Night fell. Finding himself truly alone now, Robert wondered how many more nights he would last. In just a few hours, the sun would set in Baltimore. He thought of his parents and the comfort of his bedroom on their sprawling estate, all the lavish dinners he had enjoyed there, and the reading room, where his father squandered his fortune in poker games he always lost. Robert remembered finding him one morning in his office, sitting there, drunk, sobbing with rage. He would never forget the shame on his father’s face, the look that plunged Robert deep into despair. And he was reminded once more that he was about to die thousands of miles from home because of those poker games.
The thought filled Robert with rage, and the burst of anger gave him a second wind. Sam had taken his own life rather than die at the hands of his enemies, and that act of bravery reminded Robert of the promise he had made. If there was a chance, however slim, that Hanna was still alive, he would find her. With the help of his comrades, he would hunt down Hanna’s captors and rescue her, even if it meant taking her place as their prisoner.
“Comrades. What comrades?” Robert mumbled to himself. “The only comrades you had are all lying here, dead, and anyone left alive would be after your hide.”
Yet Robert was spurred on by youthful determination. He swore to himself that he’d stay alive long enough to honor the pact he had made with the old art dealer. He would return home a hero, living up to his name, and continue his rise to prominence just as all the men of his family had, save his father. Robert thought of the paintings hidden down in that hole at the back of the cellar. Even if Robert didn’t make it home, even if he couldn’t save Sam’s daughter, the priceless works of art mustn’t stay down there, lost for eternity.
The moon had risen in the sky, casting its light over the treetops. Robert, knowing that Sam still lay there in the bedroom, with the corpses of his other friends close by, had not yet found the strength to set foot inside the hunting lodge again. He took a deep breath to steel himself, and decided it was time to head in.
He spotted a banged-up oil lamp on the floor and lit the wick, averting his eyes from the gory scene. He headed straight for the trapdoor to the cellar, swung it open, and lowered himself inside.
Robert hung the lamp from one of the ladder’s rungs and began shifting aside stacks of crates concealing the tunnel’s entrance. As soon as he had made a large enough space to get through, Robert grabbed his lantern and slipped inside.
Just as he was nearing Sam’s hiding place, he heard a rustle, followed by heavy breathing from the end of the tunnel where the cases of weapons were stored. Robert gripped the gun firmly in one hand and raised the lantern with the other. The glow of the flame revealed a form huddled against the wall. It was a woman, crouching on the ground. As she raised her haggard face, Robert saw that it was Hanna.
He rushed over to take her in his arms, but she began howling and thrashing about as soon as he touched her. Robert realized he must be unrecognizable in the dark with his face all swollen, and Hanna must have thought he was a militiaman come to force himself on her. He begged her to calm down, and Hanna seemed to recognize the sound of his voice. She curled up in Robert’s arms, her entire body trembling as she recounted in a daze what had happened earlier that day . . .
A truckload of armed militiamen had arrived at the foot of the trail in late afternoon. Raoul was stationed at his lookout post nearby and quickly surmised they hadn’t come to those woods for mere reconnaissance this time. He ran up to the hunting lodge, warned everyone inside, then grabbed a Sten submachine gun and bravely raced right back out to keep the enemy at bay as long as he could, to buy time for the others to make a run for it.
Sam refused to leave. His legs simply weren’t strong enough. The old man begged the Resistance fighters to take Hanna with them, but as soon as Antoine was shot dead outside, everyone realized it was too late, the lodge was completely surrounded. As the partisans opened fire, Alberto, the one built like a bear, sent Sam and Hanna to hide in the cellar. The militiamen were specifically on the hunt for Resistance members, and with a little luck, they might just spare an old man and his daughter. Sam made Hanna enter the narrow passage first, then covered up the entrance with one crate after another. Hanna desperately stuck her hand through, begging her father not to leave her in there alone, but Sam had insisted.
“You must stay alive . . . for me, for your mother, for all the others! Reach for the stars, my darling. Make the most of your life, and never forget that you’re Sam Goldstein’s daughter. Remember those dreams of peace we shared, all our wonderful trips together, and all that I’ve taught you. Take the flame I have passed down to you, and light a thousand torches, enough to illuminate the sky. One day you will have children of your own. Tell them about your parents, tell them that your mother and I will always love them. Wherever I’m going, I will be watching over them, just as I’ve watched over you.”
Sam kept telling his daughter he loved her as he finished building the wall of crates to hold her inside. Soon his voice was drowned out by the sound of gunfire and blasts above. He moved the last crate into place, and Hanna’s world plunged into darkness.