Page 24 of The Phoenix (Spy Girl 6)
“I mean, higher than that.”
He scrunches up his face. “I am a trustee.”
“How many trustees are there?” I ask, not caring anymore if it sounds like I’m interrogating him.
“In the world?” he says, scratching his neck. “Gosh, I think there are, like, five hundred maybe.”
“And who is above the trustees?”
“No one,” he says.
I try to impartially judge his expression, but my heart ignores his nervous scratch and believes that he’s telling the truth.
“Lorenzo the Magnificent, the first king of Montrovia, survived an assassination attempt, which caused him to form The Society, a group of like-minded men who, whether they knew it or not, were his network of spies. The original group didn’t have trustees. I would assume those came later as The Society grew.”
“That makes sense,” Aleksandr agrees.
“But there was a group of ten men who sat at a round table where their thoughts were equal to Lorenzo’s.”
“Like the Knights of the Round Table?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.
I keep going. “Do you sit at a round table? Are all your thoughts equal? Is there no clear leader?”
He moves his head from one side to the other, seemingly trying to figure out an answer. “Uh, no, we don’t sit at a round table. In spirit, we are equal, although there is a hierarchy of roles in order to facilitate what needs to be done.”
“And who decides what needs to be done?”
“Well, right now, the elected head of the trustees is Zayn Kipling.”
“And who was before him?”
“McClellan.”
“And before him?”
“Hillford Senior.”
“Have you ever been head of the trustees?” I ask.
“No, but your father was for five years.”
“Do you remember who all have been trustees since you’ve been in the group?”
“I probably could if I thought about it. After your father, it was Alessandro Vallenta. We have an election coming up. Although, technically, it’s not really an election like you would think.”
“In what way?” I ask.
“There is only one candidate to vote for. The election is more of a yay or nay situation.”
“And who decides who that person will be? The trustees?”
“No, the current trustee chooses his successor, and then we vote to approve.”
“Has anyone ever not been approved?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” he says.
“Who will you be approving next?” I ask.
“Sergey Olander. You’re as intrigued by the group as your father was, aren’t you?”
I smile. “Yeah, I like history. And the fact that it relates to Montrovia, a country I’ve come to love, makes it all the more interesting.”
“I should have Malcolm give you your father’s book,” he says.
“How did he come to possess it? Like, under what circumstances?”
“It arrived in the mail not long after Ares became a recluse, about six years ago.”
“That was right after Alessandro Vallenta died, right?”
“Uh, yeah. I guess it would have been,” he confirms.
“Were you there, on the yacht, when it happened?” I dare to ask.
“Yes, but I didn’t witness the event. I wasn’t a fan of Alessandro.” He picks up his glass from the coffee table in front of him and takes a long drink.
“Why not?”
“I know he was Gio’s brother, but he was always such a pain in the ass. I was honestly shocked when he was chosen to be head trustee over Giovanni.”
“Did Gio care? Was he upset?”
“No, he saw it as a win for his brother. Something he didn’t come in second place for. A way his brother could shine. Maybe even do some good in this world.”
I take the drink from his hand and take a slug, needing some serious fortification before I can risk this all by trusting him.
“Did Gio ever tell you the truth about Alessandro’s death?”
“Are you implying he didn’t get drunk and fall over the edge?” he asks incredulously.
I nod. “He tried to kill Giovanni, so he could be king.”
Aleksandr’s eyes get huge, and I know for sure that he is shocked by this, but then he says, “That doesn’t surprise me now that I think about it. How do you know this?”
“With the attempts on Lorenzo’s life, an Israeli spy came to Montrovia. He told Lorenzo that, six years ago, their government caught wind of a plot to kill the king. Of course, with the strait being important to their country along with many others, he was sent to check things out. When Alessandro tried to kill Gio, the spy got involved and fought Alessandro, and during the struggle, Alessandro fell over the rail and died.”
“I can’t believe Giovanni never told us.”
“I’m sure he didn’t want anyone in his country to know. Lorenzo didn’t know. But it sort of feels like maybe it is happening again,” I add.
“What is happening? Lorenzo has no siblings.”
“Can you keep a secret?” I ask him.
“Of course.”
“You won’t even tell Malcolm?”
He lets out a resigned sigh. “I promise.”
“Ophelia was behind the kidnapping of me, Lorenzo, and my brother. She wanted to become queen. And we learned that she and Alessandro had equal hatred for their country. It’s possible that the idea of taking over Montrovia didn’t come from either directly, that maybe there was some unknown factor behind the scenes who whispered into both their ears, offering them power.”
“In exchange for the strait,” he fires back without thought. “Gio was always worried about his country being able to protect it. But he has alliances with both the US and UK.”
“I believe Lorenzo is still in danger,” I say softly.
He takes my hand. “You should have told Malcolm and me this earlier. We have known Lorenzo since birth and would protect him like he is our own.”
“Do you have an emerald ring?” I ask, hoping to catch him off guard.
He holds up his right hand. “Only diamonds for me, no gemstones, but I did give my wife a spectacular emerald choker for our twentieth anniversary. It is one of her favorite pieces of jewelry and beautifully matches her eyes.”
“Lorenzo the Magnificent started a secret society within The Society. A group of ten to whom he gave emerald rings to show their inclusion. Those rings have been passed down for generations, always including a male descendant tied to the Montrovian crown. Gio should have been given the ring when his father died, but instead, it sat in the vault before Alessandro wore it.”
“Are you suggesting this group still exists?” he asks.
“Yes. And I think they want control of Montrovia.”
He suddenly leans back, looking gravely concerned. “They would have to be very powerful men.”
“I would think so.”
He studies me. “You’ve been researching all of this because you still love Lorenzo?”
I nod, admitting it, and thankful that’s all he thinks this is about. “And I’m really worried about the Olympics. It’s a big world stage.”
“I wish I could go to Montrovia,” he says, looking troubled.
“Why can’t you?” I ask, still wondering if I can trust him.
“It’s my yearly corporate retreat with my executive team and their spouses. Just happened to fall over the same two weeks. I’ve been so busy; I didn’t realize it was the same time as the Olympics. We know Daniel through Peter, but we’ve never had an interest in the Olympics—although my wife does like watching the ice skating during the Winter Games.”
“That’s my favorite, too.”
“And, now, the swimming?” he asks.
“Yes, I will definitely be at the swimming events,” I say, flashing my red-white-and-blue engagement ring.
“Any chance you have any extra rooms at your villa?”
he asks.
“That depends,” I say tentatively.
