Alexander walked into his father’s library and acknowledged the men already present. His father sat in a wing chair, just crushing out a cigarette. Reeve, with papers on his lap and spread on the table before him, sat on the sofa with Bennett. Malori, the chief of intelligence, sat on the edge of a chair, lighting his pipe.

The men had met the evening before, and would meet again for however long it took to crush the threat Deboque held over them. They began on familiar ground, starting with the security Reeve had implemented at the palace, at the theater, at the Aid to Handicapped Children center and at his own home. There was additional information regarding the airport and the docks.

“You’ve assigned an extra detective to each of us,” Bennett put in.

“For as long as it’s necessary.”

He shifted restlessly against the restraint, but accepted it. “Do you really think they’ll go through Eve again? They have to know we’d tap the phones and keep her watched.”

Malori puffed on his pipe. “Deboque’s greatest flaw, Your Highness, is arrogance. I believe his next move will come through Mademoiselle Hamilton, and soon.”

“I repeat what I said last evening,” Alexander began. “Eve should be sent back to America.”

Malori tapped the bowl of his pipe. “That would not stop Deboque, Your Highness.”

“It would ensure her safety.”

“Alexander.” Reeve watched the prince light a cigarette. “If what the investigation has turned up is fact, we need Eve. If she would go,” he continued before Alexander could speak, “I’d put her on a plane myself. Since she insists on staying, the solution is to guard her and wait.”

“Wait.” Alexander blew out a stream of smoke. “Wait for her to be put in jeopardy again. If, as you believe, someone inside the theater placed the calls, planted the bomb, she’s in danger even now from one of her own people.”

“Deboque isn’t concerned with her,” Malori said quietly. “She’s only a pawn.”

“And pawns are expendable.”

“Alexander.” Armand spoke for the first time. His voice was as quiet as Malori’s but held the unmistakable ring of authority. It was a cool voice, often bordering on the cold, but it was rarely harsh. His arms rested on the chair as he paused and looked over his steepled fingers. “We must deal with this calmly, as calmly as Deboque. You understand that I care for Eve as I care for my own children. Everything that can be done to protect her will be done.”

“She is not Cordinian.” Alexander struggled with emotion, intellect. “She is a guest in our country. We are responsible for her.”