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Prologue
Rile
When I close my eyes, your voice floats through the jet’s white noise and settles on my heart like a cold mist. And then you’re gone. Always gone before I can make sense of the words you so desperately want me to hear. I stop short of crying out for you to say it again, beg like I always do, for you to stay with me and never leave.
I wait for the pain as it claws its way back into my soul. There’s comfort in the familiar. At least I know I can feel…something. My eyes fill with unshed tears, and I murmur your name. Celestina. More than my northern star, you were my sun, my moon, my universe, my guiding light. Without you, I’m lost. So lost.
Forcing my eyes open, I look out the plane’s window as we begin our descent to Mallorca, the island that has become my home because it’s where you rest and will, for all eternity.
I stayed in my seat while the Bombardier taxied from the private runway to the hangar it shared with the much larger planes the DeLéons kept at their disposal. Part of me wished I could tell the pilot to turn around and take me back to Italy.
I stood, stretched my legs, and peered out another window when I saw my valet pull the black 1963 Mercedes-Benz 190 SL out of the same hangar the plane would soon be stored in. I smiled when he lowered the top; it was perfect convertible weather—sunny, but not too hot. May truly was the best month on the island.
I took one step down the plane’s ramp when I was overcome by what felt like a hurricane-force gale, yet the air was still. I gripped the railing with one hand while I rubbed my temple with the other as the message came through, loud and clear.
Kensington is in danger.
1
Rile
Seven Months Ago
London
“Thank you for agreeing to see me, Cortez,” said the woman I’d known since I was a young boy and whom I still bowed to when in her presence.
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
“Please be seated, Cortez. As you know, one of my husband’s sisters has recently passed away, leaving her granddaughter somewhat at…odds. Do you know of whom I’m speaking?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Kensington is a darling girl, but I fear her lack of parental guidance has resulted in her rather…irresponsible approach to life.”
While I didn’t know all the details, I’d heard enough to wonder why the Queen didn’t simply distance herself from the woman. The last I knew, Kensington had taken up with the great-great-great-grandson of the last of Austria-Hungary’s monarchs, Emperor Karl I.
“I’ve received somewhat concerning news, Cortez,” said the woman who was speaking to me now not as a former officer of MI6, but as my second cousin, once removed. “Given the delicacy of the situation, I’ve made the decision to keep the matter private rather than go to the prime minister.”
“What’s happened, ma’am?”
She looked over her shoulder as if anyone would’ve dared interrupt us and then leaned closer to me. “She’s been kidnapped,” she whispered.
“May I ask the source of this information?”
“I believe it’s come by way of the girl’s mother, my nephew’s ex-wife, Kendra.”
“May I also ask if she’s been contacted by the kidnappers?”
“I’ll leave those details to you, Cortez. I trust if anyone can locate her, it will be you.” The Queen patted my hand and sat forward in her chair, signaling our conversation was over.
I stood, bowed, and left the same way I’d come in—through the family entrance. I was no sooner in my car than my mobile rang with a call from my mother. “Good afternoon, Duchess.”
“How did your meeting go with the Queen, Cortez?”
“She believes Kensington Whitby has been kidnapped.”
“You doubt it?”
I brushed my lower lip with my index finger, wondering how much my mother already knew. “My prediction is that it’s more likely she’s run off.”
“What will you do?”
I smiled. The duchess knew exactly what I would do. “As requested by the Queen, I will handle the case as the kidnapping she believes it is. However, she has asked that the regular authorities not be involved.”
“Your Invincibles
will handle it, then, Cortez?”
I smiled. “Yes, Mother. Is there anything else you’d like to make me aware of at this time?”
“You know there’s rumor of an involvement between Kensington and Konstantine von Habsburg?”
“I am.”
“Perhaps, then, Budapest would be the place to begin your search.”
“Anything else, Mother?”
“Be safe, Cort.”
“I always am.”
My prediction, while not an intuition, was that locating Kensington would be more of a nuisance than a mission. However, given the Queen was one of only two women alive I could never say no to, I would treat her grandniece’s disappearance with the same level of tenacity and resourcefulness as any case I’d ever worked.
I rang the technological and logistics expert as well as the chief information officer on our team, Decker Ashford, to inform him of the mission I was about to undertake.
“Grinder is in London now,” he reported.
Of that, I was aware. He gave me the name of the same hotel where the man and I had met for a drink earlier that same day. I hated to interrupt what I knew was an inopportune time, but the third member of our team was currently in hospital, recovering from surgery.
I gave Ashford as much background as I had regarding the situation, asked him to determine the truest nature he could of the threat, and told him I’d check back once I made contact with Grinder.
Again, if it were anyone but the Queen herself asking me to do this, I would not make use of the SOS we used only for true emergencies, but I had no choice.
I made another call while I waited in the lobby for Grinder to join me, this time to Kensington’s mother. As expected, it went directly to voicemail, reinforcing my doubt that her daughter had actually been abducted.
