Lucien eyed Ziegler and Bayer nervously. They stood at the front of the car, whispering among themselves. Ziegler occasionally glanced to the rear.
“Ignore them,” Camille whispered. She looked out the window, pointing to a farm as they passed. “Pretend you’re looking at scenery.”
Minutes passed, yet Ziegler and Bayer remained where they were. Bayer had his hand on the door, ready to slide it open and enter the next car, but then removed it.
“They’re not leaving,” Lucien hissed.
“They will,” Camille assured him.
A moment later, Lucien subtly touched Camille’s hand as Bayer opened the connecting door and he and Ziegler passed through. His hand was sweaty, his heart raced. He was trembling, trying not to think of how much he needed a swig of whiskey.
“You did good,” she whispered, squee
