If you’re just joining this story, you may want to start from the beginning.
This story follows the first in Jenn’s Rediscovered series, Last Assault on Oak Island.
Onward with the search for the Amber Room. . .
They had passed the first sign for Halberstadt when the truck started rebelling. It began with a sudden lurching, a downshift accompanied by a strained mechanical grind. Reuben had slowed the truck and manually shifted into a lower gear. After a few moments, the truck gained speed and he returned to the highest gear.
The transmission had other plans. Within half an hour, the last gear was impossible and Reuben was forced to remain in a gear of the transmission's choice. Locked at this speed, the truck crawled into the night at forty miles an hour.
Lauren understood about half of Reuben's curses. She glanced at her watch. Just past midnight. She was tempted to taunt him again about not taking the truck she had rented, but restrained herself when she saw the grim look on his face.
Rather than leave the truck stranded, unguarded, or wake the occupants of one of the small farms they passed, Reuben opted to drive the crippled truck to less than an hour from the Halberstadt limits. Here he found a wooded drive that ended between two crop fields at a burned-out cottage.
In the moonlight Lauren could see the weeds overrunning the charred remains of the house. A couple cats slunk into the thicker shadows as the truck's headlights crossed the yard. "You bring all your women here?"
"Don't be ridiculous." The engine stopped as he parked, headlights blinking out. "We can get another truck in town tomorrow. We'll stay here tonight."
She sighed and settled into her corner at the door. She glanced to the cottage ruins. "In that?"
"In the truck."
"How much father do we have to go?"
"We're about halfway." His eyes went over the weedy yard and shadows.
She nodded. "You're going to Berlin."
"Not quite."
"Potsdam?"
"Does it matter?"
She stretched her legs out as much as possible. The credit card she'd managed to tuck into her sock when she'd found Reuben in Carlos's hotel room was irritating. Its raised numbers were imbedded in the skin above her ankle. It had been Carlos' idea of a precaution when Rybak first started following them, but at that time she'd only kept it in her pants pocket. There was small comfort in knowing that Reuben hadn't completely disarmed her.
If she could get to a phone without his knowledge, she could call the authorities. No, better to call Dr. Karen. He would be wondering where they were tomorrow morning. He and Paul would have a better chance of confiscating Carlos from Geil than the police. They could save a lot of needless international red tape.
And if the card was still functioning after being submerged for two hours? If she did get the call through?
She was still lost with Reuben. It was at least five miles back to any house they had passed.
Once Reuben contacted Geil and discovered Carlos' escape it would be a new game.
She relinquished her lip she had bitten. She glanced over to see Reuben studying her. He wore the same blank expression he had when she found him in Carlos' hotel room.
She looked back out the dark window, disillusioned.
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