Page 29 of Steinbeck (The Minnesota Kingstons #5)

Kais shut the door and Logan checked his watch.

“Okay. The party is already in full swing. Dinner is in an hour. Once we get there, Tate and Colt will check the exhibition hall and set the CCTV feeds. Make sure you confirm with Coco that everything is online before you leave. Stein, you and Phoenix find Declan. You’ll have to slip out during dinner or sometime, because he’ll need to connect his bots—or whatever he’s calling them—to the network so Nimue can access them remotely and check the digital hashes to verify the integrity of the program.

According to Nimue, any mismatch of the encrypted signature could indicate tampering. ”

“Got it,” Nim said in Steinbeck’s ear. Beside him, Phoenix smiled.

“If she finds something, she’ll follow the audit trail, see if she can confirm the source. More important, keep your eye out for Tomas, or any of the Petrov Bratva.” Logan looked at Phoenix as he said this.

She nodded.

Steinbeck drew in a breath. “And if she sees him?”

“Alert us. We’ll apprehend him?—”

“On what warrant?” Tae asked.

Logan glanced at her. “For a friendly chat.”

“Is that legal?”

Logan cocked his head at her. “My guess is that, at the very least, he is here illegally. No warrant needed for suspicion of a terrorist attack.” He looked again at Phoenix. “You’re the only one who can recognize him, so...”

“I got this.”

“As far as the rest—just keep your head on a swivel. You see anything amiss, let me know. There are dignitaries from all over the world here. I don’t want a ruckus, so stay under the radar.”

They’d taken West End Avenue all the way south, then passed through the Lincoln Tunnel until they reached the massive glass building.

“This must be a bear to clean,” said Colt.

Police cars lined the streets, officers in neon security jackets directing the traffic of a slew of limousines and SUVs, dropping off guests at the covered entrance.

White-gloved valets, security guards, and press congregated behind red ropes, and the glittering blue of the glass-encased lobby suggested an elegant evening.

Stein couldn’t help slipping his hand into Phoenix’s grip, just for a second. She didn’t look at him, but a smile tipped her lips. It stirred inside him, an old pulse finding his veins.

Go time.

They pulled up and the door opened. He helped Phoenix out, and she took his arm again as they walked inside.

Sheer glass walls arched over them as they entered, a spray of exotic flowers in massive urns flanking the entrance, a blue carpet directing them through double doors and up an escalator.

At the top, another valet directed them to the next level, all the way up to the rooftop.

They got off, the murmur of the crowd greeting them as it spilled out of the River Pavilion. Security stood outside, scanning invitations, and Steinbeck glanced over at Logan, who’d pulled out his phone.

A woman scanned them in. They walked past a number of uniformed police who stood at the entrance.

They entered the pavilion, the size of the room easily gobbling the conversation, muting the sounds of the jazz orchestra that played at one end.

Servers mingled amongst the evening-attired crowd, some offering glasses of champagne and house wines, others with hors d’oeuvres.

At the far end, the terrace opened up to high-top tables, twinkle lights, and more guests.

“Dinner is upstairs, on the overview level. It overlooks the rooftop farm also,” said Logan.

A security nightmare, no doubt, but a beautiful party.

“It’s nice being on the approved guest list,” Phoenix said and lifted a champagne flute. She glanced at Stein. “Don’t get antsy. It’s just for show.”

She kept her grip on his arm, and he liked that show too.

Tate and Colt and Tae peeled off, mingling into the crowd, but Logan stayed with Steinbeck and Phoenix as they wove through the mix.

State leaders from nearly two hundred countries talked in conversation groups, security not-so-obscurely standing near their clients.

Music drifted, a Sinatra song. Maybe Stein would pull Phoenix into a dance later.

“Is that Prince William?” Phoenix nodded toward a tall man standing with?—

“Yep,” Logan said. He too had lifted a champagne flute. “And that’s Princess Kate.”

“What are they doing here?”

“It’s not unusual for a country to send their royal representatives along with their delegates. It’s a show for the world.” He nodded toward another couple, and she startled to see?—

“That’s Prince Luka.”

“And his sister, Princess Madeline. I see the house of Ribaldi is well represented.”

Logan bowed his head with a smile of respect for the redhead in a deep-blue dress who had glanced at them. He raised a hand to Prince Luka, who’d followed his sister’s glance. Luka smiled at them.

“Who are they talking to?” asked Phoenix, who’d been glancing around the room.

“That’s Her Royal Highness Imani of Lauchtenland and her escort, Creed Marshall. I hear they’re contemplating engagement, but he has another year of college. She’s taken on responsibilities for cultural exchange and development since her mother had a baby last year.”

Logan raised his glass to a man standing not far away, clearly security for the couple. The man nodded, eyes stern. “Fraser Marshall. Creed’s oldest brother. He works security for the princess, along with his girlfriend, Pippa. C’mon, I’ll introduce you.”

Funny, Fraser seemed familiar, and as Stein got closer—“Wait. He’s from Chester. We played them in football.”

Logan glanced at him. “Right. I’d forgotten you were from Duck Lake.”

He walked over and Steinbeck followed. In his earwig, Stein heard Colt: “We’re setting up the video feed now.”

Logan was saying something about growing up in Duck Lake, but Steinbeck kept searching the room. Phoenix grabbed his arm. “I’m going to take a walk around, maybe head to the restroom.”

“Phoenix—”

“I’ll go with you.”

He looked up as Princess Imani, her dark hair in braids decorated with diamonds and gold clips, her dress deep blue and gold, stepped up to Phoenix.

“Hi,” she said and held out her hand. “I’m Imani.”

“Your Highness,” said Phoenix and— wait, was that a curtsy? Then again, she knew how to play a role.

A woman followed Imani, her dark hair in a sleek ponytail, wearing a pantsuit. She offered a grim smile. Her female security detail. Steinbeck released Phoenix’s hand. Met her eyes.

She squeezed his arm. “Down, boy. I’ll be fine.” Then she adjusted her earring.

Right. He turned away, listening to her chat with Imani as they wound through the crowd.

Fraser held out his hand. Dark-blond hair cut short, wearing a blue suit. Solid. “I remember you. You played football and hockey for Duck Lake. I played against your brother Jack.”

“I think I played against one of your brothers too. Maybe... Jonas?”

“That sounds right.”

“Steinbeck was on SEAL Team 4,” Logan said.

“Really? Are you still active duty?”

“No. Medical separation a few years ago.”

Fraser nodded. “I get that.” He nodded again, maybe at a word from his female counterpart, because Steinbeck also heard through his own earwig as Phoenix said, “I’m headed into the bathroom. Going offline.”

Yes, well, that made sense.

“So, what are you doing these days?” Fraser asked.

“Um...” Stein glanced at Logan. “Just helping out.”

Fraser nodded. “I see.”

Logan clamped him on the shoulder. “Glad to see you, Fraser. I’ve been expecting a wedding.”

“From Creed and Imani? Not yet?—”

“From you and Pippa.”

Fraser smiled. Then he held up his left hand—a ring. “A too-short getaway to Monaco.”

And Steinbeck didn’t even know the guy, but he couldn’t help the slightest twinge of envy.

“Congratulations.” Logan shook his hand. “How long is Imani in America?”

“She’s attending the youth events of the General Assembly and speaking at a women’s leadership summit, along with Britta White.”

“The president’s daughter?”

“Yes. She’s pretty excited. And then she and Creed are taking a few days in Minnesota, at my parents’ winery.”

Muffled conversation came through the earwig. Logan was asking Fraser about his family?—

Then, “I thought that was you.”

A male voice, and Stein jerked. Glanced at Logan. Not even a flicker on his face as he listened to Fraser.

“Phoenix, are you okay?” Pippa’s voice.

“Yes, I’ll be right behind you.” Phoenix.

No, no, she wouldn’t. He’d been down this road. Stein kept his gaze on Logan, who was nodding. Logan gestured with his head. Go.

Yep. Stein turned, pushed through the crowd. Congress members, world leaders, diplomats, delegates, and security—he didn’t care as he bumped past them, still listening.

The jazz behind their conversation had muted, so maybe she was out in the corridor. Oh, Phoenix, don’t leave ? —

“It won’t work, Tomas. Whatever you’re?—”

Stein banged against a table, righted it before all the china toppled off—wrong move, because she grunted.

Then, “Stop?—”

Steinbeck took off in a half run, reached the back of the room. No bathrooms.

An exit sign lit up, and next to it, the restroom sign.

He pushed through the doors into the enclosed lobby.

Women emerged from the ladies’ room, and he stood there, debating.

More grunting, and now what sounded distinctly like wind. “Tomas, I promise you, this will go badly for you!”

Yes, yes, it will. Stein turned—the doors led outside onto a flat surface—the farm . The ecological project, a full rooftop vegetable garden, bathed only by the lights of the city.

He scanned the darkness.

Nothing.

Maybe upstairs. He’d glimpsed a map on his way in and now spotted an elevator. Thumbing the button, he waited, then— forget it —headed out into a hallway.

The escalator rose to the top floor, and he pushed past more security to see the party continuing on the overlook level.

He strode out onto the upper floor and glanced around the room. An ornate chandelier showered golden light over the acre of round tables topped with gold and blue flowers in glass vases.

No outside access. And yet he clearly heard wind.