“Otto Fink.” Leander ran the name through his memory bank, but came up with nothing. He had a decent memory, leading him to believe this Otto wasn't prominent on the list of the assassin highway.
“I don't recognize the name,” Sander said.
“I didn't either when I heard it,” Mattias added. “Ahsan is meeting us there. He speaks the language, so it'll be a big help to have him on this mission.”
Ahsan Afshar, heir to the Afshar dynasty, was and had been a member of the Elite for some time. Leander trusted him as much as he trusted Mattias and Leander.
“What about Chayton?” Leander asked.
“He's tied up at the moment, but will make it if he can.” Mattias paused, then added, “To be on the safe side, I think we should plan for just the four of us going in. Chayton will be an extra hand if he makes it. Otherwise, we shouldn't automatically assume he'll get there in time.”
“I'm good with that. Are we going straight there when we land?” Leander asked. Sometimes they hit a target right away, depending on the severity of the situation; other times, they holed up in a hotel or nearby safe house to gather more intelligence.
“Since the kidnappers are demanding ransom, I think we've got a little time to get schematics and whatever else we can get our hands on before we raid the place,” Mattias replied.
“They won't kill Kristo until Augustin makes it clear he's not going to—or can't—pay,” Sander added.
“Do we have maps yet of the area?” Leander asked.
“Yes, and we'll drag those out here in a few minutes to start planning an approach.” Mattias made a vague gesture toward another part of the plane, where apparently a folder sat with images.
“I hope they're current,” Leander said, voice just above a mutter. On one of their missions, the imagery had been wildly out of date, nearly costing two members of the Elite their lives.
Sander grunted at the reminder. “They better be current, or I'll have someone's head. I just want to get in, get Kristo, and get back out again.”
“Alive.” Leander thought it prudent to make the distinction.
Chapter Four
“I'm almost afraid to ask what we're doing,” Wynn said, following Chey up the stairs. Portraits lined the left wall of the stairwell, with the right side being open to the main level. Wynn always felt like the eyes of ancestors past followed her progress from one place to another until she was out of their sight.
Weird.
“Finding out what's going on, that's what. He's up to something,” Chey said, cutting down a hallway to their left at the top of the stairs.
“They're up to something,” Wynn countered.
“Yes. I want to know what.” Chey strode into a room halfway down the hall. Like the rest of Kallaster castle, this room's bones were of a medieval flair. Beams lined the ceiling and the walls were stone. The furniture however, was modern and made of fine, thick wood. An enormous desk sat adjacent to windows with a spectacular view of the sea. Multiple bookshelves lined one wall and seating consisted of two fawn colored leather chairs along with a pair of sofas. A huge tapestry decorated another wall and several console tables dressed with old looking vases and other more masculine artifacts took up space at the far end of the room.
“Sander changed things since I was in here last,” Wynn said right off the bat. She always noticed when rooms went through any kind of design metamorphosis. “Are you going to do what I think you're going to do?”
“Yes.” Chey didn't hesitate. She stalked around behind Sander's desk, plopped down into his chair—which dwarfed the petite queen—and started rifling through neatly stacked papers.
“That's the Chey I know and love. I'd offer to help, but he's probably got personal paperwork in there I don't need to see.” Wynn paced around the office, checking out the artifacts while Chey ransacked Sander's desk. “How mad will Sander be when he finds out you went through his things?”
“I don't know. He doesn't get 'mad' at me really, though we can get into some pretty heated debates.” Chey abandoned the papers and started on the drawers. Each one slid out with a low rumble of wood on wood.
“That's the understatement of the year. I've been present for one or two of those.” Wynn had to admit, however, that although the king and queen could 'disagree' quite adamantly, there was never the sense that the debate went past general annoyance into actual anger.
“Well. One time he was furious with me...maybe twice. But it was because he feared for my life.” A drawer banged closed. “I haven't found anything suspicious in his paperwork or the drawers.”
“What would we do with the information, anyway? Would Sander's security detail go hunt him down?” Wynn realized then that Sander left all his guards behind. Maybe some waited at the helipad or were already on the tarmac at the airport, prepared to travel with the king. Normally, Sander didn't go anywhere at all without them. Anywhere. Not since his ascension to the throne. Wynn wasn't sure whether the knowledge helped or hurt.
“They will if I tell them I think he's in mortal danger. I'm half tempted to charter another flight to follow their own.”
“You wouldn't.” Wynn stopped in her tracks. This was just the sort of situation she and Chey had gotten into trouble over in the past. Acting on impulse, going into danger blindly. She also knew that once Chey was on the hunt, it was nearly impossible to stop her.
No matter how much trouble it might land her in.
“I would. And so would you.” Chey glanced at Wynn with a knowing glint in her eyes.
“What about the phone? Maybe there are messages that might give a hint where they went.” Wynn was exactly as impulsive as Chey's glance suggested—depending on the circumstance. She'd been known to goad Chey into trouble before, had been the one coercing her friend into difficult situations. Wynn didn't want to think about Leander's reaction should she accompany Chey on a mission of their own.
“Yes. I was going to check that next.” Picking up the handset of the phone on Sander's desk, Chey pressed a button, then another. Silent while she listened, she sorted through messages and lowered the handset to the desk after several long minutes. Meeting Wynn's eyes, she said, “Nothing on the regular messages except the usual. But I know the code to access his cell phone, which I'm sure he took with him.”
“You're a brave woman.” Wynn wasn't sure she could do the same to Leander's phone. They had a clear, open relationship—except when it came to business. That was the only time he gently shut her out. While she might consider doing it to someone else in an emergency, Leander had made it clear that his secretive absences were off limits.
“He doesn't need to be putting himself in danger like that. Not unless someone's storming the castle and he's defending the lives of people here.” Chey dialed another number.
“He's going to say the same thing about you if he finds out we intentionally followed them,” Wynn said.
“Holing up in one of their finest hotels isn't exactly putting my—our—lives in danger, but it puts us that much closer so that when Sander finds out I'm there and comes to the hotel, I won't have as long to wait to read him the riot act. And, I won't take no for an answer when I ask the many, many questions we deserve answers to.” Chey went silent, clearly listening to Sander's more personal messages.
For whatever reason, Wynn had a bad feeling about the whole thing. From the 'mission' to the men's reactions if—when—they found out she and Chey were actively seeking their whereabouts.
With a sudden flurry, Chey sought a pen and a notepad and began to scribble.
Wynn approached the desk, sure that Chey had just found a pertinent piece of information.
“Got it. The third message was from Mattias. They're going to Ankara, in Turkey. I even have the address.” Hanging up the handset, Chey picked up the paper and waved it triumphantly in the air.
Wynn's brows arched high. “I guess the next question is—are we going to Ankara with the guards, or not?”
. . .
/> “Did you get the babies settled?” Wynn asked a half hour later, trotting down the stairs with Chey to the first floor. Chey's personal assistant had sent their hastily packed luggage down to the waiting SUV in anticipation of their departure. Wynn hadn't bothered to go back to the cottage to retrieve her clothing. Chey had more than enough clothes to share, and although their styles differed wildly, Wynn wasn't too picky in this instance.
Both girls had changed into jeans and plain shirts along with sneakers for the flight—and anything that might come after. Wynn sacrificed style in favor of being able to move fast if they needed to.
“Yes. Krislin is going to watch them for me. I had to pump more breast milk real quick.”
Krislin, Chey's sister in law, was a trustworthy sitter with a baby of her own. Wynn knew Chey's children were in good hands.
“Good. What about the guards?”
“I took care of it. A contingent of five have already left for Turkey on one of the military aircraft, so they'll be there sooner than we will. I'm taking a smaller set of security with us since Sander insists that I don't go anywhere without them.”
“You've changed,” Wynn said with a glance aside at Chey. “Making all the right, mature decisions. No more rushing off on a whim. No more hasty decisions that aren't thought all the way through.”
Chey laughed a quiet, fond laugh. “Well. Most of the time I make the right decisions. Becoming the wife to a king and having children means I have to think about more than just me these days. I can guarantee Sander won't agree this is the right decision at all.”
“I won't say that I don't miss the random dash across the country--” Wynn paused near the door, and paused speaking as well when someone touched her shoulder from behind.
“Excuse me, Miss Hudson?”
“Yes?” Wynn turned to see one of the castle assistants hand her a plain white envelope.
“This came for Leander a few minutes ago. Rush delivery, with instructions for him to open it immediately. Something urgent, the messenger said.”
Wynn frowned and took the envelope, examining the front and back. “Thank you. Oh—was it a personal delivery?”
The assistant said, “Yes. Brought to the gate a little while ago. It took us a few minutes to realize Leander wasn't on Pallan Island, so we decided to leave it in your care.”
Wynn understood that. As his fiance, she should be able to contact him when no one else could. If only she could admit the irony. Leander likely wouldn't be taking any calls until his return. “All right, thank you.”
The assistant inclined her head, curtsied to Chey—who stood at Wynn's side—and departed.
“What's that about, I wonder?” Chey said, peering past Wynn's arm to get a look at the envelope.
“I don't know. It needs to be read immediately and it's urgent, she said, which makes me wonder if someone in his family has taken ill or something. All it says is Leander on the front and a return address on the back, but no name.” Wynn flipped the envelope over to show Chey the back.
“Northern California. That's strange,” Chey said, looking from the envelope to Wynn. “Who's in northern California?”
“I have no idea. Leander doesn't talk about his family very much. A vague reference to his father now and then, when I press him about it. Less about his mother or siblings. I guess he doesn't have any.” Wynn frowned, then held the envelope up to the light, looking for anything unusual inside. A simple line, like folded paper, was the only visible mark.
“He's secretive like that. Sander's mentioned a time or two that Leander won't even talk about his past to any of them, and they're a tight circle of friends.”
“Yes. I don't get too crazy about it, because I don't want to upset him, but I'm curious. What could be so urgent?” Wynn hadn't ever opened any of Leander's mail before. Now that she thought about it, she hadn't seen any correspondence for him arrive at the cottage.
“I think it's telling that it came by private delivery. It's not a short distance from California to Latvala, and then taking a ferry over from the mainland to here,” Chey said.
“Exactly.” Wynn debated for a second, then carefully opened the envelope. It was the type a birthday card might come in rather than the longer rectangle suggestive of bills. The paper, heavy weight and secure, indicated someone had spent a little money on stationary. Pulling a single piece of paper out, Wynn unfolded it and held it at an angle for Chey to read at the same time.
Leander,
I've tried and tried and tried to contact you by phone. Stop ignoring my calls, this is of the utmost importance. Since you've forced me to seek alternative methods of contact, I shall be blunt and brief: you need to see me within the next four days or you will die. Did you get that, son? You. Will. Die. You know I can't explain here, so you'll have to trust me and wait until we're face to face.
This isn't the time to let old grudges stand in the way of action.
Dad.
“What the hell?” Wynn said, her voice arching higher with surprise. With shock. The open threat to Leander frightened her more than knowing he was off doing some dangerous mission.
“Does that mean his father means him harm? Or that he wants to help? The context is confusing,” Chey said, frowning.
“I don't know. But Leander said he thinks they'll all be gone for two to three days, at least. If he continues to ignore his phone, then he won't know what's going on, and something bad might happen to him.” Wynn fretted over what to do. Then, she turned to Chey, who looked as concerned as she felt. “Chey, can you try to call Sander? Or Mattias? I don't think Leander will answer his phone. Not when he's gone like this. He says he has to turn it off so it doesn't chime at the wrong time when he needs absolute silence.”
“Of course, of course, Wynn. Let's try and call them.” Chey fished into her jeans pocket for her cell phone.
Wynn did the same after tucking the letter back into the envelope. She dialed Leander's number anyway and put the phone to her ear. There was an off chance he might pick up. “Oh please answer, Leander. This isn't the time to shun incoming messages.”
“Nothing. It went straight to voicemail for both Sander and Mattias,” Chey said moments later.
“Mine, too. They can't be in the thick of it already, it's only been an hour or so. This is ridiculous that they're totally cut off from the rest of the world.” Anger flushed Wynn's cheeks. This was the last straw. No longer would she stand for being kept in the dark about her fiance's dangerous activities. If he couldn't share this part of his life with her, then perhaps they didn't need to be man and wife after all. The thought made Wynn's stomach ache with nerves and stress.
“Well, we're on our way to where they are. Instead of going to wait for them in the hotel, maybe we convey to the advance security team that they also need to deliver an urgent message to Leander once they find them. What do you think?” Chey said.
“It's a good idea. You go. I'm going to catch a commercial plane, Chey, and look up this address. If this is where his father is, then I want to talk to him and find out what's wrong, so that maybe I can coax Leander into being more amenable to contact. He'll be more motivated to come, I hope, if he knows I'm there.” It was risky, and she knew it. Whatever tension existed between Leander and his father might be exacerbated by her presence.
“Are you sure? Do you want me to come with you, instead? I can still pass on the message to the guard.”
Wynn considered it, pressing the heel of her hand against her brow. The envelope stuck up from her fingers at an awkward angle. She paced a few feet one way, then a few feet the other. Finally, she stopped pacing and met Chey's eyes. “You go. I think you'll be instrumental in convincing Leander to see his father, even if you have to enlist Sander's aid. It'll make me feel better knowing you're going to where they are so you can talk in person. I'll fly to California and check out this address. With any luck, it will lead me straight to his father.”
“All right, Wynn. Let's go, then. The sooner we
get in the air, the faster we'll reach our destinations. We'll drop you at the airport in Kalev and you can fly out from there.”
“Thanks. The second you get in contact with them, make sure Leander turns on his phone, okay? I might need him by then.” Wynn didn't know what to expect, and might need access to Leander in case his father got angry at her nosing into his son's personal business.
Chey squeezed Wynn's arm, then turned to the open doors. “Don't worry, I'll make sure every single one of them turns their phones back on. I wonder if Mattias's girlfriend Alannah knows they do this.”
Wynn picked up her small suitcase and matched Chey's quick pace down the stairs to the waiting SUV. “I don't know. Maybe we should call a meeting for all the girlfriends and wives of the men involved in this.”
“Talk about pissing the guys off,” Chey said.
“Better pissed off than them being dead.” Wynn's stomach churned with worry.
“Amen, Wynn. Amen.”
Chapter Five
Sunrise burned across the horizon and spilled onto the landscape of Ankara, turning the city into a tableau of molten gold. From the air, the sprawling metropolis could have been any other big city in the world, with its share of towering buildings thrusting up from an immense grid of commercial businesses and residential districts. Leander stared at the hazy scene with interest, wondering where in all that madness their target awaited. Maybe in the newer sections, where modern highrises added a contemporary appeal, or the older, ancient byways with buildings in the midst of decay.
The jet touched down less than fifteen minutes later on a private airstrip provided explicitly for use by the elite of the world. Leander couldn't fathom what the fees might be to take off and land. Every time he tried to offer Sander and Mattias money to help cover the costs, they turned him down. Ahsan and Chayton did the same. His brethren in the Royal Elite probably thought he couldn't afford it, although they knew he didn't get to be a part of the group without having some kind of backing or political affiliation. To date, he'd been vague about his family history.
Royal Elite: Leander Page 4
