The Ambassador grabbed two flutes from Sam’s tray, handed one to his wife, who barely spared Sam a glance before both turned back toward the couple they were talking to.
Sam worked his way around the guests until the tray was empty, spotting Remi coming up on his left. He took the stairs down, holding his empty tray at his side, hoping he looked like the hired help taking a short break rather than someone about to burglarize an exclusive German villa. Wondering where Remi was, he turned, saw her starting down the stairs behind him, then stopping when someone called out, “Marta!”
Helga, the woman who’d cornered them in the garage, stood at the top of the stairs, hands on her hips. And though Sam couldn’t quite hear what she was saying, it was clear that she was demanding to know what Remi was doing.
Remi held up her empty tray with her right hand, saying something to the woman, as she moved her left hand behind her back, waving for Sam to continue on.
He hesitated, then hurried down, knowing that Remi would’ve never signaled for him to go on if she’d thought there was the least bit of trouble. A moment later, she was exchanging her empty tray for one full of hors d’oeuvres, before making her way back into the crowd. Little he could do about that. Deciding that she was probably safer up there than with him, he ditched his tray in the bushes, walked back to the garage, then moved the uniform rack. After double-checking his phone for the code that Rube provided, he punched it in, breathing a sigh of relief when the red light turned green.
Just as he slipped in, a man entered the garage and walked up to the uniform rack. Sam was stuck. He couldn’t close the door without being seen or heard and so he pressed back against the wall, looking through the crack in the door, gun aimed. Just when he thought he’d been seen, the man grabbed a uniform, then turned away and walked out.
Sam pulled the door closed, then took his small flashlight from his pocket, the dim blue glow reaching just a few feet in front of him. The hallway sloped down, no doors on either side as he followed along, judging it to be at least the length of the open lawn, then the terrace above him. A door at the end blocked his way, its red light indicating it was alarmed.
He used the same code. The door opened into another hallway that branched off in three different directions. He took the left, followed it to the stairs, then up. At the third level, a guard stood at the door.
No doubt, he’d found Tatiana.
Now all he had to do was take out the guard.
He pulled a coin from his pocket, then tossed it low across the floor. The guard, hearing it hit the wall, took a few steps in that direction. Sam crept up on him, shot his arm around the guy’s neck, then locked it with his other arm, squeezing against his carotids as he pulled the man off balance. The guard, unable to speak, grabbed at Sam’s arm, trying to free himself, his feet thrashing out as he tried to turn away. Within seconds, the guard’s strength waned, and his body jerked as the oxygen supply to his brain was cut off. The moment he went limp, Sam dropped him to the floor, then found the keys to the door and opened it.
The only furnishing in the room was the chair where Tatiana, bound and gagged, was seated. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw him dragging the guard in.
Sam removed her gag, then took the knife from his pocket to cut her ties. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” She rubbed at the rope marks on her wrists. “I take it the trade for the key didn’t work?”
“We didn’t get that far,” he said, cutting through the rope around her ankles. “As far as Rolfe knows, that deal’s going down at midnight.” He tossed one of the ropes to her and she helped bind the guard’s feet while he took the hands.
“Why midnight?” she asked.
“He’s a bit preoccupied. Looks like some political fund-raiser thing.”
“No wonder he was in such a hurry to get home, never mind they seem to have forgotten about me. If not for that, who knows where I’d be.”
The guard started to stir. Sam gave his gun to Tatiana so he could place the gag in the man’s mouth. “Let’s get out of here before he comes to.”
53
Why do you waste your time with such things?” Leopold asked.
Rolfe drained the last of his wine from his glass, then glanced out the window down to the terrace below, where his guests mingled beneath propane heaters. If not for the constant scrutiny he was under, he’d let them drink themselves to oblivion, never once stepping out there. “It’s important to keep up appearances,” he said.
Suffering through the occasional social event so that he could appear philanthropic had served him well over the years. It created an illusion of legitimacy. When those occasional investigations into his extracurricular activities veered a little too close, there was never a shortage of high-ranking people willing to vouch for him, never mind overlook the whispers of his involvement.
“Americans?” Leopold commented.
Rolfe followed the direction of his gaze. “The Ambassador to Germany and his wife.”
“Why?”
“U.S. connections are always good. I have special interests over there.”
“Legal?”
“Depends on one’s viewpoint.”
Leopold turned back to the guests on the terrace. “What does a party like this cost?”
“Enough,” he said. In truth, too much. What he wasn’t willing to share was that paying the Guard to help him with the hunt for the Romanov Ransom had taken far more capital than he’d ever anticipated. In fact, he had a new appreciation for how it was his father had burned through the family fortune.
“You should have canceled,” Leopold said.
“I don’t have that luxury. I’ve worked too hard networking for my contacts. Canceling the party would start the sort of gossip I can’t afford right now.”
“‘Gossip’?” A look of disgust swept over Leopold’s face. “I’d be more worried about a potential kidnapping charge than what anyone thinks about his invitation being pulled.”
Rolfe didn’t bother mentioning that the only one who could be identified by any witnesses at the scene was Leopold. Instead, he looked at his watch. “You have at least an hour’s drive. Get Tatiana out through the tunnel. The sooner you and your men get there, the better. We don’t want the Fargos to have the advantage.” He started out the door.
“One thing you haven’t discussed — how you’re going to keep Tatiana from talking once the exchange is made.”
He looked back at Leopold. “You don’t think we’re actually going to let her live, do you?”
“And you think Fargo will turn over the key without getting her in exchange?”
He had a point. The Fargos had proven themselves to be more than troublesome. “Get the key, then put a bullet in each of their heads. Just make sure that no one gets out alive.”
“Not a problem.”
Leopold followed him out the door when Gere suddenly appeared in the hallway, still trying to hide his limp.
“What are you doing out here?” Rolfe asked.
“I tried calling you, but it went straight to voice mail.”
“I have the ringer turned off on my phone. What’s wrong?”
“I just checked in with security. There’s an abandoned baby carriage outside the service gate.”
“And I care because…?”
“I checked the video surveillance. The man and woman pushing it definitely looked like the Fargos.”
54
Remi left the terrace, passing through a windowed sunporch that ran the length of the house, on her way to pick up yet another tray of canapés. Just as she pushed through the swinging kitchen door, she felt her phone buzzing in her pocket. Her taskmistress, Helga, in the midst of giving orders to the staff about the way the trays were being filled, looked over as Remi read Sam’s text.