The Romanov Ransom

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.”

Moving toward the garage, they stopped at the end of the hedge. Sam looked out, waited until the guards were turned away from the service drive, then signaled for Remi to follow him.

The door was alarmed but unarmed. In fact, it was unlocked. Sam had to assume it was due to the party, and when they entered, he realized that’s exactly why. There were boxes of catering supplies stacked along the wall. Just inside, a windowed door to the left led into the garage, where several cars were parked, among them a red Ferrari, a yellow Porsche, and the sedan that they’d used to kidnap Tatiana. If there was a door that led underground to the main house, he couldn’t see it, and he backed out to the short hallway, then up a staircase. At the top, another hallway with several doors, all unlocked, clearly the servants’ quarters.

“She’s definitely not here,” Remi said after they checked each room.

“Looks like we’ll have to find that entrance to the house.”

They were halfway down the stairs when someone walked in the hall below and turned on the light. Sam slid his pack from his shoulder, hiding his gun behind it, as a short, stout woman glanced up at them, her look of surprise turning to one of anger as she asked them something in German.

Remi, on the stair behind him, replied.

“Nein,” the woman said, pointing toward the side door that led into the garage. “Die Uniformen sind dort.”

“Danke,” Remi said.

The woman started to turn away, then asked something else.

“Marta,” Remi said.

The woman looked at Sam, her brows raised in inquiry.

“Hans,” he replied.

She simply stared at them, making Sam wonder if he’d totally misunderstood. “Schnell! Schnell!” she said, waving her hands at them before picking up a box on the floor, then walking out the door once more.

“Dare I ask?” Sam said.

“That would be Helga. The guests are early, we’re late, and our uniforms are hanging in the garage.”

“Not quite how I was expecting to get into the house, but it’ll do.”