Page 73 of False Sins

“I concur,” Paige added. “Last sighting was three minutes ago. He headed from his dressing room straight for the backstage area. I think he’s still in the theater.”

Bridger took off for the theater doors, gesturing sheepishly at the usher and slipped inside. The theater was dark, lit only by the spotlights shining on the velvet curtains hiding the stage. His eyes swept the rows of seats—mostly full, with a few scattered empty ones here and there.

Canned music filled the space, and then the curtains retracted.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” boomed a voice over the loudspeakers. “Prepare to be astounded by the one, the only...the Amazing Romero!”

A wave of eager applause swelled, dying a quick death when a skinny white kid in an ill-fitting tux jogged onto the stage. Raising his arms high, the guy––barely in his twenties–– beamed at the audience. “Today, you’re in for a special treat. I’m the Astounding... George. Prepare to be…uh…astounded.”

With a lame flourish, the kid stuck a hand in his sleeve, but instead of a dove or a feather bouquet, a cascade of props fell out: cards, plastic baubles and fake money littered the stage at his feet. The audience groaned.

Ignoring the comedy routine, Bridger sprinted to the side of the stage, but the NSA guys were already coming out from behind the side curtains. “Romero’s gone,” Marks said, clearly disgusted. “If anybody knows how to disappear, it’s a magician.”

Tanaka’s face was tight with anger. “Headquarters is not gonna be happy.” He kicked the edge of the step. “Man, the paperwork on this one’s gonna be ridiculous.”

The agents swept past Bridger, heading toward the main casino.

“Romero’s in the wind,” Bridger growled into his comlink.

“Copy that,” came Tai’s terse reply. “I’m repositioning drones to widen the search area.”

Bridger’s mind raced. Romero had escaped with the key to the money, and he had no idea where the magician could be headed.

He burst through the theater doors, scanning the busy casino floor. His eyes darted from blackjack tables to slot machines. He rose up on his tiptoes, craning his neck. Jane’s head was just visible over the tops of the slot machines.

Okay. At least one thing was going right. The tired-looking businessman had left. The bartender, too, it seemed. Probably restocking the bar, or off on a break.

“Hello, team.” Romero’s voice suddenly crackled over the comlink.

Stunned, Bridger tapped the device in his ear. “Romero?”

“The one and only. I wanted to warn you, I left myself a little insurance policy. Call it professional courtesy. Don’t try to disarm it. You’ll fail. Big mess. Jane dies. Understand?”

Jane.

His pulse pounded in his ears so hard Bridger barely heard the man. Romero must have her comlink.

He raced toward Jane.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” the magician said. “I’ll disarm the thing once I’m safely away. You have my word. The Amazing Romero, out.”

The comlink went dead.

“Our link’s been compromised.” Tai came over the comms. “Meet at Jane’s location.”

Bridger’s brain was short-circuiting. All he could manage was a grunt.

Jane must have heard him, she whirled around, her eyes wide pools of terror. With shaking fingers, she raised the hem of her sweater, revealing a thick black belt secured around her waist.

Tiny LEDs across the front blinked red.

Bridgers knees buckled. He dug his fingers into the side of a slot machine, forcing himself to stay on his feet.

Bomb.

36

“Hold still,”Bridger ordered, his body rigid with shock.

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