“Here you go,” Nicolai said, removing the box through the hole and handing it to Sarah.
She didn’t respond. Instead, she blew a layer of dust off its lid and ran her finger over the double-headed eagle to see the rubies flash red in the light. She lifted the lid and lying inside on a cushion made of purple silk was the Byzantine Cross.
No decoration, no jewels—just a simple wooden cross.
“That’s what you’re after?” Nicolai glanced over her shoulder. “Rather plain, isn’t it? The box is worth more.”
“You would think so, wouldn’t you?” Sarah murmured.
Nicolai glanced at his watch again and said, “We should get going. The power will be back on in nine minutes.” He took the box from Sarah and carefully put it back on the shelf. “Hopefully, this will go unnoticed until you’re back in Rome.”
Sarah tucked the cross into the waistband of her trousers and pulled her sweater down over it as she jogged back through the galleries behind Nicolai. When they got to the main hall, they rushed toward the stairwell but stopped when she heard the click of a gun behind them.
“Kremlin Garrison!” a deep voice yelled again a few feet behind them.
“Stop where you are, or I’ll shoot!”
Sarah sucked in a breath and held it. No! Not now!
“Pizdets!” Nicolai swore next to her as he raised his hands above his head. “Follow my lead,” he whispered as they pivoted to face the soldier.
“Stay where you are.” The guard stalked them, his gun aimed at Nicolai’s chest. He appeared twenty years younger than Nicolai, and bigger in size.
This won’t be easy.
“What are you doing here?” the guard asked in Russian.
“I can assure you there is no need for weapons,” Nicolai replied with feigned confidence. “What’s your name?” the guard barked.
“Nicolai Rodzyanko, secretary to the chairman of defense. I have my credentials in my pocket if you’ll allow me.” He moved to reach inside his dinner jacket but froze when the guard took a step forward.
“Keep your hands up!”
The guard closed the short distance between them in three steps and reached out to search Nicolai for weapons.
“I work in the intelligence office,” Nicolai said. “We’re guests at the ball tonight. My date wanted a tour of the museum.” He waved his hand dismissively. “It has all been authorized.”
“By whom?”
“The director of intelligence. He arranged for the alarms to be turned off.”
The guard waved the gun at Sarah. “What about her? Why is she dressed that way if you’re coming from the party?”
“She’s…she’s,” he stammered and glanced helplessly at Sarah.
“I’m an American spy,” Sarah blurted out in English. “Here to steal the Kremlin’s treasures.”