Strategy
Raphael Mirabaud
Spies, traitors,
and betrayal.
Raphael sat in the much larger plane, one recently purchased by Wulfram von Hannover, flying through the dark hours of the early morning back toward Europe. Kitting out Wulfram’s plane to travel had been faster than performing the maintenance and refueling necessary to turn around Geneva Trust’s jet.
Besides,Wulfram’s plane had those fantastic reclining seats that turned into flat, twin beds with sheets, blankets, and pillows. Raphael was already looking forward to that.
He’d even had time for a quick shower and change of clothes at his own house in the Southwest, though the silence that Alina used to fill deafened him even above the persistent whine in his ears.
The lights inside the plane weredim because it was still dark outside the wide windows, but the company of burly, military-fit men wearing black fatigues was visible in the gloom.
Raphael wasn’t sure how Wulfram had butted his way to the top of the waiting list for the newest Gulfstream model and had it customized so fast, but he’d learned from hanging around Wulf for over a decade that monstrous amounts of money could indeedwork miracles. The swirling coat of arms of the House of Hannover was subtly embroidered on the seatbacks in matte gold thread barely darker than the cream-caramel leather. If you didn’t know to look for the crest, it was almost invisible, like most of von Hannover’s extensive wealth. The shining wood trim appeared to be oak.
Raphael sat with Wulfram, Luca Wyss, Friedhelm Vonlanthen, and JulienBodilsen at a conference table that unfolded from the side of the airplane. The reclining seats had been bolted to the floor in a pattern such that they spun to provide seating around the table for meetings or meals. The table itself was unusually wide for a folding table on an airplane. Raphael’s knees weren’t bonking Wulfram’s, who sat across from him. It must be custom-made.
A cup of coffeesat at Raphael’s elbow, and he was taking notes on a yellow pad of paper, just like everyone else at the table. The otherWelfenlegionsoldiers in the plane had swiveled their chairs around to listen and were also taking notes. Fifteen or so men filled the plane, which might be just enough, and only because Raphael had been training these men for years when he was Wulf’s head of security.
Hestill couldn’t fathom that one of them was a traitor.
Wulfram grumbled, “I can’t believe we’re launching what can only be considered a full-scale, frontal attack on a fortress, and I’ll be gone for it.”
“They’ll be expecting us to sneak in with a covert operation to rescue her,” Raphael said. “I mean, after all, who would be so arrogant as to stage a blatant military assault on the soil of asovereign country? That’s insane.”
Wulfram cracked the smallest of smiles, the first that Raphael had seen. “I’ve always thought you might be insane, Dieter.”
Dieter.
They were going to have to have a conversation about that, but everyone in theWelfenlegionand Rogue Security called Raphael the same thing,Dieter Schwarz.
He felt like an imposter.
Maybe Raphael, himself, was Pierre’s spy.Maybe Dieter Schwarz had been brainwashed to believe that he was Raphael Mirabaud, and then when Pierre gave a command or held up a Queen of Hearts playing card, maybe Raphael would turn into someone else, someone who had been brainwashed to assassinate Wulfram von Hannover, his wife, and his child.
Raphael had been paranoid about Wulfram’s security for too many years. He might be beginning tolose his mind.
He shook his head and pointed to the sketch on the paper. “I received a text from my source inside the Prince’s Palace—” the ginger Scot Aiden Grier, “—with information about the defenses on the Mediterranean side of the fortress. We’ll attack from the harbor. My people have already secured a yacht and parked it in a slip atPort de Fontvieilleat the foot of the cliff, directlybelow the Prince’s Palace.”
They hadn’t.
He continued, “We have to wait for the new moon for our assault, which is in a week. As it is now, with the full moon a week ago, people would see our troops scaling the cliff in the moonlight.”
Luca Wyss nodded. He had basic notes on his legal pad: dates, times,new moon.“But they’ll have countermeasures. That’s why no onesanewould attack the Prince’sPalace in Monaco.”
“That’s covered.” Raphael was planning to call Blaise Lyon, Rogue Security’s IT genius, as soon as they landed. That much was true.
Luca frowned, and he squinted at Raphael. “Their palace guards will surely have night-vision equipment, both low-light and infrared. Even without a moon, the city lights of Monte Carlo and Monaco Ville will be more than bright enough for NVGsto function. The fortress may be medieval, but their defenses won’t be.”
Raphael shrugged. “We’ll use flares. We’ll blind anyone using NVGs, and then we’ll turn ours on when theirs don’t work anymore.”
Luca looked troubled. “This isn’t ARD-10, Dieter. We don’t have the Swiss government to back us up.”
“I always thought it likely the Swiss government would deny all knowledge to maintain ourmuch-vaunted neutrality. Anyway, you want to stay behind?”
Luca chuckled, his dark eyes twinkling. On his paper, he had written,NVGs = flares.“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, not when we’re about to have some real fun. We need to anticipate their defenses. What else are we going up against?”
