Bypassing the alarm on the doors took a few minutes. The wiring was almost invisible to a human eye, but Steve knew what he was looking for. Very carefully, so as not to jar the wire and trigger the alarm, Steve maneuvered the wire so he could cut through it. There. That was easy enough. Then he turned his attention to picking the lock on the French doors.
Steve thought about how, in Italy, he had let Shane take care of the locks in Ernesto's hideout. Donovan may be good, but I'm not a slouch in the lock-picking department. Steve proved that to himself by getting the door unlocked in less than a minute.
Slipping inside, Steve found himself in a dark living room. It dawned on him that he had no clue how to find the wine cellar. He should have asked Kim, but then he reminded himself that, if he had asked her, she would have told Shane. Guess I'll just have to find it on my own.
He pulled a flashlight out of his bag and began to look around. He wandered around for a few minutes, orienting himself to the house. Spotting a few cameras on the walls, Steve made a point to stay out of view. He had no idea if Alamain had anyone monitoring the cameras, but the safest bet was to assume someone was watching. Steve also knew there might be other devices like motion sensors, but there was little chance of spotting those in advance, so he would just have to take his chances.
Creeping slowly through the house, Steve found the dining room and the kitchen. It made sense that the stairs to the basement would be close by, but every door he opened was to a closet or pantry.
Unless . . .
That had to be it. If Alamain was hiding important research in his wine cellar, it would not be easy to find. So where would it be? Steve began checking the walls, looking for anything that looked out of place.
Nothing in the kitchen or dining room, so he went back to the living room. He ran the light from the flashlight along the walls, but spotted nothing that would indicate a hidden door. As he started to head for the hallway off the living room, a noise caught his attention. Steve snapped the flashlight off and ducked behind a couch.
The overhead lights flicked on just as he crouched down. Damn, that was too close for comfort, he thought. Then he heard voices.
"Yes, Mr. Marais, where would you like me to set up for tomorrow?" said an unseen woman.
"Just anywhere in the salon. It hardly matters, Madeleine." That came from a man with a slightly clipped, European accent from the direction of the hallway .
Steve tried to crouch even lower to the ground as he heard the woman moving about. If he had to guess, she was only about five feet away.
"I'll put the drinks here, sir," she said from almost on top of Steve's hiding place.
"Fine," came the disinterested response.
After a few more minutes, the light clicked off and Steve was once again in the dark. He took a minute to collect himself and then began his search anew. He headed for the hallway where he had heard the man's voice. If that was where the orders were coming from, it was Steve's best bet.
He walked carefully, trying to keep any sound to a minimum. There was a stream of light sliding under the first door, so Steve took a moment to listen. The man from before was now on the phone, placing some kind of order. Steve suspected that whatever he was searching for was inside that room, but he could hardly enter when it was occupied.
Moving on, he heard and saw nothing at the second door. He opened it slightly and realized it was a small bedroom. I could wait here until whoever is next door leaves, he thought. If that was where the head honcho worked, it made sense to wait. Of course, Steve hated waiting and knew that remaining in one room increased his odds of being found out. Still, the odds of being caught were plenty good if he wandered aimlessly through the house.
So I wait, Steve decided.
He checked his watch and was surprised to see that he had already been in the house for 20 minutes. He had no idea how long it would take the man - 'Mar-ay' or whatever his name was - to leave. But it was after 8 p.m., so the man probably would leave soon.
Steve parked himself by the wall dividing the two rooms and tried to listen to the man. It was no use. The wall was too thick to make out any words; all Steve could hear was the low rumble of the man's voice.
Another 15 minutes passed. Then another 15. Steve began to feel twitchy. He checked his watch. Now it was past 9 p.m.
"Come on . . . come on," Steve muttered under his breath. He was starting to get stiff from standing so still.
Finally, after another half-hour, Steve heard the sound of a door opening and footsteps in the hallway. He slid over to the door and listened as the sounds became fainter. After another few minutes, Steve opened the bedroom door and looked down the hall. There was no sign of anyone.
Okay, he thought. He moved to the door where the other man had been and found it locked. This has got to be it, he thought, as he pulled his lockpicks out again and tried to get the door open. It was a little harder this time, because the hallway was almost completely dark and Steve did not want to risk using the flashlight, but he grinned as he heard the click of the door opening. He doubted Donovan could have done any better.
Once inside, Steve pulled the flashlight out again and began sweeping the room. The walls were lined with bookcases and, in the center, was a desk. Steve saw nothing that indicated there might be a passageway. He began running his hands over the bookshelf, looking for some sign of a secret opening.
His frustration began to grow. Steve knew there was something here. He just knew it. He began pulling books off the shelf, but saw nothing that looked like a trigger for a door, and as he knocked against the backs of the shelves, he heard nothing to indicate an opening behind them..
"There's gotta be a door here," he said aloud. "Where the hell is it?" He continued knocking at the shelves.
Suddenly, he heard a noise from the opposite wall and spun around. One of the bookshelves had turned sideways, exposing a dark hole in the wall. How'd I do that? Steve had no idea, but he did not care. However it happened, he had triggered the secret door.
Steve shone his flashlight through the opening and saw a staircase leading down. Without hesitating, he raced down the stairs, stopping only when he heard a noise behind him. He looked back to see that the wall had closed. I just hope it opens again, he thought, but he set the thought aside and continued down.
Eventually, he found himself in the basement and in another corridor. To his left, he saw a couple of doorways. To his right . . . .
Paydirt.
A wall of glass separated him from shelf after shelf of wine bottles. Steve grinned. All he had to do was find the right bottle - with a white label with a green border and something purple in the middle. As he stared at what must have been a few thousand bottles, Steve shrugged. How hard could it be?