The Romanov Ransom

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.

“Nein!”

Remi apologized, returned the phone to her pocket, breathing a sigh of relief.

He and Tatiana were on their way out.

Helga handed her a tray, then swooshed with her hands, urging her out the door. Remi pushed it open with her shoulder, walked through the sunporch just as someone burst through a door almost in front of her.

She halted in her tracks, the canapés sliding in the tray, watching as Rolfe and Leopold stormed toward the very terrace doors she was heading for. Both men stopped just inside, their gazes fixed on something in the distance. Unable to get past them without being seen, she turned back to the kitchen. At that very moment, the door swung open and Helga appeared, ordering Remi out to the party.

Deciding it was safer out where there were a hundred witnesses, she approached the doors, coming up behind the two men.

“I want the grounds searched,” she heard Rolfe saying quietly. “No one gets out until they’re found.”

Suddenly, Helga was at her heels, urging her to move quicker. Moment of truth, she thought, mumbling, “Excuse me,” in German, both men stepping aside as she, then Helga, passed through the door.

Her only thought at that point was to get to her phone and warn Sam. She dared a glance back and saw that Rolfe had stepped out onto the patio, but Leopold had returned inside, no doubt to issue orders without causing a scene.

Within a few seconds, she noticed the guards doubling up, patrolling the perimeter, their routine pace turning to hurry, with several of them walking toward the terrace.

“I’d love one. Thank you.”

Remi forced her gaze from the garden to the blond woman standing in front of her.

Ambassador Halstern’s wife.

The woman looked past her toward Rolfe, who had moved to the balustrade. There was no sign of recognition when her gaze met Remi’s. In fact, her expression was almost blank, dismissive. “A few hours earlier than I was led to expect,” she said, reaching for a second hors d’oeuvre. “No matter. I’ll be the distraction.”

Before Remi had time to react to or process what she’d heard, Mrs. Halstern turned away, walking toward the table where the bartender stood, filling champagne glasses. Remi, keeping her back to Rolfe, made her way to the far stairs, hoping she hadn’t heard wrong.

Mrs. Halstern knew.

At the top of the stairs, Remi glanced back. Mrs. Halstern was laughing at something her husband had said. She looked at Remi, gave the slightest tilt of her head, then turned back to the Ambassador.

Remi started down the steps, scanning the garden, hesitating at the sight of two guards patrolling the same gravel path she’d need to take to get to the garage. One of them looked up at that very moment, his expression turning wary. He stopped in his tracks, calling out, asking what she was doing.

Seconds ticked by as she eyed both men, one looking at the tray in her hand, the other focused on her face. Trying to appear slightly embarrassed, she shrugged her shoulders, then in a loud whisper said, “Zigarettenpause.”

The one guard nodded as though he’d suspected all along. The other eyed her pockets as though trying to determine if she really had any cigarettes. Suddenly, a loud crash and the sound of breaking glass mingled with a scream carried down from the far side of the terrace.

Both guards took off running in that direction.

Remi tossed her tray into the bushes, then bounded down the stairs, gravel crunching beneath her feet as she raced to the garage. Glancing back, she saw Mrs. Halstern being helped to her feet from the vicinity of where the champagne table had once stood. Remi nearly slid in the gravel as she rounded the corner, taking a quick look around to see who might be watching. The back of the catering truck was still open, though a few boxes remained. At least it blocked the view of the garage door as she opened it, slipped in, then closed it behind her, leaning against the wall for a few moments not only to catch her breath but to listen in case anyone else was there.

She glanced up the staircase, saw it was dark, then entered the door on the left into the garage. Sam’s backpack was still there behind the uniform rack in front of the door, the light on the alarm keypad blinking red. Remi took out her phone, texted him that Rolfe knew they were there.

With nothing left to do but wait, she returned to the garage door and peeked out, catching sight of another guard who had appeared in front of the catering truck. She ducked back as he looked toward the garage. A moment later, she heard footsteps outside. She reached for her handgun, eyeing the doorknob as someone on the outside turned it to enter.