Page 81 of Happily Ever After

“I think you’re right. Hey, at least after all this, I think we found that mole in theWelfenlegion.”

Flicka laughed out loud at that. “Yeah, I noticed. Jeez, I could not believeJulien Bodilsenwould sell Wulf out. Wasn’t he in ARD-10 with you?”

Dieter visibly flinched like someone had slapped the back of his head. “There was less loyalty in ARD-10than I thought. Basch Favre was in ARD-10 with Wulfram and me.”

“The guy whose phone number I remembered for you, right?” Flicka asked. She knew, of course. She was just being polite.

He nodded. “He’s the Geneva police chief, now. He was supposed to save you and Alina, but he ended up being a sell-out to Piotr Ilyin. I want to strangle that bastard.” His strong hands flexed.

“I guess we don’thave to worry about having a spy in theWelfenlegionanymore.”

“There’s that, I suppose,” Dieter said. “But the real question is, even if that phone were usable, who would we call? Who would be so helpful that we could risk being found and detained by the police for French intelligence?”

“Rogue Security?” she ventured.

“Too predictable. Surely, the French police will still have my securityemployees under surveillance, if not in custody.”

“It’s probably got a password or something on it anyway.” Flicka picked up the phone and thumbed the side button to turn on the screen.

The screen lit up. Rows of icons lined up on the front.

Flicka gasped. “It doesn’t have a password. We can call someone.We can get help.”

Dieter stood beside her and craned his neck over the phone. “The callshould be as short as possible. You should say as little as possible, and it should be someone we know can help us. Someone we can rely on, someone we can trust.”

Flicka bit her lip. “Maybe you should do the talking, if they’re looking for me.”

“Interpol was alerted when I traveled on my Swiss passport to the States. I’m more of a risk than you are.”

“Okay, maybe we could search for news onme, first. Maybe we don’t even have to sneak around. Maybe no one’s looking for us.” Flicka’s thumb flew over the screen, searching for her own name.

As she’d feared, many news stories had been posted, all with headlines designed by the Monegasque public relations department.

Princess Flicka kidnapped at gunpoint from winter ball!

Princess still missing!

Armed men storm Prince’s Winter Ball,Kidnap Princess.

Have you seen Princess Flicka?

Princess Flicka hotline.

Dieter stared over her shoulder at the phone screen. “I figured he’d try something like this.”

Dammit.Flicka said, “I’ll call my dad.”

“What?I can’t believe that’s the best course of action.”

“He’s in Hannover, Germany, and they won’t be expecting me to call him. At least he’s on this continent.”

Dieter frowned,hard. He looked pissed. “Wulf has said a lot about him over the years, and so have you.”

Flicka pressed the screen to dial his number, her bright manicure slipping over the glass screen. “My father is a toxic, crazy old bigot, but I’m his daughter.”

“Hekidnappedyou.”

“Oh,that.He was trying to keep me from marrying Pierre.”