four in all.”
“Do you have a shot on the minister?” the Black Wolf asked.
“Negative — not clean enough to guarantee.”
“Stay back.”
There were always wrinkles. One needed to be patient.
“In the lobby,” said White. “Four: three men, one woman. Going to the elevator.”
It would be over soon.
Breanna noticed a man watching them from the corner of the lobby as they walked in. They went straight to the elevator, where an attendant was waiting.
“Please close the door right away,” she told the elevator operator.
“What floor?” he asked.
Breanna waited until the door closed before answering. “Fourth. The man at the other end of the hall. Is he part of the hotel security force?”
“Could be,” said the elevator operator. “I didn’t see him.”
“Have you been here all morning?”
“Since four o’clock,” said the man, a lot more cheerfully than she would have expected.
“Did a man in a wheelchair use the elevator?”
“Oh, yes. I took him down for coffee about an hour ago.”
Breanna dialed Zen’s phone as soon as they stepped out of the elevator. It began to ring just as she reached Teri and Caroline’s room.
Someone picked up on the third ring but said nothing.
“Jeff?” she said. “Zen?
She could hear breathing on the other end, but not Zen.
“Zipper me if it’s you,” she said.
It was an expression pilots used, or at least they had back when she flew combat. It meant to click the mike button or hit a key a few times to acknowledge, rather than talking.
The line clicked off.
“Mama!” shouted Teri, opening the door. “How did you get here?”
“Everybody inside the room,” said Breanna sharply, turning to the startled minister and general. “Someone is holding Zen prisoner in the restaurant.”
“They took the elevator upstairs, not down,” White told the Black Wolf. “Fourth floor.”
Zen.
“You want me to go up and see where they are?” asked White.
“Have they seen you already?” the Black Wolf asked.
“The woman made eye contact in the lobby.”
“Hold your position. Green, come inside. Go to the fourth floor. See what’s happening.”
“On my way.”
“Blue. The man who asked for me — bring him here,” said the Black Wolf. “There’s something familiar about the name.”
The door to the storeroom opened abruptly.
“Who’s Zen?” said the man who’d been watching them.
“I am.”
“You in the wheelchair?”
“That’s me.”
“Come out.”
“I need some help.”
The girl moved forward quickly to push his chair, just as they had planned. The guard reached in and shoved her back.
I can grab his gun, thought Zen. But by then it was too late — the man had stepped back, out of reach.
“None of you move, or you all die,” said the man roughly. “Wheel yourself.”
Zen put his hands on the wheels and pushed out slowly, as if he were trying to heave himself up a steep hill.
“I could really use some help,” he started to say.
Before he could finish the sentence, the man put his foot in the back of the chair and shoved it with tremendous force. The wheels flew from Zen’s hands, and the chair rode straight across the kitchen, crashing into one of the counters. It rebounded backward, rolling nearly all the way to the man.
“Move yourself,” growled the man.
Stunned, Zen put his hands back on the wheels, starting slowly. He wasn’t acting now; the ride and crash had dazed him.
The man was big, but even so, his strength seemed disproportionate.
“Go,” he snarled. “On your own.”
Zen wheeled forward, trying to think of a Plan B.
“We need security in the building right away,” Breanna told Danny. “I think they have Zen.”
“I’m zero-five from the airport. I’ll have the Czech people over there ASAP,” Danny told her. “What room are you in?”
“Four B. We’re in the northeast corner.”
“All right.”
Breanna turned off the phone. Minister Gustov and the general had skeptical looks on their faces.
“I’m not some crazy female,” she told them. “I’m not having a panic attack. You know who I am. You know what I’ve been through.”
“That’s the only reason we’re still here,” said the general.
“I don’t know,” said Gustov. He looked as if he was going to leave.
“Listen…” Breanna glanced at Caroline and Teri. She didn’t want them to hear, but there was nowhere for them to go. “The CIA has been tracking a group hired to disrupt the NATO meeting.”
“That’s in Kiev in two days,” replied the general.
“Yes, but if they assassinated you here, that might achieve the same goal. The Russians would do that, don’t you think?”
“The Russians are capable of anything,” said Minister Gustov.
“Then wait for a few minutes more.”
There was a knock on the door.
“Don’t answer it,” said Breanna.
Danny Freah leaned forward in the car as the taxi pulled up to the Old State Castle gate.
“Who’s your commander?” he shouted.
The guard stared at him. Danny dropped fifty euros — about three times the fare — on the front seat of the cab and climbed out.
“Shut the gates,” he told the guard. “There’s an emergency in the hotel area. I need two men to come with me.”
“What? Who are you?” sputtered the man.
“Danny Freah. I’m with the American senator’s security team. We think he’s being held hostage.”
The phone inside the guardroom rang. It was the guard’s commander, ordering him to shut down all access to the facility. Help was on the way.
“There are two men near the museum,” said the guard, pointing. “I’ll call and they’ll meet you.”
