THE SECRET IN THE STAIRCASE

The water in the Adirondack river was barely above freezing.

Hannah gasped as the icy current hit her chest, the heavy tactical vest Luca had forced her to wear threatening to pull her under. She waded forward, following the dark silhouette of Luca and four of his best men.

They left Patricia handcuffed to the steering wheel of the SUV with one guard watching her. She was a liability in a firefight.

“Stay close to the bank,” Luca whispered over his shoulder, his suppressed rifle held high above the waterline.

They moved silently for a quarter of a mile until the mouth of the massive concrete drainage pipe appeared in the moonlight. It was secured by a heavy iron grate, but years of rust had eaten away the hinges.

Answer one: Patricia had told the truth about the secret entrance. The Petrovs relied on the natural camouflage of the river to hide their underground access.

One of Luca’s men pulled a pair of bolt cutters from his waterproof pack and snapped the remaining hinges. They slid the grate aside and climbed into the pitch-black pipe.

The smell of stagnant water and mildew was overpowering.

They crept through the tunnel for ten agonizing minutes. The pipe sloped slightly upward, leading them directly beneath the concrete fortress.

Finally, the tunnel ended at a heavy steel grate embedded in the ceiling.

Luca held up a fist. The team stopped.

Faint light filtered through the grate, accompanied by the muffled sound of Russian voices and heavy boots pacing on a concrete floor above them.

“Sub-basement,” Luca whispered to Hannah. “This is where they hold the prisoners.”

He signaled his men. Two guards boosted Luca up. He pressed a small, quiet hydraulic jack against the edge of the grate and pumped the handle. The steel groaned softly, then popped free from the concrete lip.

Luca slid the grate aside and pulled himself up into the room. A second later, he reached down and hauled Hannah up.

They were in a massive, dimly lit corridor lined with solid steel doors. Cell blocks.

Open two: There were dozens of cells. How would they find Sarah Brooks before the guards discovered the breach?

Two Petrov guards were stationed at the far end of the corridor, smoking cigarettes and laughing quietly.

Luca didn't hesitate. He raised his suppressed rifle and fired twice. Pfft. Pfft. Both guards dropped instantly, their bodies hitting the concrete with soft thuds.

“Check the cells,” Luca ordered his men. “Quietly.”

Hannah ran to the first door, peering through the small reinforced glass window.

Empty.

She checked the next. A man was curled on a cot, asleep. Not her mother.

She moved frantically down the line, panic rising in her throat. Seventeen years. What if she didn't recognize her? What if the Petrovs had moved her?

She reached the last cell on the left. Cell block 4B.

She looked through the glass.

Sitting on a small metal chair, staring blankly at the concrete wall, was a woman with graying hair. She was incredibly thin, wearing a faded gray jumpsuit.

But as the woman slowly turned her head toward the door, Hannah saw her face.

It was older, lined with unimaginable exhaustion and grief, but the eyes were the exact same shade of hazel that stared back at Hannah in the mirror every morning.

“Mom,” Hannah choked out, pressing her hands against the cold steel door.

Sarah Brooks didn't react at first. Then, she slowly stood up, walking toward the door, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“Hannah?” Sarah’s voice was raspy, barely a whisper through the thick glass.

“Luca!” Hannah cried softly, motioning to him.

Luca ran over. He examined the heavy electronic lock on the door.

“It’s a biometric keypad,” Luca said, his jaw tightening. “I can't pick it. We need a guard’s thumbprint.”

He turned to one of his men. “Drag one of those bodies over here.”

The guard sprinted down the hall to retrieve a downed Petrov soldier.

While they waited, Sarah pressed her hand against the glass on the inside of the door. Hannah matched it on the outside, tears streaming down her face.

“You’re so beautiful,” Sarah mouthed through the glass, her own tears falling freely. “You look just like your father.”

“We’re getting you out, Mom,” Hannah promised. “Dad sent us.”

At the mention of Daniel, Sarah’s face crumpled with profound relief. He was alive. After seventeen years of silence, her sacrifice hadn't been in vain.

The guard dragged the dead Petrov soldier to the door. Luca pressed the man’s thumb against the scanner.

The light flashed red.

ACCESS DENIED.

Luca swore under his breath. “The system must require a higher clearance level. A warden or an officer.”

Suddenly, the blare of a massive klaxon alarm shattered the silence of the corridor. Red strobe lights began flashing wildly on the walls.

“They found the cut grate at the river,” a guard yelled over the noise. “We have incoming!”

The heavy reinforced doors at the end of the corridor burst open. A dozen heavily armed Petrov soldiers poured into the hallway, laying down immediate suppressive fire.

“Take cover!” Luca roared, pushing Hannah behind a thick concrete support pillar.

Bullets sparked against the steel doors, filling the corridor with blinding flashes and deafening noise. Luca’s men returned fire, but they were vastly outnumbered.

“We can't open the door!” Hannah screamed over the gunfire, terrified as bullets slammed into the glass of her mother’s cell.

Sarah, inside the cell, realized what was happening. She backed away from the door, looking frantically around the small concrete room.

Then, Sarah did something completely unexpected.

She reached under her thin mattress and pulled out a small, intricately carved wooden box.

It was a music box. The same one she had been delivering the night she was taken seventeen years ago.

She ran back to the door and pressed the music box against the reinforced glass so Hannah could see it.

Sarah mouthed three words clearly to her daughter.