"No SEALs," Kevin Laughton said tersely.
Joe gave the FInCOM agent a disbelieving look. "You want high casualties? Is that your goal here?"
"Of course not—"
"We're all on the same team, pal," Joe said. "We all work for the U.S. Government. Just because I'm Navy and you're Fink-"
"No SEALs." Laughton turned to an aide. "Release this schedule to the news media ASAP, keeping the cruise information off the list." He stood. "My men will start scouting each of these sites.''
Joe stood up, too. "You should start right here in this hotel," he said. "If you're serious about making the royal suite secure, you're understaffed. And the sliding door to the balcony in the bedroom doesn't lock. What kind of security is that?"
Laughton stared at him. "You're on the tenth floor."
"Terrorists sometimes know how to climb," Joe said.
"I can assure you you're quite safe," Laughton said.
"And I can assure you that I'm not. If security stays as is, if Diosdado and his gang decide to come into this hotel to rid the world of Prince Tedric, then I'm as good as dead."
"I can understand your concern," Laughton said. "But—"
"Then you won't have any objection to bringing the rest of my Alpha Squad out here," Joe interrupted. "You're obviously undermanned, and I'd feel a whole hell of a lot better if…"
"No," Laughton said. "Absolutely not. A squad of Navy SEALs? Utter chaos. My men won't stand for it. I won't have it."
"I'm going to be standing around, wearing a damned shooting target on my chest," Joe retorted. "I want my own guys nearby, watching my back, plugging the holes in FlnCOM's security net. I can tell you right now, they won't get in your boys' way."
"No," Laughton said again. "I'm in charge of security, and I say no. This meeting is adjourned."
Joe watched the FInCOM chief leave the room, then glanced up to find Veronica's eyes on him.
"I guess we're going to have to do this the hard way," he said.
The man known only as Diosdado looked up from his desk as Saiustiano Vargas was shown into the room.
"Ah, old friend," Vargas greeted him with relief. "Why did your men not say it was you they were bringing me to see?"
Diosdado was silent, just looking at the other man as he thoughtfully stroked his beard.
Vargas threw himself down into a chair across from the desk and casually stretched his legs out in front of him. "It has been too long, no?" he said. "What have you been up to, man?"
"Not as much as you have, apparently." Diosdado smiled, but it was a mere shadow of his normally wide, toothy grin.
Vargas's own smile was twisted. "Eh, you heard about that, huh?" His smile turned to a scowl. "I would have drilled the bastard through the heart if that damned woman hadn't pushed him out of the way."
Diosdado stood. "You are lucky—very, very lucky—that your bullet missed Tedric Cortere," he said harshly.
Vargas stared at him in surprise. "But—"
"If you had kept in touch, you would have been aware of what I have spent months planning." Diosdado didn't raise his voice when he was angry. He lowered it. Right now, it was very, very quiet.
Vargas opened his mouth to speak, to protest, but he wisely shut it tightly instead.
“The Cloud of Death intended to take Cortere hostage," Diosdado said. "Intends," he corrected himself. "We still intend to take him." He began to pace—a halting, shuffling process as he dragged his bad leg behind him. "Of course, now that you have intervened, the prince's security has been strengthened. FInCOM is involved, and my contacts tell me that the U.S. Navy is even playing some part in Cortere's protection."
Vargas stared at him.
"So what," Diosdado continued, turning to face Salustiano Vargas, "do you suggest we do to bring this high level of security and protection back to where it was before you fouled things up?"
Vargas swallowed, knowing what the other man was going to tell him, and knowing that he wasn't going to like what he heard.
"They are all waiting for another assassination attempt," Diosdado said. "Until they get another assassination attempt, security will be too tight. Do you know what you are going to do, my old friend Salustiano?"
Vargas knew. He knew, and he didn't like it. "Diosdado," he said. "Please. We're friends. I saved your life—"
"You will go back," Diosdado said very, very softly, "and you will make another attempt on the prince's life. You will fail, and you will be apprehended. Dead or alive—your choice."
Vargas sat in silence as Diosdado limped, shuffling, from the room.
"Tell me what it is about Navy SEALs. that makes Kevin Laughton so upset, Your Majesty," Veronica said as she and Joe were delivered safely back to Prince Tedric's hotel suite. "Why doesn't he want your Alpha Squad around?"
"He knows his guys would give him problems if my guys were brought in to do their job," Joe said. "It's a slap in the face. It implies I don't think FInCOM can get the job done."
"But obviously, you don't think they can."
Joe shook his head and sat down heavily in one of the plush easy chairs in the royal living room. "I think they're probably top-notch at mid-level protection,” he said. "But my life's on the line here, and the bad guys aren't street punks or crazy people with guns. They're professionals. Diosdado runs a top-notch military organization. He's a formidable opponent. He could get through this kind of security without blinking. But he couldn't get through the Alpha Squad. I know my SEALs are the best of the best. SEAL Team Ten is elite, and the Alpha Squad is made up of the best men in Team Ten. I want them here, even if I have to step on some toes or offend some FInCOM agents. The end result is I stay alive. Are you following me?"
Veronica nodded, sitting down on the sofa and resting her briefcase on a long wooden coffee table.
The sofa felt so comfortable, so soft. It would be so easy to let her head fall back and her eyes close
"Maybe we should take a break," Joe said. "You can barely keep your eyes open."
"No, there's so much more you need to learn," Veronica said. She made herself sit up straight. If he could stay awake, she could, too. "The history of Ustanzia. The names of Ustanzian officials." She pulled a file from her briefcase and opened it. "I have fifty-seven pictures of people you will come into contact with, Your Highness. I need you to memorize these faces and names, and—Lord, if there were only another way to do this."
"Earphone," Joe said, flipping through the file.
"Excuse me?"
He looked up at her. "I wear a concealed earphone," he said. "And you have a mic. We set up a video camera so that you can see and hear everything I'm doing while you're some safe distance away—maybe even out in a surveillance truck. When someone comes up to shake my hand, you feed me his name and title and any other pertinent info I might need." He flipped through the photos and handed them back to Veronica. "Pick out the top ten and I'll look 'em over. The others I don't need to know."
Veronica fixed him with a look, suddenly feeling extremely awake. What did he mean, the others he didn't need to know?
"All fifty-seven of these people are diplomats Tedric knows quite well. You could run into any one of these people at any time during the course of this tour,” she said. "The original file had over three hundred faces and names."
Joe shook his head. "I don't have time to memorize faces and names," he said. "With the high-tech equipment we have access to—"
''You don't have time?" Veronica repeated, eyebrows lifted. "We're all running out of time, Lieutenant. It's my task to prepare you. Let me decide what there is and isn't time for."
Joe leaned forward. "Look, Ronnie, no offense, but I'm used to preparing for an operation at my own speed," he said. "I appreciate everything you're trying to do, but in all honesty, the way that Ted walks and talks is the least of my concerns. I've got this security thing to straighten out and—"
"That's Kevin Laughton's job," she interrupted. "Not yours."
"But it'
s my ass that's on the line," he said flatly. "FInCOM's going to change their security plans, or this operation is not going to happen."
Veronica tapped her fingernails on the legal pad she was holding. "And if you don't look and act enough like Prince Tedric," she said tartly, "this operation is not going to happen, either."
"Get me a tape," Joe countered. "Get me a videotape and an audiotape of the guy, and I promise you, I swear to you, I will look and act and sound exactly like Ted."
Veronica's teeth were clenched tightly together in annoyance. "Details," she said tightly. "How will you learn the details? Assuming, of course, that you are able to miraculously transform yourself into European royalty simply by viewing a videotape?"
"Write 'em down," Joe said without hesitation. "I retain written information better, anyway." The telephone rang and he paused briefly, listening while West answered it. "Lieutenant, it's for you," the FInCOM agent said.
Joe reached for the extension. "Yo. Catalanotto here."
Yo. The man answered the phone with "Yo" and Veronica was supposed to believe he'd be able to pass himself off as the prince, with little or no instruction from her?
"Mac," Joe said into the telephone. It was Admiral Forrest on the other end. "Great. Thanks for calling me back. What's the word on getting Alpha Squad out here?"
How did a lieutenant get away with calling an admiral by his first name, anyway? Veronica had heard that Forrest had been a SEAL himself at one time in his long navy career. And from what little she knew about SEALs so far, she suspected they were unconventional in more than just their warfare tactics.
Joe's jaw was tight and the muscles in the side of his face were working as he listened to Forrest speak. He swore sharply, not bothering to try to disguise his bad language. As Veronica watched, he rubbed his forehead—the first sign he'd given all day that he was weary.
"FInCOM has raised hell before," he said. "That hasn't stopped us in the past." There was a pause and he added hotly, "Their security is lax, sir. Damn, you know that as well as I do." Another pause. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to do that."
Joe glanced up and into Veronica's watching eyes. She looked away, suddenly self-conscious about the fact that she was openly eavesdropping. As she shuffled through the file of photographs, she was aware of his gaze still on her.
"Before you go, sir," he said into the telephone. "I need another favour. I need audio- and videotapes of Tedric sent to my room ASAP."
Veronica looked up at that, and directly into Joe's eyes. "Thanks, Admiral," he said and hung up the phone. "He'll have 'em sent right over," he said to Veronica as he stood.
He looked as if he were about to leave, to go somewhere. But she didn't even get a chance to question him.
"FInCOM's having a briefing about the tour locations here in D.C.," Joe said. "I need to be there."
"But-"
"Why don't you take a nap?" Joe said. He looked at his watch, and Veronica automatically glanced at hers. It was nearly five o'clock in the evening. "We'll meet back here at twenty-one hundred hours."
Veronica quickly counted on her fingers. Nine o'clock. "No," she said, standing. "That's too long. I can give you an hour break, but—"
"This briefing's important," Joe said. "It'll be over at twenty-hundred, but I'll need an extra hour."
Veronica shook her head in exasperation. "Kevin Laughton doesn't even want you there," she said. "You'll spend the entire time arguing—"
"Damn straight, I'm going to argue," Joe said. "If FlnCOM insists on assuming the tangos are going to mosey on up to the front door and ring the bell before they strike, then I've got to be there, arguing to keep the back door protected."
Joe was already heading toward the door. West and Freeman scrambled to their feet, following him.
"Put those details you were talking about in writing," Joe suggested. "I'll see you in a few hours."
Veronica all but stamped her foot. "You're supposed to be working with me," she said. "You can't just... leave…"
But he was gone.
Veronica threw her pad and pen onto the table in frustration. Time was running out.
Chapter 6
Veronica woke up from her nap at seven-thirty, still exhausted but too worried to sleep. How was Joe going to learn to act like Prince Tedric if he wouldn't give her any time to properly teach him?
She'd made lists and more lists of details and information Joe had no way of knowing—things like, the prince was right-handed. That was normally not a problem, except she'd noticed that Joe was a lefty. She'd written down trivial information such as the fact that Tedric always twirled the signet ring he wore on his right hand when he was thinking.
Veronica got up from the table and started to pace, alternately worried, frustrated and angry with Joe. Who in blazes actually cared what Tedric did with his jewellry? Who, truly, would notice? And why was she making lists of details when basic things such as Tedric's walk and ramrod-straight posture were being ignored?
Restless, Veronica pawed through the clothes in her suitcase, searching for a pair of bike shorts and her exercise bra. It was time to try to release some of this nervous energy. She dug down farther and found her favourite tape. Smiling grimly, she crossed to the expensive stereo system built into the wail and put the tape into the tape deck. She pushed Play and music came on. She cranked the volume.
The tape contained an assorted collection of her favourite songs—loud, fast songs with pulsating beats. It was good music, familiar music, loud music.
Her sneakers were on the floor of the closet near the bathroom. As Veronica sat on the floor to slip them onto her feet and tie them tightly, she let the music wash over her. Already she felt better.
She scrambled up and into the centre of the living room, pushing the furniture back and away, clearing the floor, giving herself some space to move.
With the furniture out of the way, Veronica started slowly, stretching out her tired muscles. When she was properly warmed up, she closed her eyes and let the music embrace her.
And then she began to dance.
Halfway through the tape, it came to her—the answer to her frustration and impotent anger. She had been hired to teach Joe to act like the prince. With his cooperation, the task was formidable. Without his cooperation, it was impossible. If he failed to cooperate, she would have to threaten to withdraw.
Yes, that was exactly what she had to do. At nine o'clock, when she went down the hall to the royal suite, she would march right up to Joe and look him in the eye and—
A man wearing all black was standing just inside her balcony doorway, leaning against the wall, watching her dance.
Veronica leaped backward, her body reacting to the unannounced presence of a large intruder before her brain registered the fact that it was Joe Catalanotto.
Heart pounding, chest heaving, she tried to catch her breath as she stared at him. How in God's name had Joe gotten into her room?
Joe stared, too, caught in the ocean-blueness of Veronica's eyes as the music pounded around them. She looked frightened, like a wild animal, uncertain whether to freeze or flee.
Turning suddenly, she reached for the stereo and switched the music off. The silence was abrupt and jarring.
Her red curls swung and bounced around her shoulders as she turned rapidly back to look at him again. "What are you doing here?" she asked.
"Proving a point," he replied. His voice sounded strained and hoarse to his own ears. There was no mystery as to why that was. Seeing her like this had made his blood pressure rise, as well as other things.
"I don't understand," she said, her eyes narrowing as she studied his face, searching for an answer. "How did you get in? My door was locked."
Joe gestured to the sliding door that led to the balcony. "No, it wasn't. In fact, it was open. Warm night. If you breathe deeply, you can almost smell the cherry blossoms."
Veronica was staring at him, struggling to reconcile his words with the truth as she knew it. This
room was on the tenth floor. Ten stories up, off the ground. Visitors didn't simply stroll in through the balcony door.
Joe couldn't keep his gaze from sliding down her body. Man, she was one hot package. In those skintight purple-and-turquoise patterned shorts and that tight, black, racer-backed top that exposed a firm, creamy midriff, with all those beautiful red curls loose around her pale shoulders, she looked positively steamy. She was slender, but not skinny as he'd thought. Her waist was small, her stomach flat, flaring out to softly curving hips and a firm, round rear end. Her legs were incredible, but he'd already known that. Still, in those tight shorts, her shapely legs seemed to go on and on and on forever, leading his eyes to her derriere. Her breasts were full, every curve, every detail intimately outlined by the stretchy fabric of her top.
And, God, the way she'd been dancing when he'd first climbed onto the balcony had exuded a raw sensuality, a barely contained passion. He'd been right about her. She had been hiding something underneath those boxy, conservative suits and that cool, distant attitude. Who would have guessed she would spend her personal time dancing like some vision on MTV?
She was still breathing hard from dancing. Or maybe—and more likely—she was breathing hard from the sudden shock he'd given her. He'd actually been standing inside the balcony door for about ten minutes before she looked up. He'd been in no hurry to interrupt. He could have stayed there, quite happily, and watched her dance all night.
Well, maybe not all night...
Veronica took a step back, away from him, as if she could see his every thought in his eyes. Her own eyes were very wide and incredibly, brilliantly blue. "You came in...from the balcony?"
Joe nodded and held something out to her. It was a flower, Veronica realized. He was holding a rather tired and bruised purple-and-gold pansy, its petals curled up for the night. She'd seen flowers just like it growing in flower beds outside the hotel.
Prince Joe Page 7
