Just then, a sleek black smartphone sitting on the edge of the table began to buzz. It was not Adrian’s phone. It was not Carter’s. It was a satellite phone that Klaus Vanderburg had placed face down. Klaus looked at it, his face paling. He ignored it. The phone stopped. Then it rang again. And again. “Aren’t you going to answer that, Klaus?” Adrian asked, his voice cool. “It is likely nothing. My daughter. She worries,” Klaus stammered. “Please, sign.” Adrian looked at Klaus, then at the phone. He did not sign. He was a man of instinct, and his instincts were screaming.
Suddenly, a loud crash came from the kitchen. A tray of dishes had dropped. The noise startled everyone. Gerard, the manager, rushed to the kitchen to scream at whoever had dropped it. In the confusion, Sarah saw her chance. She needed to refill the water pitchers one last time. As she approached the table, the satellite phone buzzed again. This time, Klaus, looking like he was about to have a heart attack, shoved the phone toward the edge of the table, almost knocking it off. He stood up. “I must use the restroom. Excuse me.” Klaus hurried away, leaving the table in an awkward silence. Carter Banks leaned in. “He’s just got cold feet, Adrian. Sign it while he’s gone. Once the ink is dry, it’s done.” Adrian looked at the document. He looked at the pen. Sarah was standing right behind Adrian now, holding the pitcher. The satellite phone on the table lit up again. The caller ID did not show a name. It showed a location. Vienna General Hospital. ICU.
Sarah’s breath hitched. ICU. Without thinking, driven by a surge of adrenaline she could not control, Sarah reached out. She did not pour water. She placed the pitcher down on the service tray with a soft clink. And then, in a room full of billionaires and sharks, the invisible waitress reached over Adrian Sterling’s shoulder and picked up the ringing phone. “What do you think you’re doing?” Carter Banks barked, half rising from his chair. Adrian spun around, his eyes wide with shock. “Excuse me.” Sarah ignored them. She pressed the green button and put the phone to her ear. “Hello?” she said, her voice trembling, but her German flawless. “Hier spricht Sarah. Wer ist da?” This is Sarah. Who is this?
The voice on the other end was hysterical. It was a woman weeping, speaking rapid-fire Austrian German. “Papa. Papa, listen to me. You cannot sign. They have Stefan. They said they would kill him if you didn’t sign the bad contract. But the police found him. He is safe. Papa, do not sign. It’s a trap by the American partner.” Sarah’s eyes went wide. She looked at Carter Banks. She looked at the terrified lawyers. She lowered the phone slowly. The room was deadly silent. Every eye was on her. Gerard had returned from the kitchen and looked ready to tackle her. “Put the phone down, you stupid girl,” Carter hissed, his face turning a violent shade of red. “Gerard, get security.” “Wait,” Adrian Sterling said. His voice was not loud, but it carried the weight of a command that stopped Gerard in his tracks. Adrian turned his chair fully to face Sarah. He looked at her name tag. “Sarah,” he said calmly, though his eyes were blazing. “Who was on the phone?”