“Impossible. But how?”
“How? How does it do anything? Make sane men commit suicide, sink cruise ships, send UFOs streaking over Alaska at the speed of light? It knows, Ambrose, it knows absolutely everything. And it’s capable of absolutely anything.”
“You’ve been in tight spots before, God knows. But I can’t recall a time when you’ve had quite so many balls in the air at one time.”
“Yes. And the problem with having so many balls in the air is that you can be damn sure a couple of them belong to you.”
“It’s a bad business, Alex. I don’t like it one bit.”
“Listen closely, old boy. You’re one of a rapidly decreasing number of people who don’t seem to want me dead. Please don’t accept any phantom phone calls, Ambrose. I may need you and I can’t have you turning into a hypnotic zombie while I’m away. Share this with Diana. Don’t answer the phone. Have someone screen every call coming into the house and hang up immediately if it’s remotely suspicious.”
“Will do.”
“Remember that old-time radio program? Who knows? The Phantom knows…”
“It’s not funny, Alex.”
“Do you really think I don’t know that?”
Nell Spooner, looking round at the high-ceilinged room full of exquisite gilded and silk brocade furniture, massive pictures, and lovely sculpture, thought, So this is Buckingham Palace. What a lark. Her life had changed so dramatically, it almost seemed perfectly normal that she would be sitting with her young charge and his father, waiting to be received by the Queen.
Almost perfectly normal.
Alexei, seated upon her lap, was fidgety. He wanted to be off running about, sprinting down the long, sun- splashed corridors and the wide marble staircases of the Royal Family’s private apartments. She wanted to be doing that, too, to be honest. She was terribly nervous. Alex had tried to soothe her nerves on the drive into the city from Hawkesmoor. Hadn’t worked. Her throat was dry, her stomach filled with butterflies, and her knees weak with-not fear, but something akin to it. Anxiety.
Until, that is, the moment that the Queen’s private secretary ushered them into her presence.
Her Royal Majesty’s eyes simply lit up at the sight of Alex Hawke. She greeted him as if he were a long-lost son returned to the fold at last. Alex clearly adored her, and they chatted happily for a few moments while Nell simply stood back and observed.
The Queen was wearing a suit of robin’s egg blue with a beautiful sapphire brooch at the shoulder. And she exuded genuine warmth that was almost palpable and utterly natural behavior. Right down to the celebrated leather purse she was seldom photographed without. Alex had explained she used it as a signal to staff. If she shifts it from one arm to the other, she’s ready to leave. If she sets it on the floor, she finds the conversation boring and wants to escape. But if it dangles happily from the crook of her left arm, she is happy and relaxed. That’s precisely where it was now.
Alex said, “Your Majesty, may I present Nell Spooner. Nell is on loan to me from her position at MI5. She’s Alexei’s guardian angel, ma’am. She’s already saved his life twice.”
“Lovely to meet you, my dear,” the Queen said, extending her hand.
“A great honor, Your Majesty,” Nell said, taking it lightly into her own.
Nell took a deep breath. She had executed her small curtsy perfectly and even remembered the proper form of address.
The Queen looked at Alexei, who smiled shyly, clutching his teddy bear.
“And you must be Alexei?” the Queen said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Alexei said.
“And who is this delightful bear you’ve brought along? Is he your friend?”
“His name is Teddy and he wants to be your friend, too,” Alexei said and offered Her Majesty his stuffed bear.
“Do you know, Alexei,” she said, hugging the bear, “that I first met your handsome father when he was precisely your age? Well, it’s quite true. The most adorable little boy. He often came to stay with me at Balmoral, my home in Scotland. And he was almost, although not quite, as much the beautiful, cheery, free-spirited soul as you are.”
“Your Majesty, I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your generosity in these trying circumstances,” Hawke said.
“Nonsense. Nothing generous about it,” the Queen said. “I’m delighted to have the laughter of children around me at any time. Besides, it is the very least I can do for you considering what you did for my family, Alex.”
“I should be back in a fortnight, Your Majesty, but I will see to it that HM government is kept informed.”
Queen Elizabeth smiled acknowledgment and said, “Miss Spooner, I do hope you are intending to stay on. I did tell Alex that I felt it would be better for the child if he had that continuity in his life. After all, he might find this all a bit overwhelming without your comforting presence.”
“Very kind, Your Majesty. Thank you very much indeed. I would be delighted to stay with him.”
Alex bent to pick Alexei up in his arms, tossed him about a foot into the air, then caught and kissed him on both cheeks, eliciting much laughter and delight.
“All right, then, Alexei. I think you’ll be very well taken care of while Daddy’s away, won’t you? And you must promise to be a very, very good boy until I come back. Will you?”
“Yes, Daddy. Very good.”
And with that Alex Hawke bid farewell to the Queen and, with a good deal of emotion, reluctantly left his little boy behind, sitting happily in the Royal lap, chattering away as was his wont.
Nell followed him out of the Queen’s reception room to say good-bye.
“Come back to us, Alex; we need you, you know. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”
Hawke pulled her toward him and kissed her hard on the mouth, oblivious to shocked palace staff and onlookers passing by.
“Listen,” Hawke said with a grin, “I don’t want to die either, believe me. But I will tell you one thing. If I have to, I’m damned well going to die last.”
He smiled over his shoulder and started down the palace’s wide staircase, taking the steps two at a time. Knowing that Alexei and Nell would be safe within the walls of Buckingham Palace, with its extraordinarily layered security, gave him the peace of mind he knew he would need for whatever lay ahead.
D riving home alone to his home in the Cotswolds, he had plenty of time to think about the immediate future. He was in the midst of assembling his assault team. Saffari’s heavily armed and well-fortified complex stood high on a bluff and was surrounded by walls some thirty feet high and ten feet thick. Challenging, to say the least. His number two, as always, would be Stokely Jones, a pillar of strength he could always rely on. Then Brock, who often tried his patience but was a good man under fire, a warrior through and through.
It was to be a Red Banner operation, augmented by U.S. Navy SEALs, which meant he had executive sanction from the American president and the use of whatever U.S. human resources and military support he required, all under the strictest secrecy for obvious political reasons. His assault team would be composed of two squads of Navy SEALs under the command of Captain Stony Stollenwork. Stollenwork, a member of the elite team that choppered into Pakistan to take out Osama bin Laden, was one of the SEALs’ most decorated special-ops officers.
The SEAL forces would be complemented by Red Banner’s own highly trained spec-ops forces and weapons specialists, not a few of whom were crew members aboard the new Blackhawke. Should the new yacht engage in battle at sea, these would be the crewmen responsible for war fighting: the sonar and radar as well as the offensive weaponry and the defense of the vessel.
Hawke had designated the two combat forces as the Blue Team (SEALs) and the Red Team (Red Banner).
Looks can be deceiving. The over three-hundred-foot-long yacht looked for all the world like a rich man’s plaything. It was anything but. It was a warship from stem to stern and had been designed from the very beginning to take Hawke and his assault teams into trouble spots, whenever and wherever in the world they were
