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Remi tightened her hand on her husband’s forearm. Sam, his gaze fixed on Bondaruk, tensed himself, ready to charge the moment Bondaruk turned toward them. That he would recognize them wasn’t in doubt; whether Sam could subdue him and turn him into a human shield was the question. Without that advantage the guards would swarm them inside of a minute.
Finally Bondaruk said, “The halberd: Leave it to the British to come up with a weapon that is both ugly and purposeless.”
The guests chuckled and murmured their agreement, then Bondaruk walked on, turning the corner and beginning his strolling lecture down the opposite side of the case. After a few more comments, Bondaruk strode to the door, turned to the crowd, nodded curtly, then disappeared.
Remi let out her breath. “Well, he’s got a presence, I’ll give him that.”
“It’s cruelty,” Sam muttered. “He wears it like a cape. You can almost smell it on him.”
“I got the same odor from Kholkov.”
Sam nodded. “Yes.”
“I thought for a moment there you were going to go for him.”
“For a moment I thought so, too. Come on, let’s find what we came for before I change my mind.”
CHAPTER 39
The farther west through the mansion they walked the fewer party guests they encountered. While the mansion and its wings were laid out as a peace symbol, the main portion of the house was an octagon with sitting rooms, parlors, dens, and libraries surrounding a central foyer. After twenty minutes of wandering they found themselves in a darkened conservatory filled with potted palms and hanging-trellis half walls overflowing with flowering vines. Through the arched glass ceiling they could see diamond-speck stars against the black sky. To their left, through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls, was a long porch surrounded by hedges.
Set into the northwest wall was a single door. They made one circuit through the conservatory to check for cameras and to make sure they were alone, then headed to the door. It was locked.
Sam was reaching into his pocket for his pick set when a voice behind them said, “Excuse me, sir, may I ask what you’re doing?”
Sam didn’t give himself a chance to think, but simply reacted on instinct. He turned on the man and barked in what he hoped was passable Russian-accented English, “Finally! Where have you been? Do you know the humidity-control sensors have been going off in there?”
“Pardon me—”
“You are security, yes?”
“Yes, sir. However—”
“Mr. Bondaruk told us to come straight here, that someone would meet us. We’ve already been standing here for what, dear, five minutes?”
Remi didn’t miss a beat, nodding firmly. “At least that.”
The guard narrowed his eyes at them. “If you’ll wait just a moment I’ll confirm—”
“Fine, do what you must, but let me ask you this: Have you ever seen what condensation can do to a nine-hundred-year-old bardiche with a Mongolian red maple handle? Have you?”
The guard shook his head, his portable radio halfway to his mouth.
Sam said, “Here, look at this palm—this is a perfect example of what I’m talking about . . . do you see the leaves?” He took a step forward and to the guard’s left, pointing at a nearby palm tree. Already distracted by his own radio, the guard reacted with natural curiosity, turning his head to look at what Sam had indicated.
In that fleeting moment Sam reversed direction. Spinning on his right heel, he swept his left foot in a short arc, hooking the man’s right ankle and kicking it out from under him. Even as the guard stumbled backward Sam was spinning again, this time with a perfectly timed uppercut that caught the man squarely on the chin. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.
“Wow,” Remi breathed. “And here I thought your judo was just a hobby.”
“It is. It just happens to be a very practical hobby. Next one’s yours, by the way.”
“Find me a foil and you’ve got a deal. Mongolian red maple? Is there such a thing?”
“I have no idea.”
Sam knelt down, scooped up the man’s radio, then frisked him, finding a Glock nine-millimeter pistol in a hip paddle holster, a set of handcuffs, a hotel-style card key, and a key ring. This he tossed to Remi, who began trying keys in the door. Sam rolled the guard onto his belly, cuffed his hands behind his back, gagged him with his own tie, then dragged him by the collar into the corner and rearranged a few potted palms so he would be harder to spot.
“Got it,” Remi said, turning and holding up one of the keys.