The Romanov Ransom (Fargo Adventures 9)

“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.