Page 7 of Risky Match (Royal Spies #1)

“Okay. I have a lot to prepare. I’ll sign in for my briefing, if there’s nothing else you need to tell me.”

“That’s all. We’ll talk again before you leave,” Dad says.

After quick goodbyes, I start the long walk from my parent’s palace apartment back to mine, which is in another wing.

Along the way, I console myself with the knowledge that I earned a singles invitation even if I can’t tell anyone.

At least I’ll finally set foot on the sacred grass courts even if it’s not for the reasons I’d hoped.

This whole situation is ironic. For the last decade, my occasional covert assignments have been mundane.

Now, I finally get my opportunity to play singles at Wimbledon, but it’s spoiled by the fulfillment of my desire for a more important mission.

I should’ve been more careful about what I asked for, I guess.

I’ve put in the work at the annual covert training.

I’m ready for whatever threats cross my path—at least as ready as training can make someone.

It’s doubtful, though, that this mission will involve real threats.

My parents think eating at a restaurant is a significant security risk, so it’s hard to believe this mission will be particularly exciting despite their reassurances that this is more than an info exchange.

There is one threat, or more accurately, a complication that my parents don’t know about.

I have a history with Blake. That means I have mixed feelings about seeing him again.

No one has ever made my pulse race like he did that night.

We shared personal feelings and stories and connected over our shared struggles.

It’s too bad we didn’t stay in touch. If we had, I’d know more about his current situation. But at the time, we parted amicably with no plans to contact each other. It worked out well because neither of us was looking for a relationship. We were both concentrating on our tennis.

A warmth passes through me as I remember how special he made me feel that night.

But for all I know, he would have done whatever it took to be able to say he slept with a princess.

Not that there have been any rumors that he’s said anything to that effect, but I’ve learned that’s a thing for some guys.

My title and money make me a target. Unfortunately, I can never be certain who cares about me for me rather than for what I represent.

I can’t help but wonder whether Blake will be glad to see me or if he’ll be annoyed that I’m showing up to play doubles with him. Knowing how much he hates doubles, he’ll probably tank the first match to avoid the need to play again.

If so, my time competing at Wimbledon will be short and won’t earn me respect from my tennis peers. More importantly, losing early would make it hard to spy on him.

But those aren’t my only concerns. What will I do if he wants to pick things up where we left off? I can’t sleep with a criminal suspect I’m surveilling.

What a mess!

My mind is jumping from topic to topic. This is not like me. I’m usually organized, methodical, and rational. It’s time to snap into mission mode.

Arriving back at my palace apartment, I lock the door and retrieve my encrypted laptop from its secure hiding place. I log in using three-factor authentication and click the link for my briefing.

An avatar fills the screen, obscuring the identity of the real person on this video chat.

Following the next step in the verification protocol, I say, “The sky is gray, but the sun may shine soon.”

“Unless the stars appear first.”

“That will never happen.”

As I wait for the authentication process to complete, I think back to when I first became part of the Covert Royals.

We’re a unique group of highly trained members of European royalty who act as intelligence agents for our home countries and our allies.

Our royal parents formed the group over a decade ago to provide an option for their children who would not be ascending to the throne.

They wanted us spares to have the opportunity to play a significant role in assisting our countries rather than feel left out as some have in the past.

We were all given the choice to opt-out, but most of us were pleased to have a path of service that involves more than ribbon cuttings, building dedications, and charity events.

Until now, my roles for the Covert Royals have been rather tame, but I’ve made it known that I’d like to do more. This may be my chance.

Finally, a series of beeps sound, confirming my identity, and the avatar fades to an image of Walter with his familiar bald head and gray mustache. Walter has been my primary contact with the Covert Royals since I finished my initial training.

He says, “Agent Brianna, welcome to Operation Denarius. You have been selected to play a key role in tracking down smugglers of ancient antiquities. Specifically, rare gold and silver coins have been disappearing from European museums and private collections. Some have reappeared months later in museums around the world. We suspect others have been acquired by private collectors who do not wish to risk detection.”

“When you find the coins, are they returned to their rightful owners?” I ask.

“Not necessarily. That process can take years and return of the coins is not always possible due to differences in international laws.”

“I see.”

“Most recently, a superb collection of ancient Roman gold coins was stolen. They’re known as the 12 Caesars. Each coin features the portrait of one of the Roman rulers on one side. The opposite side depicts a symbol, mythological character, or person relevant to the time period.”

“I gather the coins are extremely valuable.”

“They are. These coins are small. Each one has a diameter of about 20 mm and weighs about 8 grams. But they are each worth hundreds of thousands of British pounds.”

“Wow. These crimes sound like common art thefts. Why are the Covert Royals involved?”

“Yes, theft of ancient coins is a form of art theft. There are also laws prohibiting the export of ancient coins and antiquities from certain European countries without permission. These crimes alone would not necessarily call for the involvement of intelligence agencies. These incidents rose to our level when we learned that the stolen coins are being used to purchase weapons for certain terrorist organizations.”

“That definitely elevates the crime. How is Wimbledon and tennis involved?”

“We have reason to believe that certain pro tennis players or members of their teams receive the coins at tournaments in the countries where the coins are stolen. Those people then pass the coins on to couriers at the next tennis tournament in another country. Using this procedure, the players are smuggling the coins from one country to another.”

“I see. Do you suspect any particular players or team members?”

“Yes. Based on our investigation so far, we suspect two teams are orchestrating the movement of the ancient coins across the borders as they move from one tournament to the next. At this point, we’re not sure if it’s the players or people on their team who are handling the coins.”

“Am I to understand that Blake Knight’s team is under suspicion?”

“To be clear, Blake and his team are suspects. That’s why we’ve arranged for you to play as Blake’s tennis partner. That will give you the opportunity to plant surveillance devices, question Blake, and hopefully, retrieve the coins that recently disappeared.”

“How do I obtain the electronic surveillance devices?”

“Upon arrival in the UK for Wimbledon, you’ll be contacted.

At that point you’ll be provided another briefing along with the devices for the mission.

We have also sent encrypted images of the missing coins to your phone.

Please review them, commit them to memory, and then permanently delete the images. ”

“I will. That’s standard protocol. Is there anything else I should know.”

“One more thing. We’ve lost two agents assigned to expose the people involved in the arms purchases. Our current intel suggests their deaths were unrelated to the theft of the coins. However, we cannot be certain at this time.”

“Have you lost anyone investigating the coin thefts?”

“No, but please proceed with caution throughout this mission. We don’t want you to be the first. Your bodyguard will be your backup if necessary.”

“Does that mean Erin can be given the details of the mission?”

“No. As always, she will know you’re on a mission and will be on heightened alert. That’s all.”

“I understand.”

“Good. May you succeed in secret. Good luck.”

After reciting this Cover Royals motto, the screen goes blank before I can respond.

Before viewing the images of the coins, I take a moment to process the contents of the briefing.

After mentally reviewing the call and committing the details to memory, my mind settles on the fact that two agents have been lost. It’s possible they were killed in unrelated accidents, but that sounds unlikely to me.

I can only hope that Walter is correct that the coin smuggling part of this conspiracy is less deadly.

That thought sends an ominous chill through me.

No wonder my parents weren’t keen on my involvement in this CRM.

My training may be more important than I’d thought.