Firestorm: Book III of the Wildfire Saga (20 page)

Vasily took another step forward and thought about how mind-numbingly bored she must be.
 
Her dress was immaculate, her hair perfectly brushed until it gleamed.
 
Her face was flawless.
 
He could see how she was the envy of every woman in England.
 
One day she would be Queen of England and her children would rule Great Britain.

Vasily shook his head as he took another step forward.
 
Only a few people remained in front of him now.
 
He gripped the book in his hands and stared at the cover, trying to look natural.

He risked a quick glance past the shoulder of the woman in front of him and saw the guards paid close attention to everyone, but mostly the people at the head of the queue.
 
No one had so much as glanced twice at him.
 
Vasily felt confident no one saw him as a threat.
 

He clenched his jaw to avoid coughing.
 
Snyder warned him that the country was on edge over the epidemic sweeping Europe.
 
If he coughed or sneezed in the Princess's presence, he would be detained immediately.

Vasily kept the money he'd been promised at the forefront of his mind. His mind wandered back to the excesses of the previous night.
 
A smile played at the corner of his mouth as he remembered how flexible and talented the young waitress…
 

What was her name again?
 
Vasily frowned in thought.
 
The queue moved forward again.

Zoya!
 
That's right, Zoya, with the dimple on her left cheek when she smiled.
 
Vasily blinked when he heard a man's voice speak to him.

The beefy security guard to the right of the Princess spoke in a polite, but commanding tone.
 
He gestured for Vasily to step forward.

Vasily bumped the table as he moved.
 
He muttered an apology and tried and felt his face warm with embarrassment.
 
One guard grinned, but the Princess's smile wasn't fake.

She said something he couldn't understand in a gentle and caring voice.
 
A delicate hand reached forward to take his book.
 
He stared at her hand for a second.
 
What was he supposed to do?
 
Why was he at a library?
 

He had a message tell her.
 
But how—just lean in and whisper it?
 
He couldn't just yell, it was after all a secret message.
 
Snyder was adamant about not telling anyone the message beforehand.
 

The book!
 
She's waiting for the book!
 
Vasily blinked and felt a cold sweat break out between his shoulder blades.
 
He handed the book to the Princess in a slightly trembling hand.
 
She smiled and took it, flipping to the last page.
 
Vasily watched, riveted, as her slender arm lifted and paused, while a cameraman snapped the picture.
 
The flash startled Vasily, and he blinked.
 

The message, you fool!

The Princess dropped her hand and stamped the inside rear cover with the library's symbol.
 
She closed the cover with a flourish, her wide smile displaying perfect teeth.
 
Vasily leaned forward to accept the book and recited his message.

"Be prepared, your time is limited.
 
The Council will attack soon."

Before he could finish speaking one guard stepped forward and placed a hand on Vasily's shoulder.
 
He grunted something.
 
His body language suggested Vasily needed to move along.

The Princess continued to smile but showed no overt reaction to Vasily's message.
 
Vasily frowned at the guard and did not immediately step back.
 
He felt the pressure from the man's hand increase on his shoulder.
 

Panic gripped his heart.
 
Russian.
 
I said it in Russian!
 
She doesn't understand me.

Vasily switched to his horrendous English recited Mr. Snyder's warning, verbatim.
 
The Princess's smile faded, but her eyes were filled with sudden alarm.
 
Before Vasily could say more the second guard approached, his hand on the grip of a pistol that came out of nowhere.
 
Another cough fought to escape Vasily's lips and in his effort to repeat the message one more time, it exploded from his mouth splattering pink phlegm on the Princess's face.

She recoiled with a gasp as the two guards shoved Vasily back from the table.
 
He staggered under the onslaught of shouts before landing unceremoniously on his ass.
 

The chaos didn't start, however, until the woman behind him screamed.
 

Vasily looked up and saw the woman staring at the Princess.
 
He followed her gaze and saw flecks of bright red blood on the future queen's porcelain cheek.

You fool!
 
You were to deliver a message, not cough up blood on her face!
 

Worried he'd blown his chance at his bonus, Vasily struggled to his feet only to be tackled from behind by unseen security personnel.
 
The air rushed out of his lungs and the burning sensation returned with a vengeance.
 
A thick arm around his throat choked off Vasily's scream as he hit the ground.
 

Voices shouted all around him.
 
The floor trembled as dozens of feet ran past.
 
He struggled to turn his head and look up at the table in time to see guards physically pull the Princess off of her chair and rush her toward the exit.
 
They had drawn their weapons, looking for someone to shoot.
 

Vasily tried to say something, but the arm around his throat tightened as more and more hands grabbed his arms and legs.
 
They picked him from the floor like a sack of potatoes.
 
A coughing fit began deep down in his lungs and Vasily could resist no longer—he choked and coughed and gasped, struggling for air.
 
Wetness exploded up his throat, clogged his nose and coated his lips.
 
It was salty.
 
He tasted iron.

More people screamed and Vasily saw purple spots in his vision.
 
The arm around his throat slackened, however.
 
He rolled over, desperate for air.
 
Through his blurred vision he saw several large men hastily step back as he continued to cough and writhe on the floor.
 
Vasily brought a shaking hand to his mouth, and it came away sticky and bright red.

"What's happening?" he asked, shocked at the hoarse sound of his own voice.
 
Vasily Andropov heard not words, but a choked gurgle when he tried to speak.

Panic flooded his system and his heart threatened to burst through his rib cage.
 
He tried to take a deep breath but his lungs felt full of liquid.
 
It was as if someone had poured a bottle of glue down his throat.
 
He tried to scream, but the burning sensation in his lungs proved too powerful and nothing but a squeak escaped his lips.
 
Vasily's eyes flew wide as his vision clouded.
 
Surely a doctor would be on the way.
 
Someone approached with a flashlight, he saw it through the gathering darkness.

That has to be a doctor!
 
She's a Princess—she'd never be allowed to roam about without a medical staff.

A yellow-clad figured emerged out of the growing shadows and knelt.
 
Vasily blinked up at the grotesque figure, encased in some sort of space suit.
 
The man inside the mask looked scared and his voice was muffled.
 

Vasily coughed, splattering bloody mucus on the man’s face mask.
 
He fell back and raised a hand to protect his visor.
 
A second suited person appeared, looming over Vasily’s face.
 
This one was a woman.
 
She shook her head, a sad expression on her long face.
 
Vasily gasped for breath and saw spots cover the woman’s face.

As Vasily fell into the well of unconsciousness, his last thought before slipping into black nothingness was a weak question:
 
Did I get the message out?

C
HAPTER
20

Skye, Scotland.

Dunkeith Castle.

M
Y
DEAR
,
THAT
SPEECH
was masterful.
 
I don't think I've ever heard President Barron give a more rousing oration!
 
Well done," said Reginald, a glass of Glenfiddich held in salute.

Jayne's image beamed on the monitor.
 
"Why, thank you," she purred.
 
She casually flipped her hair over a shoulder.
 
"You don't think it was too much?"

"No, no, not at all," Reginald said over the rim of his tumbler.
 
"I think it was perfect.
 
Just the right combination of sincerity and zeal.
 
The old boy still has fire left in his belly, what?"
 
Reginald chuckled.
 
"Quite a waste to throw such talent aside, don't you think?"

Jayne frowned.
 
"Don't tell me you're having second thoughts?
 
The plan's already in play."

Reginald stared at the ceiling for a moment.
 
"No—no change of heart.
 
Just…wondering what could have been, I suppose," he finished.
 
"Your plaything held such promise—such potential.
 
Imagine what we could have done had he reacted differently to the administration of your charms…" Reginald let a corner of his mouth curl.
 
"Ah well, water under the bridge, eh?"

Jayne was silent for a moment.
 
"They're not going to like this, you know.
 
Harris will be annoyed."

"I suppose—the question is how far he'll go."

"You don't think he'd try anything against me, do you?
 
I'm going to be ridding him of the thorn in his side.
 
He'll be the sole remaining President."

Reginald nodded, watching the light play off the melting ice cubes in his glass.
 
"Yes, of course.
 
I wonder, though…"
 
He paused for a moment, looking at Jayne.
 
"How's the progress on your tunnel?"

Jayne sighed.
 
"I wish you'd stop calling it that.
 
It sounds…
vulgar
."

Reginald laughed.
 
"Oh, that's rich, coming from you!
 
Vulgar indeed!"
 
He snapped his fingers and held up the empty glass.
 
Bare feet padded across the hardwood floor behind him and a soft hand brushed his as the glass disappeared.
 
His eyes flicked to the mirror above the fireplace and he watched the naked form of his latest plaything saunter to the wet bar.
 
His eyes lingered on the pale white curves of her buttocks as they glowed in the firelight.

"The tunnel is proceeding as planned, thank you very much.
 
If this all goes south, I should have a clear path straight to the museum."

Reginald nodded absently, his chin resting on his hand as he watched Vivian float back across the room, her hand gently cradling his refreshed glass.
 
Reginald crossed his legs at the knee and accepted it with a smile and a wink.
 
The girl blushed.

"Oh, you're good."

"Thank you, m'lord," she said in a voice soft as silk.

Reginald smiled.
 
"No wonder the Italian minister fell so quickly for your charms…" He slid a hand up her leg and let his fingertips caress the soft, smooth skin of her upper thigh.
 
She smiled and sighed, the sultry sound turning his mouth dry.

"If you'd like some privacy, we can talk later…" suggested Jayne with more than a little acid in her voice.

Reginald reluctantly tore his eyes away from the beauty before him and looked at the beauty on the screen.
 
"Oh, my dear, I have no intention of hanging up.
 
This is something I definitely want to watch."

The door to his study opened and a shaft of bright light silhouetted a second form as she stood in the doorway.