by Wolf Wootan
“Well, what do you think so far, Karen?” asked Hatch as he took a drag of his cigarette.
“Fabulous castle! I like your friends, so far. I would need more time to give a more definitive answer,” laughed Karen.
“Spoken like a true lawyer,” chuckled Hatch. “Syd and I are going to pay a visit to the fabulous casinos of Monterra. I’m going to make one of my rare public appearances. Sara and Bruno will also go along to watch our backs. If you can fit it into your schedule, we would love to have you come, too. What do you say?”
Karen’s blue eyes widened and she took a long drag on her cigarette, then blew smoke toward the sky.
“Watch your back?” she said. “You expect more trouble?”
“Not anything specific. Even though Lucchese is dead, we’re not sure of the status of the Catena di Morte. I don’t want to assume anything. After you get to know me better, you’ll find out that I always err on the side of caution.” He laughed and added, “Besides, why should I deny Sara and Bruno the fun of being received by the monarchy of Monterra? It really should be fun!”
Karen laughed, “OK. It does sound like it will be a glorious time! Shit! I didn’t bring any clothes fitting for an appearance at a place like that!”
“That is easily remedied. Syd and Sara will need some clothes, too. We’ll go to Rome tomorrow and I’ll buy you girls whatever you need. Sara and Syd left most of their clothes in Florida. This was supposed to be a three or four-day trip,” chortled Hatch.
Hatch added, “Everything is on me: clothes, lodging, food, drinks, transportation. I’ll even give everyone a gambling stake so fun can be had by all!”
Karen smiled and remarked, “I think I’m dreaming! I could never have afforded a vacation like this! And I get to spend time with my long lost sis!”
“This will be great, Karen! We haven’t had any time together since …” said Syd, then she stopped. She could not say “since our parents’ funeral.”
“Yes,” said Hatch, rescuing her. “It will be great for us all. I think I’ll dress up as James Bond, drink martinis, and play Baccarat. What do you think?”
“Sounds simply delicious, dear. But wouldn’t Baron von Hüber get a more royal reception than James Bond?” giggled Syd.
“Who’s Baron von Hüber?” asked Karen.
“Long story,” laughed Syd. “Come on, let’s go back in. See if Bruno missed you.”
“I wonder if he’s a good dancer?” mused Karen.
• • •
After the usual sumptuous meal from Gina’s kitchen, Syd and Hatch went to Hatch’s chambers at 8:45 P.M. They had left Sara, Bruno, and Karen chatting over brandy in the small dining room.
Syd kicked off her shoes and said, “Do you think there will be any danger in Monterra? I don’t want to get Karen mixed up in our mess!”
Hatch fixed them both a cognac and sat next to her on the couch. “Well, Tessitore seems to be in control of the Catena situation. I’m assuming that he ordered the hit on Lucchese. Why would anyone be interested in us now?”
“I don’t know. Tessitore really plays rough—a friggin’ car bomb! But I agree with you that we should be careful—watch our backs,” replied Syd as she sipped her cognac. “There’s no reason to think Tessitore would come after you, is there?”
“Not that I can think of. Why should he?”
“What about that CIA guy in Greece?”
“I think I fixed that. In any case, I’ll assign Bruno to watch over Karen. They seem to be getting along quite famously! He should like that assignment!” laughed Hatch.
“From the looks of it, so will Karen!”
They chatted a few more minutes and shared a cigarette. Then Syd announced with a wicked smile, “You know, I think I’m ready for some lovin’ again. How about you?”
He leered at her and said, “More than ready! Are you going to do that striptease thing again?”
“Your wish is my command, sire!”
• • •
The next day was spent in Rome in the fashion district. The three women went crazy buying fancy gowns, dresses, pant suits, shoes, gloves, and even new frilly underwear. Bruno and Hatch took turns watching the streets and buying tuxedos, dinner jackets, shirts, and other posh clothes.
Karen was a giggly mess. She couldn’t believe it when Syd and Sara kept urging her to buy things she thought were outrageously expensive.
Sara told her, “Hatch has infinitely deep pockets. Don’t worry about it. Have fun! I’m going to! I’m going to replace all that stuff I have in Florida!”
Syd paid for everything using Hatch’s platinum, no-limit credit card, which she still had in her purse. Karen asked them several questions about Bruno. Sara gave her a short resume: ex-Secret Service Agent, divorced, Chief of Security for Triple Eye in the southern U.S., solid and loyal man. She even volunteered that she would love to bed him if the rules allowed it. Syd was not sure how Karen took that recommendation. Sara liked to bed most of the men she met.
Hatch treated them all to a great lunch at a high scale restaurant, then more shopping, then they made the chopper ride back to the castle at five o’clock. They were all exhausted, especially the men. They were not professional shoppers like the women. They all stowed their purchases in their rooms, took showers and donned fresh clothes, then met for a late cocktail hour.
While they had finger food and drinks, Carmelo approached Karen and gave her a folder containing copies of the Carfagno letter, the treaty and its translation, and other notes he had taken when Syd had given them her lecture.
“Thanks, Carmelo. I’ll look them over tonight,” smiled Karen.
Syd added, “Sis, I have a family tree we had prepared. I was supposed to look at it, but I forgot. It shows the offspring of the original di Conti. Also one for Carfagno, the guy who wrote the letter. It’s in my room. I’ll give it to you later.”
“OK. Right now, I want another of those mini-pizzas that Gina made.”
Hatch said, “We’re going to Monterra tomorrow afternoon. Because of the time difference in Virginia, I haven’t got confirmation yet on our reservations there, but I should hear something later this evening. Now, before you women attack me en masse, I’ve had Gina make appointments for you tomorrow morning at the most exclusive salon in Rome so you can get your hair, nails, and whatever taken care of.”
There was a cheer from all three women. They began discussing pedicures, facials, mud packs, and other things women do to themselves in the name of beauty. Hatch got up and went outside for a smoke.
• • •
Although Monterra was just off the west coast of Italy, just northwest of Corsica, Hatch decided to use the GS-V instead of the chopper so they could not only fly in comfort, but could make an ostentatious show out of his arrival with his entourage. He wanted to make sure that the Prince of Monterra got a lot of press out of his visit, hoping that would give him more access to the Prince.
The GS-V arrived at Monte Cristo Airport at 4:45 P.M. Monte Cristo, the capital of Monterra, nestles at the base of a small mountain on the east coast of Monterra. The country’s major harbor is there, as well as a marina full of expensive yachts, and a white sand beach.
The airport was only five miles from the Royal Palace and the hotel that Hatch and his people would use—The Royal Monterran. They had five suites reserved, all with an ocean view. Although Hatch knew that Syd would not get much use out of her suite, he wanted to maintain the highest appearance of propriety. His and Syd’s suites had a connecting door, however.
The five of them deplaned and went to the Port of Entry Office and had their passports stamped. Visas were not required in Monterra. They encouraged people to come and gamble. Sara and Bruno filled out the appropriate paperwork so they could carry concealed weapons while in Monterra. This included registering the weapons and firing a bullet from each gun for later ballistics checks in case an investigation required such checks. Hatch’s Lincoln Industries appointment secretary had listed Sara and
Bruno as bodyguards—a common thing among the rich and famous—and had received approval by fax from the Monterra Royal Magistrate’s Office. Syd would have felt better if she had been allowed to carry also, but Hatch laughed at her, telling her the gowns she had bought were too tight to conceal anything.
“What about Sara’s dresses?” Syd pointed out—to no avail.
Although Monterra and Monaco had similar governments—constitutional monarchies—the similarity ended there. Whereas Monaco has one square mile of land, Monterra is an island nation of 2000 square miles and has an airport, several harbors—one large enough for cruise ships to moor—and had some ranchers who raised cattle. Still, tourism was their principal, if not only, income source. Their basic monetary unit was the U.S. dollar. They had long ago given up on the Lira and the Franc. They had a mild climate year round, lots of sun, and several pristine beaches, as well as buildings, obelisks, and ruins that dated back to at least the 4th century. The major draw, however, was the five casinos.
• • •
A stretch limo was waiting for the Lincoln party, and it whisked them the five miles to The Royal Monterran Hotel.
Although the women were dressed in very expensive chic pant suits, and Hatch and Bruno wore Armani suits, their entrance into the lobby did not stir up any excitement. This hotel was accustomed to seeing stretch limos and rich people from all over the world.
The huge lobby was three stories high with several crystal chandeliers hanging from brass chains. The room had a medieval Mediterranean feel to it, even though it had Las Vegas opulence. Karen and Syd were getting stiff necks from trying to see everything. Several bell boys unloaded their bags onto carts and they were whisked to the 14th floor in an express elevator, where they were all shown to their suites.
• • •
Syd and Hatch had finished unpacking by six o’clock, and Syd had joined him in his suite, when there was a knock on Hatch’s door. He opened it and found a man in a uniform. Not the uniform of the hotel personnel, but one that looked as if it were right out of The Student Prince.
The man gave a slight nod and clicked his heels, then said, “Good evening, sir. I am Captain Rossini. His Royal Highness, Giuliano di Conti, has asked me to extend his invitation to you, and your friends, to join him for cocktails in his quarters at the Royal Palace at 7:00 P.M. He realizes this is short notice. I will be pleased to convey your answer, whatever it is.”
Syd’s mouth fell open! She had expected that any audience with the Prince would be a formal one—maybe tomorrow or the next day after Hatch did some politicking.
Hatch said, “Thank you, Captain Rossini,” as he looked at his watch. “You can tell His Highness that we are extremely honored and, of course, we accept his kind invitation.”
“Thank you, sir. I will relay your acceptance to His Royal Highness immediately. The Royal Carriage will come for you at 6:55,” replied the captain, all business.
Hatch laughed and commented, “My main problem, Captain Rossini, will be getting the ladies to get dressed in such a short time span. Have you ever known a lady to take less than two hours to get dressed?”
The somber captain cracked a smile. “No, sir! However, if I may be so bold, the young lady here is dressed most elegantly already, and her beauty will blind His Highness to whatever she wears.”
Syd could feel her face turning red. “Thank you, Captain! You flatter me! However, in spite of Mr. Lincoln’s pessimism, I do believe I can be ready on time!”
The captain clicked his heels again and bowed. “The carriage will be prompt, signorina! I will see you then.”
He turned sharply and disappeared down the hall.
“Wow!” exclaimed Syd. “That was impressive! Did he say Royal Carriage?”
“I think so,” replied Hatch.
“Well, I’ve got to go squeeze into my gown and check my makeup! You’d better alert the others! My God, which earrings should I wear?”
Syd rushed through the connecting door into her suite, her mind swirling with all the things she had to do.
• • •
The five of them were in the lobby of the hotel at 6:53 P.M., all dressed to the nines. Bruno and Sara left their weapons in their rooms—Hatch had figured they would not be allowed to be armed in the presence of the Prince. In any case, danger should be minimal considering the security surrounding the monarch at the Royal Palace.
Captain Rossini entered the lobby and greeted Hatch and his party, then said in his British accent, “The Royal Carriage has arrived. If you would follow me, please.”
The manager behind the huge hotel desk brought Van Lincoln’s name up on his computer screen and added another star to the “VIP Status” field. Anyone who rated the Royal Carriage must be someone very important.
Captain Rossini led them outside and even Hatch was impressed when he saw the 18th century, ornate coach at the curb. It had four magnificent white horses hitched to it, two drivers up high on the front seat, and two footmen who rode on a step in the rear of the coach by holding on to railings. One footman held the gold-encrusted door open and the other assisted Karen and Sara up the one step into the carriage.
Syd whispered to Hatch, “I know how you feel about royalty, but this is awesome! This guy has showmanship!”
“A little pompous, maybe, but definitely good theater,” he laughed. “The question is, why is he trying to impress us?”
“You, not us!” said Syd as the footman helped her into the carriage.
• • •
The Royal Palace gates were only 500 yards from the hotel, and the horses walked the distance, allowing Captain Rossini to walk along side the Royal Carriage with ease. The ornate gate opened as they arrived and the carriage went up a road made of ancient cobblestones to the entrance of the Royal Palace.
By the time they were inside, Syd had a strange feeling—as if she had gone back in time. It was not like she felt in Il Castello di Bragno. There, she felt like she was in an interesting old castle. Here, it was an entirely different phenomenon. With the soldiers in 18th and 19th century uniforms, horse-drawn carriages, and the few women she saw on the arms of uniformed officers wearing gowns out of a movie about the Vienna Waltz, Syd had the eerie sensation that she had stepped back into history. Then, noticing the many modern conveniences in evidence, she decided it was more a feeling that the people had moved from the past into the future, but had retained their centuries-old customs and culture.
Captain Rossini escorted them to a comfortable-looking room and said, “This is part of His Royal Highness’s private quarters. This is where he entertains small, private groups. I think you will find it to be very comfortable.”
At that moment, a door on the far wall opened and Prince Giuliano II entered the room. He wore white trousers with a blue stripe running down the outside of each leg, shiny black shoes, and a white silk shirt with a royal blue sash running diagonally from his right shoulder across his chest to his left hip. The Royal Coat-of-Arms was embroidered on the sash. He was a stately man with thinning gray hair and a small gray mustache. He was 64 years old, 5' 11" tall, and was a trim 175 pounds. His brown eyes had a glint in them. He greeted his guests by kissing the hands of the ladies and shaking the hands of the men. He spoke excellent English with a British accent; he also spoke Italian, French, and German. He had received his education at Oxford, and also had studied at Heidelberg.
While Captain Rossini stood at a loose parade rest near the door they had entered, two waiters served elegant hors d’oeuvres and delivered drink orders. The first ten minutes consisted of small talk aimed at informing the Prince who Hatch and his guests were, and why they were in Monterra.
The Prince said, “I am so sorry my wife, Princess Anna, is not here to meet you. Unfortunately, she went to Genoa for a few days to visit her ailing aunt. She is due back tomorrow, isn’t she, Captain Rossini?”
“Yes, Your Highness. Tomorrow afternoon. She will be here in time for the Royal Ball,” replied the handsome
captain with a slight smile. Sara was salivating just looking at him.
Finally, Hatch decided to broach the subject of the problems between Italy and Monterra. He told the Prince how Triple Eye got involved in the situation, and finished up by telling the Prince about Lucchese’s intent to make a claim on the throne based on the Carfagno letter. The Prince had not been aware of that complication.
Hatch wrapped up by saying, “The death of Marco Lucchese ends his threat, but there are other descendants of Carla Carfagno nee di Conti who might surface. I think your best bet is to try and find a way to negate the treaty altogether. Who is handling the legal aspects of this for you?”
The Prince replied, “Our Minister of Justice, Dante di Dorno—the equivalent of your Attorney General. Unfortunately, he has no bloody experience in international law. He is an expert on Monterran law, but he is in over his head on this. I am thinking of bringing in an outsider.”
Hatch smiled and said, “Funny you should mention that, Your Highness. Karen Steppe here is one of the top guns in that area. Perhaps you could persuade her to take up your cause!”
Hatch had discussed this possibility with Karen on the flight over from Rome. If she was interested, he told her she should double her rates and ask for a large retainer. It could look good on her resume—attorney to the Prince of Monterra—especially if she won the case.
The Prince looked at the pretty blonde in the expensive light blue, floor-length gown sitting across from him. It was hard to believe that she was a world-renowned attorney.
Karen spoke up, “Your Highness, I have reviewed the treaty—at least a loose translation of it. I faxed a copy of the original to a language expert I use to get a more precise translation of the old Italian—nuances are often very important. But using the translation I have, I noticed that the treaty calls for Italy giving Monterra military and economic aid when requested. Has there ever been a point in your history when a request was made but refused? You can see what I’m after. Something which might show that Italy violated the terms of the treaty years ago, therefore negating it.”