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Chapter One April 11, San Francisco, California With an anxious glance at the clock on her dashboard, Julia Sheridan pulled into the San Francisco airport short-term parking garage. She was more than an hour late, her margin for safety eaten up by a flat tire and the bumbling Good Samaritan who had stopped to “help” her. As if she couldn’t change her own tire. The first empty parking spot she found was four flights up and toward the back. She was out of the car in a flash, hair, jeans and leather flight jacket damp from her adventure beside the freeway. Straightening the white wool scarf around her neck and slinging her huge shoulder bag over her arm, she hurried toward the elevator, heart pounding in anticipation. Once aboard the elevator, she slid to the side and took her cell phone from her coat pocket, punching in the lawyer’s number. As before, she was directed to leave a message but this time she didn’t bother. She should have given herself more time for potential problems. As an
Chapter One
Chapter Two Julia absorbed this latest shock for a moment before mumbling, “Are you saying that the late William Chastain wasn’t Leo’s father?” “No. I’m telling you that I am William Chastain.” “He’s dead,” Julia said. “Well, no.” “Nicole called me the week before she died and told me he was killed when his boat blew up.” “And his body?” “Between the explosion and the river currents, what body?” “Exactly. I know it’s hard for you to believe, but I didn’t die on the river. I escaped.” Julia shook her head. “Preposterous. Why would Nicole say you were dead if you weren’t?” “Because she didn’t know I wasn’t.” Julia shook her head again. “This is crazy—” “I know it sounds nuts. But I can explain.” “So do it.” “Not here.” She stared at him. “Listen, Leo has big blue eyes and fuzzy reddish hair, like his mother. Like she had. He has a little mark on the back of his neck, a birthmark. You’re Julia Sheridan, Nicole’s cousin. You’ve just known Nicole a couple of years. I believe she took advant
Chapter Two
Chapter Three As the dark shape of a man charged toward her, Julia swung Leo’s stuffed elephant by its trunk. She felt the impact as she hit something. A male voice swore. She kicked what she hoped was a leg, kicked hard, aiming for the side of the kneecap where it would do the most damage. If she connected. She hit something. Her foot throbbed as a gun fired and someone ran over the top of her. “Get off me!” she screamed, kicking and throwing punches, driven now by fear as well as anger. Will’s voice reached her. “Are you hurt?” he yelled, all but lifting her to her feet. “Get him!” she cried, pointing at the sliding glass door that led to the backyard where the dark figure of her attacker, highlighted against the light coming through the glass, struggled with the latch. Will darted toward the door. Julia heard it slide open and the dark shape disappeared into her yard, Will on his heels. She staggered to the door, flipping on the yard light just in time to see Will leap over the low
Chapter Three
Chapter Four Will closed his eyes as he stood under George Abbot’s shower, hoping the hot spray would clear his head, knowing it was going to take several solid hours of sleep to accomplish such a thing. A clear head was going to have to wait. The burning question was easy: Despite what his aunt said, did she have Leo? Had some crazy scheme to take him backfired into this current mess? Who was with her and why had she passed on the Marco Polo code? And the real underlying terror: if she didn’t have Leo, if she was not involved in his abduction, who was? Where in God’s name was his baby? Wincing when he lifted his left arm, he peered down to study the scratches and scrapes on his bicep. The car bumper or license plate must have nicked him. The abrasion had started bleeding again and a bluish cast to the surrounding skin suggested a bruise in the making. His hip sported similar telltale signs of bruising. He lathered his arm and rinsed it, working his muscles, knowing he might need them
Chapter Four
Chapter Five Before he left the house, Will moved a chair to the open bedroom closet in the spare room. He climbed on top and handed down three hat boxes and a half-dozen boxes of shoes to Julia who stacked them nearby. He then slid open the hidden panel behind the shelf and took out an old-fashioned cigar box. “If you never lived here,” Julia asked as he handed her the cigar box, “how did you know about this?” “Hand me the hat boxes,” he said, watching her as she put the cigar box on the bed and started handing him back everything he’d taken off the shelf. He said, “When I helped her move, she asked me to modify this closet. I knew what she intended to put up here. She made certain I knew.” He wiped each surface Julia or he had touched before climbing off the chair. “Your aunt liked boxes.” “Yes, she did.” After replacing the chair and closing the closet door, checking to make sure everything looked as it had when they entered the room, he picked up the cigar box. “So what’s in this o
Chapter Five
Chapter Six She didn’t have to say the actual words. They resounded, unspoken, unbelievable. His father a king. Did that mean Prince Federico Lévesque had been his younger brother? How did this fit? What did it have to do with Leo? He was wasting time, losing focus, just as Julia had warned him. He had half a mind to take the wheel and drive to the airport. He had to do something, go somewhere, punch someone— Julia said, “Are you ready for me to finish the letter? Do you want me to stop?” He relaxed his fists, took a deep breath. “No. Go ahead, read.” Julia turned her flashlight back on the letter. “Okay,” she said, finding her place. …there are several facts of which you must be aware. The first is that the king has refused to become involved with Michelle Wellspring’s child or any difficulties arising because of the birth of this child. He is aware the child is now motherless. Will closed his eyes. This was his father. Saying Will’s mother’s death wasn’t his problem, her abandoned ba
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven Minister Poletier, it turned out, still lived in the same house he’d lived in over three decades before. Even better, he spoke English, which became clear when, in response to Will’s halting French salutation, Poletier demanded to know who was calling him on his private line. Will spent no time equivocating. He announced his identity which was met with a sharp intake of breath. “William Wellspring,” he repeated into the ensuing silence. “You knew my aunt, Fiona Wellspring.” More silence before Poletier said, “How did you get this number?” “Fiona Wellspring was my aunt,” Will repeated. “I found your phone number in an old letter.” “Was your aunt?” “She’s dead, Minister Poletier. Under suspicious circumstances. But what’s more important at this moment is the fate of my son.” There was a long pause. “Minister?” “I don’t understand,” Poletier said. “Your son?” “My ten-month-old son, Leonardo Chastain. He’s been kidnapped. In fact, many suspicious things have happened to my fa
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight Will used his classroom French to rent them a car and took over the driving as his ability to read French meant he could decipher road signs. He’d studied the French guide book on the last flight, dog-earing pages that highlighted what he needed, so he knew they should head for the harbor. The traffic on the Quai Stalingrad was horrendous, but he faced it with businesslike concentration. Thanks to the sleep he got on the plane, he felt well rested and energized. As Toulon formed France’s major naval base, the harbor area was a no-nonsense place. They passed signs advertising harbor and neighboring island tours, looking for the marina that was home to smaller craft and independent boats for hire. He didn’t want a crew. He needed a vessel he could handle by himself, as Julia admitted she’d never been on a boat. Something with enough power to cross over a hundred miles of sea without danger, something nondescript enough to arouse no suspicion once they got there. He hadn’t l
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine Will looked from the view of the island off the port bow to his wristwatch and then at Julia. “Is something wrong?” “I have to talk to you,” she said, standing. “Take the wheel, I have to get something downstairs.” “I don’t like the look on your face,” he said as she passed him. She was back in a few moments, holding a piece of paper against her chest. Her eyes looked everywhere but at him. His first thought was that she regretted their lovemaking. He let that go. He’d bet big money she didn’t regret a moment of it. He knew he didn’t. “It’s a letter,” she said, sitting by his side. She’d pulled on three-quarter-length baggy cotton pants. Pity. On the other hand, her long bare legs had presented quite a distraction. Her hair still framed her face though, fanning out all around her as the wind blew. She looked so beautiful that his heart stopped for a moment and a rush of feelings flooded his head. He kissed her forehead and made himself concentrate. “What’s this?” he asked,
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten Poletier arranged to have them driven to a small house at the base of the hill, their driver a deferential man as old as Poletier. He spent the short trip talking about Montivitz. Though he spoke English, his accent was so thick Julia couldn’t understand much of what he said. The house they arrived at consisted of two stories of whitewashed walls and the ubiquitous pots of spring flowers. The driver insisted on opening car doors. He then bowed his farewell and drove away as a beefy man with a shaved head came out of the house. Without speaking, the new man gestured at the front door and plopped himself down on a bench. As Will held the door open for Julia, she glanced back. The bald man caught her glance. His expression didn’t change. Inside, they found a diminutive woman with a tidy graying bun and close-set black eyes. She showed them to a table and began laying out plates and bowls of food. The scent of flowers drifted though a pair of open windows set into the stone. Th
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven Holding his son in his arms, Will followed Renee down the broad hallway, Julia right behind him. His son. Safe. His small warm body clutched against Will’s heart. A miracle. Now all they had to do was escape. Renee led them up a short flight of stairs and along yet another corridor. They passed several groups of uniformed people who spared them little more than a curious glance. It was obvious Renee was a well-known figure in the castle and enjoyed certain privileges. Somewhere in this edifice of stone-and-gold mortared together with secrets, resided his father, no doubt meeting with dignitaries or police, perhaps alerted by Poletier that his son was in Montivitz. Maybe the outside riots were keeping him busy. Maybe Paul Bernard was more of a worry than a renegade son. Will fought the desire to confront his father, a desire that grew more urgent with each step. How would they reenter America without their passports? How in the world would he and Julia and Leo ever be saf
Chapter Eleven
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