“But, Your Highness—” Kirk didn’t want to disappoint the princess, especially when she looked so hopeful “—we don’t have a helicopter.”
Stasi barely blinked. “Yes, we do. They belong to my family—purchased with our own private money, and not the peoples’ taxes.”
Though there were plenty more objections he could make, Kirk only sighed. He already knew how tenacious—and stubborn—the princess could be. And she had that determined look in her eye.
She pulled him back into the room and closed the door against the fading sounds of the helicopter. “You can fly one, can’t you Kirk?”
“I’ve only ever flown as copilot,” he reminded her.
“Yes, with old Elias.” Stasi rolled her eyes. “Propped up in the pilot’s seat. We both know you were the one keeping the helicopter in the sky.”
“But there’s the problem of access,” Kirk reminded her. “The helipad is on the roof of the royal guard’s headquarters—possibly the most secure point in the whole city. It’s not as though we can just walk up and take one.”
“You can. You’re a member of the royal guard. Your thumbprint will get us in.”
“My thumbprint will tell everyone that I’m the one who’s just walked through the door—and that’s assuming they haven’t already removed me from the system, or worse yet, flagged me to set off an internal alarm the next time I check in. I got a cracked rib the last time a royal guard recognized me. It could be worse if they recognize me again.”
Stasi took hold of his arm again, and this time fairly hugged it. “I don’t think they’ll have thought of all that yet. And we’ve got to try. My mother sent us the jewels for a reason. We can’t let Stephanos Valli be crowned. If he’s done all these terrible things just to get the crown, imagine what he’ll do once he has it.”
More than the tug on his arm, Kirk felt Stasi’s tug on his heart. She’d made several excellent points. And ultimately, it wasn’t up to him to make the call. “Is that an order, Your Highness?”
She met his eyes for a long moment. “No, it’s not an order. It’s a request from a friend.”
He studied her face. She had every right as a member of the royal family to tell him, a member of the royal guard, what to do. But she hadn’t used that privilege. Somehow, her decision closed the gap between them a tiny bit more.
“All right,” he said softly, “but we’ll have to move quickly.” He left the or else of his statement unspoken. They all knew what was hanging in the balance, and what awful risks they’d be taking to get to Milan.
Stasi tried to think of everything they might need. While Kirk recharged his phone battery, Theresa sneaked back into the palace to fetch Stasi’s passport and her international driving permit. If they were going to travel anywhere after they reached Milan, they’d need both of them.
Albert tried to help Kirk get his holster on over his shoulder, but Kirk winced and shook his head. “I can’t reach my gun without twisting around anyway, and that’s bound to be a problem. Besides, I might get into trouble for wearing a gun.”
Kirk’s father looked concerned, and Stasi got the impression the older man was reluctant to let them go on with their plan.
“You’ve got to keep her highness safe from every threat.” Father and son looked at each other earnestly, and Stasi wondered at the seriousness of what passed between them. Was Albert telling Kirk something beyond the obvious?
Kirk’s lips were set in the firm line. “I’ve already promised you. I will.”
His father nodded solemnly. “What about money? If either of you use a credit card, those in high places may be able to track you down. I wouldn’t underestimate who you’re up against.”
“That’s a valid concern,” Kirk agreed.
“I should be able to get cash for us.” Stasi had already considered the issue. “I have friends of some means in Milan.”
When Theresa returned from the palace, she insisted on packing them a small cooler with food and bottled water, but wouldn’t hand it over when Kirk reached for it. “Let’s pray first.”
Stasi bowed her head, but before she got her fingers folded, Albert took one of her hands, and Stasi saw they were making a circle, holding hands to pray. She looked tentatively at the hand Kirk offered her—a strong, capable hand—and was glad to take it.
By the time they finished praying, Stasi had tears running down her cheeks. “I’m so grateful for your family.” She wiped at her eyes. “You’ve all done so much for me.”
“Your family has done that and more for us,” Theresa countered.
“We put your son through an awful trial.” Stasi shook her head regretfully.
“That was a difficult time,” Theresa acknowledged. “But God held us through that, and He’ll hold us through this, too. Have faith.”
With that, there was nothing more to do but take their lunch and the small overnight bag each of them had packed, and head across the courtyard toward the guard station.
Stasi had always loved the many gracious shade trees that filled the back garden of the palace grounds. As a child, she’d run after Kirk countless times, and been carried by him more times than that. Now she darted from tree to tree in his shadow, the game so much more frightening than any they’d played as children, and the stakes so much higher.
And back then, they’d never ventured as close to the royal guard’s headquarters as they were going tonight. They ducked behind the last large tree before the open driveway that led to the chain-link fence surrounding the square stone building.
Stasi leaned close to Kirk, trying to disappear as much as possible into his shadow. He’d shaved before they’d left his parent’s house, and the scent of his aftershave tickled her nose.
Kirk didn’t seem to be paying any attention to her. He kept his back straight as he peeked past the crook of a branch, scoping out their target.
He’d already briefed her on the guard rotation, and worn his midnight-blue night uniform in case there might be any benefit to blending in. But Stasi knew Kirk was bigger than most of the guards. She’d always been able to recognize him from the back, even in the years when she hadn’t wanted to. There was no doubt in her mind that if anyone spotted them, they’d be instantly recognized, guard uniform or not. It might buy them a few seconds and the benefit of the doubt on a fuzzy surveillance video, but that was about it.
And there would be no explaining away her presence.
His fingers found hers and wrapped securely around them. “Ready?”
She looked up to his mouth mere inches from her eyes. When had he moved so close to her? Or had she moved close to him? She took a deep breath and tried not to think about the lips so near to hers, or Kirk’s intriguing scent. “Ready.”
He gave her hand a squeeze, dropped it and, as planned, walked toward the chain-link fence with a casual stride.
Kirk pressed his thumb against the security panel.
Green.
They were in.
But how far would they get before they were recognized? There was another checkpoint at the building, and then a third at the very top of the stairs, before they could access the helipad on the roof. And any number of guards stood between them.
She followed Kirk to the back door of the security building and prayed while he pressed his thumb to the next panel.
It seemed to take forever to register.
Had they set off an alarm? Would they be trapped between the gate and the building?
Green.
Finally, Stasi let out the breath she was holding and followed Kirk inside. So far, so good. She hadn’t seen anyone.
Kirk moved down a side hall, which he’d explained would be the least-traveled route to the back stairs. But that left them with another length of hallway to travel before th
ey’d reach the stairs to the roof.
Her heart beat quickly, not so much from the exertion of climbing the stairs but, she was sure, from the mounting fear she felt walking through enemy territory. They stepped around the corner at the top of the stairs and were greeted by a flash of red light.
A red orb several centimeters in diameter blinked silently from a box on the wall, its glaring light filling the hallway with harsh, strobing color.
Kirk made an angry noise in his throat, grabbed her hand and started down the hall at a run.
Six paces later a guard stepped into the hallway in front of them, his arm outstretched toward them. “Kirk Covington!” he ordered. “Stop where you are.”
SEVEN
Stasi nearly ran into Kirk as he skidded to a stop.
“Galen.” Kirk addressed the guard.
The man blinked rapidly. “Two figures were spotted on the security camera. I’ve been sent to investigate.” He swallowed and leaned closer. “What would I report if you were to get past me?”
Kirk took a step closer to the man. “Tell them you were overpowered.”
“Blacken my eye.”
When Kirk hesitated, Galen’s voice grew more desperate. “Hurry, before they dispatch more guards. I can’t let them think you got away without a fight. I’d be in a far greater world of hurt then.”
Kirk nodded solemnly, braced his left arm against his right side as though to hold his ribs in place, drew back, and knocked Galen in the eye.
Galen stumbled back. “You could have hit me harder than that.”
But Kirk had Stasi’s hand again and pulled her down the hall. She suspected he couldn’t have punched the man any harder, not without hurting himself. They ran up the last flight of stairs and, to her relief, his thumbprint got them through to the roof.
The copter waited, hulking like a massive raptor in the darkness.
Kirk threw their things on board before offering Stasi his hand to climb in. Though she might have thought she ought to be the one helping him in his injured condition, there was no time to protest. She climbed inside and waited, tense, while Kirk settled into the pilot’s seat and started flipping switches.
“Give it a minute to power up,” he said, as the panel of lights came on and the rotors began to swish above them.
Kirk pulled down the headsets that dangled from harness clips above them, and helped Stasi adjust hers over her ears so they could speak to one another comfortably over the ambient roar.
She buckled herself into the copilot’s seat and watched as Kirk quickly ran checks of the various gauges.
“We’ve got a full tank.” He sounded relieved. “We’ll need every drop.”
Red glare reflected off the bright lights of the instruments, and Stasi glanced behind them in time to see a red alarm light flashing above the door to the roof.
“They’re on to us,” she warned Kirk.
“I need ten more seconds.” His eyes stayed focused on the climbing numbers in front of him as the rotors began to turn faster and faster above their heads.
“You may not have ten seconds.” She watched as the door opened behind them. “Kirk!”
“Five, four, three…”
Men seemed to pour through the door faster than Kirk could count. But before one could reach them, he grabbed the controls and they lifted off.
Stasi looked back in time to see a guard pull out his gun. But just as quickly, another guard grabbed the man’s arm, and then they were too high in the sky for Stasi to see anything.
“Oh, thank God,” Stasi prayed.
“Keep praying.” Kirk didn’t look away from what he was doing at the controls, but flipped a switch and winced at the digital number that shone back at him. “We’re going to need all the fuel in our tank to get to Milan. If we have to engage in any evasive maneuvers, we won’t be able to make it there.”
Kirk tried to convince Stasi to rest. It would take them over three hours to reach Milan, and he knew she hadn’t slept since the sound of a helicopter had awakened them in the middle of the night the night before.
“You need your sleep. We still have a long journey ahead of us.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been through so much excitement. I still keep expecting another aircraft to come after us at any moment.” She leaned back into her seat, and when her eyes closed dutifully, Kirk thought she’d taken his advice to heart.
But a moment later, her blue eyes popped open again. “Why do you suppose that is?”
“What is?”
“That they didn’t come after us? Don’t you think we got away too easily?”
“Galen tried to stop us.”
“No, he didn’t. He let us through on purpose.”
“He’s a good kid. I changed a flat tire for him once.”
Stasi rubbed her temples. “I still don’t like it. Something’s rotten in the royal guard.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you hadn’t let me out of my room, I wouldn’t have been anywhere near the motorcade when it was ambushed.”
“You don’t think someone from the royal guard was behind that prank, do you?”
“It wasn’t a prank. I don’t know who was behind it, but the timing worries me. Did whoever barricade my door know about the ambush? If so, why would they want to keep me from it?”
Her questions hit him like a blow to the ribs, and he caught his breath. “If someone wanted the royal family dead, why would they keep you alive?”
“They must have had plans for me—something worse than death.” She pulled in a slow breath. “Anyway, it’s not the first time someone’s trespassed in my room.”
“That’s right—you mentioned reporting the previous incidents, but I never saw a report about them. Was anything taken?”
“Not that I could ever prove. But things were out of place.”
“What things?”
“A few clothes. Mostly my jewelry.”
“My mother—”
“I talked to your mother first. Yes, she often puts my clothes away, but she and I have a system. This wasn’t her. Besides, your mother never goes anywhere near my jewelry.”
Kirk puzzled over the curious incidents. “How long were you gone from your room when it happened? Hours? Days?”
“A day or two at most. Once it couldn’t have been more than a few hours.”
“Do you think someone might have stolen your jewelry and replaced it with fakes?”
“I thought of that, but I examined the jewels myself. They were the originals.”
For a few moments, Kirk studied the helicopter instruments, his mind pondering over the strange incidents. “Were they looking for something?”
“I can’t think what it might have been.”
“Why would they return? Surely they’d have figured out soon enough that they couldn’t find it.”
Stasi looked thoughtful. “It is an exceptionally large jewelry armoire. There are two dozen drawers, and most of those have lift-out trays with compartments underneath. It could take a person hours to go through the whole thing. And then, if they thought they’d missed something, or if they didn’t have long to search, I could see them coming back. I just wish I knew what they were looking for.”
Kirk’s heart beat hard. Stasi was right—something was rotten, and he wished he could scent out what it was. “What about the crown jewels your mother sent you? Are you quite sure they’re the originals?”
“I’ve been wondering about that, and how there wasn’t a mark on them. From what I can tell looking at them, they’re identical, right down to the hidden locket on the necklace and the key inside it. But I can’t be sure unless I examine them with the proper instruments.” She bit her bottom l
ip and looked thoughtful for a moment. “I have an idea. Before we look for my parents, we should stop by my favorite jewelry shop and have a look at the contents of that package. If they’re not the real thing, we’ll know something’s up.”
“But the stores won’t be open yet when we first get to town, and I thought you were in a hurry to find your folks.”
“I’m not in any hurry to walk into a trap. Too many strange things have happened, and too much is at stake. Besides, shop hours or not, my friend Giovanni will let us in.”
“All right,” Kirk agreed. Part of the reason he’d decided to go along with Stasi’s plan to head for Milan was because he still felt she’d be safest far from Sardis. The last thing he wanted to do was walk into a trap. If visiting the jewelry shop would help them avoid that, he was all for it.
With the matter settled, Stasi sat back and slept as promised.
Kirk looked across at her, sleeping in her seat, her delicate cheekbones cast in a glow from the instruments, her blond hair all tied up and hidden away under the black kerchief she’d worn from the island.
Anastasia. She was beautiful. Of course she was. She was a princess, and, he realized with a twinge of guilt, he had no right to look at her while she slept.
He turned his attention to the unchanging night sky, and pinched his lips into a firm line, as though he could as easily squash all that he felt for her. He forced himself to recall his father’s words, Keep her safe from every threat. There was no question what his father had meant. Though Albert Covington was no doubt aware of the dangers they faced from their enemies, he’d always been acutely concerned about the affection Kirk and Stasi felt for each other.
When Kirk was very young, his parents had often reminded him that the royal siblings were to be treated with care and respect. Those cautions had only increased as he’d grown older. It wasn’t until he was twelve years old, carrying a gangly legged seven-year-old Stasi on his shoulders during a chase across the palace grounds, that he’d tripped and they’d gone down in a tumble, laughing.
Protecting the Princess Page 9
