THE FÜHRER'S DAUGHTER

THE FÜHRER'S DAUGHTER (Episode 1) Chapters 8, 9, 10

MILES CHECKED HIS WATCH as he waited for Grace. Success hinged upon precision. Without it, there was no escape.

Come on, come on. Where are you?

Armed with nothing but a genial smile, he approached Andreas, the sentry on duty at the gate.

“What’s your business?”

“Come on, Andreas. Do I really have to give you an answer every time I go through these gates?”

He shrugged apologetically. “It’s for the logs.”

“Just say I was going out for a stroll.”

“Shouldn’t you be on duty, tonight of all nights?

Miles shrugged. “They didn’t want no ‘Africans’ serving tonight…of all nights.” A trickle of perspiration rolled down his back.

“A stroll, indeed. Come now, Infekt. Give me something more believable.”

I’ll give you a knuckle sandwich, is what I’ll give you.

Miles grinned, then glanced at his watch.

Where are you, Grace?

 

CHAPTER NINE

IN A MATTER OF SECONDS they would overtake her. Grace chose a careful route that steered clear of the ballroom, and of any of the arriving guests. Whether Father meant to have her dealt with before her confirmation, or years after locking her away and making excuses for her gradual disappearance from the public, she didn’t care to speculate upon. All that mattered right now was getting away from those infernal guards double-timing after her. But she held one distinct advantage: She knew where she was going, and they didn’t.

Shouts and walkie-talkie chatter filled the corridors as they called for assistance.

In a palace built by a government wary of coups and assassins, secret passageways abounded, hidden beneath the ground floor. Father once showed her where to go if they were to ever find themselves in the midst of an insurrection. The secret tunnels provided a route to safety.

“We are the only people who know about these tunnels,” Father had once told her. “No one else does, not even my staff.”

She was nearly out of breath. A successful escape demanded a lead of about five seconds to slip into the underground corridors undetected.

Best guess, she had maybe three.

Just then, the dissonant shriek of a klaxon pulsed.

Great.

Picturing the inevitable chaos going on in the ballroom about now, Grace covered her ears and raced past the dining room. She flung a chair into the hallway, then pulled down a large potted plant. Doubling back through the kitchen, she headed for Father’s study.

She dashed inside, locked the door behind her.

In less than three seconds the guards were pounding on the door.

“Open up!”

She kicked aside the rug in the center of the room, and pulled up the trap door—the entrance to the tunnels. It was impossible to hide where she was going, but it didn’t matter. She’d be gone by the time they searched the unfamiliar labyrinth of passages.

As Grace descended the ladder, the sound of splintering wood rang out. Each blow robbed her of a breath. The guards were breaking the study’s door down.