Elias’s mouth tightened and a muscle flexed in his jaw.
Sander stood his ground. Elias wasn’t stupid by far. He had to have taken that scenario into consideration already. Hearing someone else voice it aloud was another matter altogether, however.
“I know,” Elias finally said.
Sander waited until Elias looked him in the eye. “I won’t stop you from going, son. Just realize that you could be putting me in a really bad predicament if things go sideways.”
“Well, let me ask your opinion on my plan. If you think it’s too risky, I’ll give up the idea.”
“Go ahead.” Sander leaned against the banister and cocked a knee to get more comfortable. His body had begun to protest the awkward position on the stairs.
“Inari confided in me that there’s a secret tunnel running beneath the palace. Like the tunnels that run from Ahtissari Castle to the cabin in the woods. I thought I might enter the palace that way rather than attempt to blow my way past layers of guards and security. I know how to navigate the underground system.”
“So you’ll go in and take out the attackers on the inside without trying to alert the entire group that someone has infiltrated the palace?” Sander asked.
“Take out only those I have to. If I can find Thane and the others, we can escape the same way I came in.”
Sander considered the plan. He could see pros and cons, though there were always pros and cons on any mission. Elias was taking an enormous risk; there was no way around it. The odds of getting in and out if the palace had been overthrown weren’t great.
“Are you taking anyone with you?”
“I thought of asking Eliana. Jeremiah isn’t in any condition to fight. Plus four of Kirkley’s men.”
Two of his heirs at risk of capture or death. Sander tried not to grit his teeth. His firstborn son and youngest daughter had learned their ways from him, and he took care not to downplay the importance of what Elias wanted to do. It was a noble gesture, but the reality that Elias and Eliana might be captured was too vivid to ignore. The strain it would put on his own rule of Latvala could not be understated.
“Just to be clear, son. If you and your sister get captured, and aren’t killed right away, those men will wait until communications are back to call and attempt to overthrow Latvala by virtue of your life. They will try to force me to choose between you two and my throne.”
Elias fell silent, apparently contemplating the risks versus the rewards.
In this case, Sander hoped Elias chose Latvala. Even with the advantage of a secret way into the palace walls, he thought Elias and the others would stand little chance of finding the Aschers and escaping without detection. He’d been on enough missions to know when the risks were just too great.
“All right, Pop. I’ll wait and see what happens,” Elias said.
Sander reached out to clap Elias on the shoulder, hiding his relief. “It’s the right choice. You should come with me while I interrogate Henricksson. We need to find out if the battle for Latvala is over, or if it has only just begun.”
Chapter 22
The longer Henricksson refused to speak, the angrier Sander became. A half hour had passed since he and Elias had first entered the interrogation room and Henricksson still didn’t feel moved to talk.
Sander briefly considered having Henricksson moved to the dungeon to allow the creepy subterranean space work out whatever kinks remained in Henricksson’s tongue. Sometimes the close confines, musty earth smell, and echoes of vicious death in those forlorn caverns and tunnels had a way of accomplishing what interrogation could not.
There were other buttons to push, but Sander was less inclined to use those methods unless he absolutely had to. Using a man’s family against him was Sander’s least favorite way of extracting information.
An idea sprang to mind in the middle of his internal debate.
“Are you positive you don’t want to tell me who put you up to this, Henricksson? Because I’m out of patience and out of time, and I’m prepared to take a drastic step if you’re unwilling to give me what I want,” Sander said. He studied Henricksson’s rugged features, the shifty dart of the man’s brown eyes. When Henricksson continued to stonewall, Sander abruptly cut across the room to the door.
He opened it and spoke loud enough that Henricksson would have no trouble hearing what he had to say. “Kirkley! Have the pilot and helicopter prepared for flight. We’re going to Macor.”
Macor, that lone ruin in no-man’s-land where he had once left his own brother to die. The fortress was as old as time and lacking all but the most basic necessities to stay alive. There were no televisions or computers or other forms of entertainment. Henricksson could expect to rot within those battered walls.
Henricksson snorted.
Sander looked over his shoulder, brow arched. Henricksson appeared more nervous than before despite his disbelieving snort.
“Elias, check the binds on his hands and prepare him for transport. We’ll be leaving within the hour.”
“Wait just a minute,” Henricksson said. He held up his shackled hands as if to prevent Elias from approaching. “You expect me to believe that you are going to dump me off at Macor and leave me there?”
Sander used the heel of his boot to close the door. It was not a quiet closing, either, but a sharp crack that caused Henricksson to twitch in his chair.
“It’s far better than you deserve,” Sander said. He prowled before the table Henricksson sat behind. “How many men have died during this skirmish, Henricksson? Not just on Latvala’s land but Somero’s and Imatra’s? How many innocents have lost their lives for your greed and treason? Oh yes. I will have no trouble dumping you off, as you say, except I believe you misunderstand my motive. You will not be fed and watered like my brother was, to be kept alive for many years until you either go mad or expire from terror. No, Henricksson. I intend to literally leave you in that fortress alone until you die.”
Henricksson laughed. His voice was not as commanding as it had been before, not nearly as self-confident and sure. “That’s an outright lie, Your Majesty. You see, I’ve known you long enough to know that you are an honorable man. You would rather chew off your own foot than condemn a man to that kind of death.”
Sander swerved toward the table and braced both hands on the surface. He leaned forward to exacerbate his looming presence. “You’re dead wrong, Henricksson. I’m only honorable when men and women haven’t died. When I haven’t had to perform CPR on my best friend because our plane was shot down. I’m only that man when those I’m supposed to trust with my life do not betray me. I know that you would have looked the other way when the guards put a bullet in my daughter’s head, and for that I cannot forgive you. I will not.”
He pushed from the table and gestured for Elias to get Henricksson to his feet.
Elias hustled Henricksson from the chair and propelled the man toward the door.
Sander stepped into the hall, prepared to follow through with his threats. It meant getting in the air again, which he was loath to do after the crash. But he would do it and intended to leave Henricksson exactly where he said.
“Sander!” Henricksson called.
Sander did not stop walking. Henricksson could address him properly or not at all.
“Your Majesty!”
Sander stopped and looked back. “Have something to say?”
“Yes, yes. I am ready to talk.”
An hour later, Sander emerged from the interrogation room feeling more tired than he could remember. Elias was at his side, silent and thoughtful and troubled.
As he should be.
The news hadn’t been good.
“Are you going to call a meeting with the council and advisors?” Elias asked.
“Yes. In fact, arrange a meeting for me in an hour, all right? I’m going to find your mother and fill her in.” Sander left Elias to deal with the arrangements and headed for the foyer. Henricksson, on his way to a more permanent holding roo
m in the castle, would be flown to the prison on the mainland at the soonest—and safest—opportunity.
In short order, Sander discovered from Emily that Chey had gone upstairs to what Emily had referred to as the situation room. Sander had no idea what that meant exactly, but he knew to which room Emily referred. He navigated the stairs again, and the hallways, until he arrived at a closed door not far from the master suite. Emily had given him a key that he used on the lock to let himself in.
With the power restored, he was able to see the desks, whiteboards, and office paraphernalia with ease. Chey stood in front of one of the whiteboards, standing on tiptoe to hang a map.
“Sander!” She smoothed the paper out over the board before crossing the room to embrace him. “How did it go?”
He wrapped her in the loose circle of his arms and did not immediately ask what the hell she was doing in a room like this, or what the room was for. He had an idea anyway.
“Not great. I came up here to tell you before I go downstairs for a meeting with the others.” He kissed her forehead, squeezed her tight, then retreated to a chair into which he sank with a grateful grunt.
Chey followed and leaned against a nearby table. Her eyes were serious as she studied him.
It did not escape Sander that she wore one of his sweaters. She had done so before when she wanted to feel him around her in his absence.
He forced his mind back to the topic at hand.
“Henricksson finally confessed. He was approached last year before Elias’s accident by a man with a Russian accent.”
“Oh no,” she whispered.
“The man convinced Henricksson that a war was coming, and that the smaller countries along the Baltic coastline would be taken over. Henricksson was encouraged to switch allegiances, and was promised a seat in the new high court once Latvala had been compromised. There was apparently an unspoken threat to Henricksson’s family to help encourage him along.”
“So it was the Russians after all?” Chey asked.
“Actually, no. Henricksson admitted to overhearing a private conversation between two leaders of this new group, and it turns out that we were right to assume that someone else could be attempting to precipitate a war. To agitate Russia to act. Henricksson insists that the men—who dropped the Russian accent, mind you, when they spoke in private—referenced several NATO allies. We know Russia has gone head to head with some of the allies and that rumors of war have been swirling for decades. It appears these allies joined forces and created an invading force to try and provoke Russia into action. The troops that have invaded Imatra, Somero, and Latvala, pretending to be Russians, were meant to give the allies a reason to strike Russia first. It would have played out well on the world stage for the allies to say that Russia had attacked and overthrown our countries, providing overall support for war. As is typical in political theater, everything is far more complicated than it seems.” Sander laced his fingers over his stomach and watched Chey cycle through disbelief, shock, and finally anger.
“But people actually died. You could have died. They thought it was worth killing innocent people to advance their agenda?” she asked.
“If you think about it, the powers that be have been trying to draw Russia into war for a very long time. To achieve worldwide support, they needed to make Russia into everyone’s enemy, and what better way than to say Russia had invaded three separate countries? We were just an expedient means to an end. In the allies’ eyes, a few lives here or there are the cost of doing business. The fact that Elias sent more troops to the border was a smart move, because we’ve probably routed a more in-depth, full-on invasion. Once we get communications back, we can go public with the news. Make the allies back off. I have no idea yet what state Imatra and Somero are in. I fear Somero may have already been overthrown,” he admitted.
“I’m having such a hard time wrapping my head around all this. You nearly lost your life. Emily, too. Leander wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t done CPR. Thane and Inari could be dead, and I can’t fathom what’s happened to Aleksi and Caspian in Imatra.” Chey paced through the room, clearly too restless to remain still.
“We’ve retained control of Latvala, which gives us a small advantage. I’m sure the allies are responsible for the communication loss, making it more difficult for us to get word out about what’s going on. And to connect with our own allies for backup. If our troops reverse the invasion near the border, we have a chance. If the allies send more troops, we’re doomed.”
“This is so convoluted, Sander. It’s not right.”
“I know, Chey. I know. I think if we all get through this with our monarchies intact that Thane, Aleksi, and I should develop a new system of defense. Work with each other and make sure the whole world knows we’re not going to sit by and take attacks at random. It won’t prevent these situations, but it’ll make it much, much more difficult for anyone to attempt to overthrow us again.”
“That’s a good idea. We should all be connected like that somehow. And I mean more than just allies on paper. It’s important for our children’s future. Elias shouldn’t have to take over the throne under a constant state of attack. It helps, I think, that you’ve proven a blood connection with the monarchy of Imatra.”
“The blood tie will definitely help. I just hope Imatra and Somero have made it through.” Sander pushed to his feet, ignoring the various points of pain on his body or the exhaustion that was trying to set in. He hadn’t slept in days, but rest would have to wait until he knew his country was out of danger.
“I hope so, too,” Chey said. “I also think it’s time for a change regarding how the advisors and councilmen are voted into their respective seats. I’ve brought it up before, I know. But after all this, I really believe there needs to be some kind of accountability and vigorous internal vetting process before the seats are handed down to someone who might or might not have your best interest at heart.”
“Is that what you were doing here? About to start vetting the men?” Sander had wondered with the setup of tables and whiteboards. In previous years, the councilmen and the advisors had vehemently protested any and all changes to the system. They enjoyed their privilege, and woe to the person who tried to disrupt tradition.
“Yes. But things got out of hand too quickly for it to be really useful. It’s a shame that the first thing I thought of when all this started was which of the councilmen had turned on us this time. Which of the advisors had been lured or blackmailed into betraying you. I know that better vetting won’t fix all of that, but I think it’ll help a little. The men have to know that someone is doing thorough research into their backgrounds and intentions before gaining a seat,” she said.
He pulled Chey into his embrace and kissed the top of her head. She smelled good, like vanilla and almonds. “It’s way past time we altered the way the men gain their seats, I agree. I’ll work on that once all this is over. Does that make you feel better?”
“It makes me feel better for our kids and what Elias will have to deal with when he becomes king.”
Sander stared into Chey’s eyes. She was serious about trying to smooth things out for their children’s future, and he loved her for that. “Good. Make some notes, then, and we’ll get together later to decide how to proceed.”
“Thank you, Sander.”
“Don’t thank me. I’m as furious as you are that we’ve got traitors in our midst. Anything to cut down on the betrayals is necessary.” He kissed her mouth, unable to resist any longer. “I’ll see you later.”
“All right. I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you, too.” He departed the room before he could drag her to their suite and fall into her arms.
There was still work to be done to assure Latvala’s security.
Chapter 23
Elias watched his father pace the official conference room floor. The ancient chamber, built of wood with ascending rows of seating on one side for the councilmen and similar seating for advisors on
the other, had been used since time immemorial for serious matters of business regarding the kingdom of Latvala. He listened as his father explained all the details he’d discovered from Henricksson, taking notes for future meetings that he himself would conduct in this very room.
Many of the councilmen and advisors—the majority, Elias realized—expressed shock and outrage at the duplicity of Henricksson, Alvar, Risto and Langtry. Elias was secretly relieved to see it. Although the remaining members of the council and the advisors had been put through extensive questioning after Henricksson’s detainment, there were always those who might slip through the net. The lust for power was a heady drug that made men do foolish things.
A larger outcry came when his father mentioned things would be changing once Latvala got back on its feet. The old system of generational privilege and secret-handshake elections were over. Men would have to be more thoroughly vetted as well as a larger pool of voters brought in.
Elias stared in disbelief at the uproar Sander’s words brought. Too many of the councilmen and advisors balked at the ideas Sander put forth, which just reinforced the need for change.
He followed his father from the room minutes later, leaving behind a scene of chaos.
“That was enlightening,” Elias said when they were out of earshot.
“Wasn’t it? It just proves to me that it really is long past time to shake up the system. Too many of them feel entitled to positions that should be harder to earn. But this has been the way of it for centuries. We’ll fix that once all this is over.”
“I had my issues with them when you were gone.” Elias explained his extraordinary decision to pull a weapon on the councilmen and advisors.
His father shot him a surprised look.
Latvala Royals: Darkest Hours Page 12
