Wyatt checked the people before opening the first door, which turned out to be a broom closet. He closed it quickly and took Sandra's hand. The second door was a small barn-room and the third a closet. The coats hanging inside belonged to the kitchen staff. The clinging odor of food locked inside the fabric was overwhelming.
They were going to have to go into the kitchen to see if any other doors could be found. He didn't like that. It meant being discovered faster if they actually found a basement. Their presence would be missed if they came in and no one saw them leave. It's a risk we're going to have to take. The words came back to him from the afternoon's activity of formulating a plan.
"May I have a glass of milk?" Sandra asked a man in the center of the room. She'd walked straight into the room and stopped at a vantage point that gave them full view of the front and back of the room.
The cook was shaking his head and speaking in Japanese. Wyatt didn't need an interpreter to tell him the man did not speak English and did not understand her question. Sandra knew it, too. She rubbed her stomach and frowned at him. Then, with universal sign language, she posed as if she had a glass in her hand and drank from it.
"Ohhh," he said. He started to lead her to the door through which they had come.
Taking his arm, she stopped him. Pointing to a white liquid, then to the double-door refrigerator, he reversed his direction and went toward the area to which she pointed.
Wyatt looked for a door. There was none. He followed Sandra, and while she got the milk and waited for a glass, he checked the back of the room. There was a door leading to the outside, a huge pantry with stores of canned and dried foodstuff, but no door the could have led to a basement.
Giving her a signal, Wyatt saw the imperceptible movement of her head. Her hair shone with a healthy glow. Suzanne had washed, blown it, and curled it into a sleek style that hung to her shoulders before gently curling under. With curls the dripped down the side of her face, the bruise was effectively hidden from any prying eyes. The rest of her face had been covered with a makeup that evened her skin tone and completely covered the other marks. If Wyatt hadn't seen Suzanne performing her magic, he'd never have believed that the woman who had fallen into his arms last night could look this beautiful twenty-four hours later.
"Thank you." Sandra bowed and smiled. The Japanese cook bowed in return and they left the kitchen. At the turn back to the main hall, they ran into Sam.
"I found it," he whispered. "It's the first door under the back staircase on the left side of the ballroom. There is no guard, but the maids store the coats in a room near it.
"What about Lance?" Sandra inquired. "Did he make an appearance yet?"
"I haven't seen him and I think that's a plus for our side. If he sees us, our escape route could be effectively cut."
Colonel Sam Parker was back. The military mind was operating at full capacity. Gone was the emotional man who was angry and ready to bash in his enemy’s head.
"Let's go," Wyatt said. He took Sandra in his arms and danced her back to the place where Annie and Jordon stood drinking glasses of bottled water.
"Sam found the basement," he whispered. "We're going there now." He danced her away.
At that moment the music ended. The couples stopped dancing and quiet applause rippled through the room. Wyatt stopped. It wouldn't look natural for them to continue until the band started up again.
"Hello, Miss Rutledge, is it?"
Sandra turned toward the voice. Prime Minister Nagano stood before her. He was a short man with graying ban- and a smile on his lips. He wore a black tuxedo with a red sash draped across his torso. He reminded Sandra of a tennis coach she'd once had who taught her a backhand the produced a winner every time. The prime minister stood straight, looking her directly in the eye. She wondered if his backhand was as good.
"I believe I am acquainted with your father, Senator Rut-ledge."
"Yes," Sandra smiled at him. Wyatt eased away, apparently going to join another conversation group. "He has mentioned you several times when He’s returned from Japan."
"He has often mentioned his beautiful daughters."
She wondered where Annie was and if the prime minister knew they were sisters. Annie had spoken to him in his native language. They had laughed as if they were old friends. Sandra wondered what she'd said.
The band started to play again. By mutual consent she danced with him. He was quiet for a while. Then he said, "I have only been in your country for a short time. Do all American women have such beautiful jewels?"
Antennae seemed to spring out of her head. Why was he interested in the necklace and earrings? The question was too casual for her. He'd met many woman from many countries. In this room alone were many American woman. All of them wore various amounts of jewelry. The other women also had on many different lands of decorations.
"I can't say, Minister Nagano."
"Were these a gift, perhaps?"
"Sir, I'll let you in on a little secret.” She put her lips close to his ear. "They're just for show. They're not real." He laughed at her words. "Go on, take a look," she told him.
With just the right amount of hesitation he stopped dancing. They were close to me left side of me ballroom. He examined the stones. Sandra thought he looked at them with the eye of an experienced jeweler.
"I am told you cannot tell the difference between real and not real any longer. I cannot tell."
His words rang false in her ears, but she smiled at him. The music ended and he bowed to her. A group descended on him and carried bin away, each person vying for his attention.
Wyatt stood near the end of me room talking to a man dressed in a bright-blue African pants outfit. Sandra started toward him, but was asked to dance by another man. She complied so as not to call attention to herself. This man mentioned how familiar she looked and asked her if she was a television anchorwoman. He released her at the end of the dance with a comment that he would remember where he'd seen her.
Two dances later, her feet sore, she finally reached Wyatt. They slipped away unnoticed and met Sam at the door to the basement. It was almost too easy. They found only one locked room down there, in no time Sam had it open. Going inside they closed the door and switched on the light. The room was massive; a control center. Computer servers hummed in the quiet air. A console, tables, displays, rows of digital printouts. All of the equipment was state of the art. Some of it she recognized. Other items were foreign to her.
"There it is," Sam stated. He went to a relatively small machine standing near the back wall.
Sandra stared at it. She couldn't move. Her head ached with relief that they might pull this off. Her heart hammered and her hands turned to cold globs of ice. This was what they had come to find. This was what Wyatt had been stabbed over, what people had shot at her helicopter over. Through this innocent-looking piece of almond-colored metal and plastic millions of people in the world could lose their right to a basic freedom.
"Give me the stones!" Sam's voice, at the strength of a stage whisper, boomed in the air-controlled room.
Wyatt unhooked the necklace while Sandra removed the earrings. The heavy stones left a light feeling about her head and chest. Sandra shivered more from fear than cold. They were in deep now. Anyone finding them here would have the sole advantage. They were on foreign soil. Nothing done to them could ever be prosecuted in an American court. There were no other doors. No escape from here by biting her way through wires and opening a locked door.
Sam was staring into the machine. He'd produced a screwdriver from his inside pocket and quickly unscrewed the housing. Now he examined the inside. It took less than five minutes for him to get the jewelry out. He pulled a second item from his pocket. She didn't see what it was. Working calmly, quickly, and efficiently he completed his work, set the fake necklace in place and covered the machine. The magic screwdriver flew through his hands as he replaced the screws. Wyatt hung the real necklace around her neck. She t
ouched it, thinking about its worth, remembering Jeff Taylor and feeling grief for Chip Jackson. No one would ever know they'd given their lives to protect free speech.
"Now," Sam said with unconcealed concern. "I suggest we get the hell out of here."
***
Wyatt wiped the sweat from his brow and returned the silk handkerchief to his pocket. Blood surged through his system. His ears flamed and he could taste fear in the back of his throat. Getting into the embassy had been a cakewalk. He had the invitation he'd taken from Desque's last night. As a top model Suzanne Rutledge had been legitimately invited. They had bowed and shook hands with various guests and dignitaries, but at that point they had nothing of value. Now they had loaded stones dropping from her ears and hanging around Sandra's neck.
His instinct told him to make a beeline for the door. Get her out of there and whisk her away from anyone who might want to stop them. He knew that would certainly raise eyebrows. They were going to have to run the gauntlet. Dance slowly, work their way to the front door, and slip out unobserved.
The color had drained from Sandra's face and her eyes were huge chips of black ice.
"Smile," he whispered, turning her into his arms. "You look as if you've just stolen a defense system." His attempt at lightness was more for himself than her, but it broke the ice and a smile turned her mouth up. It didn't light her eyes.
Wyatt remembered to hold her lightly and that her feet were tender and raw. He couldn't swing her around in wide circles which would get them to the door with the least amount of steps. They had to take the long way around.
Spotting Jordon and Suzanne, he signaled them and kept moving. They'd made it. The front door stood me space of the foyer away. It opened to admit more guests and closed. A laughing party of four came inside, sweeping the cold January air in with them. It felt like a burst of heaven to Wyatt. As the maid took their coats and directed them into the main salon, Wyatt's hand on the small of Sandra's back guided her to the exit.
Alone, when the guests moved away and the maid, weighed down with fur and wool, headed for the back room, Wyatt grabbed the ornate handle. He didn't have to pull it; the door was being pushed open.
"Going so soon, Senator?" Lance Desque stood in front of him. Another man, shorter and meaner looking, stood behind him. They came into the foyer. Wyatt and Sandra immediately backed away. "And without your coats. You could catch your death of cold." He'd emphasized the word "death."
Neither Desque nor the man who'd entered with him wore overcoats. Wyatt knew they weren't just arriving. They'd been there all along, waiting for this moment.
Turning to Sandra, Desque smiled broadly. "Sandra, how nice to see you. . .again. Our last meeting was, shall we say, short-circuited."
Wyatt felt the fear that fissured through her body. Her hold on his arm tightened to a vise grip. Desque taunted her with his double-edged words.
"I see you survived it," Sandra said, her backbone straightening and her chin lifting a bit.
Desque laughed. He glanced at the man behind him. He had closed the door, but remained mute.
"Henri, I'd like you to meet Senator Rutledge's daughter, Sandra. She rudely avoided meeting you last night. And this is the much sought-after Senator Wyatt Randolph. He's skillfully managed to have his life spread over the daily papers. Dead bodies appear, and what do the police find but fingerprints leading to our esteemed senator."
Henri didn't say a word, but nodded in Sandra's direction. His big hands went to the button of his tailored jacket. He released it and rebuttoned it. The action was designed to let them see the black handle of the gun that was wedged between his pants and shirt. Sandra stood her ground, staring at him as if he were the instrument of death, but valiantly showing no fear.
"Henri, why don't you go with the senator. I'm sure the two of you have things to discuss."
"No!" Sandra spoke, backing up a step and pulling Wyatt with her.
"I believe, Sandra, this is our dance," he went on as if she hadn't spoken.
"I won't dance with you."
Henri reached for the button on his coat. Sandra's gaze involuntarily followed it. She swallowed hard.
Henri stepped forward and grabbed Wyatt's arm. He propelled him through the hall in the direction the maid had gone.
Lance took a step. She recoiled. "I wouldn't do anything stupid, Sandra. We are on foreign soil. You certainly wouldn't want to provoke an international incident."
"You can't create an international incident between two Americans," she told him. "No matter whose soil you're on."
He smiled venomously. "I see you not only excelled in mathematics, but you're up on your government policies, too."
The smile left his face. "What about computer science and jewelry making? Have you mastered those yet?"
Sandra felt the earrings brush her neck, but refused to look down at the necklace. Squeezing her hands, she forced them to stay at her sides. The maid returned and more guests arrived. Lance took the moment to encircle her in his arms and carry her into the dancing crowd. He held her tightly, making her muscles and bruises hurt.
"You should have known you couldn't get away with it," Lance whispered in her ear.
"Get away with what?" she asked, wondering where Wyatt had been taken. The black gun stayed in her mind. A new rush of fear took hold of her. Had Lance's gunman taken Wyatt somewhere to kill him?
"With that lovely piece of jewelry you're wearing as if it were only dazzling pieces of man-made stone."
"Isn't that what they are?"
She scanned the room. Where was Sam? What had happened to Jordon and her sister? Wyatt had nodded to them that the exchange had been made. They should get their coats and get out of there. Had they gone without seeing Lance arrive?
Lance stopped dancing when he reached Prime Minister Nagano and his wife. He greeted them in Japanese, keeping a firm hold on Sandra.
"I didn't know you could speak Japanese," she commented when he'd bowed and danced her back onto the floor.
"I began studying it a few years ago."
She knew he was tying. He spoke the language too well. She'd heard her sister speaking and knew the Lancet command was much more refined man Annie's and she'd spent two years in Japan, traveling and modeling but making Tokyo her home base.
"What are you planning to do with us?" Sandra plunged headlong into the real reason they were there.
"You always were one to go straight for the jugular, Sandra. No dancing around the subject for you. I must say, getting out of that trunk was a stroke of genius. I didn't think you could do it But I know now never to underestimate you."
Lance had maneuvered her to the back stairs. The door to the basement loomed in front of her. With his hand still on her arm, she felt the unmistakable feel of a gun pressed against her back.
"Up," he pushed her.
Her breath rushed out of her lungs on a painful gasp. She stepped on the first rung. "Where are you taking me? Where's Wyatt?"
"Don't worry about the senator. I'm sure the two of you will be seeing each other soon."
His voice had an ominous tone to it. Sandra's blood turned to ice water and shivered through her with a paralyzing fear. Lance pushed her up another step. Pain rocketed from her feet. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. He nearly dragged her to a room in the attic.
"Keep her here," he ordered an Asian woman of about forty as he released his hold on her arm. The woman bowed more man nodded. Sandra rubbed the spot where his hands had been. It was already sore from the constant tangle of bush and branches she'd stumbled through last night during her escape. Tonight she didn't think she'd have the same degree of luck.
Lance took a step toward her. She shrank away from him, hating herself for the cowardly act.
Lance reached into his pocket Sandra's heart logged in her throat. She forced herself to breathe. Cutting off oxygen would make her pass out and she refused to do that. Lance grinned at her. She hated that grin. His
hand came out holding the fake stones they'd left in the machine downstairs.
"The jewelry," he demanded, his hand outstretched. "Mine for yours."
"What good is it to you? It's man-made, you said so yourself."
"I don't have time for games. There are things I have to do, and I need the necklace and earrings. Now give them to me or I'll take them by force and, believe me, you won't like my kind of force."
Sandra clinched her teeth together to keep from shaking. His voice was evil to the core. It seeped into her and sapped her of strength. The Japanese woman came from behind Lance and exchanged one necklace for the other. Sandra removed the earrings and handed them to him. He smiled, a sincere smile of accomplishment, then took her hand and pushed the fakes into it.
"Thank you, Sandra. You'll never know what you've done for your country."
Sandra cringed.
Lance turned and left. The Asian woman, dressed in a western-style business suit and high heels, locked the door after Lance. Her hair was pulled into a topknot that allowed tendrils to fall down her face and soften the look of it. She turned back to Sandra and leveled the barrel of a gun between her breasts.
Chapter 23
Sam slipped behind a huge potted plant when he saw the short, squat man leading Wyatt down the hall. Something had gone wrong. Where was Sandra? He could only assume Desque had caught them before they got out and had separated them.
It had to mean he also had the stones. Sam could have kicked himself. He should have destroyed the machine when he had the chance, but at the last minute he changed his mind. It was more than a small box with computer-wired chips. It had been the better part of his life for several years. He took pride in it and couldn't intentionally destroy it.
Now that they knew where it was, he thought the government could put pressure on the Japanese to return it. Now he knew he'd made the wrong decision.
He moved away from the plant, noticing that Randolph had been taken back to the basement As soon as he discovered where Desque—
Under the Sheets (Capitol Chronicles Book 1) Page 67