TRANSYLVANIA 1944When Fogg thinks of the Carpathians, years later, it is with a mixture of horror and awe. Of the sun rising over a barren hillside, over men like scarecrows impaled on stakes driven into the frozen ground. No flies to mar their faces, frozen in screams of agony. The bodies preserved almost beautifully, in that cold, clean air.But he tries, very hard, not to think of Transylvania at all.– Here they come.The first trucks of the military convoy come around the bend, down below on the mountain road. Drakul and his men high above, concealed from view. Fogg tagging along. The sun high in the sky. Sunlight breaking through ice crystals in the peaks high above. Trees bathed in sunlight. The river Maros snaking in the distance in the valley where the city lies. Fogg shifting weight on the hard ground. Binoculars hard against his skin, his eyes feel trapped within them.– Are you sure?Drakul laughs, softly. The smell of earth and dust. Has a network of informants spread out across the towns and villages of Transylvania.
