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Remi forced her gaze from the garden to the blond woman standing in front of her.
Ambassador Halstern’s wife.
The woman looked past her toward Rolfe, who had moved to the balustrade. There was no sign of recognition when her gaze met Remi’s. In fact, her expression was almost blank, dismissive. “A few hours earlier than I was led to expect,” she said, reaching for a second hors d’oeuvre. “No matter. I’ll be the distraction.”
Before Remi had time to react to or process what she’d heard, Mrs. Halstern turned away, walking toward the table where the bartender stood, filling champagne glasses. Remi, keeping her back to Rolfe, made her way to the far stairs, hoping she hadn’t heard wrong.
Mrs. Halstern knew.
At the top of the stairs, Remi glanced back. Mrs. Halstern was laughing at something her husband had said. She looked at Remi, gave the slightest tilt of her head, then turned back to the Ambassador.
Remi started down the steps, scanning the garden, hesitating at the sight of two guards patrolling the same gravel path she’d need to take to get to the garage. One of them looked up at that very moment, his expression turning wary. He stopped in his tracks, calling out, asking what she was doing.
Seconds ticked by as she eyed both men, one looking at the tray in her hand, the other focused on her face. Trying to appear slightly embarrassed, she shrugged her shoulders, then in a loud whisper said, “Zigarettenpause.”
The one guard nodded as though he’d suspected all along. The other eyed her pockets as though trying to determine if she really had any cigarettes. Suddenly, a loud crash and the sound of breaking glass mingled with a scream carried down from the far side of the terrace.
Both guards took off running in that direction.
Remi tossed her tray into the bushes, then bounded down the stairs, gravel crunching beneath her feet as she raced to the garage. Glancing back, she saw Mrs. Halstern being helped to her feet from the vicinity of where the champagne table had once stood. Remi nearly slid in the gravel as she rounded the corner, taking a quick look around to see who might be watching. The back of the catering truck was still open, though a few boxes remained. At least it blocked the view of the garage door as she opened it, slipped in, then closed it behind her, leaning against the wall for a few moments not only to catch her breath but to listen in case anyone else was there.
She glanced up the staircase, saw it was dark, then entered the door on the left into the garage. Sam’s backpack was still there behind the uniform rack in front of the door, the light on the alarm keypad blinking red. Remi took out her phone, texted him that Rolfe knew they were there.
With nothing left to do but wait, she returned to the garage door and peeked out, catching sight of another guard who had appeared in front of the catering truck. She ducked back as he looked toward the garage. A moment later, she heard footsteps outside. She reached for her handgun, eyeing the doorknob as someone on the outside turned it to enter.
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, loo
king 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.
