The Romanov Ransom Read online

  “I’d like to speak to her.”

  “We all have things that we desire, don’t we? About that key—”

  “Tatiana! On the phone!”

  Sam heard an annoyed sigh, then, “Take the gag from her mouth so she can speak to the American.”

  “Sam?”

  “How are you?”

  “I’m fine. Viktor?”

  “Fine,” he said, relieved to hear her voice.

  “Thank—”

  “Touching,” Leopold said. “I’ve heard my fill. Have you?”

  “How do you want to do this?” Sam asked.

  “I can tell you how I don’t want to do it. I’ve heard all about the exchange in Marrakesh. So to avoid any possibility of losing control to you, we’ll make the exchange tomorrow night outside Berlin.” There was a muffled sound as though he’d muted the phone. A moment later, he said, “I’ll be in touch to arrange for the exchange. Tomorrow night. After midnight.”

  “Why so late?” Sam asked.

  The line went dead.

  49

  Sam and Felix decided they’d make the three-and-a-half-hour drive to Berlin, where they’d meet up to wait for Leopold’s call. The moment he and Remi were alone in their car, Sam telephoned Rube. “We have a slight problem.”

  “Any chance it involves an undercover Russian agent and a German crime boss?”

  “I see you’ve been talking to Selma. What you might not know is that the Russians are working some inside operation to take Rolfe Wernher down. They’re willing to sacrifice Tatiana for the cause.”

  Remi leaned over, talking into the phone. “She saved our lives more than once. We can’t let that happen.”

  “I’m going to let you in on a little secret,” Rube said. “The Russians aren’t the only ones working to take this guy down. The Germans have had their sights on him for a long time. And we’ve got our hand in it as well. This guy is running these Wolf Guard members throughout Europe as his own personal henchmen.”

  “We’ve run into a few . . . About Tatiana . . . ?”

  “That’s the thing. If we go barreling in there to rescue her, it’s likely to blow a few covers and endanger both German and U.S. operatives. So the Russian lives aren’t the only ones that’ll be at stake. They’re under orders to ignore all but the prime mission. Tatiana isn’t part of that.”

  “And what’s this ‘prime mission’?” Sam asked.

  “I can tell you this. It’s not just Rolfe Wernher. It’s also this Wolf Guard. There’s a whole hierarchy from this group who will gladly step in and take over his business. We’d like to take them out, too. But if these covers are blown, that’s not going to happen.”

  “We can’t just leave her there. As Remi said, she saved our lives on more than one occasion.”

  “I get it. I’d feel the same way. But if you weigh the lives of all the operatives in place versus the one . . . My hands are tied.”

  “Is there anything you can tell us?”

  “Depends,” Rube said. “Is there any way to stop you from going after her?”

  “Not a chance.” He glanced at Remi and saw her give a nod of approval.

  “It might be a bit, but I’ll get back to you.”

  They were checked into their Berlin hotel by the time Rube called back. “Here’s what I have so far. The address to his villa and the code to his alarm. There’s a door leading from the garage that tunnels down beneath the garden, then up to the house. More than likely, that’s how he’ll get her in without being seen. Follow it to the left. Third floor.”

  “We know for sure he took her there?”

  “My contact says he definitely brought someone in not too long ago. And I also found out the reason for the midnight exchange tomorrow. He’s hosting a party for dignitaries earlier tomorrow evening at his villa. So I doubt anything’s going to happen before then. Do me a favor, though. Wait for your Russian FSB friends to go in after her.”

  “We will. Calling them as soon as I hang up.”

  —

  SAM DUCKED DOWN behind a parked car, then motioned Remi over. “There it is,” he said when she was at his side.

  “It’s going to be hard to get to without being seen.”

  He pulled his binoculars from his pack for a better look. The long narrow street allowed parking on the left side for the private residences, but no parking along the right, keeping the street and sidewalk in front of Rolfe’s villa clear. One advantage was that it was surrounded by a low stone wall topped with wrought iron railing, giving him a clear view in. The disadvantage was that it also gave a clear view of anyone walking along the sidewalk just outside the fence. Armed security guards stood near the wrought iron gate that opened to a circular drive at the front of the stately mansion. Even if they could get in through the main gate, there were guards roaming within, and the few trees on the vast expanse of lawn wouldn’t allow any cover.

  Unfortunately, there was no access over the back wall, which was topped with shards of glass to keep out intruders. On their first drive past, Sam hadn’t seen any way they could get into the back without being noticed. The front wasn’t looking much better. The only possibility he could see was the service entrance farther down the street, where a boxwood hedge ran the length of a drive around to the back of the house. He handed the binoculars to Remi. “I think that’s our only chance to get in.”

  “You’re not seriously thinking of going in now . . . are you?”

  “No time like the present,” he said.

  “What about Felix and Nika? They’re expecting us back.”

  In fact, the two were sitting in a hotel room in downtown Berlin waiting for Sam and Remi to return with their preliminary findings on what they’d seen on the drive-by of the villa. “My feeling? Better to ask forgiveness than permission. If there is someone on the inside working against Tatiana, they’re going to be expecting us after midnight, since that’s the time we’ve planned. No one’s expecting us to come in right after dusk.”

  “For very good reason,” she said, handing the binoculars back to him. “There’s no way we’re getting to that service entrance without being seen. Even the woman pushing that baby carriage is getting the once-over.”

  He took another look, seeing the woman and carriage passing the main gate. The guards watched her for a few moments as she stopped to adjust something inside the carriage. When she moved on, their attention shifted back to their surroundings. “I have an idea,” he said.

  —

  BY THE TIME Sam and Remi returned to the street, the golden sunset was fading into the shadows of twilight, bringing with it a gentle wind that stirred and rattled the dry leaves in the gutter. The only other sound was the soft squeak of the blue baby carriage that Sam pushed as Remi walked alongside him, her arm linked through his. She leaned down to adjust the downy white blanket over Sam’s backpack. “Sleeping like an angel,” she said.

  “If it starts crying, it’s because we paid way too much for this thing. Two hundred euros? It looks well used to me.”

  “Imagine how much it would’ve been new,” she said. “It’s a top-of-the-line perambulator.”

  “That’s what they call these things?” He lifted his hands from the handle momentarily.

  She laughed. “You realize that if you push this like you’re allergic to the thing, no one’s going to believe we’re new parents.”

  “If anything, those guards will empathize with my new position in life. Dirty diapers? Late-night feedings?”

  “Obviously, you’re not ready for fatherhood yet.”

  “I don’t see you lining up for maternal duties anytime soon—including pushing this carriage.”

  “You look less threatening that way. Besides, there’s plenty of time, should we decide to go that route.”

  He stole a glance at her, somewhat surprised. “I di
dn’t know you wanted kids.”

  “Not at the moment. But people change.”

  He tried to imagine Remi as a mother but couldn’t. At least not yet. “You’re not really . . . ?”

  “Quiet,” she said, looking into the carriage. “It took us this long to get him to sleep.”

  He had to admit she played the part convincingly, and they settled into a relaxed pace as they neared the main gate. Just as they stepped into view of the guards, the wind gusted, lifting the blanket, exposing Sam’s pack, and, nestled next to it, Remi’s gun.

  One look and they couldn’t miss seeing it.

  Without missing a beat, Remi leaned over, speaking German to their pseudo-infant, gently patting it as she tucked the blanket safely around the pack and her gun. When she rose, she leaned her head into his shoulder, her smile so serene even he believed she was staring at her firstborn.

  The guards barely spared them a glance as they passed by, and, before he knew it, they were rounding the bend toward the service entrance drive that led along the back of the house. The locked gate was framed on either side by stone walls, the one on the right sloping down to accommodate the wrought iron fence along the front of the villa. Sam pushed the carriage alongside the wall so it couldn’t be seen from the main guardhouse. The service gate itself was solid wood, no doubt to allow privacy toward the rear of the house. There was also a matching wooden door, also locked. A sign in red was posted on it. “And?” Sam asked.

  “‘Deliveries by appointment only.’”

  “Best news I’ve heard all day. That means they don’t regularly post someone here.”

  “We hope.”

  Sam peered through the space between the gate and the wall it was anchored to. “Looks empty.”

  He knocked, just to be sure. When no one answered, he tried to open it, but it was locked. Nothing on this side indicated it was alarmed, and he made short work with the pick from his wallet, then drew his gun. “Get the baby. We’re going in.”

  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.”

  51

  If not for the uniforms, they might not have found the door. It was hidden behind the rack. Just as Sam was about to punch the code into the alarm pad, their new boss returned, insisting o
n helping them pick out their uniforms. That done, she shooed them up the stairs, then left them to change clothes.

  Remi pulled her hair back into a ponytail, then looked at her reflection in the mirror. “Nice to know that the company Rolfe hired to serve his guests isn’t sexist.”

  Sam glanced over at her as she slid her holster onto the belt of her black pants, then pulled the matching jacket over it. The slightly too big uniform covered it nicely. “A shame. You would’ve looked cute in one of those little skirts and white aprons.”

  She made a scoffing noise as she folded her clothes, about to shove both into his pack on top of his tools and rope. “Get everything you needed from here?”

  “Got it.” He’d taken a knife, small flashlight, and a couple of the more likely lockpicks, but that was it. Like Remi, he wore his holster toward the small of his back, and he checked his own reflection to make sure it couldn’t be seen.

  She shoved her clothes into the pack. He did the same, then zipped it closed. “How quickly they grow,” he said, hefting it over his shoulder.

  Remi walked to the window, pulling a curtain to look out. “You better brush up on your German. It’s getting crowded down there.”

  Sam glanced out. There were at least a couple of dozen well-dressed guests mingling on a terrace beneath propane heaters. “You think they’ll miss us if we skip the party?”

  “Somehow, I doubt it.”

  “Let’s go do this.”

  Unfortunately, Helga was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs—and somewhat impatiently, judging by the expression on her face. She motioned them to move quicker. Sam lifted his backpack, mumbling, “One moment,” hoping it passed for something German. Then he slipped into the garage, getting one last look at the door. A red light on the alarm keypad blinked steadily. Hoping the code Rube provided was still good, he left his backpack on the base of the rack. There were still several uniforms left hanging on it, and he wondered if some of the hired help hadn’t shown up.