Covert Operation #3
Flicka von Hannover
Some covert operations are quiet.
Some aren’t.
Over at the side of the ballroom, past the swirling crowd, Magnus Jensen slid his hand into his pocket.
Flicka felt the slightest buzz from what must have been Raphael’s phone in the pocket of his cassock, and she watched him.
Raphael smiled. “Come on. We’re leaving now.”
Thiswas it.This was it.
Raphael had waltzed them to the edge of the dance floor, her long skirt and his cassock swirling in the crowd.
He twirled her, held her hand, and strode off the dance floor toward where Magnus Jensen stood against the wall, solemnly perusing the crowd.
The two men who stood guard nearest to where they exited the dance floor didn’t even look at them. Flicka stared straightahead at the doors, a serene smile on her face that belied the excitement and terror at merely walking away from the Prince’s Winter Ball to freedom.
Magnus touched his ear monitor as they passed and pressed the door open for them.
Raphael led her through the door and into a brightly lit corridor.
He said, “Keep walking.”
She did. Oh, she surely did. She trotted beside him, holding up herblack, beaded skirt with her other hand and making sure she kept up with his long strides.
Raphael dropped her hand for a moment to untie the red sash and strip off the cassock, leaving him in a priest’s black shirt and black slacks. A holster was strapped to his leg, and he drew the small gun, holding it pointed down and in front of them.
No wonder Pierre’s ancestor François Grimaldi had masqueradedas a priest to sneak into the Prince’s Palace. He could have hidden a machine gun under that thing, Flicka mused.
Raphael balled up the cassock and threw it in a closet they passed. He looked back, walking faster.
Flicka risked a look back, careful not to teeter on her stiletto heels.
Oh, why hadn’t she worn shoes more suitable for a covert operation?
Because her stylist would have never allowedit, that’s why.
Behind them, men in suits filed into the hallway. She recognized Magnus leading them. All had drawn their weapons and were walking sideways, crablike, down the hallway, covering both behind Flicka and Raphael and ahead of them. Behind Magnus, several of the guys from Wulf’s security team followed—Luca Wyss, Julien Bodilsen, and Matthias Williams. All held their guns low and steadily,moving with the practiced grace of men accustomed to dangerous situations and weapons.
She bustled through the palace with Raphael steadying her elbow, until they reached a sharp turn in the hallway.
The white-walled, fluorescent-lit hallway was empty.
No one stood ahead of them.
Only theWelfenlegiontrailed behind them.
They hadn’t been followed.
They were practically home free.
Raphaelslowed to a walk and caught her eye for a quick grin.
Flicka was the slightest bit out of breath from the quick exit and nerves. “That was anti-climactic.”
