumed bringing weapons into the mine was not allowed, so he’d kept its presence to himself. But after what happened on the road, he was not about to leave it up here.
“Not much in the way of fashion,” he said to Stephanie. “But functional.”
She donned her helmet with light. “We look like the Mario Brothers.”
He grinned.
That they did.
Stephanie sat on a bench and slipped on the boots their guide had provided. He’d already laced his up, which fit snugly.
“Here we are,” she said. “We have a trunk full of sacred relics out in the parking lot, and below may be some extremely damaging blackmail on the president of Poland. The people I’ve dealt with for the past few decades, the people I worked with to protect the country, the vast majority of them would have never placed me, or themselves, in this untenable situation. Yet here I am.”
“You have to play the cards you’re dealt. And you know that.”
“That’s the problem, Cotton. I don’t even have a pair of twos here.”
“If we find those documents, you’ll have a royal flush.”
“To do what with?”
“Maybe Senator Danny Daniels can use them to make a move on Fox. I’m sure trying to blackmail the president of a foreign nation qualifies as high crimes and misdemeanors. Perhaps he could encourage the House to impeach the idiot.”
She shook her head. “That only amplifies the problem. Everybody loves to scream impeachment. But that’s not a tool to undo elections. The people chose Warner Fox. The fact that he may be incompetent is really not at issue. They’ve already decided they want him to lead them.”
“You’ve become quite the fatalist.”
“Just a realist.”
He had to say, “I assume you wouldn’t wait here while I go below?”
She smiled at him. “You’ve always looked after me.”
“I could say the same to you.”
“Back that first day we met,” she said, “in the Duval County jail, I wasn’t quite sure I’d made the right decision going there. The reports on you were all glowing. But that first impression? You shot a woman.”
“Who murdered her husband, then tried to kill me.”
“I know. You handled yourself well in that situation. As you did in that first assignment. I knew then I had a winner.” She finished tying her boots. “For the record, I’m not interested in having Danny fight my battles.”
“You’ll have a hard time keeping him out of it.”
“I know. And I love him for it. But this is my problem to solve.”
“Fox has wanted you gone from the start. The only bargaining chip you have may be waiting below.”
“Which isn’t saying much, since I think this whole thing stinks.”
The door to the locker room opened and their guide returned.
“Arrangements are all made,” Patrycja said. “We can head down in a few minutes. I brought a map of Level IX.”
She laid out a large sheet of heavy paper that detailed a labyrinth of twisting tunnels and chambers.
“St. Bobola’s statue is one of hundreds scattered around the entire mine,” Patrycja said. “It was carved in the 19th century. I’m told it’s not in a good state of repair. Strange that it seems so important.”
He realized they needed to maintain this woman’s cooperation while revealing as little as possible. But there was also an element of danger here, especially if the Russians or Eli Reinhardt decided to show up. He could only hope that he was ahead of them, as he did not want to place this woman in jeopardy.
“Let’s just say that it might be what’s near it that’s important,” he said. “That’s why we need to have a look.”
“The statue is located here.” She pointed to a spot on the map, inside a small chamber along a secondary drift on Level IX. Several tunnels led in and out.
“It’s a junction point,” Patrycja said. “Many of the chapels were placed where tunnels joined.”
“How did Jonty Olivier get those documents down there?” Stephanie asked. “I assume that’s not a spot someone could just wander into.”
Patrycja nodded. “Only the guides can get there.” She unzipped a pocket in her coveralls and removed a small plastic fob. “This unlocks the elevators for the lower levels. About fifty of the guides carry these on a daily basis. We have to turn them in at the end of each day.”
He glanced at Stephanie. That meant Olivier had arranged for a way down, too, one that included a guide. And if the Russians wanted down, they’d have to do the same. That might work in their favor and provide them enough time.
“Let’s deal with that later,” he said to her, knowing she was thinking the same thing.
She nodded. “You do know, in 1978, this was one of the first places ever given the distinction of being a World Heritage Site.”
He caught the significance of her humor. “I’ll try to be careful.”
And he thought of Sonia. Was she aware of this latest development? The Agencja Wywiadu ranked as a first-rate intelligence agency. If Warner Fox knew the Russians were still in the game, the AW would know that, too. And Sonia would not be confined by rules or fobs.
He needed to stay alert.
The plan? In and out. Fast. Clean.
No mistakes.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Czajkowski walked with Sonia.
They’d first found the car Malone had used, parked in a public lot, minus the sacred relics Sonia had said were lying on the rear seat back in Slovakia. He didn’t really care about those. Poland’s national treasure had been recovered, the rest were somebody else’s problem. He was worried, though, about being recognized. No street clothes this time like at the monastery. One good thing was that the vast majority of people around him were tourists who had no idea what the president of Poland looked like.
But he’d feel better once they were inside.
After locating Malone’s vehicle, they drove farther into the royal free mining town of Wieliczka, to Żupny Castle, where Zima had directed them. Named for the żupnik, the royal administrator of the salt mine, who once lived inside, it had stood since the 13th century but like much of Poland was destroyed during the war. Surprisingly, it was rebuilt during the time of the communists. The attractive Gothic castle now came with a fortified wall, tower, and outbuildings that housed mining exhibitions where visitors discovered the history of both Wieliczka and its mine.
But they’d not come for the sights or an education.