The woman had boarded the elevator with Uther. Were they working together? Who was she?
He hadn’t gotten intel on her yet. She’d given him a false name— Becky—at verte. Had played the airheaded sexpot. Why did he feel as though he’d met her somewhere before last night? And where was the blond man who had wanted to watch?
Dimitri searched his memory as he toyed with the small plastic injection dart hidden in the palm of his hand.
The Atrium bartender whisked an ice drink for him. Dimitri didn’t like fruity drinks, but it offered him the longest period of time with the bartender’s back turned.
Dimitri had been in Europe for a few days. The past month had been spent getting close to Magnusson and his kind. High society. Ha! The women nipped and tucked themselves to horrendous masks and the men paid for them to do it. Money wasn’t money unless it was old. They judged you by the watch on your wrist and the shoes on your feet.
But he’d insinuated himself fairly well into the charade—as Prince Dimitri Boratav.
Is that where he’d seen the bitch? At one of the society events he’d attended, flirting profusely with the hags and smoking thousand-dollar stogies with the old chaps?
Hmm…
It didn’t matter who she was; she was in his way.
Time to sweep the rubble under the carpet. Katarine had proved a failure, but his other contact had recently scored. He’d tie up loose ends here in Berlin, then move on to New York.
Aiming the dart gun up and at the underside of the acrylic aquarium, he delivered a projectile that would cling and remain there. A minute amount of polymer explosives were contained within the device. Impact would activate the timer.
The bartender turned and flourished the hideous pink concoction of crushed ice. A little yellow umbrella shielded the neon-green straw.
Dimitri nodded thanks and laid a five-euro bill on the white plastic counter. Then he flicked out his mobile phone and dialed 110. No reason to endanger the entire hotel. He wasn’t a monster.
Now all he need do was go fishing for a scientist.
Paper coffee cups in hand, Dane had almost made it to the elevator when red lights flashing outside the hotel caught his attention. A black van was parked out front. Two officers in black fatigues and helmets conversed vehemently.
Dane sipped at his hot cream-doused coffee. New York was busy getting the goods from Uther, so he had a little time.
Abandoning Becca’s coffee on one of the white plastic reception kiosks, he walked outside to investigate. He slipped his free hand inside his jacket and produced his badge.
“Agent Aston Dane.” He flashed the officers his credentials. “MI-6.”
“Word travels fast, Agent Dane,” one of the German officers said in pristine English.
“I am here to assist,” Dane said, knowing the vague offer usually tendered information in return.
“Sergeant Kiel, BND,” the officer replied. He handed a heavy black mobile phone over and made a gesture for Dane to listen.
The clunker of a communications device looked as if it had been unearthed from two decades earlier. Setting his own coffee on the hood of a parked car, Dane held the phone with both hands to his ear. He introduced himself, stating he’d just arrived on site.
“Agent Dane, there’s been a bomb threat in the hotel. I am organizing a squad to go in and investigate, but we have to evacuate immediately. My guess would be the bomb has been placed somewhere near the Aquadom. There’s been no valid reason given for the threat. The caller said we’d have enough time to get people out. Can you assist my men to organize an evacuation, Agent Dane?”
A sodding bomb? The assassin should be using a gun. To take out one person, not an entire building filled with innocents.
And where was Becca? Still inside, with the scientist. Bloody hell!
Why had the elevator stopped?
“Is this normal, Uther?” Becca asked.
He pressed his palms to the curved acrylic next to her and peered out. “Never happened before. Maybe there’s been a power outage throughout the building.”
With the gentle hum of the elevator mechanics silenced, standing inside the column eerily muted her senses. Becca let her gaze stray upward, along the acrylic ceiling of the elevator. Was there a way out of this watery hell?
Her gaze fell to eye level. A black fish with white polka dots and yellow lips hovered before her. Staring at the human fish in the tank?
Why was it all so dark? If the power for the elevator had gone out, surely she would still be able to see the hotel lights reflecting through the water. Had power gone out in the entire building, as Uther had guessed?
Getting an idea, she rushed down the curving stairs. The keypad was on the first level. The steel emergency box was locked, no key in sight, nor breakable glass. What kind of rinky-dink operation was this?
“It must be an electrical problem,” she called up to Uther.
“Oh no!”
“What if…oh hell. I can’t believe this. They found me!”
They? The Russians Uther had told her about? Not a very logical deduction. If someone intended to take out Uther, why suspend him in the middle of an aquarium?
“They’re going to get me,” he shrieked. She heard what sounded like his forehead pounding the acrylic. “I don’t want to die, Becca.”
“You’re not going to die, Uther.”
“Like you would be any help!”
“Yeah, well…” She let it go. Better leave him to panic on his own. She needed to figure this out.
Where was Dane?
Remembering that she was not alone and abandoned with no means to save herself, Becca tugged her cell phone from her coat pocket. She didn’t have Dane’s number.
“Nine one one,” she muttered as she started to dial.
“It’s 110,” Uther corrected in a wail. “In Berlin. That’s the emergency number.”
“Thanks.” Erase 911. Dial correctly. The phone rang endlessly. Then a metallic German voice, female, but void of compassion, announced a thirty-minute hold.
Becca pressed her forehead to the cool glass and her palms to each side of her face. Now was no time for panic.
Dashing up the stairs, she scanned the ceiling again. There were many steel clasps and bolts that secured the circular panel in place. And yes—
Her cell phone rang. When she clicked on, Dane immediately started in.
“Becca, everything has gone pear-shaped. The hotel is being evacuated. You’ve got to get out now.”
She peered hard through the crystalline depths of blue water and noticed that, indeed, the lobby teemed with blurry images of little, fast-moving bodies.
“Evacuated? What for?”
“There’s been a bomb threat. The building must be evacuated by 0945 hours.”
“Nine forty-five?” she muttered frantically.
“The bomb is timed to go off at ten o’clock. We’ve got about ten minutes. Wherever you are, get your pretty arse outside.”
“Do we know what sort of—” she turned her back to Uther “—device?”
“Not a clue. The BND is sending in a bomb squad as we speak. But they don’t have much time. Where the bloody hell are you, and is Uther with you?”
“Yes, he’s with me. Dane.” Becca looked to Uther, whose shaking fingers clawed at his neck. Sweat beaded his forehead.
“What? Becca, where are you?”
“We’re in the aquarium elevator, Dane. It stopped when the electricity went out.”
“Christ.”
“Yeah, a little prayer would fit the bill right now.”