“Nikki, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “Really? I was ready to not only sleep with our enemy, I was going to make him a member. I wanted us to marry him.” Her chin and the corners of her mouth quivered, but she pressed her lips together, forcing down the emotion before she spoke again. “I told you I’m not that smart.”
“You’re the one who said Gus might be the Spaniard.”
“Only after I asked him to dinner, planned to invite?—”
Eric cupped her cheek, gently pressing his thumb to her lips to stop her harsh words. “Nikki, he fooled everyone. You think you feel bad? Every member of your security team is so deep in their self-loathing that I’ve had to tell all of them to pull it the fuck together. They can wallow later.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t scold my people.”
The fact that the words were muffled against his thumb made them slightly less fierce than they otherwise would have been.
Grigoris appeared in the aisle. “He’s awake.”
Eric slowly dropped his hand from her mouth.
“How do you want to proceed?”
Eric looked at Nikolett, making it clear this was her call—though he was fairly certain Grigoris had been talking to her, not him, anyway.
“I’d like to question him.” Nikolett rose and Eric did the same, his hand at her back to steady her. “Not about specifics. I’ll leave the how of it up to you.”
Grigoris studied her. “You want to know why.”
She nodded once.
Grigoris led the way. The plane was far larger than the small private aircraft he and the Spartan Guard often used. He was vaguely worried how a plane this size would land at Ronaldsway Airport, but trusted that the bribery hadn’t been so excessive that they ignored a too-small-runway situation.
The interior cabin was broken into several rooms. They were in the front section which had six traditional forward-facing seats. Through a wood panel sliding door was the larger section with divans and club seats grouped around small tables.
Zoran, Nikolett’s digital security expert, was hunched over as if he were deflating, while still furiously typing on one of two laptops set up on a table.
He looked up at her approach, swallowing hard. “Admiral.” His voice was hoarse. “I’m so sorry. I missed it. I don’t know what, but I missed it. I swear I looked. I don’t know how?—”
Nikolett put her hand on his shoulder. “You did nothing wrong. Later we’ll figure out how he hid who and what he is. For now…” Nikolett looked around at the dozen people on the plane with them. Some were her people, some his Spartan Guard. Some of the French knights and security officers who’d been involved were also here. Every one of them looked drawn, their shoulders slumped in defeat.
He saw the moment Nikolett stopped blaming herself, because if she was at fault for missing something, so was everyone in this room.
“For now,” she said again, louder as she addressed the whole room, “the fleet admiral and I are going to find out why.”
Postures relaxed, a few people even flashed grim, cold smiles.
Regina started to rise as they passed where she was seated, but Nikolett leaned down, whispering something to her. Regina’s eyes widened, but she nodded.
They followed Grigoris through the next wooden partition. One side of the aisle was closed, the doors labeled “storage,”while the other was a bathroom and beside it a self-service coffee, tea, and snack station.
Past that was one final door. Unlike the others, it wasn’t elegant, polished wood, but the beige gray plastic and metal common to commercial airline bathroom doors.
Grigoris knocked three times, paused, then knocked once, before opening the door.
The small space at the tail of the plane was industrial and dull compared to the rich gloss of what came before. There was a single row of four commercial airline seats against the back bulkhead, with two meters of clear floor space between the door and those seats. This space was probably used for charter passengers’ expensive purchases too delicate to go into storage.
Right now, it was a prison.
The Spaniard was on his knees in the middle of the floor.
His wrists and ankles were both chained together; a shorter chain linking those prevented him from standing up.
