Magnus said, “Blaise has been evaluating the social media and other electronic communications of members of Monaco’s Secret Service, police department, and other security services. He has found a few troubling communiqués that we would recommend would disqualify someone from continuing to hold a post in your organization.”
“You’ve found collaborators then,” Maxence said.
Magnus nodded and removed a short report from his computer bag, laying it on the desk between himself and Maxence. “Considering that you had a disinformation campaign running for years from an internal, trusted source, we found very few problematic communications. All hits were evaluated by Rogue Security personnel, including Aiden Grier, who was undercover within your Secret Service a few months ago. Many were routine transfers of information, not conspiracy.”
Maxence steeled himself. “How many people are involved?”
Magnus flipped open the report that was stapled in the corner and creased the paper back. “Eight.”
Most of the names listed on the report, Maxence did not recognize, which was a blessing. The few that he did recognize were low-level personnel but not officers.
Magnus said, “We believe the majority of the conspiracy can be traced back to Quentin Sault and Michael Rossi, whom you already named.”
“How certain are you?” Maxence asked.
“We are quite secure with these conclusions.” Magnus gestured toward the black computer screen, where the faint outline of a hood was visible on the person there. “Blaise made incursions into your systems prior to the Winter Ball in December, and he correlated intelligence from that time with current data. These two data points have made us quite certain that these eight names,” Magnus tapped the piece of paper on the desk, “are the extent of sympathizers within your organization.”
“Pierre was in charge of this organization for a long time. Years, really, as my uncle Prince Rainier IV slowly ceded power to him. Prince Jules also had a propaganda campaign among his security people that bled into the palace’s security.”
Magnus nodded. “Most of the people in your organization were not blind to Pierre’s weaknesses. They escorted him to visit his other family with Abigai Caillemotte in France. They were present when he married Princess Friederike von Hannover, and they knew Caillemotte was present at the wedding and in the hotel because they had escorted her there. They provided security so Pierre could visit her in her hotel suite, which was the second-largest suite in the hotel after the one Princess Friederike von Hannover had reserved for herself and Pierre.”
Pierre had been a coward and had forced the people who worked for him into duplicity. It was a little surprising that his own security forces hadn’t assassinated him. That’s what usually happened to leaders who forced people with guns to choose between them and their country.
“From the communications that were surveyed, Friederike von Hannover was very popular with the security staff. Abigai Caillemotte was not. They viewed Caillemotte as not only a security risk and moral failing but as a threat to Monaco, should Pierre be crowned the sovereign prince and then go through a divorce or want to marry a Protestant. There was a great deal of discussion as to whether Princess Friederike von Hannover should be approached and informed before her wedding, but we believe it didn’t happen.”
If Flicka had walked out on the wedding, Pierre might still be alive and would have been crowned the Sovereign Prince of Monaco soon after Prince Rainier IV’s death, and Flicka would be dealing with much less trauma in her life.
In that scenario, Maxence would probably have finished out his tour of Nepal with Dree and proposed to her somewhere in the Himalayas. They would have run off to New York or Paris and lived out their lives quietly, doing their charitable work and raising children.
He stole a glance at Dree Clark, who was dutifully in the middle of a creative writing project with illustrations about sea scallops.
But it didn’t matter what Maxence might have wished or not. The past was over.
Magnus continued, “Most of the people in your organization were not personally loyal to Pierre. They are loyal to Monaco and the people of Monaco. There was a great deal of cognitive dissonance. The communications we saw were substantially less alarming than many other investigations I have conducted, both with Rogue Security and before.”
Maxence nodded as the information organized itself in his head with the other, previous information. The entire Secret Service wasn’t trying to kill him, just Quentin Sault and a few brainwashed accomplices. “Do you have a recommendation for a new head of security?”
Magnus tapped the report again. “We’ve recommended three candidates. Also, after an evaluation of your training and practices, we recommend a thorough, top-down reorganization and re-training of your Secret Service, military forces, and police. Rogue Security can provide this restructuring, or we can recommend reputable consultants.”
Maxence nodded. “Flicka always said our security was shit.”
Magnus nodded, and Maxence had the distinct impression he was choosing his words exquisitely carefully. “Princess Friederike von Hannover is knowledgeable about security operations.”
Maxence chuckled. “Yes, she is. All right, Monaco would like to retain Rogue Security to reorganize our security services. Please submit estimates and a contract to my office, personally.”
Magnus closed his computer bag and asked the dark computer screen, “Anything else to add, Blaise?”
“No other salient points,” the shadowy form on the computer screen said in that throaty, oddly familiar voice.
Maxence asked the man on the computer, “Have we met?”
The screen popped and went blank as the computer turned itself off.
Magnus shrugged. “Looks like it ran out of juice. It must need a new battery.” He stood to leave.
Maxence asked him, “Any word on Kir Sokolov’s location?”
Magnus Jensen grimaced. “We’re working on it.”
