The Phoenix

by Jillian Dodd

  “I think I fell in love with him long before that. Do you remember a group of tourists yelling from the balcony and Lorenzo waving to a young girl about six years ago?”

  She narrows her eyes. “That was you?”

  “Yes. I had a plan to meet Lorenzo at the casino, but instead, we met by happenstance at the tailor’s shop. And, if my mother had told my father, Ares Von Allister, that I was his daughter, I would have met Lorenzo long before that.”

  “I’m sure it doesn’t matter at this point, Huntley, but you have my blessing. And I’m sorry if I caused you pain. We will call off the engagement immediately.”

  “Yeah, about that,” I say and then proceed to tell her just why she can’t do anything of the sort.

  At least, not yet.

  “You’re quite an extraordinary woman,” the queen tells me.

  “So are you,” I reply. “You have sacrificed much for your love of Giovanni, your son, and the crown.”

  As she smiles at me and pats my hand, Lorenzo bursts through the door.

  “General Agueda is dead,” he blurts out.

  “What happened?” his mother asks.

  “When asked to confess, he told a story of how, six years ago, Prince Alessandro spoke of a new world. One of which Alessandro would rule as king and the general would control its military. A few weeks after Alessandro was killed, an American spy gave him a packet naming the man behind the plot, one John F. Hillford. He confessed to calling Hillford to offer his services rather than delivering it to the king as promised. It wasn’t until recently that he was approached again with a similar offer that involved Ophelia. One he said would have been the spark that lit the flame in a new world order.”

  “How did he die?” his mother asks.

  I think she’s having a hard time convincing herself that it’s true. That her nightmare with the general could be over.

  “He pulled a gun from his desk and shot himself.”

  The queen breaks down in tears again.

  Lorenzo comes to sit by his mother and wraps his arms around her. “It will be okay,” he says. “The general never mentioned your affair. Only Huntley and I are aware of it. Your secret is safe with us.”

  “I’m ashamed that you even found out,” she says to her son.

  “Huntley explained the situation to me. You’re human, Mother.”

  “Huntley told me you were secretly married the night before the announcement.”

  Lorenzo’s eyes go wide with surprise.

  I shrug. “I was mad.”

  “I want you to know that I only pushed marriage to protect you. I thought, if you were married, if there were a new queen, the people wouldn’t care so much about my sins.”

  “I know,” he says. “You should rest, Mother. It’s been a long night.”

  “Thank you,” she says as Lorenzo escorts me out of the room.

  The second he closes the door, he leans against a nearby wall and slumps to the floor, emotion overcoming him.

  I sit next to him, taking his hand and tightly squeezing it.

  After a few moments, he kisses me. It’s an emotion-filled kiss. One that brings tears to my own eyes.

  “It will be okay,” I tell him. “The general is dead. There will be no coup.”

  “What I didn’t tell my mother was that they’d found plans in the general’s study. He was going to kill the entire royal family, except for my mother, as well as the Prime Minister and many parliament leaders.”

  “Probably so he would control the country when the real crisis starts.”

  “Yes, and although we dodged this bullet, it confirms what you’ve been suggesting—that there is more. How am I supposed to stop it?”

  “We’ve stopped half of it,” I say. “That’s huge. At least, no matter what comes next, you will be able to maintain control of your country. We’ll figure out the rest, I promise.”

  “I don’t know what I would do without you in my life,” he says softly.

  “You’d be dead.” I wink at him, trying to defuse some of his stress.

  He kisses me again. “And I’m so very glad that I am not. I have a vision,” he says. “You and me holding hands on the balcony and waving to my countrymen after the crisis has passed. It is what is getting me through all of this. That goal. Of us together. In public.” He lowers his head again. “But, after what you have witnessed, seeing what my mother went through for her country, I doubt the idea of being my queen is very appealing.”

  I push his chin up, so he has to look into my very serious eyes. “You and I are different. We have a closeness that your mother and father never had. Although, tonight, you doubted me.”

  “Are you angry with me?”

  “Lorenzo, we’re special because of our trust. Lack of trust in your father is why your mother turned to another man.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” he says.

  “I was more hurt than angry. I suspect that our relationship will be tested further in the upcoming days. Whether your vision manifests depends on that trust.”

  “What about our love?” he asks.

  “It’d be ruined in a heartbeat if we didn’t have trust.”

  “That sounds cold,” he says.

  “Reality is that way, unfortunately,” I reply. “So, what steps are you taking as far as the planned coup goes? Were there other men the general involved that you will be arresting?”

  “Actually, no. He was planning to use a very old Montrovian law to order his troops to fulfill the task. He would have accused the royal family of treason to the people, the sentence of which is a swift death. One that he planned to carry out himself.”

  “Wow. Time to strike that law from the books, huh?”

  “Yes, I believe it is.” He stands up and holds out his hand to help me up. “Before you leave for the evening, I’d like to view this beautiful dress a little more closely in my chamber.”

  “I suspect all you want to know is where the zipper is.”

  He grins. “True.”

  “I have to go, Lorenzo. I’ve already stayed away far too long. Is the ball still going on?”

  He glances at his watch. “It’s nearly eleven. People will definitely still be dancing, and the fireworks will start within the half hour.”

  “I’ll go out first and let Lizzie know that your mother suddenly took ill. I also need to dance with Daniel.”

  “Sounds like fun,” he says sarcastically.

  “I would think, after discovering the traitor in the upper ranks of your military and stopping a coup, you, above anyone, would have a lot to celebrate tonight,” I reply with a snippy tone because we still have a heck of a lot more to worry about than my dress.

  MISSION:DAY EIGHT

  Her Royal Highness, Queen Emilia Gracia “Grace” Vallenta of Montrovia is up early after a fitful sleep. She’s still worried that, somehow, word of her betrayal to the country of Montrovia will leak out. She should have known that the general’s drunken thoughts were not just rants, and in the back of her mind, she probably did know. He was power-hungry. He was filled with hatred and wanted revenge on her husband for stealing her away all those years ago.

  She should have confessed to Gio and begged him for forgiveness. If there were a man who would have forgiven her, it would have been him. She should have warned Gio of the general’s treachery. Of course, in retrospect, everything is always clearer.

  But, as she was going through it, she never imagined the general would actually take it that far.

  She shudders at the thought and dares to reach for the morning paper that has been taunting her by lying on the silver tray from which it was brought in on.

  She takes a deep breath and reads today’s headline.

  Lorenzo and Huntley dance at wedding. Lizzie left home.

  She can’t help but let out a chuckle. For once, she’s grateful to see Huntley Von Allister on the cover. She studies the photo of her son dancing more closely, finally seeing what she has refused to see�
�the love shining in his eyes.

  She has to give the girl credit. Huntley’s intelligent, not afraid to speak her mind, and quite beautiful. And, even though he’s engaged to another woman and she to another man, she’s fiercely trying to protect her son. She has the makings of a strong Montrovian queen. The kind of queen Grace should have been.

  Just below the photo of the couple dancing is another headline.

  Leader of Montrovian Army found dead of self-inflicted gunshot wound.

  Police say that, after an interview with his spouse, they believe that alcoholism and marital strife played a role in General Alberto Agueda, head of the Montrovia Army, taking his own life. The general, a close friend of the late King Giovanni, will be cremated and his life celebrated in the coming days. Details to follow.

  The queen lowers her head and allows herself to cry over him for the last time, but this time, they are tears of immense relief.

  I pick the morning paper off my breakfast tray and scan the headlines, finding a brief story about the death of the general. I’m about to call Intrepid to find out the real story when there’s a knock at my door.

  I open it to find him standing there.

  “I was just about to call you.”

  He walks in the room and glances at the paper lying on the table. “It’s all true,” he says.

  “Did he really kill himself, or was it more of an assisted suicide?”

  “When faced with charges of treason, he confessed all, then pulled a gun from his desk and shot himself. We told Lorenzo the truth about that. But I’m here because we might have not relayed everything.”

  “What did you leave out?”

  “The coup was set to take place in just four days’ time,” he states.

  I close my eyes and take a deep, calming breath. “At least we sort of have a timeline.”

  “You were right,” he says. “It’s going to start during the Olympics.”

  “Which doesn’t help much at this point. You and Gabriel are the top-secret spies. What are we supposed to do? You don’t even look stressed.”

  “Four days is a lifetime in spy time,” he says with a chuckle, picking a piece of avocado toast off my breakfast tray and taking a bite.

  “Have you eaten yet?”

  “No. Haven’t slept yet either. We went back out to the house in the countryside last night. Met with the team. They are monitoring every bit of communication for the men we know to be in The Echelon. Of course, it doesn’t help that McClellan went over a cliff.”

  “He said nearly the same thing that Dupree had said before he killed himself. Oh, and I meant to tell you, I know who the other men in The Echelon are.”

  “When did you figure that out?”

  “At the wedding. Malcolm Prescott and Aleksandr Nikolaevich are both trustees in The Society. I asked if there was a group above them. He doesn’t know about The Echelon, but he did tell me there is a leader of the trustees. This leader is not elected by the group. He is nominated by the former head trustee and approved by the trustees. They have never not approved one since he has been involved. And guess who some of the former ones were.”

  “Harrison McClellan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Former President Hillford?”

  “As well as Alessandro Vallenta and my father. We know that, when my father was given his ring, the group also included Rutherford Elingston and Maximillian Olivier. But there were two rings unaccounted for. I was worried that they might have been given to Malcolm and Aleksandr, but they weren’t. The current head trustee is Zayn Kipling, and he will be replaced with Sergey Olander.”

  “Expert power players.” Intrepid whistles. “Banking, the financial markets, food and bio-tech, shipping, United States politics, the internet, and quantum technology.”

  “I think that’s the key to figuring out what will happen. It’s like a doomsday scenario—” I stop speaking, my mind immediately focusing on the person who started all this with a simple doomsday scenario. I study Intrepid. He’s been there for me at every turn. Sure, his allegiance is to his country, but this isn’t about trusting my gut anymore. It’s about trusting my heart even if it leads to my downfall.

  I grab his hand. “There’s someone I need you to meet.”

  When we get to the vault in the basement, he stops. “You keeping someone in there who I don’t know about?”

  “Sort of,” I say.

  I enter the code to open the door, and we find Ares sitting at a computer, wearing his uncle Sam disguise.

  “I already know him,” Intrepid says to me and then reaches out to shake Sam’s hand. “It’s been a long time,” he says.

  “He needs to know,” I say. “We’re running out of time. You can trust him. I promise.”

  “You were taught to trust no one,” Uncle Sam counters.

  “Yeah, well, it didn’t stick. Please.”

  Uncle Sam shakes his head.

  I turn to Intrepid. “Is your real name William Gallagher?”

  “No,” he says.

  “What is it?” When he doesn’t respond, tears fill my eyes. “You know everything about me. I’ve confided in you. You’ve seen me in my darkest moments. Is that not enough? Should I really never trust anyone?”

  He stares at me for a long while before speaking, “My real name is Nathaniel Gage Williamson. Although you won’t find his name on any memorial, my father was killed at the Pentagon in 2001 during the 9/11 terror attacks. I was twenty and serving my country as part of its Elite Forces. In 2005, I was recruited to join the newly created Special Reconnaissance Regiment, or SRR, which gathers intelligence in the war on terrorism. Not long after that, I was killed in duty, given my new name, and started working for the Secret Intelligence Service, commonly known as MI6.”

  I glare at my father, who nods at me and takes off the Uncle Sam costume.

  “Bloody hell. Ares Von Allister,” Intrepid says happily. “I had my suspicions that you were alive, but I feared you were playing for the other team.” Intrepid shakes his hand and then turns to me. “Guess you didn’t tell me everything.”

  “It’s the tears,” Ares says. “She’s good, isn’t she?”

  Intrepid just laughs.

  “Stop it, both of you. Dad—”

  “Oh boy, she’s pulling out the dad card,” Intrepid says.

  I take a calming breath. “Ares, you need to use that brilliant brain of yours, and Gallagher and you need to think deviously. Together, you must figure out what the plan is now that we know all The Echelon members. I believe Hillford was an evil man, and I would suspect that many of the rings did not pass down the way they should have. I would be willing to bet some were assassinated in order to fill the group with those he needed to use to make it all happen. Why was each man chosen? What did he add to the specific plan? And how the heck are they going to poison the grain here?”

  “You know the other two members?” Ares asks incredulously. “How?”

  I fill him in on what happened at the wedding. How Royston wore his ring, my conversation with Aleksandr, and how McClellan met his demise.

  My phone buzzes with a text.

  Daniel: Are you here yet?

  “Merde. I have to go. Daniel’s first heat race starts soon.”

  I rush out of the vault and to the garage, choosing the gold Lamborghini Aventador to drive with the hope that it will be flashy enough that people won’t mind when I pass them.

  Today is the first day of the Olympic Games, and traffic is bad, but I manage to make it to the aquatic amphitheater in time to see Daniel before his race.

  When I do, he’s talking to a teen girl wearing an adorable knitted cap with a big pink flower and a smile so wide that, at first glance, you don’t notice her pale skin, bruised arms, or lack of hair.

  “Huntley,” Daniel says. “Come meet Bella Smith and her mother, Belinda.”

  I shake hands with them both and tell them it’s great to meet them.

  “Bella here,” Daniel explain
s, “is at the Olympics as part of the Dream Wish program. Can you believe she wished to meet me and watch me swim? She got to shadow the team during one of our practices earlier this week, and we’ve become besties.”

  “Actually, I can believe she wished to meet you. You are pretty amazing in the pool.” I lean over and whisper to Bella, “And he looks pretty good out of it.”

  She lets out a giggle.

  “Where are you sitting?” I ask.

  “They are right next to you,” Daniel says and then points to a little patch sewn on the sleeve of his warm-up jacket. “These are Bella’s best friend’s initials. She didn’t survive cancer, but Bella is going to. And I’ll be setting an Olympic record tonight in her honor.”

  “That’s wonderful motivation.” I turn to Bella and her mother. “Where are you from?”

  “Well, from the Midwest,” Belinda says, “but we’ve been doing Bella’s treatments at a children’s cancer facility in Philadelphia.”

  “I just finished my last round of chemo,” Bella says brightly. “I’m officially in remission. Just got the word today. All my scans came back clean, which means I’ll be starting my senior year of high school this fall and hopefully be strong enough by then to make the swim team. I was a competitive swimmer before all the cancer stuff started.”

  “You must be so excited to have your life back,” Daniel says. “There’s something about being in the water that not everyone understands.” He glances at his watch. “I’ve got to get back there and stretch. I take it, you ladies can fend for yourselves?”

  “Of course we can,” Bella says, taking my hand and practically skipping to our seats.

  As we sit down, she starts jabbering away. She’s so happy and bubbly, and even though she’s only a few years younger than I am, she seems so much younger. But the longer we chat, the more I hear the maturity in her voice. Like me, she’s been through a lot. She’s a survivor.

  By the time Daniel takes his place on the platform, we’ve become BFFs, and she’s talked me into taking her and her mother on a tour of the Montrovian castle, meeting King Lorenzo, and visiting me in DC over her Thanksgiving break.