Page 77 of Freeing Savannah

“I think if she lifts her hands or feet, the whole stage goes,” Voodoo replied grimly. “And she knows. Look at her posture. Like she’s afraid to play the next note but fears stopping more.”

A stunned beat passed. Then Haley again. “I’m following along with the music. She’s almost at the end.”

He focused back on Savannah. He was familiar with the piece, having heard her play it several times over the course of the tour. Shewasnearing the end. The final movement. The big finish. And she wasn’t slowing. If anything, she looked more like a statue than a woman performing one of the most technically demanding pieces ever written.

Then her pinky dropped to strike the final note.

Click.

Sawyer’s ears were trained to hear what most never could. That click wasn’t part of the piano.

A stunned beat passed. Then Haley again. “She just hit the final chord. I see a countdown timer on the iPad. twenty minutes.”

Voodoo was moving before the last chord could dissipate. He ran onto the stage, heedless of the thunderous applause. Savannah didn’t move.

Didn’t bow.

Didn’t shift.

“Shit. And another message.”

“Tell us,” Eggs prompted.

“‘Let that last chord resonate. Otherwise . . . boom!’”

“Fuck,” Hoot murmured.

Ignoring his team, he ran to the woman he loved. He didn’t care to know what the messages said. Savi was in trouble and he had to get to her. He dropped to his knees beside her before anybody even realized he’d just stormed the stage. “Savi,” he whispered her name.

Savannah’s face hadn’t changed, but her eyes—her eyes were wide and locked straight ahead, unblinking.

Like she was terrified to even breathe wrong.

The moment Savannah saw him, something in her expression broke. Just for a flicker. But it was there—the terror she’d been suppressing with every note.

“I’m here,” he mouthed as he approached slowly. “I’m right here.”

Then her broken voice. “I-I th-think I tr-triggered someth-something.”

“Then that chord . . .” Eggs started.

“Triggered the clock,” Haley confirmed. “She can’t move. Not without risking detonation.”

“Fuck,” Eggs muttered. “Like pressure sensors?”

“Jesus Christ,” exclaimed Hoot. “We need to get the President out. Quietly.”

Voodoo continued to ignore their conversation, his focus solely on Savannah. “I know. It’s okay Savi. I’m just gonna take a look around the piano.” He crouched low so he could see the undercarriage of the piano. Looked clear there. No obvious wires. No blinking lights. No signs of a device. But that didn’t matter. The enemy had gone digital. Buried deep and clean, like all the best weapons.

“Careful, Voodoo. Anything could have triggered it,” Flint warned. “Could be one thing or a combination—keys, pedals, maybe even body heat sensors.”

“Understood,” he muttered, replying to his boss’ warning.

He stood and leaned over the soundboard of the piano under the lid. There it was, tucked into the corner, hidden from view by the rack holding her music. “Piano’s rigged.”

Haley’s voice dropped. “Looping in Secret Service. I’ll keep it low profile as long as I can.”

“Do it,” Flint ordered. “Hoot, Eggs—start moving toward exits. Quiet evac, fastest routes. Coordinate with security detail. We can’t cause a stampede.”

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