Just before 2 a.m., Eileen Fischer drove down the street and turned into a parking lot next to the cemetery. She pulled up close to the barbed wire, pointing her headlights at the guards. Then she stopped, as if her engine stalled. She timed it perfectly. The guards were crossing paths when blinded by her headlights. They paused, holding their arms in front of their faces, hiding from the glare, trying to move closer to the barbed wire to assess any threat they might be facing.
Marino waited at the wall. When the headlights shined on the guards, and the soldiers in the vacant lot weren’t facing him, he hopped over the stone wall and darted to the barbed wire. Figures approached, various shapes and sizes. They came closer, low to the ground, furtively moving forward and hiding behind tombs
