Spy Girl (10 page)

“She helped me escape,” the Prince says.
 

“And how did she do that?” the deep voice asks, thick with doubt.

The Prince explains that I suggested a passageway.

“How would she even know about them?”

“She’s a history buff and had read up on the castle.”

“Why was she here with you? Who is she, really?”

“You think she had something to do with this?” the Prince asks.

“Don’t you think it’s a little odd this girl you just met asks for a tour of the castle and then we are attacked?”

“No, I don’t, because she didn’t ask for one. She already bought tickets to the public tour. I offered to bring her here.”

I hear an audible sigh on the other end. “Lorenzo, women are your weakness. Why don’t you run along now while we question her?”
 

Ooh, I don’t know who that guy is, but I don’t think he should be talking to the future King that way. Although, I agree with him on all accounts. The Prince’s careless ways make him an easy target.

“Why aren’t you questioning the men you captured?”

“Because we didn’t capture them, we shot them. They’re both dead.”

“Then you’re not talking to Huntley without me present.”

“Very well. Let’s go chat with her together.”
 

I quickly close the app, turn on some music, and pretend not to hear them enter.
 

The Prince touches my shoulder, and I fake a little jump. “Oh, gosh, you scared me.” I take out my earbuds and put them away.
 

The Prince takes my hand, turning me toward a broad-chested man in military shirtsleeves. Based on the stars on his uniform, I’d say he’s important. “Huntley, this is General Agueda of the Montrovian army. He would like to ask you a few questions.”

“Um, okay. What’s up?” I say, while running my free hand through my hair, fluffing it and looking unconcerned.

“How did you end up at the castle today?” he asks.

“Well, my brother and I were having a party at our villa. Daniel and—”

“Daniel?”

“Spear, sir. The Vice President of the United States’ son. Anyway, he and the Prince crashed our party, and Daniel introduced us. We talked, had some champagne, he asked what I planned to do during my visit, and I told him about my plans, which included going on the castle tour. He offered to give me a private one.”

The man keeps staring at me, so I continue.
 

“Then I drove us here, got to meet the King and show him my car—oh gosh, tell me my car didn’t get shot.”

“It did not,” he says. “The breach was between the public part of the castle and the Prince’s residence.”

I already know that based on where the shots were coming from, but I don’t say that. That’s not something a normal girl would probably know, plus I need intel. “What happened?”

“Let’s not worry about that. How is it you met the Prince again?”

“Why does it sound like—wait, you keeping me in this room for the last hour and now the questions. You don’t think
I
had anything to do with whatever happened, do you?” I widen my eyes and turn to the Prince. “Does he? Do you? You were going out there! I stopped you!”

I clench my jaw and cross my arms in apparent outrage at my realization, looking pissed and betrayed.
 

“I’d like to go home now.”

“We aren’t finished questioning you,” the general says.

“Fine.
You
may finish questioning me, but I won’t answer another question if I have to look at him while doing so.” I nod toward the Prince.

“Huntley, I’m—” the Prince says.

I give him a defiant look and flip him the bird, causing the general to shoo him out of the room.

I’m questioned for another thirty minutes—where I learn nothing new—before I’m allowed to get in my car and drive home.
 

X X
X

I pass through the gates of the villa and pull the car into the garage, hoping Ari has learned more than I have about the attack.
 

“Do you know anything?” I ask, plopping down on the couch, happy to see that the news of the castle assault caused the party to dwindle down to nothing.

“Only what we have learned on the news, which isn’t much. You were there, what happened?”

“Two gunmen with automatic weapons entered the hallway that connects to the Prince’s residence. They were moving down the hall, room by room from the sound of it, and in a very military fashion.”

“Do we know where they are holding them?”

“At the morgue, I assume. They’re dead.”

“How do you know that?”

I hold up my phone. “Eavesdropping app.”

“So now what?”

“I think we talk about the Prince. He’s reckless. His bodyguard does whatever the Prince tells him to do, whether or not it’s in his best interest. I didn’t study up on the Palace Guard, but the fact that the gunmen were able to get inside the palace is pretty concerning, but then I drove in with the Prince, and no one checked me or my car for bombs or weapons. Once inside, I had free run of the place.”

“That is concerning,” Ari agrees. “We’re just going to have to stay close to him in order to protect him. I really thought an attempt on his life would happen during an event outside the castle.”

“Do you think they planned to shoot him or kidnap him?”
 

“What makes you ask that?”

“I can’t imagine what their escape plan would have been for a kidnapping,” I say.

“Maybe they knew it was a suicide mission. If a terror organization is behind this, that would make sense.”

“Or maybe they knew about the passageways and assumed, like I did, there was a secret one only the Prince would know about.”

“Why would they want to kidnap him though? That doesn’t make sense. I think they were there to kill.”

“I don’t know. Control him. Threaten him. Make him do what they want,” I suggest.

“Or maybe this was a dry run to see how far they could get. It’s not like the Montrovian military protocol is on the Internet like the Secret Service.”

“A dry run for what exactly?” I ask.

“Maybe they were looking for a place to plant a bomb. The Queen’s Ball is the week’s big finale. Remember we talked about a bomb as a possible way to take out most of the Montrovian heirs to the throne?”
 

“I don’t know,” I disagree. “We were told the threat was specific to the Prince.”

Ellis joins us, bringing a decanter of water and a tray of sandwiches.
 

“What I wouldn’t give for a Jersey Mike’s right now,” Ari says.

“What is that?” Ellis asks.

“The most amazing sub sandwich you have ever tasted. I get the Giant, over a foot long full of turkey and provolone and done up Mike’s way with onions, lettuce, tomatoes, olive oil, red wine vinegar, and spices. It’s heaven on bread.”

Ellis points at the tray of petite, crustless finger sandwiches. “This will have to suffice for now.” He hands me a note then leaves the room.

There is just one sentence inside the note, which I read to Ari. “
Intelligence chatter regarding crown. Keyword: Terra.”

“What’s Terra?” Ari asks.
 

“I don’t know what this is referring to, but Terra was the Roman Goddess of the Earth. In renditions of her, she is always beautiful and usually surrounded by a cornucopia, flowers, and fruit. Sometimes, she is depicted pregnant because she is also the guardian of fertility and motherhood. In planetary science, Terra is the third planet usually referred to as Earth. The male counterpart is Tellus. He was an Athenian statesman in Herodotus’s Histories, where he is said to be the happiest man ever because he had a good life and children who remembered him. Apparently, to the ancient Greeks this was the most honorable life. If I remember right, though, he died in a battle, but not before crushing his opposition.”

“How do you know all that?”

I shrug. “I like history. Architecture and Greek and Roman Gods, particularly.”

Ari rolls his eyes at me.
 

“Her Greek counterpart is Gaia. Let me do a quick search and see what comes up.” I type in my phone. “Not much more than that other than the festival held in her honor was on April the fifteenth. Then pages and pages of info of pretty much the same. I’m not seeing it used in any other way.”

“Could it be the name of a terrorist organization?”

“Let me see. Hmm. There’s an old Spanish terrorist group that seems to have existed from the late seventies until the mid-eighties but nothing from them in years. It looks like they wanted their own state. It looks like they finally came to peace with the government and announced their dissolution.”

“Could it have been revived?” Ari wonders.

“I don’t know. I don’t see anything more about it or anything else.”

“Sounds like a dead end. Let’s discuss the Prince’s cousins. They’re next in line to the throne. We need to meet them soon. Oh, and it seems Peter and Allie are joining us in Montrovia. I’m putting them in separate bedrooms, just so you know.”

I laugh. “Uh, oh.”

“Speaking of that. Daniel got called back to the Embassy immediately upon news of the attack on the castle, but he did mention going to the Casino tonight. I think we should go.”

Peter and Allie arrive just after sundown. Peter has already booked dinner reservations at the Michelin starred restaurant we vetoed the other night. Allie gives me air kisses and rushes to her room to freshen up and change for dinner. Their plane was delayed due to weather, and they are running behind schedule. Peter informs us that we mustn’t be late for our reservations, so I run up to my room to change into a cocktail dress.
 

X X
X

Dinner works in our favor. Not only do we have an incredible meal, but Peter is joined in the bar afterwards by the Prince’s two cousins and their significant others. We meet the eldest of the sisters, Ophelia, as well as her boyfriend, Viktor. Ophelia is slender with a lean yoga body and short, dark hair that frames her petite face. She’s smart, sarcastic, and a leader—almost to the point of domineering. She’s dressed in a severely cut dark green suit, black pumps, and a large angular black hat. She has mastered the art of resting bitch face and looking bored. Her boyfriend, Viktor, is much more gregarious. He’s friendly, has an aristocratic air, impeccable manners, and can throw down quite a lot of alcohol. He seems fine with Ophelia wearing the pants in their relationship of six months. Viktor and Peter are well acquainted, having vacationed together with their families because of their fathers’ friendship.

Younger sister, Clarice, looks exactly like Ophelia would with long hair, but that’s where the similarities end. Clarice has more of a laid-back, hippie vibe. Her passion is travel, and she entertains us with stories of trips to exotic locales and her focus on charities that attempt to make the world a better place. Her boyfriend, Armend, who I find out she’s only been seeing for a few weeks, is quiet but controlling. She’s super laid back, and it surprises me when he looks at her and barks out an order—like
My drink is empty
—and she immediately scurries to remedy it. Plus, his predatory gaze gives me the creeps. My gut reaction is not to trust him, and my mind runs through scenarios. The kind of scenarios where he could be in on the plot to overthrow the monarchy. And it gets me wondering if that’s even the plan. What if the plan isn’t
just
to kill the Prince? What if it includes bossy, outspoken, and uncontrollable Ophelia? Or controlling an easy to manipulate Clarice? I imagine her and Armend married and him running the show.
 

After quite a few drinks at the bar, the group decides to head to the Casino. I’m back at the roulette table and am winning.
 

The Prince and Daniel show up late. The Prince sees me and catches my eye. I give him an angry glare, causing him to put his head down and retreat, going off instead to greet Peter and his cousins. Daniel doesn’t say anything, just takes up a position across the table from me, so I can’t help but look into those baby blues. When a woman starts flirting with him, it distracts me. It’s hard to pay attention to everyone around me—constantly scan the room for possible threats or clues—and keep playing, all while controlling my urge to rip the woman’s arm off Daniel’s chest. I glance at my watch and contemplate a dart to her neck.
 

Dang, I just lost a thousand euros.
 

By the time she’s bought him a drink and puts her hand in his hair, I’m down another two. I take my remaining chips from the table and bow out. Honestly, I’m ready to go home. All of a sudden, the excitement of today hits me, and I’m exhausted.
 

Or maybe it’s just an excuse to get out of here before I act irrationally and shoot a midnight dart into the woman, who must be nearly forty, to keep her away from Daniel.
 

Instead, I belly up to the bar.

Daniel leaves the woman, joins me at the bar, and orders us each a beer.
 

It makes me want to kiss him.
 

“I heard you have a hot car,” he says by way of greeting.

“I have a lot of hot things.”

“Don’t I know it.” He sees me looking over at the group surrounding the Prince. “Are you going to forgive him? He feels terrible.”

“Ari said the Embassy came and got you. Do you know what happened? Who the men were?”

“Our government is researching their backgrounds. Were you scared?”

“Yes. Very,” I reply with what is expected. Honestly, I was more excited than scared.
 

“The shooters’ nationalities were a surprise,” he admits.