The Lost Power: VanOps, Book 1

by Avanti Centrae

  “I did. Have it packed with the rest of my goods.” He’d also wanted to bring a weapon, but knew he couldn’t fly with one, so had researched where to buy 3D-printed firearms in Europe.

  “That’ll help us blend in as tourists,” Will said.

  “Hope so. What else have you packed, Argones?”

  “Got my favorite flashlight, the one Maria gave me.” Will’s face turned glum. “She had ‘My handsome Boy Scout’ engraved on it to tease me. See?”

  Will showed Bear the side of the flashlight.

  Bear didn’t know what to say in the face of such grief. “I see it. I’m sorry.”

  “Maybe the distraction of a trip will be good. I just hope I don’t get fired.”

  Bear watched Maddy continue to fold and pack. She had gracefully organized her toiletries and the bed was almost void of clothing. They were going to travel together. He couldn’t believe his good fortune.

  Bear turned to Will. “What’s your job exactly?”

  “I find engineering defects early in the product lifecycle. The sooner we find them, the cheaper they are to fix. If a defect makes it to the assembly line, it’s costly. I’ve actually been promoted twice in three years.”

  Bear was glad to see pride steal some of the grief out of Will’s expression. “Cool.”

  Maddy shut her suitcase. “I’m ready.”

  Will looked at her, eyes haunted. “What if the Russians are at the airport?”

  Maddy crossed her arms over her chest. “I guess we’ll find out.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Spain, June 28, 1:30 p.m.:

  As they drove across the scenic Iberian countryside in a rental car, Will wished Maria was at his side, enjoying the sights and laughing with him. He clenched his teeth and fought back a surge of anger at her senseless death. He hoped this trip would help him deliver justice to her killer.

  Last night, they had purchased flights into Madrid from Reno, paying cash and using their new false passports, which Will hoped would not only put the Russians off their trail but would also confuse the cops. He didn’t want a worldwide manhunt for him if the Napa police and that idiot who suspected him of murder, “Sergeant Walrus,” figured he was gone.

  Still not convinced their decision to depart the country was wise, Will worried at the airport that they’d be intercepted by someone--either the Russians or the police. His concerns proved unfounded, however, and their overnight flight was uneventful, thanks to multiple adult beverages and a long, restless nap.

  Throughout the travel preparations, Will continued to assert to Maddy that they keep their father’s letter secret from everyone but Bella, and Maddy agreed, although how it was going to remain a secret in Spain, Will wasn’t sure.

  They arrived at the guard station below the family castle in early afternoon. The stronghold had been visible for miles as they cut across the Spanish plain, a hilltop fortress from another age. The day was mostly cloudy and the sun occasionally lit on a fairy-tale stone tower, or crenellated rampart. During the latter part of the drive, while Maddy was oohing and ahhing about the beauty of it all, Will mused that the castle looked more menacing than welcoming. Of course, that could have been his mood. The guard looked at their papers and passed them through.

  After rolling through the immense arched and tiled front gate, then underneath the metal portcullis, their second cousin Prince Carlos, the heir apparent, met them in the broad stone courtyard as they stepped out of their rental car.

  Will had never met any of his Spanish family and was struck by his cousin’s resemblance to his father and grandfather. Prince Carlos, like them, had the same receding hairline, tall frame, olive skin, and green eyes. However, his entire left leg moved stiffly. Will tried not to stare at the pant leg while he recalled a tale from his father that the prince was born a conjoined twin. The twins had shared a leg and the doctors had chosen to give the elder twin the leg when they separated them. Prince Carlos had lived his entire life with the implications of that decision.

  There was also a story about the twin brother’s death, but Will didn’t recall the details. In the moment, he was just glad that he and Maddy were neither conjoined, nor dead.

  Will wondered at his cousin’s age and guessed mid-sixties, because although he stood tall, his face was heavily lined and his movements were slow.

  Prince Carlos’s flat eyes radiated the fury of a cold arctic wind, belying his welcoming words, “Buenos tardes. Come in, por favor.”

  “Gracias,” Will thanked him in Spanish as he, Maddy, and Bear stepped to the side of the car. “Do you mind if we speak English?”

  He nodded to Bear and Maddy to indicate they weren’t fluent in Spanish.

  “Of course,” Prince Carlos replied with just the trace of an accent. “Thank you for calling us yesterday from California to let us know of your visit. I trust your trip was satisfactory?”

  With this kind of welcome, Will already wanted to leave. “Yes, we appreciate your hospitality and hope not to inconvenience you for long. Is it possible to see your father?”

  Prince Carlos frowned. “The king has much business today and will arrive later this afternoon. He may or may not agree to a dinner audience with you. You must know that your presence puts him in grave danger.”

  Maddy reached behind her neck to pull up her dark ponytail to rest in front of her right shoulder. “Why is that?”

  “Your father was murdered, was he not?”

  Maddy made a small grimace, nodding once in reluctant agreement. “He was.”

  “You told me of this on the telephone and we have confirmed your story. Based on this sniper attack, the man, or men, responsible, could be after more than one family member. Have they attacked you?”

  Will didn’t want to look at Maddy. They hadn’t rehearsed this. “No, they haven’t bothered us.”

  Will could almost feel Maddy flush with the lie. She was not one to stretch the truth. Nor was he, but special times called for special measures.

  Prince Carlos looked from Will, back to Maddy, and then lingered on Will a moment. Will suspected the prince knew he was lying, but Will held his ground and stared back. He hadn’t come all this way to be turned back at the gate.

  Will added, “Our father indicated at his passing, that it was--” He didn’t want to divulge too much. “--or is, customary for the king to grant an audience when an elder passes. We would appreciate the courtesy that has been granted to other family members.”

  Prince Carlos continued to stare. “Well, we shall see.” After a last look, he turned on his heel and motioned for an aide to take their luggage. Over his shoulder he said, “Make yourselves comfortable in your rooms and meet me back here in an hour. I will see that you have a tour of the grounds.”

  Feeling troubled by the interaction, Will glanced at Maddy and Bear. He wondered if they also didn’t trust Prince Carlos. Bear shrugged off help with his bags and Maddy, with a wary expression in her green eyes, watched the prince leave. Will wasn’t sure if her similar assessment of their cousin was a good omen, or a bad one.

  CHAPTER 23

  Argones Castle, Spain, 2:30 p.m.:

  Back in the courtyard an hour later, Maddy, Will, and Bear slumped on stone benches around the fountain, surrounded by yellow, red, and purple roses. Maddy sat next to Bear while Will puffed on a cancer stick a few feet away. Jet lag and grief are catching up to us all.

  Nevertheless, Maddy wanted to remain on guard. Prince Carlos had not seemed friendly. They were a long way from home.

  Home. Maddy caught Will’s eye. “What do you think AJ is up to right now?”

  “Hard to say, why do you ask?”

  She looked around the courtyard and shrugged. “Kids love castles.”

  Will smiled a tired smile. “They sure do.”

  Bear clipped the GoPro on his shoulder harness to record the tour. “Who’s AJ?”

  “He’s a sweet little muffin of a foster kid from the dojo. I was going to take him to Great America the d
ay Dad and Maria were shot. He was with us. It was his birthday.”

  The conversation lagged. Maddy closed her eyes for a minute and recalled the chat she’d had with AJ on the way to the vineyard that day...

  ***

  “Are you a princess?” AJ had asked.

  Maddy laughed. “No, not really.”

  Her biological clock was ticking, but the last thing she felt like was a princess.

  “But the kids at the dojo say you are,” AJ insisted. “It’s my birthday and I want to go to a castle!”

  AJ’s parents had died not long after they moved to the Bay Area from Ukraine, and he’d been living with foster parents since. Those foster parents were busy and appreciated that she did the occasional extracurricular activity with AJ, so she had wanted to take him to Great America to help him celebrate.

  “My great-great-great-great-umpteen-great-grandfather was Ramiro I, the first king of Aragon, which eventually became Spain, but my immediate family isn’t royal, so I’m not a princess.”

  “What about the current king of Spain, you’re related to him aren’t you? Let’s fly to his castle today!”

  She figured AJ was too smart for his own good. “The king? He’s my great-uncle. I’ve never even met him, his castle is an ocean away, and we’re going to my dad’s house on a vineyard. We have to go there before we go ride the roller coasters.”

  AJ made a momentary pouty face. He knew they couldn’t go to Spain, but kids loved castles.

  ***

  Taking a deep breath, Maddy found it odd that she was now in the courtyard of the castle. Maybe when this adventure was history, she’d revisit the idea of adopting AJ, even without Vincent. She sure did miss his freckled face.

  She opened her eyes and looked at Will. “Wish we could call, just to check in. This not having our own phones thing is downright inconvenient.”

  “Yes, but safe,” Will said.

  Maddy sighed. “I guess.” But she felt vulnerable without it.

  Letting the conversation lull again, she glanced up at her room’s open window. Although the room was handsomely appointed, with an antique four-poster bed and gorgeous side table that looked a thousand years old, there had not been a good place to hide their father’s letter, the passports, and their cash and assets. After a too-short nap, she’d resorted to stuffing their resources between the mattress and box spring, but she wasn’t happy about it and vowed to keep them close, in her backpack, next time.

  Her worry was interrupted by Prince Carlos’s brusque arrival into the square. As he walked toward them, looking like her father, another piece of her heart broke off and she fought back tears. She’d cry again later, not now.

  Will had reminded her of Prince Carlos’s false leg, and she noticed that he walked slowly, not quite a shuffle, but definitely like an older man. If the prince were this old, likely in his sixties, how old was the king? A little math produced a guess that he would be in his eighties. So, Prince Carlos was close to acquiring his crown.

  What it would have been like for her grandfather Max to grow up here and know, as the youngest of four boys, that he would never be king? And what was it like for Prince Carlos to be ever the heir? So close and yet so far...

  Prince Carlos was trailed by a small entourage that included a gangly young man and a middle-aged woman, who looked like a female version of her own father, Francisco. When Prince Carlos got close enough to speak, he introduced the groups to one another by waving. “This is Antoine, my eldest grandson, and his mother Catherine. I have business to attend, so they will take you on a tour of the castle grounds. Father has agreed to meet you for dinner at seven this evening in the dining hall. Antoine can show you where it is before you complete your tour.”

  As she sized up these new cousins, Maddy stifled a yawn and doubted she could stay awake until seven. Her father’s first cousin, Catherine, moved in odd jerky motions, looking up at the sky for a moment and then glancing at them without seeming to see them, then squatting down to peer at something only she could see on a paving stone. Was Catherine mentally well? Dangerous?

  Antoine, on the other hand, was the charming picture of Americanized youth. He was in his late teens and wore a blue-and-white New York Yankees baseball cap backward on his head. His broad smile, at least, seemed genuine.

  “Hi!” he said, in accent-less English as he reached out his hand to shake hers.

  She couldn’t stop her return smile. “Hello.”

  She was always a sucker for charming men, even if they were related. Antoine also shook Bear’s hand with vigor and then went a little more gently on Will, perhaps realizing that Will had more brains than brawn. The family resemblance was clear as the two men shook hands--they were both about six foot two, sported tan skin and fashionable beards, and they shared broad white smiles.

  Prince Carlos lurched off. “Adiós, enjoy your afternoon.”

  Maddy breathed a sigh of relief, not liking the shadows moving in his eyes.

  Antoine started walking and waved his arm, inviting them to follow. The group moved through the courtyard, outside the arched main gate, and stopped a hundred feet from the wall to take in the panoramic view of the valley below. Maddy looked back. Catherine hadn’t tagged along. The unusual woman continued to sit on her heels, staring at something on the ground.

  Antoine noticed the direction of Maddy’s gaze. “Don’t mind my crazy madre. She’s been like that since my father died years ago.”

  Maddy didn’t know how to reply, so nodded and gazed around, astounded by the view.

  Once he had the three Americans’ full attention, Antoine turned in a half circle with his arms out, calling them to his story. “The castle was built during the tenth century by an Arab family, when its position on the frontier between Muslim and Christian territories gave the location strategic importance. It was built above the river as a recreational residence, originally known as the Palace of Delight. Aragonese forces, led by our ancestor Ramiro I’s son, Sancho Ramírez, conquered the castle and surrounding lands from the Muslims in 1089. Not such a delight for the Muslims, I’m afraid, and it was renamed Aragones Castle at that time. Somewhere along the way, the second a was dropped from the family surname and it became Argones Castle.”

  Maddy found herself drawn into the story, imagining men in pitched battle, fighting for control of the ramparts.

  Will motioned to several large piles of rock that lay outside the nearby walls. “What’s up with the piles of stone?”

  “In the original construction, extra ramparts were made in the open field surrounding the castle, but as you can see, they’ve been reduced to rubble.”

  Will nodded.

  “In 1143 the castle passed into Templar hands,” Antoine continued. “They added additional walls, towers, stables, a hall for dining, and dormitories. You may even see some Egyptian artifacts around the castle. No one is sure if those artifacts are from the Arabs, Templars, or passed down from Ramiro.”

  Maddy noticed Bear’s eyes roaming the walls. He might also be imagining medieval combat, hearing the clash of sword on shield.

  “Eventually, around 1309, the Templars were, shall we say, ‘disbanded,’ and the castle was retaken by another ancestor. Additional evolution in walls and defenses continued until the nineteenth century, as the fort still held defensive garrisons until that time.”

  Antoine led them back through the gate and they followed the walls around to a tower. Maddy noticed Catherine was no longer in the courtyard.

  Antoine gestured. “The outermost walls of the castle and their seven towers were erected in the thirteenth or fourteenth century.”

  As they walked along the wall, Will pointed at a cross. It was oddly shaped, with a pointed bottom and flanged ends, and carved into the side of the chapel. “What’s that symbol? It looks like a thorned cross.”

  Earlier, Maddy had seen the mark on an interior hallway corner but hadn’t remarked on it.

  “That’s the royal sign, the signum regis of
Ramiro. You’ve not seen this in America?”

  “No, not that I recall,” Will answered.

  “It’s in our family crest.”

  Maddy had likewise never seen either the royal sign or family crest before today. She wondered if America had been a fresh start for her grandfather, so much so that he even left the family crest behind.

  They walked along until they stood in front of a tower so high that it made Maddy’s neck ache again when she craned back to see the top. She cringed.

  “This oldest construction of the Argones Castle is now called Troubled Tower, although some say it was called Minstrel Tower back in the day. Looking at it from the outside, you can’t tell that there are actually five internal floors--the whole thing looks like an enormous prism, broken by narrow, I think you call them, ‘embrasures.’”

  The term sounded familiar but Maddy couldn’t place it. “Maybe not, what’s an embrasure?”

  “Slots for cannons or places where an archer stands. These look more like arrow slits,” Bear said, around his chewing gum.

  Maddy had forgotten his fondness for the stuff. He’d popped some in his mouth on the plane ride and was still working on the same piece. It baffled her. She could chew gum for about twenty minutes and then had to spit it out.

  Antoine was agreeable and energetic. “Sure, okay, an arrow slit. Let’s go up and inside through the murder hole.” He pointed to an upper door that was accessible only by means of a portable ladder, which he lined up. “They used to drop hot oil and rocks down on besiegers from the access hole.”

  Will shuddered. “Not pretty, but effective. No wonder they called it the murder hole. Hey, I’m going to stay down here and have a smoke.”

  Will’s long-lashed eyes looked a little pinched. He hated heights and had even drunk himself to sleep on the airplane ride from the States. His fear seemed silly, but she wasn’t all that fond of enclosed spaces, so who was she to judge? She glanced at the small door above and hoped it opened into a larger space. Why not risk it? The view must be fantastic from up there.