by Valerie Parv
The gun didn't waver. "You're bluffing but it doesn't matter. I don't even have to kill you anymore. I'll simply lock you up onboard until it's too late for Prince Lorne and the American president."
She thought furiously. "Security is too tight for you to do anything inside the castle."
"Unless he has a contact on the inside," Garth pointed out.
Keer nodded. "As it happens, I do. This is where I'm supposed to tell you who it is then you overpower me and storm the battlements, saving the day."
"It would save a lot of time," Garth said easily.
What was he up to? He sounded too relaxed not to have something in mind. She decided to give him the chance to make his move. With a theatrical groan she began to sway and then crumple.
All Garth needed was the split second when Keer's attention shifted to her. In one smooth movement he swung his air tank over his head and hurled it at Keer, catching the man full in the chest. The gun flew overboard, and Keer went down as if poleaxed. "Dead?" she asked as Garth bent over the unconscious Keer.
"No, but he has a few crushed ribs. He's going to feel them when he eventually comes around."
She didn't waste time worrying about it. "By then I hope he'll be under guard in Solano hospital. You deal with our friend. I'll go downstairs and radio Matt."
"Below," Garth amended, casting around for some rope to tie up Keer. "On a yacht, you go below."
"Wherever. I hope you don't want us to buy one after we're married."
"Wouldn't think of it." There went his dream of an underwater wedding, he thought. Suddenly he studied Serena. "Why are you standing at that angle?"
"I have trouble with a floor that won't stay still. Why?"
"Because I think we're sinking."
She rushed to the port side, looking in horror at a jagged pattern of cracks in the side where the sea was already pouring in, further widening the breach. "When I rammed the yacht, I must have done more damage than I realized. Do we have lifeboats?"
He was already taking stock. "Inflatables."
The deck's list had already increased sharply. "We don't have time to blow up a rubber boat."
"They're self-inflating." He nudged a bulky container to the railing and pushed it over the side where it blossomed into a life raft. He looped its mooring rope loosely over a railing. Then he got his arms under Keer.
She saw what he was doing. They were going to need Keer to lead them to the castle insider before the American president arrived. She grabbed the unconscious man's feet. "How will we get him into the raft?"
"The short way. On three."
Keer dropped like a stone into the raft, leaving them to clamber down the runabout's dangling rope after him. "I'm getting mighty tired of doing this," she said.
Garth yanked on the raft's mooring, freeing it from the yacht. He snapped together two pieces of plastic that turned out to be a paddle, assembling another one for her. "We'd better get away from the yacht."
If Serena was tired of being in the water, being under it again had even less appeal. She began to paddle.
From a safe distance she saw the Cradle Rock appear to lie down on its side until only the hull was visible. Debris floated around the semisubmerged hull. She looked around but could see only a dot on the horizon that was probably the drifting runabout. "I don't suppose this thing has a radio," she asked, trying to sound less hopeless than she felt.
He rummaged near his feet. "Locator beacon. We should be found before nightfall."
As he activated it she shoved wet hair out of her face and began to shiver, wishing she had more covering than a sodden bikini. "We'd better."
"What kind of honeymoon do you want?" he asked, completing his task.
She knew he was trying to distract her from the discomfort and the dorsal fins cutting through the water a dozen feet from the raft. "When we get out of this I'm going to put this paddle on my shoulder and walk inland until somebody asks me what I'm carrying. I'm spending my honeymoon right there."
"I guess a water bed is out then?"
"Unless you want to sleep in it alone."
His heated look dismissed any such notion. Shards of sensation speared through her. "In case we don't get out of this, I love you," she said fiercely.
He frowned. "Even without knowing who I am?"
"It won't change my feelings."
His look was transparent enough not to require words, but she treasured them anyway. "I love you, Serena. And we are going to get out of this. We have to put an end to Keer's killing spree."
A spree that had included his parents and may yet include Prince Lorne and the American president, she thought, then said, "David Junot was right about Keer using Carramer First for his own ends."
"He's afraid the Americans will get in the way of his plans. He did say his best clients are anti-American."
"We can't let him use Carramer as a base for international crime."
Garth looked at the unconscious man on the raft floor between them. "Some snakes go on living even after you cut the head off. His organization isn't going to be one of them."
A steady sound began to beat at her ears and the waves were chopped by an updraft. "Looks like the beacon worked," she called over the increasing clamor of the approaching helicopter.
Exhaustion was etched on his face as he tilted his head back. "God, I hope they're on our side."
Chapter 18
"From the look of you two, I wouldn't want to see the loser," Prince Lorne said as they met with him in his office. The monarch was behind his vast mahogany desk while she and Garth were seated on a leather couch. Princess Alison had given them a curious look as they passed her on the way, but hadn't asked questions. Not that their battered condition could be easily explained in a few words.
After they had failed to report in every two hours as agreed, Matt had sent a chopper looking for them, homing in on Garth's beacon. With the unconscious Keer, they'd been winched out of the ocean. Keer and his men were taken into custody while she and Garth were flown to the castle by the police helicopter. They'd spent a taxing forty minutes being checked over in the castle infirmary by Alain Pascale, who had fussed over their cuts and bruises, then prescribed rest for them both.
It was a seductive idea and her body ached for it, although she wasn't sure how much actual rest would be possible if Garth was in the bed beside her. Finding out would have to remain a luxury until Prince Lorne and the American president were safe.
They had spared a few minutes to change into dry clothes before answering the monarch's summons but they still looked a sad and sorry pair, she knew. "Matt arrested Roy Keer, along with the skipper of the yacht and the crewman Garth set adrift in his friend's runabout," she told the prince. "None of them looks particularly pretty, but they're all in condition to talk, although with Keer's years of experience in prison, I doubt the police will get much out of him."
Prince Lorne looked thoughtful. "Keer was the one man I never considered as the Hand."
Serena felt her features tighten. "If I'd had any sense I would have, Your Highness."
The prince gave her a sharp look. "Explain."
"The name of the yacht he used to commute between his hideout and Carramer was called Cradle Rock. We convinced ourselves it was the name of a landmark on Nuee, when all along it was a colossal clue. You must have heard the old saying, 'The hand that rocks the cradle, rules the world'?"
The monarch looked bleak. "From what I've heard of Keer, he'd take delight in dangling such a clue under our noses. Horrible to think that if my mother had married him instead of Prince Eduard, he could have been my father."
She didn't have to remind the prince that it was Princess Aimee's rejection of Keer that had set the wheels in motion for everything that followed. Aimee had ended the relationship because she had feared his temper and cruel nature, and time had proved her judgment correct.
"We didn't suspect him because he went to a lot of trouble to make everyone think he'd drowned at se
a soon after getting out of prison," Garth observed.
Lorne nodded. "It's a tragedy that the yacht sank. We could have learned more from it about Keer's operations."
On this, at least, she had good news to report. "It only capsized, sir. The police are pumping it out so it can be towed to the dock and searched."
Garth massaged his chin where a two-day growth of beard made him look more the bad boy than usual. In Prince Lorne's elegant quarters she had more difficulty than ever imagining Garth as the country's ruler.
"Not that I expect it will reveal much that we don't already know," he said. "If the police learn the location of Keer's hideout and it is offshore as we suspect, they won't have jurisdiction."
Lorne stood up. "Then we must trust it's located somewhere friendly to Carramer, not that finding it will help the present situation."
"Have you considered postponing the president's visit?" she asked, aware that this wasn't her jurisdiction, either, but the question had to be asked.
The monarch's tight-lipped expression confirmed it. "I've discussed the threat directly with the president, but he feels the negotiations for the base are too important to postpone. He's relying on us to guarantee his safety."
"Until we know who Keer's contact in the castle is and what they're planning, we can't give any guarantees, Your Highness," she said worriedly.
The prince paced to the window, then turned back, his hands clasped behind his back in a pose she'd seen captured in photographs many times. "Could Keer be lying about having an operative inside the castle?"
"We can't rely on that," she said.
The prince came closer. "I want the investigation stepped up till we get some answers."
Garth stood to meet the prince eye-to-eye. "With the president due in Solano tomorrow, there isn't much time, sir."
"Do what you can." Lorne's aristocratic features softened. "And don't think I'm not grateful for all you've gone through to get this far. Having the Hand in custody is a big step. Your country is in your debt."
She stood beside Garth, in some inexplicable way feeling as if she was drawing strength from him. "We appreciate that, Your Highness, but I'll feel a lot happier when we have Keer's contact in custody as well."
"As would we all. Do you have any leads?"
Garth was aware of her reluctance to admit her suspicions in case she was being less than objective. He had no such compunction. "Jarvis Reid is the most likely suspect, sir," he stated.
Lorne's eyebrows lifted. "Before being employed, he would have gone through a series of stringent security checks."
"As would everyone working at the castle," she pointed out.
Lorne sighed. "Indeed."
"But what about after they're employed?" Garth persisted. "Chatting casually to a couple of his co-workers, I learned that he's become a regular at the casino. He could be in need of extra money."
Serena frowned. "I'll have Matt investigate that possibility right away." One more thing needed to be said. "Your Highness, with respect, I'd like to recommend that you evacuate Princess Alison and Crown Prince Nori from the castle, perhaps to Allora, until the crisis is over."
Conflicted emotions chased across the prince's handsome features until they settled into an expression of iron resolve. "I assume you're sufficiently well acquainted with my wife to know how she would regard your recommendation, and what she would suggest I do with it?"
Her faint smile recognized the truth of this. "Then perhaps the crown prince…?"
"He will continue his normal routine, except where State needs conflict with his schedule."
She understood the monarch's decision, although she could hardly agree with it. Not that Prince Lorne needed her agreement. At the dismissal she heard in his tone, she turned to leave but Garth stood his ground. "Any word yet on the results of the DNA test, sir?"
"I'm told we'll have the results by tonight. Believe me, I'm as anxious as you are."
Because his throne was also at stake, she understood. She inclined her head respectfully, aware of Garth doing the same. As she started to lead the way out of the prince's presence, he motioned for her to remain. "I'll only keep her a moment," he assured Garth, making it clear that he wanted to see Serena alone.
When she joined him in the anteroom a few minutes later, she felt as if she was walking on air. Garth took a look at her shining eyes. "The prince made you chief of the R.P.D."
She shook her head, not having given the promotion a thought. "The decision hasn't been made yet. He wanted to give me an update on an investigation that should be finalized soon."
"As long as it was good news. We could both use some right now." He touched her shoulder. "Like to check out the banquet hall?"
"A hunch?"
"An act of desperation."
Following him, she knew how he felt because the same sense of helplessness was close to paralyzing her. Well, to perdition with that. Until they solved this, not only was the country not safe, but she couldn't do what she was aching to do—make love with him from now until forever.
Keer had said his plans involved Prince Lorne and the president. Garth had reached the same conclusion she had, that Keer had arranged for something to happen during the welcoming banquet.
At the entrance to the great hall, a security guard barred their way. Flashing her R.P.D. credentials had no effect. "What the blazes is this?" she demanded. "I'm cleared at the highest possible level. Check with Prince Lorne if you doubt me."
The guard shook his head. "Clearance isn't the problem, Ms. Cordeaux. The banquet hall has been declared clean by Mr. Reid. Only the housekeeper and her senior staff are allowed in until the banquet starts."
She shot Garth a furious look. "When did this rule come in?"
"You'll have to ask Mr. Reid."
"You bet I will."
Fuming, she resisted when Garth steered her into an alcove out of sight of the entrance. "I can't simply accept this."
"I strongly suggest you do."
Suspicion coiled through her. "What are you planning?"
"You might not be able to get in there, but I can."
"I'm coming with you."
He shook his head. "They can't fire me. You'd be risking your career."
"They might just shoot you instead. You mean more to me than my career."
Heat flamed in his gaze and he crushed her against him. "It means a lot to hear you say so."
"Did you doubt it?"
"Not anymore." His lips found hers and he kissed her hard. "A down payment for when this is over."
"I'll hold you to it. And to your marriage proposal."
He hesitated. "We need to talk about that, too."
Apprehension gripped her. "I haven't changed my mind." Had he?
He kissed her again. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Where will I find you?"
"In my office. Before we left Matt, I asked him to dig out some of the castle's old personnel records. I'm hoping he can help us to identify the traitor inside the castle."
"A hunch?" Garth echoed her words.
She smiled narrowly. "An act of desperation."
They were down to that, she thought as she settled at her desk, nerves strumming. She had given Matt a password that would let him access the archived records of castle staff who'd been with the royal household at the time of Prince Louis's birth. He had told her he would send anything promising to the Criminal Identification Squad who could run them through a facial composition and editing program. He must have called in every favor he had, she thought, because according to her computer, the results were waiting.
Her hands shook as she punched in her password and opened the documents. What if nothing helpful showed up? There was the chance Garth might spot something untoward in the banquet hall, but an equal chance of him being arrested as the spy himself. She should never have allowed him to try it.
Her own hubris forced a smile. As if she had any control over him except in the bedroom. Had she been kidding herself about t
hat, too? Was his marriage proposal no more than a heat-of-the-moment response to their brush with death? The possibility made her want to wrap her arms around herself and rock with pain. But she wouldn't. Long ago he had inspired her to fight for what she wanted. If she had to she would fight Garth himself. He was going to learn that marrying her was a lot less trouble than backing out.
First she had work to do.
The first photos Matt had e-mailed to her revealed nothing helpful. The computer program was called Cranio Graphic Enhancement and was designed to update old photographs, usually of people who'd been missing for a considerable time, to show how they would have aged or changed with time.
Comparing thirty-year-old photos with how the subjects would look now was fascinating. She was tempted to send Matt one of her own photos to see how she was going to turn out, but knew she wouldn't. There were some things she felt better off not knowing.
Suddenly a chill prickled along her spine as she studied one of the graphically enhanced photos. There was no mistaking the likeness of a woman Serena had known since she joined the R.P.D.
With a trembling hand, she hit the print button, barely waiting until the result emerged from the printer to tear the page out and head for the door. If she was right, Garth was walking into terrible danger. She had to find him before it was too late.
* * *
Garth located the right cellar without too much difficulty. It was only logical that a laundry chute should lead to a laundry, and it did. Fortunately the vast commercial setup was deserted for the moment, enabling him to look around without having to come up with a plausible excuse.
When he'd been at loose ends at the castle previously, he'd taken himself on a tour of exploration and had noticed the laundry chute connecting the banquet hall with this area only because he'd been curious about the purpose of a small, almost hidden door in the wainscoting.
A helpful footman had explained that the playing-field-size tablecloths and mountain of napkins used on state occasions could hardly be carried through the castle. Instead they were dropped down the chute directly to the laundry in the cellar.
