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She’d walked along to his apartments earlier and found the door wide open and the place empty. For a few seconds panic had descended. He’d left. He’d walked out.
It didn’t matter that she knew she could never keep him here. The thought of Sullivan leaving without a word hurt more than she could comprehend.
She’d rushed into the rooms, glimpsed the rumpled unmade bed, a drawer hanging open, and felt as if a cold wind had just rushed over her skin. But his toiletries were still in the bathroom, his backpack still in the cupboard next to his kicked-in baseball boots. Relief washed over her. He was still here—somewhere.
She made a few casual enquiries via the security staff and found out Sullivan had gone somewhere with Arun.
St George’s was quiet. The staff here were ruthlessly efficient. All the patients from the mining accident were well taken care of. Some were ready to be discharged. Her reviews took less than hour. In truth, these patients could be handed over to the care of the other doctors now, but she was enjoying her time here. She was trying to fathom out a way whereby she could keep working as a doctor, as well as function as Head of State.
Every day the list of urgent things to do seemed to diminish just a little. Several of the key issues had been resolved solely by hosting the state banquet and talking to colleagues face to face. Which meant that ultimately she would have time to take a breath and decide how to manage her life.
One of the nurses gave her a wave. ‘There’s a call for you, Princess Gabrielle. Do you want to take it here?’
She nodded and reached over for the phone, then paused, unsure what title she should use. She shook her head then went with her instincts. ‘This is Dr Cartier, what can I do for you?’
Sullivan’s voice washed over her like a warming balm. ‘Gabrielle. I think you might need to come down to one of the community clinics. I’m almost certain I’ve got a case of TB for you.’
‘You’re working?’ She couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice and cringed as soon as the words came out loudly.
‘Of course I’m working. What else would I be doing?’
She winced. She could almost see the expression on his face as he said those words. ‘Nothing. Of course. Which clinic are you in?’
She scribbled down a few notes about the patient. ‘I can be there soon. Arrange for an X-ray in the meantime and I’ll be there soon.’
‘There’s another thing. I’ve got two children who’ll need some attention. One boy has symptoms of appendicitis. He needs scans and probably surgery today. And there’s another with a previously undiagnosed cleft palate. He’s almost four and has problems with eating and with his speech. It’s not an emergency but this should have been picked up at birth. The family have no insurance. I’m not leaving a child like this.’
She could hear the frustration in his voice and instantly sympathised. She took a second, remembering where the clinic was situated, compared to the nearest hospital with facilities for children. ‘Okay, tell Arun the kids will be going to St Ignatius’s. I’ll phone and make the arrangements. How sick is your first little boy? Do you need an ambulance to transfer him?’
She could hear a conversation going on between Sullivan and Arun.
Something inside her recoiled. That inbuilt ethic—a doctor instantly putting his patients first and treating them. She would never expect anything else from Sullivan.
But she was also aiding Sullivan’s avoidance.
If she’d known he was going to work at the community clinic this morning she could have offered to go in his place. But then he would probably have been offended.
She just didn’t know what to do. She just wasn’t sure how to help. If she pushed him towards therapy or medication he might walk away. He might think she was interfering. And she would be.
Was that allowed?
All she knew was that she didn’t want to see Sullivan suffer any more. But how did she help all that if she couldn’t interfere—just a little?
She grabbed her coat and bag, signalling to Mikel that she wanted to leave. The Corborre clinic was only ten minutes from here. But as soon as she reached the car, a call came through from Franz.
‘Princess Gabrielle, you’re needed at the palace urgently.’
She sat forward in her seat. ‘What’s wrong? Something else at the mine?’
Franz hesitated. ‘No. We’ve made some further...discoveries.’
‘Discoveries?’
She had no idea where this was heading.
‘About Prince Andreas.’
Her stomach rolled over. ‘Has something happened to him? Is he all right? Do you know where he is?’
She heard Franz sigh. ‘No. We still haven’t tracked him down. We have heard some rumours he’s in Bermuda.’
‘Bermuda?’ Why would he go there? ‘So what’s wrong, then?’
‘It might be better to discuss that in person.’
Gabrielle felt her heart sink. She could only imagine what would come next. ‘Actually, Franz, I’m on my way to see a patient at the Corborre clinic. Whatever it is that Andreas has done, just tell me.’
In her head she could hear the drum roll. Franz finally spoke. ‘It seems that the one million euros wasn’t entirely accurate. We’ve found another account with diverted funds. To a bank—’
‘In Bermuda,’ she finished. She leaned forward and put her head in her hands. Franz hadn’t continued and the silence was ominous.
‘What else?’
‘We think there are a number of items missing from the palace.’
She wrinkled her brow. ‘What do you mean?’
Franz cleared his throat. ‘There’s another safe—one that Prince Andreas used privately.’
Gabrielle nodded. ‘Yes, it’s in the study in my apartments. I haven’t even looked at it. Was something in there?’
‘The Moroccan diamond and the Plantagenet emerald.’
‘What?’ Beside her, Mikel jumped at the shrillness of her voice.
‘But they’re family heirlooms.’ The Moroccan diamond was over thirty-five carats and the emerald over forty carats. They’d been part of the family collection for hundreds of years and had moved between royal sceptres and crowns.
‘We think there might also be a missing painting and...some other items.’
She leaned back and put her hand on her forehead. She could only imagine what the missing items might be. The palace was full of gorgeous pieces that had been received over the last few hundred years. Fabergé eggs, Ming vases, medieval tapestries, Egyptian artefacts and even some of Henry VIII’s armour.
‘I want an inventory started immediately,’ she said. ‘And I want advice from the palace lawyers. This can’t be kept secret for long. If I have to issue a warrant for my brother’s arrest, I will.’
There seemed to be a stunned silence at the end of the phone. Gabrielle closed her eyes and shook her head. ‘We’ll talk later. I have patients to see.’
She finished the call.
She would give anything right now to be bac
k in Narumba with Sullivan. Before she’d known she had to be Head of State. Before he’d known she was a princess. And before she’d known that the man she loved was crippled by grief.
It was selfish. She knew that. And the instant the thought appeared she pushed it aside. Things were just overwhelming her.
The brother she’d loved and grown up with had betrayed her and their country for purely selfish motives. She still couldn’t quite believe it.
No wonder she’d spent the last three years in a totally different world. One where patients were the central focus, instead of the welfare of a whole country. She’d never wanted that life back more than she did at this moment.
She watched as the city streets flashed by her window. In an ideal world she’d tell Sullivan exactly what her brother had done. But he already had enough to deal with. He didn’t need her problems too.
* * *
The transfer of the children went relatively smoothly. Sullivan was greeted by yet another hospital administrator who re-checked his credentials more times than entirely necessary and made him sign what felt like a billion forms.
Appendicitis was quickly confirmed with one of the boys and Sullivan scrubbed in with one of the hospital’s regular surgeons to perform the surgery. The other little boy had some tests ordered and a review by an ENT specialist, who scheduled him for surgery the following day.
Sullivan waited until the little boy with appendicitis was in Recovery and had woken up before he left.
He waved off Arun as he offered to take him back to the palace. ‘I’m going to go back to the clinic. Let me walk. It will do me good and I’ll see some of the city.’
Arun gave him a careful nod and disappeared.
Night was just starting to fall in Chabonnex. The streets were bathed in a mixture of orange lights and purple hues from the sky. People were moving around. It was easy to spot the tourists. Cameras and phones were permanently in their hands and most of them were talking loudly.
St Ignatius’s was on the outskirts of the city centre. There were still some buildings of interest nearby, but as he moved along the street it was clear he was moving towards a less affluent area of the capital.
