Alec's Royal Assignment. Amelia Autin
than killing the crown prince.
There is one more loose end I must eliminate, he reminded himself coldly, clinically. This one would be harder to accomplish than killing the two princes—man and child—because he at least knew where they were. It was different with Caterina. She had run six years ago, vanishing into thin air, and had never been found despite the bounty he’d placed on her head. He’d agonized at first—unnecessarily, as it turned out—that Caterina would take the evidence she’d compiled against him to the feds, and he’d lived in fear for nearly two years, waiting for the ax to fall. Waiting to be arrested. Tried. Convicted. He’d finally relaxed...but not completely. His men had continued searching for her, to no avail.
Caterina had been a grievous error in judgment—two grievous errors, he admitted. Letting her into his life...and letting her live to tell. I will not be secure until all three are dead, he thought as he savored another sip of brandy. Prince Nikolai. Crown Prince Raoul. And Caterina Mateja.
Alec sat quietly in a small conference room with only the secretary of state, the king of Zakhar and a man who’d been introduced as Colonel Marianescu, head of internal security. Though nothing more was said, Alec knew Colonel Marianescu was the king’s cousin as well as his closest confidant and adviser. The fact that only four men were in the room was a dead giveaway something extremely confidential was going to be discussed.
The king opened by thanking both Americans for being there. “I asked for this private meeting with you, Mr. Secretary,” he said, his steely gaze fixing on the secretary of state before moving to Alec, “and with your embassy’s new regional security officer, to tell you I had more than just a personal reason behind my request for a new RSO at the embassy in Zakhar. I wanted to speak to you both in person—privately—to explain.”
The king’s lips tightened. “We have heard rumors of corruption and fraud at the US embassy here in Drago related to trafficking in women.” His flint-eyed expression left no doubt how he felt about this. “Prostitution, Mr. Secretary. Forced prostitution. The queen is incensed, and rightfully so—any decent person would feel the same. And the word is this corruption at your embassy is occurring at high levels. Possibly even the highest levels.”
The secretary of state looked shocked. “I can assure you, Your Majesty, that—”
The king cut him off. “I do not want assurances from you, sir. I believe you are sincerely shocked by this allegation. Nevertheless, if the rumors are to be believed, Zakharians are involved...as both predator and prey. And there are whispers the Bratva may have a hand in this, as well.”
Cold anger was coming off the king in waves. “I want this crime syndicate stopped now. Not a year from now, or two years from now, after an investigation finds proof that holds up in a US courtroom.” He glanced at Alec again. “The Drago police force is already on the case, but that investigation can only go so far. By bringing in a new RSO, whatever is going on at the US embassy will be stopped. Now. I am sure of it.”
He drew a deep breath and forcibly relaxed. Then he smiled faintly at Alec. “If I could trust you with my sister’s safety, Special Agent Jones—and I did—I believe I can trust you in this.”
The allegations disturbed Alec, but he wasn’t shocked. This wouldn’t be the first time someone in a position of trust within a US embassy was accused of visa fraud, although he wouldn’t have thought the embassy here in Zakhar was a likely target for people desperate enough to pay under the table to obtain a US visa to escape the conditions under which they lived.
But trafficking in women was different. Luring Zakharian girls and women to the United States for prostitution—and there was a premium paid for pretty blondes, of which Zakhar seemed to have more than its fair share—was a completely different prospect, and Alec could see all too easily how it could be true. Especially if the Russian Mafia—the Bratva, or Brotherhood, as it was euphemistically called—was involved.
If the king was right, that meant he was walking into a hornet’s nest when he took over as RSO tomorrow, because he’d have to start an investigation without any idea how far the corruption went. Without any idea who could be trusted...and who couldn’t.
That’s just dandy, Alec thought but didn’t say. He’d long ago learned the control diplomatic protocol demanded of his tongue. Thanks ever so much, Your Majesty, for handing me an assignment right in the middle of a secret war zone.
“Who knows of this?” he asked the king.
“Who knows that I know? Only my closest, most trusted advisers. The queen, of course, and my cousin,” he said, indicating the man who sat so impassively next to him. “Two of my bodyguards, who were with me when I was first informed. And the three policemen who immediately brought this to Colonel Marianescu’s attention, as they should have—this is a threat to Zakharian national security. And now you.
“To the best of my knowledge, no one at the embassy has any idea. That is why I allowed the world to think I was merely acceding to my sister’s insistence I do something to help you, Special Agent Jones, after the unfortunate incident in the Middle East. If I had requested the US replace the current RSO for any other reason, suspicions would have been raised. Suspicions I had no intention of raising.” The king smiled that faint smile again, a smile Alec was starting to understand. “Everything dovetailed nicely.”
Alec nodded, following the logic, and his admiration for the king rose a notch. He’d heard a lot about him from Princess Mara—some of which was secret from most of the world—and of course he’d studied up on Zakhar, its politics and its king when he’d received his assignment here. But he hadn’t expected such astute political awareness, such adroit handling of a situation that might have stymied a lesser man.
He thought about ways and means, his mind racing. Then he turned to the secretary of state. “Since we have no idea how far the corruption goes, I don’t dare trust anyone currently at the embassy—not even the ambassador. Not yet. So I think the best approach is to ask the agency to lend a hand in the investigation.”
“The agency?” The secretary of state looked doubtful, even though the agency had been created in secret after 9/11 to do what neither the FBI nor the CIA had been able to do before that tragedy, and had quickly established itself within the secret confines of the US government.
“It wouldn’t be the first time the State Department and the Bureau of Diplomatic Security asked for their help,” Alec reminded him. “The DSS borrowed Trace McKinnon from them when Princess Mara started teaching in Colorado, remember?”
“Wouldn’t the agency’s presence raise the alarm? Isn’t that exactly what you’re trying to avoid?”
Alec shook his head. “Not if we ask the agency for McKinnon. I’ve worked with him before, and frankly, he’s the best of the best. He’s already in Zakhar, with a perfectly legitimate reason for being here totally unrelated to any kind of investigation.” He nodded to himself, seeing the plan take shape in his mind. “We’re friends. He’s related to the king by marriage. It would lend credence to the rumor the king pulled strings to get me here for personal reasons. Suspicions would be lulled, not raised.”
He looked at the king, almost excited at the prospect of working with McKinnon again, even on something as troubling as this. “I think that’s it, Your Majesty. The perfect solution. The agency’s the best at this kind of covert investigation. And they’re authorized by Congress to act both within and outside US borders, so we wouldn’t be overstepping any legal boundaries. That’ll be critical when it comes time to prosecute these guys. I know that’s secondary as far as you’re concerned, but—”
“But it is of prime importance to your government,” the king answered. “That I understand.” He glanced over at the secretary of state. “I have no objections to this plan, Mr. Secretary. Do you?”
* * *
“Security