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“Enough,” he said. In truth, too much. What he wasn’t willing to share was that paying the Guard to help him with the hunt for the Romanov Ransom had taken far more capital than he’d ever anticipated. In fact, he had a new appreciation for how it was his father had burned through the family fortune.
“You should have canceled,” Leopold said.
“I don’t have that luxury. I’ve worked too hard networking for my contacts. Canceling the party would start the sort of gossip I can’t afford right now.”
“‘Gossip’?” A look of disgust swept over Leopold’s face. “I’d be more worried about a potential kidnapping charge than what anyone thinks about his invitation being pulled.”
Rolfe didn’t bother mentioning that the only one who could be identified by any witnesses at the scene was Leopold. Instead, he looked at his watch. “You have at least an hour’s drive. Get Tatiana out through the tunnel. The sooner you and your men get there, the better. We don’t want the Fargos to have the advantage.” He started out the door.
“One thing you haven’t discussed—how you’re going to keep Tatiana from talking once the exchange is made.”
He looked back at Leopold. “You don’t think we’re actually going to let her live, do you?”
“And you think Fargo will turn over the key without getting her in exchange?”
He had a point. The Fargos had proven themselves to be more than troublesome. “Get the key, then put a bullet in each of their heads. Just make sure that no one gets out alive.”
“Not a problem.”
Leopold followed him out the door when Gere suddenly appeared in the hallway, still trying to hide his limp.
“What are you doing out here?” Rolfe asked.
“I tried calling you, but it went straight to voice mail.”
“I have the ringer turned off on my phone. What’s wrong?”
“I just checked in with security. There’s an abandoned baby carriage outside the service gate.”
“And I care because . . . ?”
“I checked the video surveillance. The man and woman pushing it definitely looked like the Fargos.”
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.”
