The Romanov Ransom

55

Sam, Tatiana at his heels, keyed in the alarm code and opened the tunnel door a couple of inches, peering through the uniforms to see Remi standing near the garage door, looking outside. Her hand was at the small of her back, about to draw her handgun from beneath her jacket. Gun in hand, he stepped out, motioning for Tatiana to keep quiet as he closed the door behind them, his eyes on his wife.

Remi suddenly relaxed her grip as Helga’s round face appeared in the garage window. The woman entered, surprised to see Remi there. Although Sam had no idea what she said to Remi, he understood Remi’s response. Something to do with cigarettes.

“Nein, nein,” Helga said, then straightened, her gaze sliding past Remi into the garage. When she saw Sam and Tatiana standing behind the uniform rack, she pushed Remi aside and approached, the tone of her voice demanding.

Sam looked at Remi for guidance. Before she had a chance to respond, Helga narrowed her gaze at Tatiana. “Friede?”

“Ja,” Tatiana said, nodding.

Helga grabbed a uniform, shoved it at Tatiana, scolding her.

Whatever Tatiana said in response seemed to satisfy her and she pointed to the boxes stacked against the wall. When Tatiana nodded, Helga turned on her heel, squatted like an Olympic weight lifter, hefted two boxes as though they were empty, then walked out the door.

Sam picked up his backpack from the floor. “She didn’t sound happy. I take it she thought you were one of the missing employees?”

“Friede, apparently. She’s upset because someone fell and broke all the champagne flutes on the table. She wants the extra glasses brought up to the terrace. Oh, and my pay is being docked because I was two hours late.”

“She’s going to be even more upset when we leave.”

“Which,” Remi said, “could be a problem. Or didn’t you get my text?”

“No signal came through in the tunnels. What text?”

“Rolfe knows we’re here. Every security guard out there is on alert.”

He walked to the door that Helga had left open, looking out. “No way we’re getting down that drive without being seen.”

“How did you get in?” Tatiana asked.

“The service entrance gate.” Unfortunately, he couldn’t see that far down the curved drive from where they were. “No doubt it’s guarded now.”

Tatiana moved to his side. “What if we joined the party? Surely he wouldn’t kill us in front of all his guests?”

“No. He’d kill us before we ever got there. Easier to say we were mistaken for burglars than let us get close enough to call for help.”

“Besides,” Remi said, “there’s a constant patrol walking the stretch of lawn between here and the terrace.”

Sam looked over at the cars in the garage. “Check to see if the keys are here.”

They did. Not one set.

“We could hot-wire the van,” Remi said.

Sam looked out the window. “Actually, we won’t need to. The keys are hanging from the rear door.” He turned to Tatiana. “Put your uniform on. I think it’s time we helped Helga load her boxes into the van.”

Tatiana pulled on a pair of pants and jacket, both far too big for her slight frame. With no choice, she rolled up the pant legs so she could walk without tripping, then grabbed a box, following Remi and Sam out the door. The same guard who’d been patrolling the area glanced over at them, his gaze landing on the boxes as they loaded them into the back of the van. When he turned away, Sam grabbed the keys from the lock. Another guard appeared, and the two met up, their attention fixed on the three at the rear of the van. Both started walking in that direction.

“I think that’s our cue,” Sam said. “I’m going to start the van before they get too close. Maybe if they think we’re loading up to leave, it won’t look so obvious.”

Remi stood to one side near the rear, pointing at the garage, doing a convincing job of acting like she wanted him to back the van closer. He shifted to reverse. The guards seemed to buy it, their steps slowing. But then one of them put his hand to his ear, adjusting his earpiece. Suddenly, both men broke into a run.

Sam shifted to drive, checking the side mirror. “Now!” he shouted. The weight in the back of the van shifted as the two women jumped in. Sam hit the gas, the tires screeching as the van lurched forward, Remi barely closing the rear door in time. He approached the curve, letting his foot off the gas when the wheels lost traction. Up ahead on the left, between him and the gate, another guard stood near the hedge, his gun pointed at them. Sam floored the gas. The guard fired, then dove, his shot going wide. Sam glanced at the side mirror, saw several guards running behind the van.

“Get down!” he called. The two women dropped to the floorboards as a volley of shots rang out. Leaves flew up beside the van like a hedge trimmer in action. The closed gate loomed ahead, the guards standing in front of it, guns out. Sam shifted to the right, overcorrecting, the van coming up on two wheels, then settling. Both guards fired. The windshield fractured, obscuring his vision, as he gunned it straight toward them. The guards dove, one to the left, one to the right. Sam blasted through the gate, wood boards flying as the van hurtled through.