“I’m surprised they let you in here with that.” Theo waved toward the bag, “They’ve been paranoid ever since the Santiago Rojas case.”
Dieter shrugged. “It must have been my kindly, non-threatening face.”
Theo laughed again.
That’s right, Theo Bonfils was a laughing kind of guy. Dieter wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “Anyway, it turns out that I need some advice on the prenupagreement that you hammered out for Flicka von Hannover.”
Theo tipped into his leather office chair. “I assisted in drawing up that prenup. The French lawyers did the bulk of it. I reviewed it.”
“So noted,” Dieter said, absolving Theo if anything lawyerly went wrong due to his advice.
“Have you seen Flicka von Hannover?” Theo asked, gazing at his office wall as if he were not asking Dietera very important question.
“Not lately,” he said, which was not quite perjury had their conversation been under oath, which it wasn’t. He hadn’t seen her in the last ten minutes or so. That waslately.
“That’s not what Joachim Blanchard said.”
Damn that weasel French lawyer. “He must have been wrong.”
“He was wrong when he was kidnapped off the street in Paris and whisked away for a meetingin a moving van with Flicka von Hannover, who was seeking divorce advice and in the company of Wulf von Hannover’s foremost security man?”
“Must have been.”
“That’s surprising.”
“Surprising things happen every day,” Dieter said. “And even if Flicka did consult with that lip-flapping jackass Blanchard, she still needs a second opinion about her prenup. The first opinion was unsatisfactory.”
Theo looked over Dieter’s head, outside the glass-enclosed office.
Dieter wrenched around in his seat to look through the windows at the hallway and the rest of the county attorney’s office.
A very tall, blond man strode through the admins’ area, his chest and head towering over the blue-upholstered dividers. Even from this far, Dieter could see his ice-blue eyes were narrowed in anger.
Dietersaid, “Damn it, Theo.”
Wulfram von Hannover slammed open Theo’s office door, rattling glass. The vertical blinds swung from the force.“Where the hell is she?”
Dieter stood. “I don’t know,Durchlaucht.And if I did, I couldn’t tell you.”
Wulf advanced on him, his hands at his sides until the last minute when he tried to grab Dieter by the collar.
Dieter knocked Wulf’s hands away with his forearms.“Don’t.Don’t do it. I couldn’t tell you even if I knew.”
“Is she in danger?” Wulf ground out.
“No,” Dieter said.Not as long as she stayed in the damned hotel room and didn’t walk around Las Vegas.
Wulfram sat heavily in the chair beside him. “Tell me.”
“I can’t,” Dieter said.
“I’mtheclient.”
“You’re a target, and you’re not the only target. Pierre said the Monegasque Secret Service hassomeone inside your security.”
Wulfram pondered this, his dark blue eyes going cold. “I will kill Pierre.”
“His uncle would retaliate just for the hell of it.”
