The Romanov Ransom

86

Rolfe motioned with his gun for Remi to move toward Sam and Nando. “Search them,” Rolfe said.

Leopold holstered his gun, then checked each of them for weapons, taking a gun from Sam’s holster and the second gun Sam had picked up from the dead sentry. He did the same with Remi. “Clean,” he said, moving off to the side, tucking the weapons into the pockets of his parka.

“Staying for dinner?” Sam asked Rolfe.

“We would,” he replied, his glance sliding toward Nando, then back to Sam, “but we have a few loose ends to tie up. Like eliminating any obstacles that stand between me and my treasure.”

“If you think you’re going to find it without us, you’re mistaken.”

Leopold took a step toward them, his hand on his holstered gun. “Is there some reason we don’t just get it over with?”

“Patience,” Rolfe said, his gaze locked on Sam’s. “You were saying? About the treasure?”

“Right,” Sam said. “The treasure. Where was I…? Oh, yes. We have it. You don’t. And if anything happens to us, you’ll never find it.”

“He’s lying,” Leopold said.

“Who are you going to believe?” Sam asked. “The one with the proof — me — or the one with the hidden agenda?”

Leopold gripped his handgun tighter. “What hidden agenda?”

“Wolf Guard? Fourth Reich?”

“Forget him,” Rolfe said, never taking his gaze off Sam. “What proof do you have that you even found it?”

“Remi,” Sam said. “Show them.”

As she started to reach for her pack, Rolfe lifted his gun, pointing it at her. She stopped. “Papers,” she said. “Tucked inside to keep them dry.”

“Slowly, Mrs. Fargo.”

Remi unzipped her pack, removing the papers they’d found on the plane, holding them out. “See for yourself.”

Rolfe took them from her, scanning the topmost page before handing them to Leopold, who quickly looked them over. “They look real. But how do we know they’re not forgeries?”

“Right,” Sam said. “Because onionskin paper and typewriters are so easy to find these days. We just whipped up these copies in the few minutes we had — in case you showed up.”

“Enough!” Leopold grabbed Remi by the arm, pulling her toward him. “Collateral. Until you show us where that treasure is.”

Before Sam could move, Rolfe stepped between them, leveling his gun on Sam. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Trust me, I won’t,” he said, his eyes on Remi. She tried to pull free, but Leopold held tight. “Hurt her, and I promise your death will be painful.”

Leopold’s pale eyes narrowed. “You think you’re going to kill me?”

“No doubt,” Sam said. “I just haven’t decided how. Yet.”

A loud hissing behind them startled Nando. The bubbling stew boiled over, brown liquid hitting the burner, steam and smoke rising up.

Rolfe turned toward it. Sam lunged, grabbing at Rolfe’s gun with one hand while slamming his other hand upward, cracking the man’s elbow. As Sam wrested the gun from Rolfe, Leopold swung Remi around, trying to reach for his holstered weapon. Remi rammed her shoulder into his side, then dropped down, giving Sam the clearance he needed.

Sam fired. Leopold staggered back, a look of disbelief on his face, as Remi pulled free. Sam fired again. As the Guardsman dropped to the ground, Rolfe lunged toward Sam. Nando grabbed the stewpot, then swung it. Rolfe screamed, stumbling back.

“Get the gun!” Sam said.

Remi dove for the weapon that fell from Leopold’s lifeless hand. She pointed it at Rolfe, who tried to rise to his knees, about to make a break for it, when Tatiana and Viktor appeared in the entrance. Tatiana shoved him down with her foot until he was facedown in the snow, screaming in pain. “Going somewhere?”