"You scared me to death."
"Answer my question."
"Werner Lindauer."
He made the connection. "Dorothea's husband?"
The man nodded. "My passport's in my pocket."
No time for that. He withdrew the gun and yanked his captive back into the side room, out of the gallery. "What are you doing here?"
"Dorothea walked here three hours ago. I came to see about her."
"How did she find this place?"
"You apparently don't know Dorothea that well. She doesn't explain herself. Christl is here, too."
That, he had expected. He'd waited in the hotel, believing she either knew of this place or would locate it the same way he'd managed.
"She came up here before Dorothea."
He turned his attention back into the cloister. Time to see what was inside the church. He motioned with the gun. "You first. To the right and into that doorway at the end."
"Is that wise?"
"Nothing about this is smart."
He followed Werner into the gallery, then through the double archway at its end, and immediately sought cover behind a thick column. A wide nave, made to seem narrow by more columns that extended its length, stretched before him. The columns turned in a semicircle behind the altar, following the curve of the apse. Bare walls on either side were high, the aisles broad. No decoration or ornamentation anywhere, the church more ruin than building. The wind's haunting music sounded through bare window frames partitioned by stone crosses. He spotted the altar, a pillar of pitted granite, but what sat before it drew his attention.
Two people. Gagged.
One on either side, on the floor, their arms tied behind them around a column.
Dorothea and Christl.