That was not an answer.“You cloned my phone!”
“Well, it seemed prudent, considering how often you go missing.”
“Arthur, I’m an actual world leader!”
“You weren’t until a month ago, and it’s still not official. And you deny it will ever be official.”
“That’s espionage!”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Dammit, Arthur.Check my messages and see if she’s texted me.”
Arthur did something on his phone. “You’ve received no texts from her since you texted her to come to your apartment and ‘take notes.’ I assume that’s amateur code for something depraved. You have many other messages from other people, asking after your welfare and demanding you answer them.”
“You need to uncouple your phone from mineright now.”
“Perhaps we should wait until we’ve secured Dree Clark.”
“Yeah, okay, but I don’t want you reading my text messages anymore.”
“I won’t.” He paused. “You’re a dirty, dirty man, Maxence.”
“Jesus,Arthur.” Max sat back in his seat, still pissed.
Beside him, Casimir was smirking and looking out his window.
Max said to him, “He’s probably cloned yours, too.”
Casimir straightened. “Arthur, did you clone my phone?”
Arthur shrugged, his bulky headphones weaving against the bright sunlight shining in the helicopter’s front windscreen. “Full-court press then, unless and until we find out Miss Clark is all right. We need powerful computers and a lightning-fast connection to hack Monaco’s 5G mobile network.”
Casimir said to Max, “He didn’t answer my question. He changed the subject. That means he did it. He cloned my phone.” He turned to the front. “Arthur, quit reading my texts!”
Max shook his head. “He has no boundaries.”
“Arthur! I’m alawyer,and there is such a thing as attorney-client privilege. Those conversations arelegallyprivileged, andno oneshould be reading them. I can’t even be subpoenaed about them. Now,dammit,you un-clone my phone right now andquit reading my texts.”
Arthur said, “Gentlemen!Focus!Our missions are to find Miss Clark and to provide Monaco’sad hocsovereign with proper security.”
Casimir sighed. “We’ll sort out personal boundaries later. Arthur, didn’t you say you met Tristan King at the Monaco Yacht Club, and he was arbitraging stock options using Monaco’s 5G?”
Arthur mused, “Yes, Twist might be using the type of computer equipment that would work. Max, tell your valet that we’ll do a touch-and-go at the palace, and then we’ll take the helicopter directly to the yacht club to see if we can rouse Twist. You can change out of that tragic Kiton tuxedo at the club. It just breaks my heart, what you did to that poor Kiton.”
Maxence was ready to strangle Arthur with the ripped-off Kiton tuxedo trousers he still wore, but death by platinum-stitched cashmere was too good for the wanker. “May I use your phone to make another call?”
“I suppose.” Arthur’s phone flipped through the air toward the back seat.
Maxence snatched it out of the air and dialed a number from long-held memory, waiting while it rang.
A woman’s sleepy voice answered, “Hello? Maxence?Are you all right?I’ve been trying to get in touch with you. I saw on the news—”
“I’m fine. I’m in a helicopter with Arthur and Casimir.”
“Oh, thankGod.I was so worried about you. With, you know,kidnapping. Please tell me you’re all right.”
“I’m fine, Flicka,” Maxence said, “and I need to talk to your husband.”
