Wulf von Hannover
Wulf stood beside the bed, pulling his robe over his shoulders, fresh from a quick shower. The thick Turkish towel fabric slipped over the elaborate tattoo on his back, a pale dragon surrounded by a riot of chrysanthemums and jasmine blossoms. The stiff scar tissue in the center of the design strained as he shrugged his shoulders.
His wife lay on the bed, wrapped in the covers, her fiery auburn hair spilling over the pillows.
The poor thing, he had worn her out.
Again.
And so she would sleep for the hour before the wedding primping began in earnest, just as he had planned. His younger sister Flicka had sent the schedule to all their phones. It was color-coded and punctuated with a distressing number of exclamation points.
But for now, his wife could sleep.
The curtains were drawn against the noontime sunlight, but he could see her twisted in the sheets, breathing deeply.
As always, even at night, Wulf slipped away so that he wouldn’t wake her up. He didn’t sleep more than a few hours on the best of nights, so they were both used to him sneaking out to work for a few hours.
Wulf swiped his clothes from the floor where he had flung them.
A soft knock tapped at the bedroom door.
He tapped back and pulled on his clothes before he let himself out.
He saw the steel in Dieter’s eyes before he had closed the door behind himself, but he listened for the soft click of the latch before asking, “What has happened?”
“Flicka,” Dieter said. His voice choked. “She was pulled into a Volkswagen Touareg and is unaccounted for.”
“Where was the Grimaldis’ team?” Wulf asked.
“She tried to slip away a half an hour before. Luca picked her up within minutes, but we didn’t see the Monégasque team after that.”
“Have you alerted them?”
Dieter shrugged.
Any other time, Wulf would have indulged Dieter’s competitiveness and disdain for Quentin Sault, Pierre Grimaldi’s head of security. “Tell them. We may need every person we can use if we have to go in after her.”
Dieter nodded and lifted his phone to his ear.
Wulf strode to the living room of the suite where Luca and Friedhelm were speaking softly into cell phones. Matthias, Julien, and Romain clustered on the couches, pointing to a map and comparing notes from their phones.
The head of his household staff, Rosamunde, placed a tray with two coffee carafes and a plate of cookies on the table for them.
Wulf asked, “Any more information?”
Luca said, “The vehicle was the current model. I saw part of the license plate. It was an EU tag, appeared to have a German D for the country code, and ended in the number thirty-nine. Romain got a picture with his cell phone, but we couldn’t quite make it out.”
Icy relief washed over Wulf, but it flashed into anger. He asked Luca, “It was a black Touareg?”
“Yes,” he said. “We’re getting footage from the hotel closed-circuit cameras. We might be able to get a complete license number.”
“Don’t bother,” Wulf said. “The license was H LP 739.”
None of the security men gaped at Wulf for knowing the plate. The accepted story was that he used all kinds of memory tricks.
The H designated that the plate had been issued in the state of Hannover.
When Wulf and Rae had gone to Schloss Marienburg a few months before, when she had seen the castle where he had grown up and met his father, that particular Touareg had been one of the vehicles that had picked them up from the airport and had driven behind them in the caravan to the castle. Wulf’s family used Volkswagens at Schloss Marienburg and their other houses because the major factory was in Hannover, an obvious public relations move.
Luca consulted his phone, flicking at the image to expand the picture. “It fits. The first number could definitely be a seven or a one, and the region code is a single letter.”
Wulf said, “It’s my father again. Find him, and we’ll find Flicka.”
Luca explained to the person on the phone that now they had a complete license plate, and they needed to find the car.
Wulf turned back to Friedhelm. “Ask the concierge to come up. They will know all the other concierges in town. One of them will know where he’s staying. At least we know that she’s in no danger.”
His father had better not have harmed a golden hair on his sister’s head, or Wulf swore to God, he would break the old man apart with his bare hands.
From behind Wulf, Rae asked, “What’s going on?”
He turned, slowly, and smoothed all the concern for his sister out of his face and body. “Everything is fine. You should lie down.”
Rae looked over the room, her brown eyes wide. “Bull-hockey. What’s going on?”
Behind himself, his men shifted on the couches, fidgeting. Luca must be hanging his head between his shoulders. He lied so badly.
Wulf told her, “It appears that my father has managed one last attempt to interfere with our wedding. He’s kidnapped Flicka. We’re quite sure that it was him, so she’s in no danger, other than she might have an aneurysm if she is not allowed to orchestrate her masterpiece.”
Rae snorted. “So when are we going to go get her?”
“You and I aren’t going anywhere,” Wulf said. “You’re going to lie down.”
“Okay,” Rae said, grimacing. “I get why I shouldn’t ride with the cavalry, but you need to.”
He wasn’t leaving her alone at the hotel. “Dieter can lead this operation.”
“She’s going to expect you to be there, and you may need to talk to your dad.”
Wulf would definitely be talking to his father. “I don’t need to go.”
“If anything goes wrong, you’ll never forgive yourself for not being there.”
Wulf said, “There is a small chance that this is a diversion. He may be after you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Leave Julian and a gun with me. He’s your best marksman with a handgun, plus me. And Mrs. Keller will be here. She’s probably a secret assassin, knowing the type of people you hire.”
Wulf smiled. He loved that he didn’t have to worry about his wife being helpless because she wasn’t. Indeed, she was far more dangerous than most of his men. They looked like burly security forces who might be armed. Anyone attacking Rae was in for a devastating surprise.
She said, “You get your butt out there and bring Flicka home in time for our wedding. You hear me?”
Dieter whispered to him, “Just say Yes-ma’am and get it over with.”
He asked Dieter, “How many of your people do you have with you?”
“Ten, Durchlaucht.”
Wulf said, “Bring two of your people here to stay with Reagan.” He looked behind himself. “Julian and Romain, you’ll stay, in addition, for four men. Lock this place down, and bring my wife a firearm.”