The Romanov Ransom Read online

  It occurred to him in that moment that he’d never seen her smile, something he attributed to her Russian upbringing in a strict household. He held the glass toward her. “An unexpected business matter. It shouldn’t take too long.”

  She took the glass. “The weather’s lovely and the cityscape amazing. Take your time.”

  He glanced out, trying to see it through her eyes. The fourth-floor patio commanded a view of the entire city, the soft lights accentuating the stars above. He far preferred the vista during the day when he could see the snowcapped Atlas Mountains in the distance. That at least reminded him of his homes in Germany and Austria—and where he hoped to get back to very soon, once this business was concluded.

  He left her and returned inside, leaving the patio doors open. Gere had not moved from the entry. Like Rolfe, Gere was German, though at the moment he looked more like a local Moroccan, with his wavy dark hair and the long, loose-fitting gray-striped djellaba.

  “What happened to you?” Rolfe asked, giving a pointed glance to the injuries on the man’s face.

  “A run-in with someone that Durin met.”

  “So you were able to follow him after all. What’d you find out?”

  “It appears he was telling the truth. Zakaria is with an American couple and plans to take them out to the plane.”

  Rolfe was careful not to show emotion. As one of the few people alive today who even knew what was really in that plane, he wasn’t about to let someone else possess what he believed was rightfully his. He’d first learned of the plane’s existence through his father, who’d learned about it through his. In fact, Rolfe’s father had spent most of his adult life searching for it, only to finally give up, declaring its existence to be mere legend. The truth was, the man had been possessed by the hunt, allowing it to consume his mind and his fortune. Rolfe was not about to let that happen. After rebuilding that fortune, he’d been far more careful than his father, putting out feelers, and, yes, pursuing a few false leads, but never letting the search take over his life. Though Rolfe had spent far more than he’d anticipated, he wasn’t about to end up like his father, broken and near penniless.

  He glanced out toward the patio, saw that Tatiana was still absorbed in the view, then turned back to Gere. “This couple—you think they are somehow involved in looking for this plane?”

  “We suspect so. Unfortunately, we couldn’t get close enough to hear what they discussed without bringing undue attention.”

  “Apparently, you got close enough to meet up with someone’s fist,” Rolfe said.

  “It was the only way we could think to find out who they were. We set up a ruse to steal the woman’s purse to look at her identification.”

  “And what have you learned?”

  “The woman is Remi Fargo. I heard her calling out to someone named Sam. We assume he’s her husband.” Gere held out a folded notepaper.

  Rolfe took the sheet, reading the two names. “What do we know about them?”

  “We’re not sure yet. We’ve only just returned.”

  “Find out and get back to me.”

  “We will.”

  Rolfe set the paper on the table next to the gun. “Anything else?”

  “Not yet. We’ll know more tomorrow when we meet up with Durin.”

  “Call me as soon as you do.”

  After Gere left, Rolfe took his wineglass out to the balcony, where Tatiana waited, her back to him as she looked out toward the city.

  He paused a moment to admire her. In her Christian Louboutin red stiletto heels, she stood nearly as tall as he. Her red silk dress draped softly over her lithe figure. She was exquisite. “How is your wine?”

  She turned toward him, her expression calm. “Perfect,” she said, lifting her glass in a toast. “To good fortune.”

  “Agreed.” He touched the edge of his glass to hers.

  She sipped, then turned her attention back to the cityscape. “That very bright area out there. What is it?”

  “The marketplace. Some evening, perhaps, we can venture out there. The medina is quite a sight to behold.”

  “If I’m here that long.” She turned, leaning back against the stone parapet, to look at him. “Tell me, Rolfe. Do you think this is the plane? The one you’ve been searching for all this time?”

  Her question surprised him. “Why would you ask that?”

  “Because your father was so obsessed with it. Why else would you be here, of all places?”

  His father. Of course. “And why are you here, Tatiana?”

  “Visiting one of my favorite German businessmen, of course.” She swirled the red wine about in her glass, her expression softening. “If I’m not mistaken, you were just about to convince me why I should stay on here . . .”

  “Why don’t we discuss the matter over dinner,” he said, guiding her to the patio table that had already been set.

  A couple of hours later, when he walked her out, he saw Gere’s note had fallen to the floor. The breeze must have swept it from the table.

  Tatiana reached it before he did, leaning down to pick it up. She handed it to him. “Something to do with your impromptu business meeting at the start of our dinner?”

  “Apparently, someone who’s also interested in the plane.”

  “You’d better move fast, then.”

  “I intend to,” he replied, guiding her to the door. After she left, he looked at the names written there.

  Sam and Remi Fargo.

  It wouldn’t be the first time someone had disappeared from the face of the earth after getting in his way.

  7

  Having to make a last-minute trip to Marrakesh had not been on Tatiana’s agenda, but there was little she could do once she’d gotten word that Rolfe had arrived and was very close to finding the plane. And so it was that she’d taken the first flight from Russia to meet with him. Getting him to invite her over for dinner was the easy part. Keeping him from discovering her interest in the plane while trying to find out what he knew? That had been a challenge.

  She’d taken a calculated risk this evening, asking about the plane, but, in the end, it seemed the only way she could think to get the information as quickly as she needed. It surprised her, though, that Rolfe had given it up so easily, and she wondered if his undue interest made him prone to the same mistakes his father had made. For a man with so many successful criminal enterprises, Rolfe hadn’t struck her as someone so careless as to leave a note such as that out in the open where anyone could see it. Then again, maybe that had more to do with her part in carefully nurturing a relationship with him over the last six months in order to keep tabs on his hunt for the missing courier pouch.

  His loss, her gain, she thought after Rolfe’s driver dropped her off. She took out her telephone and made a call the moment the car drove off.

  “I’m back at the hotel now,” she said, speaking Russian, as she walked through the lobby. “I think I stumbled across something that I wasn’t meant to see. Two names. Remi Fargo. The other name is Sam, I assume same last name. I want to know everything on them as soon as possible.”

  “Has to be the American couple we saw them meeting with tonight when we followed Rolfe’s men. They stole the woman’s purse, no doubt to find out who she was. I’ll get started on it. How’d the dinner go?”

  “Flawless. Although he knows that I’m aware of his interest, I believe it will work to our advantage.”

  “You let him know you knew about the plane?”

  “I felt it was necessary.”

  “And he didn’t seem suspicious? Or even suspect that you’re the other buyer that Durin Kahrs had contacted?”

  “Not in the least.” She glanced at the three clocks over the hotel’s front desk, each giving a different time for that part of the world. Here, in Marrakesh, it was past midnight. “Keep me informed. I have a feeling t
hat we can trust Durin Kahrs as much as we trust Rolfe. Not at all.”

  “On that we agree,” he said, then bid her good night.

  She dropped the phone into her purse and took the elevator up to her room. Finally, she thought, all this time searching was going to pay off.

  8

  Sam and Remi left before dawn the following morning. Rain wasn’t expected until late in the afternoon, giving them some hope that they’d have a chance to find the Hoffler brothers before the height of the storm. And though Sam wanted to believe that Karl and Brand were merely running behind schedule and that nothing was wrong, between their frantic voice mail message, and then the theft of Remi’s purse last night, his instinct told him that the best-case scenario was a rescue mission and the worst-case was a recovery mission. As much as he hoped for the former, he and Remi were prepared, the back of their Toyota four-wheel drive filled with climbing gear and a trauma kit, as they followed behind Durin and Zakaria in Durin’s silver Nissan X-Trail.

  The drive took them through the countryside, where the fields of cactus seemed at odds with the Atlas Mountains in the distance. Eventually, the desert landscape gave way to rolling foothills, which turned to craggy peaks and valleys before leveling off to a high-desert plateau. After several hours on the road, Durin slowed, then stopped on a road that paralleled a steep ravine to their right.

  Sam pulled up behind him. He and Remi got out, joining Durin and Zakaria at the edge of the roadway. Durin lit a cigarette, though it took him a few tries as the wind whipped across the plateau. He nodded toward the mountains in the distance. “That’s where they went.”

  Sam took his binoculars to have a look, but saw nothing on the other side except high-desert scrub. “Mind narrowing it down a bit?”

  “Across the gorge. You see that rock that looks like a giant camel’s head on the crest of that ridge?” Durin stepped closer to him, pointing. “Looks almost like it’s balancing on the edge.”

  Sam saw an outcropping of rock that jutted up and out. Not quite a camel’s head. More like stacked wedges of Swiss cheese. “Got it.”

  “That’s what the boys were talking about. Something called Camel Rock. It’s where they were heading when I left them here.”

  Sam adjusted his focus, noticing it looked more like a camel’s head when it was blurry. He glanced over at Remi, who was searching for it with her own binoculars. “See it?”

  She nodded.

  He glanced at Zakaria. “We should probably get started.”

  Zakaria eyed the steep cliff leading down to the valley below and the steeper climb up the other side. “That’s a long fall. You sure they went that way?”

  “Ja.” Durin Kahrs used his cigarette to point out a possible path to their left. “Series of steep switchbacks. You can see the zigzag of a trail on this side leading down. That’s the path that Karl and Brand took. I’d guess a day and a half to get there and back.”

  “Sure you don’t want to go with us?” Zakaria asked.

  “If my sister were better, I would.” He looked at his watch. “I really have to get going. Good luck to you.”

  As Durin drove off, Sam peered through his binoculars following the route Durin said the brothers took. The trail seemed treacherous, the switchbacks steep in some places, with a sheer drop down to the ravine below. At least a several hours’ trip to the bottom. Going up the other side didn’t seem much better, and he turned his attention to the sheer rock wall below so-called Camel Rock. Durin was right. There didn’t appear to be a direct route to the rock formation. The trail Durin pointed out would end up way above it. That left a lot of places that Brand and Karl could have fallen.

  A movement near a boulder to the west of the site caught his eye as he panned the area. Mountain goat, he thought, trying to find it again until he spied something red on the rock below that. Adjusting the focus, he took a better look. “Wasn’t one of Albert’s nephews wearing a red jacket in the photo he showed us?”

  Zakaria put his hands over his eyes, trying to see for himself. “Brand wore a red jacket. But if it’s his, where are they?”

  “That,” Sam said, “is what we’re going to find out.” He studied the area from top to bottom. “For that jacket to be there, we at least know they made it to the other side.”

  Remi surveyed the area. “There’s got to be a quicker way across this gorge than going down that trail.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping for,” he said, sweeping his binoculars across the far side. “Over there.” He pointed in the opposite direction than the one Durin had indicated. “I think if we approach from the east instead, we can rappel down that rock wall and cut the time in half getting to the bottom of the gorge.”

  “Starting from where?” Remi asked.

  “About a half mile from here. See those two trees below the crest near that outcropping of rock?”

  She turned her binoculars in that direction. “Got it.”

  “Let’s drive over for a closer look.”

  —

  THE AREA WAS even farther from the road. There was about a fifteen-foot descent to the trees, where they could anchor. An easy rappel from there to the bottom would cut significant time from their journey. “This’ll work.”

  “What about when we get to the other side?” Remi asked.

  Sam pointed. “We could scale up that rock face to the ledge where the jacket is. Or close to it. There’s a fairly even vertical crack running up from the bottom.”

  “You think we can get to the ledge?” she asked, lowering her binoculars.

  “Possibly, but that’s not what we’re aiming for.” He lifted his glasses, studying the crack line leading up the cliff.

  She took another look, adjusting her focus. “What then?”

  “If we climb past the height of the ledge and come in from above, we’ll have a better view.”

  Zakaria stood near them. “What if they’re not there?” he asked. “Maybe they’ve already started back.”

  They could only hope, but Sam doubted it. “If so, there should be some signs—assuming we can get there before the rain starts. We’ll see if we can track their direction. If they’re there, we should find them.”

  A solid plan, he thought, glancing over toward Zakaria, who looked a bit pale as they slid into their harnesses and buckled on their helmets. “You’re sure you’re going to be okay here by yourself?”

  Zakaria nodded as he eyed the gear hanging from their harnesses. “I’m more worried about you. That way seems dangerous. And the storm is coming in much faster than anticipated.”

  “If they’re hurt,” Sam said, sliding his pack over his shoulders, “we need to get to them as soon as we can.”

  Zakaria gave a dubious glance toward the sheer rock wall on the other side of the gorge. “How will I know if I need to go get medical help?”

  A good question, since they had no idea if they’d have cell coverage at the bottom of the gorge or on the other side. This side was sketchy, the signal strength depending on where they stood. Remi had also packed a satellite phone, but they’d have to be out in the open. The last thing they wanted to do when time was of the essence was discover they had no way of calling for help.

  “If,” Sam said, raising his arms above his head, then crossing them into an X, “you see either of us doing this, it means we need medical assistance or help getting to them.”

  “And if you find them and they’re okay?”

  “You watch American football?”

  “Touchdown!” Zakaria’s eyes lit up as he raised both his arms over his head. A moment later, his expression turned serious. “Let’s hope you score.”

  Sam tossed him the key fob, and Remi left him her extra pair of binoculars, before they started out. The dry red dirt crumbled beneath their feet as they made their way around the large boulders to the trees where they anchored their ropes.
Just before they started down, Sam glanced back at Zakaria, and then the horizon, eyeing the dark clouds gathering in the distance.

  Zakaria was right. The storm was coming in fast.

  9

  The gusting wind sent their ropes spinning, slamming them against the cliff face, making their descent even longer than anticipated. They reached the bottom, leaving the ropes in place for their return. Sheltered from the wind now that they were at the base of the ravine, they picked their way over scattered broken boulders and rocks down to the creek bed.

  Thunder cracked in the distance as they hefted their packs, walked along the creek, when Sam pointed toward the edge of the water where a trail of waffle boot prints moved in the same direction. “Someone’s been here recently.”

  “I’d feel better if there were two sets instead of just one,” Remi said.

  He looked up toward Camel Rock, then back toward the area that Durin had said they’d traveled. “If they took that other trail that comes out above the ledge where we saw that jacket, these might not even belong to one of them.”

  He rested his hand on the butt of his holstered Smith & Wesson, thinking of the panicked voice mail and the mention of someone shooting at the boys. The sole set of footprints bothered Remi as well because he saw her doing the same with her Sig.

  Finally, they reached the area below the ledge. Sam craned his head back, looking up at the wall in front of them, before moving back to get a better view. “This looks doable.”

  “That’s pretty high.”

  He smiled at her, then turned toward the wall. The crack, running vertically up the rock sheer, varied in size from a finger’s width to wide enough to step into. Sam took the lead, placing the cams and anchoring the rope, as Remi took up the slack from below. Getting to the ledge where they saw the jacket was going to take a bit more finesse. The cracks they were using to ascend angled to the right away from it.