Chapter 35

Although I was elated that we had finally found Aaron’s Guarneri, I was well aware that we were far from home free. In fact, we were far from both home and being free of our captivity. That was the next order of business.

I knew we had very limited time in which to leave the Sanders house with both our violin and our freedom. Not only would Sanders be coming home sometime soon, but at any moment Benny or Marianne might come to check on us again.

I turned and whispered to Aaron, who was holding his violin almost reverentially. I had to tap him on the arm to get his attention.

“Look, we’ve gotta get out of here right now. I’ll take care of the door. You just carry the violin.”

“How’re we getting back to the hotel without a car?” Aaron asked.

I wasn’t ready for that question. I had been so intent on getting into the hidden room and finding the violin, I had completely forgotten that Benny had taken away Aaron’s car keys. Even if we escaped the house, we were stranded out there on La Paloma Road.

“Shit, that’s right. We can’t exactly call a cab, and it’s way too far to walk, even if Sanders and company didn’t come after us, which they no doubt will.”

We both were silent for a few seconds until Aaron said in a dejected tone, “I wish one of us had our cell phone…”

Cell phone. Of course. How stupid of me.

“Quick,” I said, handing Aaron the flashlight, “shine this on my wrist.”

“On your wrist? What…”

“Don’t argue. Just do it.”

I’d completely forgotten about my fancy new watch. Although I’d bought it for a completely different purpose, I was sure—well, I fervently hoped—it was even more valuable than I’d thought.

“This little baby is more than just a pretty face,” I explained to Aaron. “It’s one of those high-tech computer watches—you know, a ‘smart watch.’ I bought the best one they had, of course—my boss was paying for it—and I’ll bet it has a phone function…”

I spent a few precious minutes finding it, but sure enough, a phone screen eventually flashed on. We were in business.

****

“Talk about well-prepared. Have you got a Swiss Army knife in there too? You could’ve been a Boy Scout!” Then, looking at my chest where the lock picks had been concealed, he added, “Maybe not. So do you think if you could get hold of Sara, there’s any way she could come and get us?”

I was thinking along the same lines. About the last thing I wanted to do was to ask Sara to come to my rescue, or to involve her directly in our burglary in any way, but I didn’t see any alternative. This was indeed the last thing I could do.

“I’d rather not ask her,” I said to Aaron, “but there really isn’t anyone else we can rely on. Of course, it’d take her at least an hour to get here, so we’ll have to avoid capture for that long.”

“Ah, that’s where my prison escape training comes in,” Aaron said.

I was astonished. “You escaped from a prison?”

“Well, no, but I’m a real fan of those prison escape movies, especially the ones where the Americans escape from a Nazi P.O.W. camp, so I know all the techniques.”

I couldn’t tell in the dark whether Aaron was serious or just trying to lighten the mood. I assumed the latter and smiled, then turned to my wrist and dialed.

****

“Sara?”

“Flo? Are you on the way back? Have you got the violin?”

“Uh, sort of, and yes.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Yes, we have the violin. We’re sort of on our way back, but we’ve run into a slight problem and need your help.” I could almost see Sara’s features fall, and the sound of dread in my friend’s voice confirmed it.

“You’re not gonna ask me to come down there and rescue you, are you? Tell me this time I can stay out of the dangerous parts.”

I sighed. I understood perfectly. I wouldn’t blame Sara if she hung up before I could ask. But I soldiered on hurriedly.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but Aaron and I were caught and locked in the gallery, and we managed to get into the hidden room next to it where we found Aaron’s violin. But Benny took away Aaron’s car keys, so we have no way to get back even if we escape the house and grounds. We need you to come down and get us.”

“To the Sanders house? You want me to walk into the lion’s den and join you there?”

“No, no. We’ll get outta here somehow, but we’ll need a ride home.”

There was silence on the phone, and for a few seconds I thought Sara had indeed hung up. But then a very reluctant voice came back on and asked, “Okay, where do you want me to pick you up?”

“The only place I can think of where we can hide until you get here, and that you’ll know how to find, is that little park we used for reconnaissance. Do you think you can find it again?”

“I’ll find it. I can use the GPS.”

“Can you leave right now?”

“Well, I’m down at the bar in the hotel. I just have to go upstairs to our room and get my keys and stuff. I don’t know what traffic will be like. I’ll do the best I can.”

“Thanks, Sara. We’ll make it up to you.”

“Yeah. Tell Aaron he owes me big time.” Despite the words, I could tell Sara was smiling. She was a trooper, if a reluctant one.

I conveyed the plan to Aaron and then proceeded to examine the outside door. As with the door to the gallery, whoever had built it had seen no reason to conceal the hardware or make it difficult to open from that side, although it probably was securely locked from the outside. A turn of a simple deadbolt was all that was required, and a few minutes later Aaron and I, in an impromptu and unrehearsed remake of “Stalag 17,” began our escape.