Tony Marino scanned the border from his apartment, ensured no guards were watching, and then held the notepad up to the window with a message scribbled upon it: Grandmother well. He waited, knowing Kirstin’s reply would follow.
Grandmother well. I miss her
I miss herHe wrote: Is daughter next? Then he peered into her second-floor window through his binoculars.
Is daughter nextShe was still writing. After a few seconds, she held up her chalkboard. Can you get me out?”
Can you get me out?”He put down his glasses. He knew she wanted to escape; they had already discussed it. And he wanted to help her, he really did. But it was a tremendous undertaking. He would risk his life as well as hers. He thought about it a moment more, and then scribbled on his notepad. Library tomorrow at 10 a.m.
