The Phoenix

by Jillian Dodd

  “Okay, so some people will die,” Sergey says.

  “Actually, everyone who attends the opening ceremonies will die.”

  “But what about The Society members who will be there?”

  “There’s nothing we can do for them.” Maximillian shrugs. “Needless to say, you all probably want to watch this one from a remote location.”

  “Are you saying that there’s no antidote—no cure?” Zayn asks.

  “That’s what I’m saying. If you are exposed to the virus at the opening ceremonies or if you take the vaccine, there is nothing anyone can do to save you. That’s the brilliance of the disease. There is no cure,” Maximillian says. “But let’s get back to the subject at hand. The first hundred deaths will cause concern. The first thousand will cause a worldwide panic. Doctors won’t be able to stop them from dying. Governments will become involved. The media will go crazy. The stock markets will crash.”

  “Things really get fun after that,” Rutherford interjects with a grin. “Panic will ensue. We’ll make sure worldwide banking and payment systems as well as international trading come to a screeching halt. Montrovia’s borders will be closed in an attempt to stop the spread. Militaries from around the world will discuss plans for what to do, and in the midst of all that, we will come to control the Montrovian forces.”

  “And then?” Zayn asks, nearly breathless with anticipation.

  “The World Health Committee will announce that this is a pandemic—an extinction-level event,” Maximillian says. “Human behavior is easy to predict after that. There will be looting and crime. Martial law will be enacted in countries that don’t already have it. And, just when the human race is convinced they will all die, PureGen will announce a cure—a vaccination that the world’s governments will have no choice but to force upon their citizens.”

  “Dupree’s company has received a lot of bad press lately. Do you think that will matter?”

  “Dupree owned a large conglomerate of companies. PureGen wasn’t affected, and those involved in the prescription drug ring have been arrested. The case is closed.”

  “And this vaccine is really going to lower the population to five hundred million?” Zayn asks.

  “Yes. And this is the best part,” Maximillian states. “As soon as the vaccine is given, people will instantly feel better because it’s full of steroids and vitamins. Their sore throat and fever will go away. The rash will vanish. All will be deemed a success.”

  “Except they’re really dying,” Sergey says with a laugh.

  “That’s correct,” Maximillian says. “Hidden in the vaccine is the disease that was embedded in the fireworks. It causes white blood cells to reproduce exponentially at the same time an autoimmune reaction destroys red blood cells. And, again, excuse my lack of expertise in this area, but the end result is that, when the red blood cells are destroyed, the body will become starved for oxygen and shut down. Within two weeks to a month, everyone who received the vaccination will be dead.”

  “And Arcadia will become reality,” Rutherford says happily. “Can you imagine how wonderful our lives will be when that happens? We’ll get a reset on society.”

  “How and when will we announce to The Society not to take the vaccine?” Zayn asks.

  “When the time is right,” Rutherford says. “Over the last year, we have caused a few scrapes, like the recent terrorist attack on the German airport, so that our members would start to rely more and more on us. We will send out a series of three messages—the first two making them believe we don’t have a way to save them. Once the cure is announced and is close to being given, we will tell them that we acquired a special supply. Of course, we’re not stupid. We’re going to tell them it’s just a slightly stronger dose—delivered directly to their doorstep for their convenience—not that it’s something completely different.”

  “Once Montrovia falls, the world will fall,” Maximillian says, signaling the end of the meeting by raising his cut-crystal glass filled with the rarest of all scotches into the air. “To our fallen comrades—Ares Von Allister, John Hillford, Marquis Dupree, Harrison McClellan, and all former Echelon members. While their deaths are sorrowful, their efforts have ensured our success. Just think, the next time we are gathered together, we will be toasting our victory and to our Arcadia.”

  “To Arcadia,” the men all cheer.

  The wedding brunch was a pretty laid-back affair with everyone still a bit tired from all the celebrating last night. After Allie said good-bye to her family, our small group headed to the airport, arriving back in Montrovia just in time for the Olympics opening ceremonies.

  I’m dressed in a sleek pair of navy slacks with a white blouse trimmed in red, and I’m carrying the same striped bag I had during the swearing-in of President Spear. Recently, the ceremonies have been held in the evening, but Montrovia opted for a daytime version, followed by an opulent Olympic Ball and a late-night pyrotechnics show over the marina.

  I’m seated by President Ryan Spear and the First Lady in the Olympic stadium. The opening ceremonies are a big production highlighting Montrovia’s history and culture, some of which are featured on the massive big screens and combined with on-field artistic dance and musical performances. There are also beautiful daytime fireworks of white that contrast against the blue sky and flicker with light.

  There is a video honoring the recently passed King Giovanni, including photos of him and Lorenzo sailing together as Lorenzo ages, then his coronation, and him sailing a boat alone into the Montrovian harbor. That brings tears to my eyes.

  I look across the stadium at the box where the royal family sits, and through the pomp and circumstance, I somehow manage to lock eyes with Lorenzo. He puts his hand to his chest, tapping his breast pocket where I know the queen chess piece still resides.

  The ceremonies continue with the bell being rung to start the Olympics, followed by the royal military flaunting their flags and anthem. There is a highlight video of the torch’s journey, including it being brought into the harbor on a speedboat by Lorenzo and a performance by a famous Montrovian pop star.

  After that, each country is paraded into the stadium, flaunting their unique dress, flag, and culture. Leaders of most of the countries are present, and their pictures are flashed on the jumbotron. I run coup scenarios through my head, realizing that, if one took place right now, not only could it change the leadership of Montrovia, but also the world itself. On the flip side, this is a very big stage. An event that is being broadcast simultaneously throughout the world. Governments would immediately seek retribution, and Montrovia would be quickly overtaken. I don’t think that’s part of their plan.

  I imagine a countdown clock ticking away, the country of Montrovia one bomb ready to blow.

  After the countries are announced, there are a few more speakers, and then King Lorenzo officially declares the games open. The Olympic flag is brought in, followed by the torch, which is used to light the fire in the stadium’s cauldron.

  As soon as that takes place, the Secret Service whisks us out a VIP exit and to a waiting car. The president and First Lady are taken to their hotel where I’m picked up by Ellis.

  Daniel is already at the villa when I return home. He’s still dressed in his navy crested blazer with red trim, crisp white shirt, and pants. I grab my phone and take a selfie with him, posting it to social media, understanding that, after my run-in with McClellan at the CitySphere, it’s a big part of my cover now.

  “Why don’t you come up to my room—”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” he teases, waggling his eyebrows at me.

  “So we can have a snack on the terrace. I’m sure you are starving.”

  He startles me when he pulls me into his arms, giving me a tight hug. “I’m so freaking happy; I can hardly stand it,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “I owe it all to you.”

  “I’m glad you’re happy, Daniel,” I say, hoping that the rest of our lives will turn out happily, even in the face o
f adversity.

  The palace is lit up for the event and decorated with thousands of begonias.

  I find Lizzie at the bar, ordering a glass of sparkling water. “You look incredible,” I tell her as we embrace.

  “I feel incredible,” she replies.

  “I take it, you spent time together while we were at the wedding?” I whisper.

  “As much as possible with my schedule,” she says, grinning. “It’s made my duties much more bearable. I’m still exhausted, but it’s made a difference.”

  “What are your official duties for tonight?” I ask her, wondering if they are any different than what Lorenzo and I did at the last ball.

  “Well, since the queen is the hostess for the evening, I’m sort of off the hook. Lorenzo and I need to mingle, shake hands, and make everyone feel welcome in the country, but I also get to dance and enjoy myself.” She gives me a conspiratorial grin. “Did you know that you and Daniel are seated at our table tonight?”

  I laugh. “I do know that.”

  “Do you think I can dance with him in public?” she asks, her brow furrowing. “I fear that my happiness will be impossible to hide when I am in his arms.”

  “I think it is appropriate on occasions such as these to dance with numerous guests, but if a reporter asks about your smile when dancing with Daniel, say that he told you an inappropriate but very funny joke. What you can’t do is appear too comfortable in his arms.”

  “His arms feel like home,” she says. “I’m even more in love with him now than I was before. Speaking of that, how was the wedding?”

  “Exquisitely beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many flowers in one place. The details were perfection.”

  “And expensive, I would imagine,” she replies.

  “My brother definitely has no problem spending our inheritance. But it was also special to witness just how much in love they are.”

  “In the past, I would have thought it was crazy that they knew so quickly. Having experienced it myself, I understand. I can’t wait to marry him,” she says. “As soon as the Olympics are over.”

  “You don’t want a big wedding?”

  “Well, I used to want that,” she says, rolling her eyes, “until I started planning a royal one. Now, I want it to be just the two of us saying our vows to each other. Vows that don’t need approval from a committee but rather are merely promises spoken from our hearts.”

  I sigh dreamily, having experienced that myself recently and knowing how special it is. “I think that sounds perfect.”

  “What about you?” she asks. “What’s your dream wedding?”

  I can’t tell her that I already had it, so I start to mutter something about roses. Fortunately, I see the prince of Denmark walking in my direction.

  “Oh, I must go say hello to someone,” I politely tell Lizzie. “I’ll see you at the table for dinner.”

  “Huntley,” the prince says, kissing my hand. “You wore red at the last ball, but this dress—”

  “A little risqué?” I ask with a laugh.

  “You’re a vision,” he replies, cocking his head at me. “May I ask you a very personal question?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why are you engaged to Daniel when you should be marrying Lorenzo?”

  “Probably because his mother didn’t deem me suitable. You’re a prince. Will your family choose your future bride?”

  He rolls his eyes and says, “My mother already has someone in mind.”

  I can’t help but let out a little giggle.

  “Oh, sure, you can laugh. You don’t have to deal with her. I recently purchased a penthouse overlooking the harbor here in Montrovia just to get away from the pressure.”

  “And people think royalty have an easy life,” I tease. “Besides, I heard it wasn’t just a penthouse, that it is the penthouse at the top of the Royal Casino.”

  “Well, if you need to get away from the pressures of daily life, why not do so in style?” He grabs two flutes from a passing waiter and clinks my glass. After a sip, his demeanor turns serious. “I am worried about Lorenzo. I hope it’s okay that he shared with me that you are aware of the possible threats to his country.”

  “You are his closest friend, Kresten; of course it’s okay. And I share your worry.”

  “And you should know that I have offered him the full support of Danish Defense.” He takes my elbow and pulls me closer, whispering, “A team of special forces arrived in town just a few hours ago with the sole intent of protecting Lorenzo should a coup occur. They are dressed in matching blue velvet dinner jackets with the Danish crest, are seated at tables throughout the ballroom, and armed.”

  I take a deep breath, trying to steady the onslaught of emotions that has just overcome me. Tears of relief fill my eyes. “That’s incredibly generous of you.”

  He pulls a white handkerchief out of his pocket and hands it to me. “You care deeply for him.”

  I don’t reply, just nod as I pat away the tears.

  “Speak of the devil,” Kresten says, greeting Lorenzo.

  At the last ball we went to, Lorenzo wore attire appropriate for a prince. This time, he looks even more in command. There is extra braiding dangling from his shoulders and additional medals pinned to his jacket. He looks more regal than he did at his coronation. And I realize it’s the way in which he is carrying himself.

  Even though it feels like the weight of the world is on his and Montrovia’s shoulders, Lorenzo’s standing straight and tall. A confident leader.

  And here I am, the hardened spy and trained assassin reduced to tears because of a gesture of friendship. Two memories flash in my head simultaneously. The first being my instructor in hand-to-hand combat, telling me that being a girl was one of my greatest weapons because I would be underestimated by my adversaries, offset by the conflicting advice of the old woman who spoke to me the night Lorenzo and I snuck out by ourselves in Rome.

  “Are you crying?” Lorenzo says to me.

  “She had a speck of dust in her eye,” Kresten replies. “You must do a better job at cleaning the palace.”

  “I’ll get right on that.” Lorenzo laughs.

  “I was just telling Huntley how lovely she looks tonight.”

  “That she does,” Lorenzo says, taking a slight step back to take in my gown, which was made for me by the designer of the dream dress.

  It’s basically a bunch of sheer netting covered by strategically placed lace. And, although the netting comes to the base of my throat and buttons in the back, the red beaded lace forms a deep plunging neckline. The lace on the skirt is heavy, covering my lady parts well, but it ends on the upper thigh, allowing my legs to show through before continuing the lace at the hem and on the train. It’s very different from the princess-style gown I wore to my first Montrovian ball and of a much lighter weight should any of my special skills become necessary.

  I’m also fully decked out with spikes in both shoes, a crystal cuff that contains poisoned darts, and my black diamond ring with its toxic point. My jeweled clutch can be turned into a small bomb equal to three grenades and is loaded with additional exploding pore strips. I also have a single piece of plastic-coated wire tucked into my ear that allows me to hear Ares and Terrance, who, with Lorenzo’s approval, have cameras located in every single part of the castle that will be used by guests tonight. Under our dining table is a hidden panel that will reveal a small arsenal of weapons. Both Intrepid and Gabriel are attending as well. We aren’t able to talk to each other with the new earpiece technology, but Ares is back at the villa, watching the live feeds and will tell us how to proceed if an event should occur tonight.

  Lorenzo affectionately kisses my cheeks in greeting but not so much as to be considered inappropriate. “The announcement for dinner is about to commence. Why don’t we make our way to our table?”

  Lorenzo holds out his elbow, so I allow him to lead me the short distance. I look for my place card and see that I’m seated between Daniel a
nd his mother.

  The First Lady looks beautiful in a sparkling blue gown. “Huntley,” she says. “That’s quite the dress.”

  “Red is Daniel’s favorite color on me.”

  “Has he seen that dress yet?”

  “No. He had a late practice. I suspect he will arrive about the time dinner is served.”

  “Well, he will be even more of a fan. You look stunning.”

  “Thank you. So do you. The blue of your dress matches your husband’s eyes.”

  She blushes and looks over at President Ryan Spear, who is seated across from her. He gives her an adorable wink and then turns to speak to Kresten, who is seated next to him.

  “Has our government heard anything else about what might happen in Montrovia?” I quickly whisper to her.

  “Not really, although Ryan did mention that a naval squadron is in international waters very near Montrovia, and a fleet is in position to follow.”

  “What for?”

  “First and foremost, to be able to get the president out of the country if things get ugly. Montrovia, and particularly the monarchy, has always been our ally, and their strait is geographically and militarily strategic. We will not allow it to fall into the wrong hands.”

  “Are you saying, they would come to Lorenzo’s aid?”

  “Providing he stays alive, yes. A coup can go a few different ways. Sometimes, the family is simply ousted; other times, they flee for their safety, and …” She pauses.

  “Often, they are killed,” I finish. “Lorenzo is not a coward.”

  “I know,” she says. “That’s why Ryan is worried.”

  Daniel strolls toward our table, looking much like he did the first time I saw him—hair mussed, cheeks flushed, and buttoning his jacket. I know, for all of our sakes, I need to make a fuss over his arrival, but the truth is, I’m really glad to see him. He’s been a constant in my life through all of this mess. When I stand up, he lets out a completely inappropriate whistle, marches to my side of the long table, greets me with a steamy kiss on the lips, and then holds me at arm’s length to look me up and down.