“For very good reason,” she said, handing the binoculars back to him. “There’s no way we’re getting to that service entrance without being seen. Even the woman pushing that baby carriage is getting the once-over.”
He took another look, seeing the woman and carriage passing the main gate. The guards watched her for a few moments as she stopped to adjust something inside the carriage. When she moved on, their attention shifted back to their surroundings. “I have an idea,” he said.
By the time Sam and Remi returned to the street, the golden sunset was fading into the shadows of twilight, bringing with it a gentle wind that stirred and rattled the dry leaves in the gutter. The only other sound was the soft squeak of the blue baby carriage that Sam pushed as Remi walked alongside him, her arm linked through his. She leaned down to adjust the downy white blanket over Sam’s backpack. “Sleeping like an angel,” she said.
“If it starts crying, it’s because we paid way too much for this thing. Two hundred euros? It looks well used to me.”
“Imagine how much it would’ve been new,” she said. “It’s a top-of-the-line perambulator.”
“That’s what they call these things?” He lifted his hands from the handle momentarily.
She laughed. “You realize that if you push this like you’re allergic to the thing, no one’s going to believe we’re new parents.”
“If anything, those guards will empathize with my new position in life. Dirty diapers? Late-night feedings?”
“Obviously, you’re not ready for fatherhood yet.”
“I don’t see you lining up for maternal duties anytime soon — including pushing this carriage.”
“You look less threatening that way. Besides, there’s plenty of time, should we decide to go that route.”
He stole a glance at her, somewhat surprised. “I didn’t know you wanted kids.”
“Not at the moment. But people change.”
He tried to imagine Remi as a mother but couldn’t. At least not yet. “You’re not really…?”
“Quiet,” she said, looking into the carriage. “It took us this long to get him to sleep.”
He had to admit she played the part convincingly, and they settled into a relaxed pace as they neared the main gate. Just as they stepped into view of the guards, the wind gusted, lifting the blanket, exposing Sam’s pack, and, nestled next to it, Remi’s gun.
One look and they couldn’t miss seeing it.
Without missing a beat, Remi leaned over, speaking German to their pseudo-infant, gently patting it as she tucked the blanket safely around the pack and her gun. When she rose, she leaned her head into his shoulder, her smile so serene even he believed she was staring at her firstborn.
The guards barely spared them a glance as they passed by, and, before he knew it, they were rounding the bend toward the service entrance drive that led along the back of the house. The locked gate was framed on either side by stone walls, the one on the right sloping down to accommodate the wrought iron fence along the front of the villa. Sam pushed the carriage alongside the wall so it couldn’t be seen from the main guardhouse. The service gate itself was solid wood, no doubt to allow privacy toward the rear of the house. There was also a matching wooden door, also locked. A sign in red was posted on it. “And?” Sam asked.
“‘Deliveries by appointment only.’”
“Best news I’ve heard all day. That means they don’t regularly post someone here.”
“We hope.”
Sam peered through the space between the gate and the wall it was anchored to. “Looks empty.”
He knocked, just to be sure. When no one answered, he tried to open it, but it was locked. Nothing on this side indicated it was alarmed, and he made short work with the pick from his wallet, then drew his gun. “Get the baby. We’re going in.”
50
Sam held the door as Remi slipped in behind him.
“What about the baby carriage?” she asked, handing him the pack. “We can’t just leave it there.”
“If we bring it in and someone sees it, they’ll know we’re inside. Out there, we stand a chance of someone thinking it’s abandoned.”
“Not if they knew how much it cost.”
“Now you’re worried about the price?” He closed the door, then dropped down next to Remi behind the boxwood hedge. The main gate and guardhouse were to their right, toward the front of the villa. To their left, the solid glass-shard-topped wall. Right now, their only advantage was that the lights on the perimeter weren’t yet on, and the four-foot-tall boxwood was high enough to allow them cover if they ducked down while they walked. As they neared the rear of the house, the sound of an engine turning over broke the silence.
They stopped, Sam looking around for a place to hide.
Headlights appeared on the drive ahead, lighting up the hedge and a few hollows beneath it. He pulled Remi down to the ground. “Underneath as far as you can get.”
She rolled in, flattening herself on the ground, gripping her gun in one hand, aiming it toward the truck. Sam shoved the pack at her feet, then dove on top of her, using his free hand to move the branches from his face, then positioning himself, gun at the ready. Not a moment too soon, as the truck rumbled past, then stopped at the closed gate. Sam’s German was spotty, but he recognized the word for Garden emblazoned on the side of the truck’s door. Working late, he thought as the gate swung open, a steady beep sounding as it moved. The truck started forward again once it was clear. Sam caught sight of an electric eye near the gate as it closed, the beep starting up once more until the gate was secured.
He waited a few moments, the sound of the truck fading away as it drove off. “You okay?” he asked Remi.
“A bit flatter than I was a few minutes ago.”
He slid off, then helped her out.
“How’s the baby?” she asked.
“Still sound asleep,” he said, grabbing the pack and slinging it over his shoulder. “Let’s find Tatiana.”
The drive led to a separate garage, with quarters above it, located behind the main house. A delivery van, its rear door open, was backed up to the garage.
“Caterer,” Remi said, translating what was written inside the logo on the door.
The party, of course. That explained why the other truck was there so late. Apparently, it had left a delivery of dozens of potted plants that were being set up around an outdoor terrace by a handful of security guards who should have been patrolling this side of the grounds. “Rube’s right,” Sam said. “Looks like Rolfe’s getting ready to entertain.”
“And we didn’t receive an invitation? I am so crossing him off the list for the baby’s first birthday.”
“The door Rube told us about has to be in there.” Sam nodded toward the six-car garage and the rooms above it. The windows were all dark. He eyed the back terrace. “A good time to get in. He must be short-staffed, or in a hurry, to use security to move those things.”
No sooner had the words been spoken than they heard a steady beep, this one softer and coming from their right.
The main gate, Sam realized, rising up just high enough to see over the top of the hedge. A sleek black Rolls-Royce pulled in, followed a moment later by a white Mercedes. He looked back toward the terrace, where the guards were moving plants. There were only about a half dozen pots left, which meant they didn’t have much time. “I think the party’s starting without us. We better hurry.”