CHAPTER 11Throckmorton had lunch on Monday at the Coffee Cup. Gert was busy in the kitchen. She waved to him but didn’t have time to talk. As he left, he looked toward the end of the street where it dead-ended in the gap where the Kessler brewery once stood. Somewhere under that lot were tunnels and the underground office, or what was left of them. With luck, he might find evidence of the tunnels on the surface. That could shave weeks off his timeline.
He zipped up his jacket against the wind and cool air and walked the two blocks to the brewery site. He would have felt silly using his car to go two blocks. The Kessler office building, now the last building at the edge of town, was a hundred feet east of the site of the former brewery and once the terminus of a tunnel.
The two-story bric
