by Jillian Dodd
"It's only been a short while since my father passed. She shouldn't be making decisions right now."
"Give her some time. I'm sure she'll come around to your way of thinking. She loves you and wants to make you happy."
He takes my hand and presses his lips against it. "As I do you."
I want to ask him to clarify that. I'm sure he meant he wants to make me happy, not that he loves me. But just as I'm about to open my mouth, Juan interrupts the moment to tell us our car is waiting out front.
Upon arrival to the Archives, we are escorted through a back entrance. We're getting a VIP tour that allows us to see the preservation rooms as well as some of the pieces that are rotated on and off display. It's cool to see the care that is given to our country's important documents.
Next, we are taken to the grand hall where the Declaration of Independence is displayed. The place is packed with summer vacationers and full of children.
"There it is," Lorenzo says. "Your Declaration of Independence. It's incredible to think that a new country, your government, was created by a few men with great foresight."
"America has become a super power in a very short time. Do you think it will be like other world powers who have fallen, or will it be able to maintain this status?"
"If history is any indication, all super powers eventually fall. My father always said we should learn from the mistakes of the past. And we can learn much from the history of our countries. Montrovia is like Switzerland. We remain neutral in world politics. It keeps us from getting involved in costly wars."
"That's true, but terror has yet to come to your country."
"And it probably will not because we've created no animosity with any country."
"You flaunt your wealth and western ways, isn't that enough for some?"
"Perhaps," he agrees, "but the deep seeded hate is not there."
"I wish there was no hate in the world," I say with a sigh, then point to the document and change the subject. "Did you know there's an invisible map on the back of it?"
He smiles. "I've seen that movie." He wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close enough so that he can whisper in my ear. "I think in another life I was a treasure hunter. So much excitement. Speaking of that, you've been spending time with me. I like it but was wondering, am I still your mission?"
I shake my head. "No, you are not."
"So you are here with me simply because you enjoy my company?"
"Yes," I say, standing on my tiptoes and kissing his cheek. "I most certainly am."
He's pulling me in for a kiss when my peripheral vision notices something out of place.
Shit. We have to act quickly.
I duck behind Lorenzo's shoulder and tap Juan. "Three o'clock. Black puffy jacket."
"It's not cold out," he says.
"And there are a lot of children and families here. We have to do something."
Nearly everyone in the place is taking photos and videos. If I tried to approach the man, it could end horrifically, not to mention completely blow my cover. But that would be better than being blown to bits.
Juan reaches for his concealed weapon.
"Don't do that! If he has a bomb, you'll risk him setting it off and killing everyone in here. Including us."
"Well, what would you suggest?" he says sarcastically.
"If you want to play the hero, you can hug him tightly, which would lessen the bomb's impact. You would die but you'd save a lot of people."
"Any other brilliant ideas?"
"You need to go behind the bomber, grab him around the shins, lift up, and push forward. He should instinctively put his hands out to break his fall. Once his hands are away from the bomb's trigger, shove your knee into his back to keep him down flat. Then you can shoot him if need be."
The other guards surround Lorenzo and I, but I'm not sure why they are bothering. If the man does have a bomb, and it goes off, it won't matter. We'll all be dead.
Juan circles behind the man.
"Lorenzo," I whisper. "You need to leave the building."
"Maybe the man is just chilly?"
"He's here by himself, wearing a coat in the middle of summer, and his lips are moving."
"Then we need to stay here and help these people. Are you armed?"
"Actually, I am, but if I shoot him, the bomb could still explode. Let's see if Juan can handle it."
I wait until Juan dives into the man's shins then yell out, "He's got a bomb! Everyone get out!"
A mass panic occurs, people scream and run for their lives.
This helps to clear the area around the bomber. Juan jabs his knee in the man's back, but the man keeps struggling.
I'm afraid he will get free.
No one is looking at me, so I shoot the man in the neck with a tranquilizer dart, causing him to quickly stop struggling as he goes limp.
Juan narrows his eyes at me then rolls the man over and opens his jacket.
"There is no bomb," he says. "Merda."
"Check his underwear," I say. "I read in the paper the other day that--"
"I'm not unzipping his pants," Juan argues. "If you're wrong about this, it's going to be a social media nightmare."
I bend down and unzip the unconscious man's pants, proving my point.
"Holy mother, will you look at that?"
"I've heard about those," one of the other guards says. "They use liquid explosives, like TATP and nitroglycerin. We only had to go through a magnetometer here. It wouldn't have picked it up."
"Get your hands in the air!" a policeman yells as we are surrounded by lots of men with guns.
"Drop the weapon," another yells at Juan.
"I am the King of Montrovia," Lorenzo says, his voice booming as he steps directly into their line of fire. "These men are part of my security detail. Because of their quick thinking, they took down a suicide bomber who nearly caused the deaths of many people. Lower your guns and treat them with the respect they deserve."
To my surprise, the men do exactly as told.
I can't help but smile with pride.
An hour and a million questions later, we are allowed to leave.
The good news is they don't believe the man was targeting Lorenzo. The bad news is he got past their security.
"I think we should skip the rest of our tour," Juan says.
When we get back to the house, Juan asks to speak to me in private.
"Miss Von Allister," he says formally. Usually he calls me Huntley. "May I ask why you have a watch that shoots tranquilizer darts? Darts that look much like the ones used when you, your brother, and the Prince were kidnapped?"
I look down at my watch, wondering what I could tell him to allow me to maintain my cover.
I slump my shoulders and sigh, like I'm about to tell him a secret.
"As one would expect, being kidnapped kind of freaked my brother and I out. I suggested getting a gun for protection, but Ari said that I would end up shooting myself. So we did some research and found a website with all these covert, spy-type gadgets." I hold my arm up, showing him the watch. "With their help, we retrofitted this watch to hold two tranquilizer darts."
"Okay, let's say I buy that," he says, scrutinizing me. "How is it that you knew the proper way to take down a suicide bomber?"
I look him straight in the eye and lie through my teeth. "Ari and I worked with a professional security advisor. Although we are not royalty, we're told that our money could make us a target, particularly for kidnapping. So we were taught some basic techniques. That was one of them. I was really impressed with how well it worked."
"I can't believe I listened to you," he says with a smile, shaking his head. I'm not sure he totally buys it, but at least he goes along with my story. "However, I'm glad I did. Can you give me the name of the firm? I think I'd like to have them do a training session for the King's guards."
"Um." Merda. "Absolutely, I'll have Ari get you his name. We considered hiring our own security guards, but that seemed a bit pretentious
. Ari and I aren't used to all this media attention. I suppose Lorenzo grew up with it and doesn't know anything different."
"He did, and he often acted out accordingly," Juan says with a laugh. "You're good for him. After the kidnapping, he distanced himself from you."
"I know. He wouldn't talk to me."
"But he wanted you to attend his coronation."
"To get back the Royal Jewels, I assumed."
"His sending you on the boat and not going with you was a mistake on his part."
"Juan, I'm not sure I could handle the pressures of being a princess, let alone be the queen of your country."
"And I'm thinking you most certainly could. You're unflappable, smart, and quick on your feet. Because of you, we're all alive."
"Is it just me, or does the King's security team seem a little, um, old?"
"I suggested that he offer his father's guards nice retirement packages and recruit his own men. He declined."
"Maybe after today, you should remind him of that."
He smiles. "Maybe you should be the one to tell him."
I nod in agreement. "I think I will."
Lorenzo is in the study taking calls from reporters. I sit down in one of the chairs not already occupied by his staff.
When he finishes the call, his personal secretary says, "CNN wants you in studio tonight to talk about the events of today, the other attempts on your life, and your new role as King."
His eyes meet mine, and he smiles. "Tell them I have plans for this evening."
"What about first thing in the morning?" she counters.
"Tomorrow is the funeral for the President," he reminds her.
She looks frustrated. "Very well then."
"I'm done for the day," Lorenzo states, then he walks over, takes my hand, and pulls me out of my seat. "We aren't going to let this ruin our evening. And we're going out alone." He addresses his staff. "I want you all to take the night off. Go enjoy the city."
Although they protest, they don't put up a fight. Soon we're in the study alone.
I shut the doors and fix Lorenzo a drink.
"Can I talk to you about today? Not only as someone who cares for you, but also to give you my professional opinion?"
"Certainly."
"You need a new security detail. The men who guarded your father are out of shape, slow to react, and not up to date with current threats in the world. They should have constant training, not rest on their laurels. You should promote Juan and let him recruit the best of the best from the Montrovian Special Forces. Guarding you may be an honor, but it's more than that."
He sets his drink down and slips his arm around my waist. "Or I could marry you."
"If I marry you, I will lose my abilities, as well. Something I'm not prepared to do."
"What if I hired you as my very personal body guard?" he asks, his eyes smoldering. "A man of my position would most definitely require constant care. Particularly at night, in my bed."
"You are not taking me seriously."
"Oh, but that is where you are wrong. I would take having you in my bed extremely seriously."
"I mean about your guard."
"I'm glad you are worried about my safety, and you are probably right. I'll talk to Juan about it tomorrow, and he can start the process." He kisses me, sending shivers down to my toes. "Back to you in my bed."
"I thought you wanted me in your limo so we could take in the monuments at night?"
He narrows his eyes at me.
"I want you in my limo, alright."
"Lorenzo!" I screech.
"But, Huntley, my dear, I am very serious about it. You may have to fight me off."
I raise an eyebrow at him. "Challenge accepted."
"Merda," he mutters. "How am I ever supposed to have my way with you when you so easily can fend off my advances?"
"If I want things to advance, I am certainly capable of letting you know."
"And how will you do that?" he asks with a smirk. "Can you give me details?"
"Go get in the limo before you get yourself in trouble." I laugh.
MISSION:DAY FOUR
Although Daniel texted me late last night and asked me to attend the funeral with him, it was vetoed by his family this morning, who said that a solemn occasion such as this should not be made a media spectacle like what happened with the swearing in photo.
And I guess I can respect that.
It made it easier for me, since Lorenzo also requested that I accompany him. Ari could have come with us but decided there was no need.
"The man's dead, there's nothing further we can do for him," he says callously as Lorenzo and I are leaving. His words make Lorenzo flinch, but I suspect his harshness comes more from his personal losses than from a lack of respect.
When we arrive at the National Cathedral, a media spectacle is already taking place. Thousands are lined up on the streets waving American flags along the hearse's route to the funeral. Reporters from every station--from local to international--seem to be present. And although there is no red carpet, there might as well be with all the recognizable faces. Republicans, Democrats, world leaders, former Presidents, political dignitaries, and celebrities, all dressed in black, come together to mourn for our nation.
And although I am here to do the same, I have another job. I want to scan the crowd looking for someone who seems out of place. Someone whose calculating eyes betray their feelings. Someone who isn't sad, but rather who may have benefited from the President's death.
But the only person I can see who has directly benefited is Daniel's father, and he is visibly upset, particularly when the flag-draped casket is carried down the aisle by a military honor guard and placed at the front of the church.
When the funeral is over the casket is taken out of the church, followed by the former President's family.
Lorenzo leans over and whispers to me, "The casket and family will be taken on Air Force One to President Hillford's home state of Massachusetts, where he will be buried on the grounds of what will be his Presidential Library."
I expect to be let out of the church row by row, but once the family and casket, along with the current President and his family--including Daniel who looked devilishly handsome in a dark suit and who gave me a wink as he walked by--are out of the church, everyone gets up and mingles. People are being comforted by one and other. Hugs, greetings from people who haven't seen each other in "ages," and even an occasional peel of laughter--the sounds of the living fill the air.
While Lorenzo is making his rounds, I stand by his side looking pretty and using the time to survey the crowd. I haven't spotted anyone rubbing their hands together like the evil men on cartoons, happy their nefarious plan has come together--if only it were that easy.
"Huntley, I'd like you to meet Malcolm Prescott, Peter's father," Lorenzo says, introducing me to a distinguished looking man wearing a very expensive Italian suit.
"It's a joy to finally meet you," he says. "Peter has told me much about you. What an interesting story you have. Is your brother here with you? Ares and I were quite close. I never knew he had children." He studies my face then smiles at me. "But it's obvious you are his daughter. You have his eyes."
"How did you know each other?" I ask.
"We were friends back when we all thought we were at the top of our game, having each earned our first million before we were twenty-five." He smiles a sad smile. "Except for the man we laid to rest here today. He simply turned twenty and received a large trust fund. But it was that trust fund that gave the three of us, who had nothing to speak of, the seed money for the businesses we went on to create."
"So you, President Hillford, and my father were friends?"
"Yes, along with Aleksandr Nikolaevich. I believe you met his son, Viktor, in Montrovia." He smiles at me. "Your father was obsessed with racing, not to mention all sorts of other fun gadgets. Through him we were invited by Ferrari to attend the Montrovian Grand Prix." He turns toward Lorenzo. "Which is whe
re we met your father when he was still the prince." He gives Lorenzo a little slap on the back. "And from what I've heard, you are a chip off the old block. Your father was quite the ladies' man."
Lorenzo almost chokes. "Really?"
"Yes, but as men eventually do, he settled down. Except for Ares," he says to me. "He told us he would never let a woman tie him down. How did you come to find out you are his children?"
"Apparently a woman never did tie him down, because Ares was never in our lives. An attorney contacted us both. Quite frankly, I didn't really believe it. I thought I was being punked. I was half expecting someone to jump out from behind a door, laugh at me, and send me on my way with a toaster oven for being a good sport."
"What evidence did they show you that changed your mind?"
"My brother," I say with a smile. "When we were introduced, it was"--I make myself tear up--"overwhelming, I guess." I fan my face in an attempt to keep the tears from falling. "And one look at him and I knew it was true. And it's cool, because neither of us have any family."
"Your father's estate holds a large amount of my company's stock, and I still am heavily invested in Von Allister Industries. That sort of makes us like family." He pats my back in comfort. "My wife is famous for her social gatherings. As a matter of fact, we're having a soiree at our home in London starting on Sunday with festivities before the Cartier Queen's Cup, and then throughout the week before and after the Royal Ascot. Peter and his new friend--what is her name?"
"Allie."
"Ah, yes. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I am afraid I can't keep track of my son's women. Peter and Allie are already in London, and we would love for the three of you to join us."
"I was planning on attending both events," Lorenzo says. "We'd love to."
"It was very nice to meet you, Huntley," he says.
"You, as well. Maybe in London you could tell me more about Ares? His life sounds, um, rather complicated, the last years of his life. It would be nice to know what he was like before that."
"I will look forward to it." He shakes Lorenzo's hand and kisses my cheeks.
"He's really nice," I say to Lorenzo after he walks away. "Reminds me of Peter. Easy to get to know but without the pompous ass factor."
"I suppose it's because he didn't grow up with wealth as Peter has. He had to work for it." Lorenzo glances at his watch. "I need to say hello to the Prince of Denmark, then we can make our departure. I'm due back for a conference call with the Prime Minister shortly."