Page 100 of The Last Kingdom

“Is it?” he asked again, voice rising.

“No. It is not.”

The admission shocked him, along with a flicker in his brother’s eyes that seemed, for the first time ever, sympathetic?

“What are you saying?” he asked.

“I will not live long enough to see if our family’s birthright can be restored,” Albert said. “But you will.”

“Do you know what I am doing?”

Albert nodded. “The Americans briefed me. You seek the deed for the last kingdom. I confess to not understanding all of the politics, but it seems the price we have to pay to get the Germans to give us the secession vote. I told the Americans that the deed might not even exist.”

“Do you believe that?”

“I truly don’t know. But finding Ludwig II seems a good start at finding out.”

“Do you want me to do this?”

“I didn’t, at first. But now I do.”

He was shocked. “Why did you involve the Americans?”

“To do what I could not and stop you. But now I believe they can actually help us, though they’ll never realize it. They have access to resources and information we do not.”

First, revelations about spies in his employ. Now his brother, whom he’d always considered with nothing but contempt, had become an ally?

This seemed a day for the unexpected.

“I have been thinking a lot about Grandfather and Father,” Albert said.

Neither had been king. His grandfather Rupprecht died in the 1950s a bitter man. He’d never known him. Unlike Rupprecht’s father, Ludwig III, who’d supported Germany in the First World War, Rupprecht and the House of Wittelsbach had actively opposed the Nazis. And they paid a price. His grandmother, Rupprecht’s wife, had been arrested and imprisoned at Dachau. She survived that horror, but left the country after being freed, vowing never to return to Germany. Rupprecht had lobbied the American liberators hard for a restoration of the Bavarian monarchy, but received no support. Amazingly, during his lifetime, his grandfather bore witness to the independent Kingdom of Bavaria, the German Empire, the Weimar Republic, Nazi Germany, Allied-occupied Germany, and the establishment of a divided, West and East Germany. Along the way Rupprecht fathered eleven children, one of whom was his father.

Who’d lived a full life too.

Like many in the family, though, he’d been a dour man, reveling in solitude, keeping mainly to himself, preferring, like Ludwig II long ago, mountains to cities, trees to people. He’d loved to hunt and breed dogs. He died at Berg Castle, alone, buried in an abbey beside Lake Starnberg. The highlight of his life had been presiding over the eight hundredth anniversary of the founding of the House of Wittelsbach. Little bits and pieces. That’s what his father and grandfather had enjoyed of royalty.

Stefan wanted it all.

“Don’t worry about the Americans,” Albert said. “They believe themselves on our side. And they are. We just cannot allow them to keep the deed if it is found. We need to use them, but not allow them to succeed.”

Albert stood.

“Come, brother. I want to show you something.”

Chapter 55

RIFE SWUNG THE CAR AROUND THE CORNER AND SPED DOWN THEstreet a few blocks over from Ludwigstrasse. He’d received two texts from Terry Knight detailing his location. Ahead, he spotted Knight on the sidewalk and eased to the curb.

Knight hopped inside.

“What happened?” Rife asked.

“The damn police showed up. They got Malone and Koger. I managed to get away.”

He smiled, knowing the one thing the CIA detested more than anything was notoriety. By definition, the agency worked under the radar, and the last thing it wanted was the locals to know they were around. If Malone and Koger were in custody, there was a good chance the Bundesnachrichtendienst, the BND, Germany’s Federal Intelligence Service, would be alerted. That would bring lots of attention, which should jeopardize Koger’s entire operation. He knew the BND and the CIA did not get along. Never had. And given what he now knew about Koger and the White House, the last thing either wanted was attention. America had stuck its nose into Germany’s business. In a major way. And got caught. There’d be hell to pay.

He’d been involved with compromised operations before and knew how messy they could become. And the White House? That was a new one. Rarely did intelligence operations directly involve the president. That was why God had allowed the invention of the CIA. And every president since 1948 had made use of that political insulation. But not Warner Fox. He’d jumped in headfirst and hadhisNational Security Council dispatchtheirown operative. That meant only one thing. This was really, really important.

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