Page 20 of Risky Match (Royal Spies #1)

I shrug, palms up. “Not really. He’s only partially informed about our mission. And we’re being extremely careful to keep up the ruse that he doesn’t speak English. Besides, it would be strange if anyone caught me having extended conversations with our temperamental chef.”

Stephen chuckles. “I gather he’s playing the role well then. Does that mean he can actually cook too?”

I nod, amused at Stephen’s mirth. He’s usually all business. Adrian’s usually the one who finds lightness in the serious moments.

“Fausto is playing his part to perfection, and his Italian food is quite delicious. But I know our time here is short, and we need to talk about the more important aspects of the situation. I planted all the devices in Blake’s room. Have you heard or seen anything useful yet?”

I don’t share that I’ve been horribly curious and even contemplated listening to the audio and watching video feeds myself. Ultimately, I couldn’t do it. It would have been too personal given our history and recent flirting.

Stephen’s face grows serious, his brows knitted. “Blake doesn’t spend much time in his room, so there’s nothing of interest so far. The team continues to monitor him though. It’s a bit frustrating that we haven’t made more progress. We need a breakthrough soon.”

“What about his phone?”

“He listens to music, watches dog videos, and sends texts to Josh and Natalie about meetings. Our people did overhear one conversation between Blake and Noah that suggests Blake isn’t particularly happy with his manager. Do you know anything about that?” he asks, raising his eyebrows hopefully.

I nod. “That’s consistent with other tidbits I’ve picked up. I haven’t been able to learn any details, though. Why is Blake dissatisfied with Noah?”

I lean forward expectantly, anxious to learn the details.

“Our agents think it’s related to his sponsors and income. There’s more to the story that we don’t know. It’s up to you to find out. It’s important.”

I close my eyes, wondering how I can possibly accomplish this. The last thing he’ll want to discuss is something else that’s causing him angst.

Throwing up my hands, I groan. “I know it’s important, but it won’t be easy. Blake is stressed to the hilt. He won’t want to talk about something upsetting.”

“But he trusts you. You’ll find a way. I have another question. When you planted the electronic devices, did you have time to search Blake’s room?”

Twirling the ring on my right hand, I sigh. “I did. From what I found, it’s possible that Blake is involved in smuggling the coins. Also, his coach, Josh, is probably part of it. Maybe Noah too.”

I’m bothered that my answer implicates Blake when my gut tells me he wouldn’t be involved.

“And you’re just now mentioning this? Why didn’t you text? Never mind. Start at the beginning. What did you find?” Stephen looks at me in shock.

“Didn’t I tell you it was difficult not being able to communicate directly. I thought this info was too sensitive to text. That’s why we’ve set up ways to meet. Remember? Oh well, we’re here now. Forgive my frustration. I’ll explain.”

I share how I found the hollow trophy with a folded piece of paper inside, omitting that I’d hoped to find evidence to exonerate Blake.

“At first, I thought a coin might be wrapped in the paper. It was the perfect size to hold one. Instead, it was a note telling Blake to listen to his coach and proceed as planned for the payoff he wants.”

“It sounds like his coach is the one in contact with the leader of the smuggling operation.”

“It does. To me, the note sounds like a warning to Blake. I wonder if he’s been threatening to abandon the operation.”

I have to hope that Blake isn’t willingly participating in something illegal. Otherwise, my judgment is off.

Rubbing his chin, deep in thought, Stephen softly says, “Perhaps.”

He doesn’t look convinced though.

Duty bound, I share another theory. “I also wonder whether there was a coin folded up in the note. Blake may have been instructed to remove the coin from the trophy and move it to another place. By writing the note on the paper surrounding the coin, they made sure he would see the writing.”

He slaps his knee, saying, “Excellent deduction. If the coins are hidden in trophies, that would also explain how they escape detection at the borders. An X-ray wouldn’t detect a coin inside the metal base of a trophy.”

Stephen’s earlier frustration has turned to enthusiasm at the prospect that we may actually be making progress in our investigation.

I, on the other hand, am not at all happy with the direction we’re headed.

If there isn’t a change of course soon, my prior one-night stand will be arrested for smuggling and who knows what other crimes.

Sullenly, I nod slowly. “Agreed. I also sent you photos of a hidden key I found. Have the experts determined what type of lock it opens?”

“I haven’t heard anything yet. How do you know the key is his?”

“Technically, I don’t, but it was in an envelope with a preprinted return address for a Paris hotel. I Googled the hotel. It’s less than two kilometers from Roland Garros where Blake just played in the French Open last month.”

Stephen’s brows furrow. “I see. I gather you couldn’t remove the key so we can duplicate it.”

“I decided it was too risky. If you can’t make a copy from my photo and tracing, then I’ll borrow the key on a day that Blake has a match.

You can send a delivery to me. Some red roses would do nicely.

I’ll pass the key to the delivery person.

Someone else can return it later in the day along with a tin of chocolate biscuits from an admiring fan,” I smile, proud of myself for placing an order for two of my favorite things.

I need something to cheer me up, and it’s fun to poke at Stephen, trying to get a rise out of him or at least a slight smile. He obliges, with a half-smile.

“You’re very clever, my dear. We get the key, and you receive flowers and sweets.”

“Yes, it’s the perfect trade, don’t you think?” I taunt with a toss of my hair and wide grin.

“Of course. We’ll text if we need the key,” he says, with a shake of his head.

“Perfect. I really hope you’ll need that key,” I tease.

“You know you could just order the flowers and biscuits, right?”

“It’s so much more fun to receive deliveries from secret admirers, even if they are fake ones,” I muse.

“You’re too much. Have you learned anything else?”

“Only one other thing that I haven’t already passed along.

We know Natalie and Josh met before, because Blake said Josh recommended her when he wanted to add a sports psychologist to his team.

However, Natalie says she met Noah for the first time yesterday.

That’s inconsistent with what Fausto overheard.

Fausto is fairly certain that Natalie and Noah have a history too.

It probably doesn’t matter, but why would she lie? ”

Stephen shrugs. “Maybe they’ve spoken on the phone before, but they met in person for the first time yesterday. It could be as simple as that.”

“I’ll check with Fausto to see if that would explain what he heard.”

“Or it’s possible they were romantically involved and don’t want anyone to know.”

“She’s married now. I think her wife’s name is Cecilia.”

“Yes, that’s in the dossier from her background check. She hasn’t been married long though. It’s possible she knew Noah before her marriage. But I’ll pass along the information. As a precaution, the team can take another look at her prior connections with both Josh and Noah.”

“Good. Is there anything else that I need to know?”

“Yes. We have new intel indicating the coins haven’t been handed off yet. The information we intercepted confirms the exchange will occur at Wimbledon. We hope to have more details soon.”

“Is the handoff supposed to take place during a match or at a specific event?”

“We don’t know. That’s the problem. For all we know, it could happen when a fan asks for an autograph or takes a selfie. The coins are so small, it would be trivial to hand them off.”

“That makes it almost impossible to prevent. What’s the plan?”

“We need you to learn everything about Blake’s schedule. Has he mentioned any events he’ll be attending”

“He has a sponsor event later this week. That’s the only thing they’ve discussed other than his matches.”

“Find an excuse to go with him.”

“Will do.”

“We’re watching the cameras you planted. We should see if he takes anything unusual with him. But if you can, take another look in his room. The coin may be hidden there.”

“I searched it thoroughly. The only thing I haven’t checked is his tennis bag. He almost always has it with him. I’ll see if I can manufacture an excuse to go through it tonight.”

“Excellent. It’s possible he’s keeping the coins with him until it’s time to hand them off.”

“What about the other player you mentioned? Any news about his involvement in the smuggling?”

“Nothing yet, but we have eyes on him.”

“You’re still not going to tell me who he is, are you?”

“It’s better if you don’t know. We have no reason to think he’s dangerous, so we’re not worried about you running into him. And if you do, this way you’ll be completely natural.”

“I don’t like it, but I understand.”

“We’re supposed to be having tea, so we should quickly drink up and enjoy the cakes. Otherwise, the staff will wonder what we’ve been doing in here.” He smirks.

“If they only knew you’re like a brother to me.”

“And you’re the sister I never had. You know our parents had hoped for a love match when we were younger.”

“I know, but they seem to have figured out that wasn’t meant to be,” I say, taking one of the cakes from the three-tiered tray as Stephen pours tea for us.

Twenty minutes later, we’ve finished two cups of tea and enough food to justify the time we’ve spent together.

Parting ways, I’m left wondering how we’re going to intercept the coins, given they would easily fit in someone’s pocket along with regular change.

We’re looking for a needle in a haystack as they say.

Nothing short of strip-searching every attendee as they leave Wimbledon would work.

I bite my lip so as not to laugh out loud at that thought.

I can’t imagine the uproar that would cause the British sensibilities.

Talk about tough tasks. Now I must convince Blake to open up to me about his troubles with his manager while devising an excuse to rifle through his tennis bag.

Hell. Why did my first real mission have to be an impossible one?