Operation: Monarch

by Valerie Parv

  A massive receptacle revealed where they normally landed, and he flicked a glance around before going to it and peering up. Between the cellar and the banquet hall was a distance of about seventy feet, he estimated. The chute was a little over a foot square, lined with metal ducting, the entrance presently criss-crossed by plastic tape bearing the R.P.D. seal and dire warnings against its removal.

  He intended to ignore the warnings, but fitting into the chute was another matter. Nothing for it. He stripped off everything but his black briefs, dropping the clothes into the nearest filled basket. Telling himself it was no different from the chimney climbing he'd done as part of DARE training, he snapped the tape and angled his body inside.

  The so-called chimneys in most mountain climbs were narrow vertical openings climbed by pushing against the opposing walls and shimmying upward. Wider chimneys were ascended with your back to one wall and feet and knees to the other, but the chute was the much more difficult squeeze climb, involving a reptilian squirm that was slow, strenuous and graceless.

  With no face holds on the sides of the chute, he had to resort to jamming himself upward using shoulders, elbows and knees. When it became seemingly impossible, he held fast to an image of Serena, so beautiful, so desirable. For her and the future he wanted with her, he pushed himself on.

  By the time he saw the small door indicating he was nearing the banquet hall, he could barely grip the chute for the perspiration streaming off him. When the door refused to yield to pressure he had the panicky thought that it was locked from the inside. He heaved a sigh of relief when he managed to crack it open.

  Peering through the gap, he made sure the hall was empty before squirming out through the narrow opening, destroying more security seals as he did so. His arms ached and his elbow, hip and shoulder bones felt crushed. The bruises he'd have tomorrow should really be something.

  Dismissing the discomfort, he padded to the long table that was already set for the president's welcome banquet. Low centerpieces of Carramer's famous wild orchids interspersed with candles trailed over the pristine white linen. He poked among them, finding nothing suspicious.

  Next he checked the bases, simple bowls made of gold and engraved with the royal crest. Underneath the center one he hit the jackpot. Mixed in with the florists' foam holding the flowers in place, he found a yielding plastic substance colored the same innocuous green. Every one of the floral displays held at least some plastic explosive blended in with the foam. His flesh crawled. There was enough C4 on the table to destroy this entire wing of the castle.

  How in the devil had the would-be assassin managed to get them past security? There was only one possible answer.

  A cool breeze feathered his skin and he looked up to see the main doors opening. He dropped and rolled beneath the table letting the cloth conceal him, hoping he hadn't moved anything out of alignment. On his self-guided tour he'd seen the staff measuring distances between everything on the table and guessed that their experienced eye would spot the slightest thing out of place.

  The arrival was female, he saw. The shoes were the sensible, low-heeled kind nurses usually wore and the stockings were flesh-colored. Not many women wore stockings in Carramer's tropical climate. He tried to remember who he'd seen wearing them, but drew a blank.

  As she moved along the table, closer to his hiding place, he made his breathing slow and shallow. He needn't have bothered.

  "You can come out of there, or I can summon the guard to shoot you through the cloth."

  He rolled out from under the table and uncoiled slowly. His state of undress showed he wasn't armed but he held his hands up and away from his body, not wanting to give the woman any excuse to call the guard.

  She looked more than capable. She had the kind of hard face he associated with female prison wardens in gangster movies, and her iron-gray hair was lacquered to within an inch of its life, not a curl out of place.

  Her blue uniform with the royal coat of arms embroidered on the left breast came down to her calves, above the flesh-colored hosiery. For such a formidable-looking woman, she had a figure that women half her years would envy. "August Beck," he said, finally able to place her.

  "Her real name is Felice Junot," Serena said, moving into the room, amazed to see Garth standing there clad only in his briefs. Some men would have been embarrassed. He made it look like the uniform of the day.

  Determined to match his composure, although her heart was racing, she showed him the printout. "This was done by a computer program that forecasts how Felice would look in her sixties. Amazingly accurate, isn't it?"

  August—Felice—barely glanced at the printout. "How did you get in here?"

  "I had Prince Lorne personally direct the guard to let me through," she said. "He could hardly argue with the monarch."

  Felice Junot's face screwed up in pure hatred. "Lorne's kind destroyed my life. They hunted my poor husband to his grave."

  Serena brushed away an imaginary tear. "Touching, except that you were cheating on your husband with Roy Keer long before Armand's dismissal from the royal household."

  Obviously shocked by the reference to Keer, Felice tried to bluff it out. "You can't prove it. Roy drowned years ago."

  "Don't worry, you'll see him again. He's already in police custody in Solano."

  Felice's legs gave and she grabbed the banquet table for support. "How? When?"

  "More importantly, how did you fool castle security and obtain the position of chatelaine?"

  "Easy. I was working at the castle until I married Armand. When I went to Australia, my references from the royal family gained me a position in Government House. The real Augustine Beck was my boss until she died of pneumonia. When Roy left prison and wanted me to live with him, I decided to borrow Beck's identity to help Roy get even with the royals. Augustine Beck's references checked out, and nobody remembered Felice Junot after thirty years." She almost spat the words out. "None of the royals see us as people, only as servants. They saw what they expected to see."

  Serena had been no better, she thought, furious with herself for the oversight. The lacquered hair that the rest of the staff joked about was undoubtedly a wig, and the changes in Felice in three decades had done the rest. Still, hiring an imposter was a serious breach of security and although it had happened before her time, Serena intended to make it her business to ensure such a thing couldn't happen again.

  "Where does Jarvis Reid come in?" Garth asked.

  "Why don't you ask him? He's behind you."

  Serena wasn't about fall for the old trick until Jarvis himself spoke. "I didn't believe August when she said you were a traitor, Serena."

  She did turn then, to find Jarvis holding a gun on them. "Her real name is Felice Junot and she's the traitor."

  "She's rigged the centerpieces with explosives," Garth contributed.

  Jarvis looked taken aback. "August doesn't want to hurt anybody, only to show the royals up. If there are explosives, you planted them after I sealed this hall."

  She shook her head. "No, Jarvis. Felice and her lover, Roy Keer, also known as the Hand, are using you. They're going to kill Prince Lorne and the president."

  "That's not true. I wouldn't…"

  "Prove it. Put the gun down," Garth urged.

  August shifted in alarm. "Don't do it, Jarvis. I told you they'd say anything to put Garth Remy on the throne. They're in this together."

  Jarvis's gun wavered slightly then firmed on Garth. "Is it true you're claiming the crown?"

  "Not until DNA testing reveals who I really am."

  "What will you do when you find out you're my son by Roy Keer?" Felice demanded.

  Serena's gasp of shock was drowned out by Garth's roar of denial. As he moved toward Felice, evidently goaded beyond reason by her statement, Reid's gun swung wildly to keep up with him. Serena braced herself to see the man she loved go down in a burst of gunfire.

  Before Reid could open fire, Garth changed direction in a heartbeat and launch
ed himself in a flat dive across the room. He slammed into Reid, knocking the gun out of his hand. The momentum carried them across the vast hall, ending in a sickening crack as Reid's head connected with a paneled wall.

  Seizing her chance, Serena threw herself at Felice. The older woman exploded like dynamite, raging almost incoherently against the unraveling of her carefully laid plan. Holding her was like holding a tiger, but Serena hung on grimly, ducking to avoid fingernails like talons raking the air near her face.

  "I've had about enough of you," Serena snapped after the nails came within an inch of her eye. She backhanded the woman across the face. Not exactly a textbook defense, but immensely satisfying. Felice's raving cut off abruptly, although her eyes blazed hatred at Serena. Well, that made them even, she thought, twisting Felice's arms behind her.

  Garth was climbing to his feet beside Reid who lay like a broken doll, his head twisted at an unnatural angle against the wall. Intercepting Serena's questioning look, Garth shook his head.

  Serena's stomach roiled but she fought it. "We'd better contact the R.P.D. command center direct. I don't trust the guard on the door. He might be working with these two."

  "He isn't," Felice said in a hollow voice. "Jarvis wasn't involved with us until I promised him a substantial payment. He thought he'd get to 'discover' the plot and be a hero, gaining the promotion meant for you. He had no idea what we really planned." Her shoulders slumped and she said in a beaten voice, "There's no point going on with this now."

  "There's still the question of my real parents." Garth's voice rang with command.

  "The truth died with Armand," Felice said. "I disowned David after he sided with his father against me, and I desperately wanted Roy's child, but he couldn't make me pregnant. It was wishful thinking, telling you you're our son."

  Tears began to seep from under her lashes and she blinked hard. "Roy had big plans for the organization and clients willing to pay well to keep the Americans out. Now it's all been for nothing." She jerked her head to indicate the walkie-talkie clipped to her belt. "You may as well call your people."

  Cuffing Felice's hands in one of hers, Serena reached for the walkie-talkie with her free hand. Before she could activate it, Garth said urgently, "Don't touch it. The C4 in the flowers is probably triggered by a signal from that walkie-talkie."

  In seconds Felice's pose changed from defeat to sly amusement. "You can't blame me for trying."

  Chilled by how close she had come to being the instrument of so much destruction, Serena let her hand drop. "I'll call the command center from a house phone."

  Chapter 19

  The grandeur of the monarch's private audience chamber made quite a contrast with the five-year-old child galloping around it on a hobby horse, Serena thought as she and Garth were shown into Prince Lorne's presence later that evening.

  He stood with an arm around Princess Alison's shoulders, the couple smiling at the antics of their son. They made such a warm, loving picture that Serena's heart squeezed with longing. Would she and Garth look at their child that way one day?

  For the audience she had changed into an etched floral tie-neck dress with a short crocheted cardigan, and Garth's look of sensual appreciation brought a flush to her cheeks. He looked disturbingly handsome in a navy golf shirt with white-trimmed collar, and tailored navy pants, although she couldn't help thinking of how magnificent he'd looked storming the banquet hall wearingly only black briefs.

  That he was clean-shaven testified to the importance he accorded this meeting. Serena missed the designer stubble but it was hardly appropriate for a monarch, if that's what he turned out to be. The truth wouldn't change her love for him. But what about Garth's feelings for her?

  Princess Alison greeted them warmly before speaking gently to Prince Nori. The child dropped the hobby horse and flung his arms around his father's knees, looking up at him winningly. "Will you tell me a bedtime story?"

  "Don't I every night I possibly can, coquine?" Lorne asked. He ruffled the child's dark hair. "I'll join you as soon as you're in bed."

  Bidding them a pleasant good-night, Princess Alison took Nori through a door leading to the family's private apartments. When the door closed, Lorne gestured for them to join him at a group of chairs arranged around a low table. As soon as they were seated, he pulled a leather-bound folder bearing the royal seal toward him. Serena's hand found Garth's. His fingers felt cold in hers but his grip was firm. She held on tight, not sure who was supporting whom.

  Lorne got straight to the point. "According to the results of the DNA tests, you are not my older brother, Prince Louis. Sadly, it seems that he truly did die at birth."

  She heard Garth's breath rush out, but in unmistakable relief. "Do we have any idea of my real parentage, sir?"

  Lorne nodded. "As you know I arranged to have as many members of my immediate family tested as possible. You are the son of my late uncle, Prince Leon de Marigny, and half-brother to his son, Josquin, the Prince Regent of Valmont Province until the heir, Cristophe, comes of age."

  "Half brother? Not the son of Leon's widow, Princess Fleur?"

  Lorne inclined his head in negation. "I believe that your biological mother will turn out to be Lady Paulette Georges, a former member of Prince Leon's staff, now serving at our embassy in Paris. Of course she would need to be tested as well, for absolute certainty."

  Lorne took a breath. "Leon and Fleur had considerable financial difficulties that undermined their relationship for a time. I know because my father helped them out of trouble on more than one occasion. He was aware that Leon was seeing Lady Paulette and counseled him about it, but it wasn't his place to intervene in their private affairs as long as he didn't cause a scandal." He gave a wry smile. "They were exceedingly discreet."

  "So it would seem," Garth agreed.

  Serena thought he was taking the news of his royal birth amazingly well. "How did their child come to be raised by the Remys?" she asked.

  "Strange as it seems, Leon loved his wife and son and didn't want them to know about his indiscretion. In any case I suspect Paulette was the driving force behind the relationship. She was ambitious and talented, and a child may have impeded her career. I do know she was a tireless worker for many causes including the Marine Benevolent Society."

  "My mother—adoptive mother—used to go there once a week to visit the old sailors," Garth recalled, his voice tightening.

  "If Paulette learned that your mother was desperate to have a child, that may have seemed like the answer to everyone's prayers," Serena suggested.

  Lorne closed the leather folder. "I can recall Paulette to Carramer, or place my private jet at your disposal so you can meet her in Paris as you prefer."

  Serena was sure she looked as stunned as Prince Lorne when Garth said, "No, thank you, Your Highness."

  The monarch gave a slight smile. "We are cousins, Prince Garth de Marigny, so you may as well get used to calling me Lorne. Which option displeases you?"

  "Both of them…Lorne. Lady Paulette—if she is my biological mother—obviously didn't want a child, and Leon's widow may know nothing about her husband's affair. There's nothing to be gained by dragging it out into the open now. I've been happy thus far as Garth Remy, and I see no reason to change."

  Her heart swelled for Garth.

  "Your readiness to put the good of others before yourself marks you as a true de Marigny," Lorne said. "I am proud to acknowledge you—even if only privately—as a member of my family."

  "But not as Prince Garth, please?"

  "It is your choice. As I mentioned, Leon's financial affairs were troubled, so there is no inheritance of any consequence. However he held a number of secondary titles, one of which would normally pass to a younger son."

  She could feel Garth's resistance in every muscle as he cautioned, "Don't do it, Lorne."

  The monarch shook his head. "In this, my will must prevail. I now create you Garth, Earl of Marin. Publicly, the title will be your reward for services
to the crown. Privately, it allows me to welcome you into the family on equal terms. You should be proud to bear such an old and honorable title, Lord Marin."

  Lorne shifted uncomfortably under the weight of the new role, but said decisively, "In that case, I accept."

  Lorne looked bemused. "I'm glad I have your approval. Having you in the family will be refreshing."

  "Better than having me on the throne?"

  "Infinitely," the monarch said dryly. "I shall explain the situation to Josquin myself. He has frequently expressed a wish for a brother, and we can rely on him to be discreet in sharing the news." Lorne stood up. "Please excuse me. I have a presidential visit to prepare for. Thanks to you both, it should be a memorable occasion—for all the right reasons."

  She knew her expression of relief mirrored the monarch's. "We're glad to have been of service, sir."

  When she started to rise, Lorne motioned her to remain where she was. "Stay here as long as you like. You have much to discuss. I'm assuming congratulations are in order?"

  How did he know? Unless the radiant love she'd seen between Lorne and his wife could be observed between her and Garth. It thrilled her to think so.

  "I'm new at this protocol business, Lorne. Are we supposed to ask for your blessing?" Garth queried.

  The prince smiled. "I would never stand in the way of true love. After what you two have done for the country, you deserve every happiness."

  Serena felt her eyes mist. "Thank you, Your Highness."

  "Lorne…since it appears you will soon be my cousin by marriage. As well as the new chief of the Solano R.P.D. from this moment."

  It was said so casually that the impact took whole seconds to be felt. Garth's arm came around her. "Congratulations, darling."

  "Well deserved," Lorne agreed. He gestured to another folder on the table. "There's also the matter we discussed earlier. You'll find the written resolution in there, Serena."

  Her heart felt overfull and she could only nod her thanks. The prince looked satisfied as he left them alone.