One Night in Monaco - Blair Babylon Page 0,45

guys holding her would kill her. “If there’s a hint, a rumor, and then a low-key snatch operation, maybe her captors won’t see it coming. I remember what happens when a rescue operation goes wrong.”

Sweat prickled on his neck, but he refused to feel it.

Another sigh whooshed in Maxence’s ear.

Sault was sighing a lot lately. It was unbecoming in a security chief.

Max said, “I just need a number.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll give you the number for Julien Bodilsen of Rogue Security. There are channels to get a message from Rogue Security to von Hannover’s people, and maybe it’ll look like it came from somewhere else.” Sault reeled off a US phone number.

“Thanks, Quentin.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

“I’m not coming back to Monaco. I’ve got a new assignment. I’ll be there for six months or so.”

“Where will you be in the meantime?”

“I’m sorry, Quentin.” Telling the man who had been tasked with arresting him and perhaps dropping him over the side of a boat where he was going seemed like a stupid move.

“Right. Good luck, Maxence.”

They hung up, and Maxence dialed the number Sault had given him.

The boat pitched under his feet as they crested over a swell. Max grabbed the railing for balance.

The line hesitated and then rang.

A man’s voice answered, “Bodilsen.”

Maxence asked, “Can you get a message to Wulfram von Hannover’s team?”

“Who is this?”

“Can you talk to them or not?” Maxence asked him.

A cough. “We liaise with his security personnel. I was formerly employed by von Hannover. We go way back.”

Maxence stared over the open water that spread sapphire and silver to the horizon and prayed he was doing the right thing. “Tell them this: Flicka von Hannover is being held in Geneva, Switzerland, on the estate of Valerian Mirabaud.” Maxence recited the address.

“Thank you, sir,” Bodilsen said. “We’ll get right on it.”

“You’re sure you can get that message to him?”

“Absolutely. He will hear it in five minutes or less. I would expect events to occur soon.”

“They literally have a gun to her head. It needs to be an exfiltration, not a military assault. She also has a female toddler with her, and she won’t leave without the child. Make sure you get both of them, or she won’t come with you. There may be a man with her in there, too. I’m not sure. You’ll need to surveil to figure that out.”

“I guarantee it will happen.”

Maxence let out a deep, pent-up breath. “Thank you.”

“And I thank you.” The phone went dead.

Maxence stared over the sparkling water, his unease reduced.

Ever since Pierre had sent Max to Switzerland to talk to Flicka yesterday morning, he hadn’t known how to get a message to someone about where she was being held. Flicka had told him not to because it might make it more dangerous for her. Pierre had forbidden him to tell anyone, right up to when Maxence had punched him in the face.

The salt breeze prickled the raw abrasions on his knuckles.

Back channels were always the best.

Wulfram would know Flicka’s whereabouts within minutes.

And Maxence could relax.

Chapter Nineteen

Traitor

Julien Bodilsen

Julien, Primary Operator for Rogue Security, tapped his phone screen and hung up.

Though he held a pencil in his fingers, the piece of paper on his desk was blank.

His phone beeped.

A text came through from a contact called “Q,” Did you receive a call?

He typed back, It’s taken care of.

Julien returned to looking over a spreadsheet detailing the ammunition and firearm inventories for Rogue Security, a task he hated.

Not that he would be doing it much longer.

His alternate streams of income were quickly making him wealthy enough to retire. He figured he’d be done in six more months.

And then, he’d walk away from Rogue Security forever.

Because that’s what mercenaries did.

Chapter Twenty

Paris, Too

Casimir

Casimir sipped his drink and savored the hint of smoke in the scotch.

Yeah, he was drinking a little much on this trip, but he’d be back to being a sober daddy when they got back to California.

He had to enjoy it while he could.

The three of them sat together in a lounge area in the hotel bar, talking it out before Casimir and Arthur had to retrieve their wives and take flights to where duty was calling them.

Casimir and Arthur had checked Maxence into a suite at the Four Seasons Hotel George V, where Arthur had been staying before the phone call eighteen hours before. Arthur had instructed the valets to pack their luggage while they had a drink. He was being evasive about his travel plans back to London for himself and Gen,