Page 93 of In A Faraway Land

“Damn,” the judge said, her voice softer. “I wish I’d known all that. I would have let you keep the throne of Monaco, too.”

Flicka smiled at her. “It doesn’t work quite like that.”

“Yes, but it would be interesting to watch their lawyers litigate that, wouldn’t it? Go with God, child,” the judge said, tapping the paperwork. “Have your lawyers make sure they file that decree. Indeed, you there,” she pointed to Joachim, “the clerk is right through this door at the front. You should do that right now. And give her that other copy.”

Joachim Blanchard gathered the paperworkand breezed through the door near the judge’s stand.

Judge Malone squinted, looking past Flicka. “The problem now, as I see it, is that there are an unusual number of musclebound men in the gallery of this courtroom. I’ve already pressed the alarm button and passed a note to the authorities here. We’ll have police and bailiffs here to ensure the peace as you leave. Once you get out on the street,there’s only so much we can do. We’ll have officers with you until you leave the premises, and they’ll arrest anyone who attempts to commit assault or kidnapping. Are some of these magnificent specimens with you?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Flicka pointed to Dieter, right behind her. “He is.”

“Your name?” she asked him.

“Raphael Mirabaud,” he replied, his Swiss accent as strong as she’d ever heard it. Hegrowled the R in his throat,Rah-fail.He sounded French.

Flicka whipped around, but Dieter’s strong features were impassive, just looking at the judge.

“All right, Mr. Mirabaud, do you have people with you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Flicka looked around the courtroom and recognized the guy who had driven them to the airport in Geneva and the one who had driven them around Paris.

“Good. And are theresome people here whom you don’t recognize?”

Dieter said, “Yes, ma’am. Twenty-three of them.”

The judge’s fumbling mouth set in a grim line. “I want you and Ms. Hannover out of this courtroom first, then your people. Point out anyone who isn’t with you to the police who will be escorting you out of the building. I’m giving you a head start. Go now.”

Flicka snatched up her purse and edged outthrough the crowd of her attorneys. Dieter met her at the opening in the rail.

The other Rogue Security people moved toward them, and they funneled toward the doors in the rear of the courtroom.

Dieter glared at some of the people, and some hesitated.

The others, Dieter pointed out to the police officers who had entered the back door. The officers moved toward them.

The guys that Flicka recognizedgathered around them, their arms out to shove people away.

Beyond them, the other guys paced and swarmed, dozens of them.

“There are too many of them,” Flicka whispered to Dieter.

“Rogue Security has a car waiting for us. It’s just around the corner. If we can get to it, we can lose them.”

They clattered down the steps and trotted to the front doors. Morning sunlight blazed through the glassdoors like a nuclear explosion was roiling outside.

They pushed the heavy doors aside and hurried to the street.

Someone shoved Flicka, and she toppled sideways.

Hands reached for her, grabbing.

A finger caught in her hair and pulled, and she yanked away from him.

A hand chopped down on the arm that was grabbing her and wrenched it away.

More people swarmed around them. Dieter stiff-armeda man out of their path. A police officer caught the guy and flung him to the sidewalk.