The Prince

by Jillian Dodd

  "I was hoping you might be smart and sleep with Peter instead of Daniel."

  "Peter isn't really my type, but you're right. We need access to their group of friends if we're going to play this game. They would give us instant legitimacy."

  "And a two-pronged approach is always safer than going it alone." He leans around, his eyes lowering to my ass. "I was told to watch your six. Not too bad of a job."

  I hold my hand in front of my butt. "Stop that! You can't be lusting after me if we are going to play brother and sister."

  "Do you have real brothers and sisters? A family?"

  "No. Do you?"

  "Not anymore."

  "What happened?"

  "My mother died of cancer when I was ten. My father was a four-star Army general stationed at the Pentagon. He died in a car accident during my senior year of high school." He slides his computer toward me. "Take a look at this. It's our joint bank account."

  I blink a few times trying to comprehend what I'm seeing. Finally, I say, "That's a whole lot of zeros."

  "And apparently just our slush fund. We have other investments, too. It's crazy."

  "Is it real?"

  He grins at me. "I say we go shopping in Montrovia and find out."

  Room service brings breakfast, but I use the microwave to heat up the pizza I stole while Ellis and the Kates oversee the loading of our luggage.

  Ari groans when I get in the limo with it. "Oh, that smells horrible."

  "It's not. It's amazing."

  He holds his head. "I'm fighting a hangover."

  "Do you normally drink much? I mean--"

  He holds up his hand to silence me. "I don't need the talk, sis. I know what's at stake."

  I nod. "Good. So do we have a plan once we get there?"

  "I think we're just supposed to get settled in the villa. Get out to the casino. Make friends."

  "And hopefully the Prince will just show up? No way. We're going to start with shopping. We're going to spend an obscene amount on a car. We're going to drive it to the casino, looking fabulous, and we'll get people talking. We're going to gamble like crazy, which means they will start coming to us. Once they do, we throw a party. We have to have a plan B in case our plan As don't show up. And that includes you getting friendly with the Prince's cousin."

  "What does she look like?"

  "It doesn't matter. She's next in line to the throne, followed by her younger sister. I mean, think about it. What's the big deal if the Prince is killed? There's a whole line of relatives who would take the throne. They can't kill them all off."

  "I suppose," he says.

  "Still it's odd that there was nothing in our dossier about the cousins. I wonder why not?"

  "Ask Ellis."

  "I will on the plane."

  We get loaded on the plane. I bring my pizza box with me, dragging it around like it's Daniel's class ring or something. But I really am enjoying the pizza. And I'm going to have more when I wake up.

  But first things first.

  "Ellis, what do you know about the Prince's cousins? Why isn't there more on them in our packets?"

  "This case is for you to figure out. But I can get you any information you ask for."

  "I want everything you can tell me about the next five people in line for the throne. I also want to know how many are in line, and what happens if they reach the end of the line?"

  He pecks away at a computer. "There are seventy-two in line."

  "Are they all going to be together anytime soon? All in the same place?"

  "I would suspect the large majority of them will be at the Queen's Ball which takes place after the race and is the finale for the week."

  "So they could take them all out, with a bomb or something? Destroy the castle?" Ari asks. "Who rules then?"

  "If that were to happen, the highest ranking military official would take over the country, and his bloodline would become royalty. He wouldn't have much money though. The royal family's funds would go to trusts and charities in the case of no blood relatives."

  "Do we know anything about the highest ranking military official?" I ask.

  "Yes, he's a close friend of the King. Was the best man at his wedding. Very wealthy and ready to retire soon."

  "And his second in command?" Ari wonders.

  "The Prince's godfather."

  "Hmmm. Alright. Let's sleep on it," I suggest. "We need to look fresh for our descent into Montrovian society."

  MISSION:DAY THREE

  Ellis wakes me up precisely an hour before we are due to land so that I can freshen up.

  I can barely believe that I just slept for twelve hours straight. On a plane. On the way to my first mission.

  Note to self: Hot sex is a must before the start of every mission. I close my eyes, allowing myself a moment to relive my night with Daniel. But when I open them back up, I'm all business.

  I do my makeup, put on a tight black dress and heels so pointy, I could kill a man with them.

  Ari and I don't go to the casino first thing as we had originally planned. We're too busy checking out our villa.

  I didn't expect this. I assumed a villa was a quaint little place--small and cozy.

  In Montrovia, villa equals mansion. We're staying in a massive stucco and tile-roofed home with sweeping terraces overlooking the harbor; a private courtyard featuring an amazing pool and a pool house containing a full bar, kitchen, and gaming tables; and a tennis court. Not to mention a garage full of exotic cars. I'd never leave, except I'm dying to drive them all.

  I suggest that we take one of the cars and go shopping in town, but Ellis informs me I have someone coming from Tech and can't leave.

  Ari decides not to wait for me. He chooses a silver Maserati and backs out of the garage.

  X X X

  Tech equals gadgets. And every spy should have some of those, right?

  And apparently Black X agents are no exception.

  After Ari leaves, I'm taken down a hidden elevator in the garage to a large secret room made of concrete and corrugated pipe. The floor is a gorgeous terra cotta tile, and the pipe is painted a soft creamy color. It looks like a cross between a wine cellar and a bomb shelter.

  I'm introduced to Terrance. He's young and cute, if not slightly nerdy. He also looks jet lagged.

  "You look tired," I say.

  "I wasn't exactly prepared for this trip. Someone else was assigned to you, but he got sick."

  "With what?"

  "Death."

  "He's dead? What happened?"

  "Massive heart attack, I guess. All I know is that I was personally called in by the director of the CIA and given this mission."

  I wonder why he doesn't mention Black X. Either Terrance and Ari don't know about it, or they aren't supposed to talk about it. Maybe I'm not supposed to talk about it either. Terrance takes off his glasses, wipes the lenses with a cloth, and studies me. "You're very young."

  "I'm almost twenty-two."

  "And you trained at The Farm?"

  "No. Blackwood Academy," I admit.

  "Never heard of it. So are you any good?" He shakes his head, talking to himself. "Of course you are. And this must be a very important mission. I was taken directly from the Director's office, put on a private plane, and told to do everything I can to help you. I understand you will be attending numerous social events, so I'm going to fix you up. Let's start with your watch. I'll update it," he says, unclasping it from my wrist.

  "Update it?"

  "Unless someone already has. I've seen old models like that in our vault." He takes out a small tool and pops open the back. "See, the liquid in these darts has turned blue. Blue means it's not as effective. It should be purple."

  I want to ask him why the hell my father's watch has darts in it. It takes all my will power to clamp my mouth shut and not let out a big WTF. Was my father a spy?

  I nod, playing it cool.

  I take a deep breath and assimilate this new information.

 
My dad was a spy, not the international businessman I thought he was? So why didn't anyone tell me that? Why during my eight years at Blackwood didn't anyone mention this fun fact?

  Memories of my mom and dad rushing off on business--sometimes separate, sometimes together, and sometimes with me--cloud my vision. I remember simple rules they taught me. Always sit with your back to the wall. Be aware of your surroundings. Immerse yourself in the region's language and culture. Blend in.

  Our lifestyle and our travel--were mom and I his cover? A man on vacation with his family?

  I think about the man who killed my mother. Although I've dreamed about it for years, I've never broken it down. Never used my current knowledge to assess the former situation. Obviously, the man was an assassin.

  Could my mother have been a spy, too?

  Terrance interrupts my line of thought. "Okay, here's the watch back. Three o'clock is stun. Six o'clock will knock someone out. Nine o'clock gives them a dose of truth serum. Midnight is lethal. Do you know how to fire it?"

  I shake my head. "I didn't know the watch did all that."

  "That's okay. It's easy." He holds my arm out, shows me how to set the time, how to aim, and how to fire.

  "So you're a spy, and your dad is a spy. That's really cool. My dad is a mathematician."

  "How old are you?"

  "I'm twenty-six."

  "How did you get this job?"

  "How does anyone get this kind of job? They recruited me. I graduated MIT with a Masters in mathematics and a Doctorate in quantum physics. But they noticed me because I created a bomb the size of a band-aid."

  "Do I get one of those?"

  He pulls a box of pore cleansing strips out of his bag. "Don't use these on your face," he says with a laugh, taking one out of the box and putting it on a sample of cement in the basement. "Peel the back off, stick it to what you want, then you have five seconds to get out of the way."

  We move back as the cement explodes and disintegrates.

  "That's pretty slick."

  He pulls a syringe out of a container next. "Give me your arm."

  "For what?"

  "I'm supposed to inject you with a tracking device. It's for your own safety."

  "I'm not cool with that," I tell him. "Is it optional?"

  "I was told you were to have one, if that's what you're asking. I need to follow my orders."

  "Do you have one?"

  "No freaking way. That stuff can be hacked into . . ." He stops talking. "Shit."

  "I'd like to decline."

  "I'll say I forgot. That your beauty got me all flustered." He blushes. "Give me your phone."

  I do, and he adds a couple apps to it. One that allows me to eavesdrop on nearby conversations and another that picks up GPS signals from the trackers he's going to show me later.

  "What else do you have for me?" I ask.

  He takes a ring out. "I retrofitted this on the flight here. It's a black diamond. Very expensive, very rare. If you do this," he takes my hand in his and slams it down on the table, "a spike comes out of the setting. Very small. Very deadly. One little prick of it will immediately cause paralysis and then death. I'd suggest using an uppercut to the chin to administer it."

  I nod. "Got it."

  "Take off your shoes and leave them with me." He pulls a pair of gorgeous black studded Louboutins out of his bag. As I slide them on my feet, he says, "I will be down here for a few hours until all your shoes are complete. Each one will have a knife hidden in the left toe. Click your heel on a hard surface to pop it out."

  I click the heel and out pops a pointed blade. "How do I get it back inside?"

  "Click the heel again." I do so, and the blade disappears. "Nice. How do you come up with all of this?"

  "It's what they pay me for. Although, I will admit, this is the first time I've ever done heels like these. I tried to read up on you. You don't have a file."

  "I'm undercover. A file would kind of defeat the purpose."

  "Every spy, no matter how dark, has some kind of internal file," he insists, then goes on to show me more gadgets. A lipstick video camera, dot-style candies that are really real-time GPS tracking devices, a nail polish that will dissolve metal, and dental floss that is a high-tenacity wire that I could use to either kill a man or rappel down the side of a building.

  While he's been showing me everything, I've been thinking about my parents. Specifically about what my mother pulled off her neck and shoved into my hand when she told me to stay hidden in the closet and not come out no matter what I heard. She told me it was top secret. I assumed she meant that I wasn't supposed to tell anyone about it--and I haven't. But now I wonder if top secret meant it contained top secret information. Something worth dying for.

  I pull the locket from around my neck. I've kept it hidden in my backpack all these years but decided to wear it on my first mission.

  "Could you update this, too?" I ask, knowing I'm taking a big risk.

  He studies the locket. "Hmm, click the top once to take a photo, right?"

  I nod, even though I haven't got a clue.

  He gets his magnifying glasses back out and takes the locket completely apart. "So your parents were both spies? How cool is that?"

  "Well, they're both dead, so..."

  "I'm sorry." He fumbles the locket. "If they were killed, why do you want to follow in their footsteps?"

  "Did they not brief you on me?"

  "No. I told you, I was a last minute addition to the team. Not much time for prep."

  He gets the locket open and pulls out a tiny computer disk and hands it to me. "Do you know what's on this?"

  "Just a bunch of selfies," I lie. "I realized they aren't that fun to take when you can't see the results right away."

  He chuckles. "You can go on your shopping spree now."

  "Thanks for everything, Terrance," I say, giving him a quick peck on the cheek that causes him to blush again.

  "You're welcome," he says, shaking my hand as I get in the elevator.

  Once I'm out of the garage and on Cap's glitzy main street, I open my fist and read the piece of paper Terrance put into my hand.

  I don't know who you are working for, but your entire villa is wired. Be careful.

  And I believe him.

  Especially after learning my parents were spies.

  How do I trust anyone when they didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth?

  X X X

  I call Ari to find out where he is and meet him at a designer store, where he's doing exactly what we said we'd do when we got here--spending a boatload of cash.

  "That suit looks good on you," I tell him, admiring his tall frame in a black Prada tuxedo.

  A salesgirl is fawning over him. "I told you that cut was perfect on you. It barely needs tailoring."

  "We're going to the casino tonight. My sister needs an amazing dress. Where would you suggest she go?"

  "We have a large collection of couture evening wear just next door. Would you like me to escort her there?"

  "Yes, please," Ari says. "We don't want her getting into too much trouble along the way."

  I roll my eyes at him and say to the salesgirl, "Just point me in the right direction. I'll find my way later. What all did you get, Ari?"

  "A couple dozen suits and shirts. Pick me out some ties. And, I know, I just bought a new wardrobe in D.C., but the climate here really requires a different weight of fabric."

  The salesgirl is nodding in agreement and probably already knows how she's going to spend her commission.

  I smile at Ari. For a guy who claims to not like shopping, he is playing his role well.

  I wander around looking at ties. The store isn't very busy. They say most people who come to experience Race Week arrive today or tomorrow, hitting the extravagant restaurants, casino, and clubs before the special events start later in the week. I'm holding a tie up to one of the suits Ari purchased when two men come through the back door. The first man is the Prince of Mont
rovia's bodyguard, and the second is none other than his Royal Highness. I pretend not to notice, turning my back to them and studying the tie, then comparing it to another.

  "I like the blue one the best," a sultry voice with a sexy accent says.

  I glance over my shoulder and gaze into the Prince's dark eyes. "I was thinking the blue was a little boring."

  "Too traditional?" he asks.

  "Yes, whereas this gold one is a little more exciting. Not to mention it matches one of his cars."

  "And what kind of car is that?"

  "A Lamborghini Aventador."

  "And it's gold?"

  "Gold plated. Purchased from some spoiled prince somewhere."

  "Will it be in the car show?"

  "I don't think so. I mean, he'll probably drive it there. It's our first time here for the car show. I'm not really sure how it all works." I tilt my head toward him and whisper, "Honestly, the car is a little flashy for my taste."

  The Prince smiles, leaning in close to me and whispering back, "What kind of cars do you like?"

  "Fast ones."

  "I like fast things, too," he says, giving me a once over. "Have you driven any fast ones?"

  "I have a new car that just arrived in Montrovia, but I haven't had the chance to get her out of the garage yet."

  "Let me guess. You would look good in something red. A Ferrari convertible, perhaps?"

  "Hmmm. Afraid not. I prefer something a little more, um, challenging. Thanks for your input on the tie. I'll be sure to tell my brother the Prince of Montrovia prefers traditional things." He looks surprised. "What, did you think that if you came in the back door no one would recognize you? Have a good day, your Royal Highness."

  I take both ties over to the salesgirl and tell her to let Ari know that I'll be next door trying on gowns--and I say it loudly enough for the Prince to overhear.

  I'm in front of the mirror checking out the third gown I've tried on--a gorgeous gilded Atelier Versace--when the Prince strolls over and says, "That looks lovely on you."

  "Thank you."

  "Will you be at the casino tonight?"

  "We're told it's the place to be."

  He holds out two tickets. "I'm having a private party. You should wear that dress. And please, allow me to introduce myself. I'm Lorenzo Vallenta." He holds out his hand for me to shake, but when I place my hand in his, he turns it over and kisses it. "And what is your name?"