THE NOISE WAS DEAFENING. The alarm continued to wail as we stood there frozen for a moment, not sure what to do. I slipped out of the suit and stuffed it in the duffle.
“Brent, any chance you can cut that alarm?” I shouted.
“I’m working on it.”
“On second thought, don’t try to cut; repeat, don’t try to cut it. If it stops without someone from security resetting it they’ll be even more suspicious,” I explained.
“Copy that.”
“Have Mr. Kim get the van ready,” I said.
I rubbed the sweat off my face. Pilar and Rinteau stood there, not knowing what to do. I snapped the cable free from the light fixture and it flopped to the ground. I coiled it up and stuffed it into one of the duffle bags.
“Take the duffles. The guards will be here any second. Go back down the hallway and find one of the deserted rooms. Wait there until the guards pass and find me; I’ll distract them. Get to the van as fast as you can,” I said.
“How are you going to—” Rinteau started.
“Go!” I said.
They didn’t have to be told twice. They grabbed the duffles and hurried back down the hallway. They entered the last room on the left before the main hallway.
Holding my empty tray, I went back to the doorway of the room now holding the fake Firehorn.
“Brent, you better restore the feed on the cameras so they can see me here; otherwise they’ll know something is up,” I said.
“Uhh, problem. Rachel, I can’t sync the film to match the time the alarm goes off; it’s going to look suspicious,” he said.
“I’ll think of something,” I said. “And it will take them time to sort it out. Hopefully they’re more worried about getting security here than studying the monitors. Get ready to switch the feed on my mark. See if you can hack in and change the time stamp on the camera. It’s a digital recording so it should be easy to match it up,” I said.
“Easy if I had your computer skills,” Brent said.
“Now!” I said and walked into the room, ruffling up my hair and trying my best to look lost and confused.
There was noise and motion in the hallway and two men in gray suits burst into the room. Each of them had holstered side arms on their belts and they held their hands on their guns.
“Hold it,” one of them said.
“Sorry!” I said, pointing to my ears, “I can’t hear you!”
One of them spoke into a small radio transmitter pinned to his sleeve, and in a few seconds the shrieking of the alarm stopped.
“Whew, that’s better,” I said. “Do you know where the bathroom is? Because I got so turned around, I’m totally lost. And then I wandered in here by mistake and the next thing I know, it’s like I’m on some spaceship or something with all of the screeching and the noise. The thing is I have a tray of pate to deliver, but I really need a potty break, so if you can show me the way—”
“Put your hands up!” Mr. Stern-faced Security Man said.
“Whoa! No need to get unfriendly, just point me in the right direction and I’ll skedaddle back the way I came.” Yep, I said skedaddle. I’m old school.
I started toward the door and they both drew their weapons, pointing them at me. Having guns pointed at you is one of the downsides when one is involved in a life of international intrigue. This was the third time I’d had one pointed at me, and let me tell you, it’s way down on my list of fun things to have pointed at me. Point a cinnamon roll at me and I’m good. Wave a Versace gift card in my direction and I’m all over that. But, frankly, this gun stuff was just starting to annoy me.
“Hey, wait a minute! I’m with the caterer and just got turned around and now I need to get back to work or I’m going to lose my job. And I need this job. It’s hard enough getting the puff pastries out to the guests while they’re still hot, let alone having a gun stuck in your face! This is just a big misunderstanding and I’ll just—”
“Miss, put your hands up now!” It was hard to tell the guards apart because they both looked the same. They had light-colored hair, were about the same height, and they were in good shape. Both seemed to be getting a little ticked off at me. Which is my special gift: my ability to tick off complete strangers.
“Okay, okay! Geez, I didn’t know you could get shot at in Glenwood just for trying to find the bathroom. I’m from the valley. What do I know?” Gingerly, I put the tray down on the floor and put my hands up.
The younger-looking one holstered his weapon and walked around behind me. He reached up to grab my right wrist as if he were going to put handcuffs on me. Here goes. Instead of letting him get a firm grip on my arm, I flipped my wrist around and grabbed his. I stepped quickly out to the side and, while I did, I lifted the tray with my foot and flipped it up in the air at the guy holding the gun. He shouted, but the tray foot-tossing got him all messed up and he tried to catch the tray instead of shooting me, which is probably what he should have done. But maybe being attacked by tray-flipping waitresses wasn’t covered in the security guard training manual.
My momentum carried me to the side of the first guy trying to cuff me. I twisted his arm and stepped behind him like we were dancing. He was set up to twirl me, but instead of spinning around and batting my eyelashes at him, I twisted his arm up behind him. I reached into his holster, quickly drew his gun, and tossed it to the far corner of the room. With a hard shove, I pushed him toward his buddy, who was still bobbling the tray. They crashed into each other and landed on the floor in a heap.
“That’s for pointing a gun at me!” I said.
I leaped over them and raced out of the room and into the hallway. I had to assume two things: One, Brent had restored the video feed and they could see what had just happened. So they’d be sending other guards. And two, the guys behind me would be coming after me and were likely to be in very bad moods.
“Brent?”
“Rachel, you need to get out of there!” he was shouting in my ear.
“Thanks for that; how do I do it?”
“Try to avoid the other guards and get to the kitchen,” he said. Okay. Brent has a little bit of an issue when it comes to the stating of the obvious.
“I know that!”
“Mr. Kim is moving in your direction. Try to stay loose, the cavalry is on the way,” he said.
I had reached the end of the hallway now and headed back to the party. I could hear commotion coming from all different directions and suspected more guards were on the way. I darted into the first room I came to and flattened myself in the doorway. Sure enough, a few seconds later another pair of gray-suited guards went racing past, guns drawn and shouting into their radios.
After they ran by, I quietly slipped out and ran in the opposite direction, turned the corner, and soon I was back in the main room where the party guests still mingled.
“Brent, what’s going on,” I whispered.
“There are four guards in the Firehorn room now. They’re giving it a pretty close inspection. You left your tray behind and one of them has it. They’re probably going to try to fingerprint it if they don’t catch you first. Where are you?” he asked. I wasn’t worried about my fingerprints. Mr. Kim had them removed from all databases after I’d been busted for joyriding.
“I’m back in the main room. I need to get out of here,” I whispered.
“Mr. Kim should be there any minute; he’ll be able to think of something,” he said.
I made my way through the guests, gathering up a few empty glasses, trying not to act suspicious. Ahead of me, one of the other waiters was headed toward the kitchen with an empty tray. I undid my ponytail and shook out my hair, letting it hang around my shoulders as I cut him off.
“Hi. There’s a spill over near the grand piano; do you mind taking care of it while I borrow your tray?” I asked.
The waiter was of course one of Mr. Kim’s agents, so he didn’t argue. We traded the empty glasses for the tray. I glanced around me, just in time to see the four guards entering the room from the hallway. I ducked a little, covering my face with the tray, and began moving as quickly as I could through the crowd toward the kitchen.
The guards cut through the mingling guests, spreading out to look for me. They’d obviously searched each of the rooms on the way back, and knew that I would have had to come in this direction.
I reached the kitchen and burst through the door, almost running over Mr. Kim.
“Rachel, are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes, but we’ve got to hurry, we’ve got bogies on our tail.” I followed him as we made our way across the kitchen to the side door. It was dark outside now and somehow it felt like I’d been inside that house forever. The back of the van burst open and I scrambled in while Mr. Kim hopped in the driver’s seat.
Brent’s van was already idling, ready to pull out once we were secure. Mr. Kim backed up and turned the van around, and we accelerated down the driveway toward the gate with Brent following us.
“Mr. Kim, how are we going to clear the gate?” I asked. “Since the alarm sounded, won’t they shut it down?”
“Not to worry,” he said.
Well, I worry. So sue me. A single guard stood at the gate as we drove toward it. My heart started speeding up. At first I thought Mr. Kim was going to run him over and crash through the gate, but as we drew closer he slowed. The guard stepped out of the way and the gate slid open. As we drove through, Mr. Kim waved at the guard—who saluted back.
Whew. “Student?” I said.
Mr. Kim nodded. “Special Agent William Lacy, class of ’91,” he said.
We had done it. We had the Firehorn.
Of course, we wouldn’t have it for long.