His eyes were wide, glittering with a strange sort of satisfaction.

Daniel began to systematically search Caleb’s pockets.

He pulled out a heavy key ring, a small leather-bound notebook, and two spare magazines for a nine-millimeter pistol.

“Check his boots,” I whispered, keeping my eyes on Caleb.

The woman on the phone spoke again, her voice cutting through the damp air of the cellar.

“You have twenty-four hours of power left in that estate, Adrian,” she said.

“The gates are locked,” I told her. “My men control the perimeter.”

“Your men are currently being relieved of their duties,” she replied.

The line went dead with a sharp click.

I lowered the phone, the screen darkening back into blackness.

“Daniel, get the radio,” I said.

Daniel was already reaching for the radio clipped to his tactical vest.

He pressed the receiver, his thumb trembling slightly against the plastic button.

“Gatehouse, this is Daniel, do you copy?”

Only static answered him.

A high-pitched hiss filled the small stone room.

“Gatehouse, report,” Daniel said, his voice dropping an octave.

The static popped, and then a man’s voice came through.