More men in dark suits were coming. Quentin Sault’s face loomed out of the crowd, his hand swiping at her shoulder.
The fight turned more focused. Men at the edges fought the newcomers off, but more Monegasque Secret Security officers kept arriving. Some of them, Flicka didn’t know, and she suspected theywere military.
The intense sunlight stung Flicka’s eyes, and she blinked, scattering a tear. She raised her hand to shield her sight from the glare.
A man grabbed her wrist. He pulled her away from Dieter and into the crowd of men.
Dieter punched out, smashed his snarling face, and grabbed her back from the guy. She tripped over her own feet and nearly fell. Dieter’s arm around her waist kepther from tumbling to the sidewalk.
Chaos.
Hands reached for her to drag her into the crowd and under their legs.
Mass chaos and the melee of fighting limbs and howling faces coming at her.
Flicka covered her head and ran with Dieter as he shoved through.
A series of vehicles waited at the curb.
She asked, “What are we looking for?”
“A Honda mini-van. Dark blue.”
Flicka thought she sawa dark van toward the corner. Dieter pulled her the other way, in the direction where several other large, dark vans were waiting.
A man appeared next to Dieter as if out of the sun. Sunbeams glinted on his silver hair, and he was as tall as Dieter.
The man said, “Raphael, come back to us.”
