"What did you find out, Raine?" Malling asked.

Raine looked around the table. "Well, we looked at how the PM was able to finance his plans and he's been embezzling party funds in order to carry out his little scheme."

Malling rested his chin on his hands. He narrowed his eyes. "And nobody noticed?"

"The treasurer who committed suicide a while back might have known about this."

"And killed himself?"

"Possibly. We haven't found any connection yet, but we still have to contact the police department that investigated the suicide. We only spoke to the new treasurer, who discovered inexplicable mistakes in the accounts. We made a list of costs that he would have made, such as the plane tickets for the bodyguards, but of course we can't trace everything. The police have traced how much the tickets had cost and how they were paid for -- in cash -- and we heard from the men themselves that the hotel was also paid for. They've been questioned at length, but they don't seem to know anything."

Gris nodded. "They were approached by the PM himself to make it more credible and they did what they were told, which was to drop to the ground when they heard shots and then wait for us to take off. After that they had to go to a meeting place where they received their tickets and they had to hurry to get on the plane. That was it."

"Were the tickets paid before the treasurer killed himself?" Malling asked.

"I'm not sure. I'd need to check when he did that, but it doesn't really matter since they were paid for in cash. It's only important to know if he was alive when the money disappeared."

"How big is his team?" Malling asked of another Unit.

"We started with his personal secretary, who had to be involved and we followed him around a bit, put some pressure on him and all that and we've got a list of names now. It might not be definite, because there might be things Keller didn't tell his secretary and he might have been working through other channels. Some on the list are only identified as civil servant or lawyer so we still have a bit of digging to do, because the secretary wasn't let in on the thinking part, but he's sure the PM wasn't in on it alone and we know Thalen was with him. We've already spoken to a few of the named ones, but either they weren't told anything or they were told only half the truth. Mostly people who were blackmailed into co-operating. Some were addicts who were desperate to hide their addiction because it would cost them their job and they didn't have enough money to finance it anymore."

"And he gave them money?"

"Yes, he did."

"What did they do for him?"

"There was one who had to buy the plane tickets and another one simply had to take pictures of the interior of a house."

"The place where we took Anna?" Hegge asked.

"Probably," said Malling. "By the way, the Unit responsible for the interior decorating has already reported to me and they had only been following Thalen's orders, as were other Units who have unwittingly been collaborating."

"So the PM checked up on Thalen?" somebody asked. "If he had pictures taken."

"Yes, Thalen obviously wasn't the brain behind it, as we already concluded from the files on his computer."

"What about the bomb threat?"

"The call was made from a public phone," said the Commissioner, speaking for the first time. "No bomb was found on the premises, so presumably there was only the caller involved in the threat. The fewer, the better, I'd say, so perhaps the PM contacted him personally."

"The PM wouldn't know his phone is being tapped," Malling remarked. "They're currently listening to the tapes to see if he called from home and to find out what else he's planning."

"It was a thoughtless move," said the Commissioner. "What did he hope to attain by it? He's been dismissed. And I thought he was never out to harm the Queen? What else can he plan? Are you sure he's doing all this for himself and not for some organisation we don't know anything about? Shouldn't we keep the Queen safe just in case? Perhaps she should go to a hiding place."

"I'm going to Kiev tomorrow," said Charles-Louis in response to Eliane's inquiry if he had to get up early the next morning.

"Kiev?" she asked in surprise. "What are you going to do there?"

"Oh, just a short holiday," he smiled. "I've never been to Kiev before. Uncle Eduard has told me about a few nice places to visit."

Eliane gave Eduard a quizzical look. "But you were never stationed in Kiev." She coloured at admitting that she had that knowledge. Perhaps it would be odd to know where he had been stationed and where not.

"That's true," he answered. "But I've been there."

Mrs. Seton had noticed Eliane's blush and she wondered about it when she was in bed. There was no need to blush, was there? To be aware of where a cousin had lived was not something odd, was it? She had looked the man up in the encyclopaedia and discovered that he was old Princess Anna's son. Princess Anna. So Alexander's second child was named after his mother and his first after his aunt. Unless he particularly liked the name Anna it was a strange thing. She did not think Eliane would have had any say in it. Eliane would have proposed a French name, Anne perhaps. It was a peculiar puzzle.

Her meeting had not lasted very much longer and Anna was able to follow John upstairs very soon after he had left. She wondered if she should stop by Alexandra's room first to ask why she had given John the wrong directions, but she was too tired to look forward to a discussion.

Anna thought he was already asleep when she came into the room, because he did not stir. The halogen lamp was turned low and spread a soft yellow light, but it was just enough for her to see that he was already in bed. "I thought," she said a little helplessly to John's back. "That you needed me to counsel you."

He turned onto his back. "Yes."

"Oh, I thought you were asleep."

"Almost," he yawned.

Anna hurried, so he would not be asleep when she was ready. Fortunately she did not have to lay out her clothing for tomorrow yet. She had no engagement in the morning and there was enough time to think about such matters tomorrow.

"Just hold me," said John when she slid into bed.

Anna put her arms around him. He felt rather tense. Instead of relaxing after his match he had come with her and he had not had any chance to unwind. She felt a little guilty about that.

"Mmmm," he mumbled.

"Like it?" she asked gently.

"Yes. Anna…"

"Yes?"

"I don't know what to do."

"About what?"

"About whether or not to go to another tournament in a few days." He wondered if her next words would be spoken in the same gentle voice. Probably not.

This was the first time she had heard about another tournament. Had he known about this for longer? Probably. "Why shouldn't you?" She knew the answer to that, really. "You think I'll be in danger. When did you find out you have to go?"

Her tone relieved him. It was still gentle. Surely no longer after what he was going to say next. "I've known it for a while."

Anna closed her eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?" He might have forgotten about it with all the other things going on. She had not wanted to think about anything that might separate them either.

"I don't know." That was a weak explanation and he knew it, but it was true. Nobody would accept it. Everyone would think there was some other reason, but not Anna. He felt her place a kiss on his forehead. "Anna…join a convent during the time that I'm away."

"Sorry?" Anna asked in confusion. What was she to do in a convent? It was an odd thing for a lover to ask.

"Go to a retreat -- one of those places that sell peace and quiet."

"So I won't see other men?" she ventured.

"No!" he groaned. "So nobody can harm you."

"Nobody will harm me."

"Anna, you're not immortal. I don't think it would be bad for you to get away from everything for a few weeks."

Anna stared at the ceiling. It would be nice to get away, true, but she disliked being locked away somewhere as if she was a fragile and helpless person. "I'm stronger than you think."

"Even the strongest person can break down."

"I don't want to be defeated."

"It's not about being defeated. It's about being sensible."

"Just because you think I can't cope without you?" she protested.

"I would have suggested it even if I weren't going," John answered. "You need some time away. Have you had a day to yourself since your return? I need some time away too."

"From me?" she asked bashfully.

"No, not from you. I don't like leaving you, but I don't mind leaving the country. A change of scenery will do me good, but only if I know you are safe."

"So I'd be doing it for you?"

"And for yourself. If you could only get that stupid pride and sense of duty out of your head you'd agree with me. Let other people sort out the mess and run risks for you. Don't tempt fate by setting yourself up as a target."

"I'm not…" A tear ran down her face.

"What if there really was a bomb today and it had gone off? Anna, don't be stupid!" John said in exasperation.

Anna hid her face against his shoulder. Yes, she was stupid, perhaps. Perhaps he was right. It would make perfect sense if it were not so terribly patronising to send her off to a convent. "Don't say any more," she said and let go of him, rolling to other side of the bed and curling up there. "I'll think about it."

During the night an explosion blew a hole in the wall surrounding the Palace. The security guards were immediately called into action and a few were sent up to wait in front of Anna's room right away to protect her from intruders, but those never came. The grounds were searched and nobody was found. Because nobody wanted a hysterical Queen to complicate matters, they let her sleep. She was easier to protect if she stayed in one place. If she were awake, she would be moving around and putting herself into danger.

Anna had not decided anything about going into hiding, but instead of finding the maid outside her room, there were three armed guards and a host of other people. If she had not shrieked, John might have concluded that it was a usual occurrence. He expected the worst when it came to oddities in the Palace.

She was immediately enlightened by the head of security and John kept his mouth shut, but she could see what he was thinking. He really wanted her to go to a convent now and he was right. Things were getting too dangerous here. She would go. Wherever they would send her to, as long as it was away. The assembled people seemed to share John's opinion, for they suggested a holiday too. Anna had no idea what they were all doing here, but she recognised the Commissioner, vaguely, as well as her distress permitted her to see and hear without problems.

"I know of a conference centre at a convent in France," Malling said to John. He decided to address John rather than Anna. She was looking down constantly and her lower lip trembled. This was the first time he had been so close to the Queen. He had thought she would be stronger and more self-assured and not such a girl. Although she was not a frilly girl. That would certainly make matters less complicated when it came to going into hiding. She looked modest and undemanding. "I also know several in Germany, but I understand that she speaks French fluently."

"Yes, she speaks French fluently," Anna raised her head.

Malling looked a little taken aback that she answered for herself. "Uhh…I'm sorry. It might be a good place for you to go. We can arrange it very quickly." A few hours would suffice and it would be arranged before she got there.

"If you think that's best," she said calmly and regained some of her composure.

The Commissioner had not seen her for a week and he studied her with interest. She and Seton still seemed to be on an amorous footing and even more so than before. Was he still in the tournament? Probably, since he was wearing a tracksuit.

John's thoughts were occupied by something else and he did not notice that he was being studied. He wondered if he should pull out of the tournament. But then again, what would he do if he pulled out? He did not think he would make it to the final, so this was probably his last match anyway and there would be time to investigate afterwards. And they would give Anna protection. Why did he think other people were unable to protect her? He grimaced. "Just don't tell anyone where you send her."

"We won't," said Malling. "I haven't spoken about it to anyone else. You are the first people I'm mentioning it to." He looked around himself and assumed that he could trust these people -- the Commissioner, the head of Palace security and the Count, who had some obscure official function here, but who also seemed to be related to Anna according to his last name. "And you are the only people who will know. We'll proceed the way we normally do it. A French colleague can pick us up at the border and nobody here will know the exact location except me."

"Will I be there alone?" Anna asked. It felt as if she was becoming immune to fear and if a mere explosion could not frighten her for more than a few minutes.

"No, I can arrange for a French agent who won't make himself known to you." He thought she would be safe there and that she would not need a lot of protection. "But he'll be there."

"Only one?" John asked skeptically.

"It would be rather obvious if there were ten men protecting her."

"Two," John stipulated.

"I'm dependent on the French and we can't tell them who she is. They might not want to give me two of their men."

"I'll go."

"I don't think you can act disinterested," Malling remarked. "And a couple going to a retreat for unclear reasons would attract too much attention. I think your affair got media coverage even in France. Most people go to a retreat to find mental rest. You'd stand out."

"Affair sounds bad," Anna protested. "As if it won't last. It's not our fault that we don't get the chance to marry."

John hid his head between his knees and stifled a grin. He was not surprised that he heard nobody react to that. But he did not know what was worse -- to know she was far away and not know if she was protected adequately, or to know where she was and to know that other people knew that too. He would have to accept the first. There was not much of a choice.

The details had been discussed and approved of and it was time to say goodbye. Anna had already taken her leave of her mother, but her parting from John took a little longer. She did not care anymore, but kissed him for such a long time that people began to feel embarrassed.

John watched her leave, still with the same mixed feelings. She was going somewhere safe, but she was going out of his sight. He threw his bag in his car. There was no point in staying here. This was not his home and he had to play. He was no explosives expert, so he had not taken a look at the hole in the wall. He would ask later if any sophisticated explosives were used. It had been a warning. If they could blow a hole in the wall, they could have entered too, but they had not. Why not?

And Marie-Celeste was again prominently absent when she was needed most. Despite all of her estimable qualities, she did not seem to possess the talent of being in the right place at the right time. Eliane was near tears, John had noticed, and she would have benefited from the support of her younger daughter.

The old ladies were outraged at the invasion of their privacy and the demolition of their property that had taken place and demanded in high tones that the perpetrators be hung. Perhaps they assumed that the perpetrators were still standing by to study the effect of their bomb, John mused. He did not envy the Count, who had to explain that it was unclear who was responsible for the action.

"It's the French," old Queen Celeste croaked. "They want to colonise us." She gave Eliane a hostile look. "They've placed a spy in our midst and now they're coming for us."

"You're mistaken, Madam," John said politely. "It's not the French. It's the British who want to establish a foothold on the continent and they sent me ahead to pave the way for British businesses."

The Count gave him an odd look and frowned.

Celeste peered at John through her glasses. "I don't trust the British either. They want nothing to do with us. It's telling that my sister-in-law never even paid a state visit to her brother. They only came off that island to visit the Commonwealth, which was more important to him than her relatives. I can --"

"Marina," the Count interrupted with a significant look at the girl. Celeste's mental health was declining rapidly. Marina nodded and drew Celeste's arm through hers to guide her back inside. He looked at John again. "May I have a word?"

"Sure."

"As ridiculous as you meant your words to be, perhaps you shouldn't dismiss the idea altogether."

John frowned and leant against his car. "Why not?"

"I don't trust that President. He's got nothing to gain by coming here and yet he came. Why? And we know he's got trade problems with the European Union. I'm a diplomat and not a politician, but…"

"It's something worth considering," John agreed.

"Do you have any connections to those people who were here just now?" the Count asked. It had not become entirely clear to him, but both high visitors had seemed to know Seton, which was odd. He did not think that the younger man was a criminal and they had treated him more like a colleague.

"I used to work for one, yes," John said guardedly.

"Used to?"

It was likely that Malling would make an appeal to him again and it was not unlikely that he would react positively. Anna was not here anyway and she would want this situation to end too. "Anna thinks it's too dangerous."

"And you think Anna's job is too dangerous," the Count stated. "May I ask where she came into contact with you? Was this when she went to watch tennis?"

John smiled faintly. "No, I kidnapped her. May I ask why you're so protective of her?"

The Count did not answer, but shrugged. He could not say it. And he was still digesting the other remark. It was strange indeed, but it did explain some things. If Anna had been spending a few days with Seton, it was more understandable that she had fallen in love with him. The tennis story had left him with too many question marks, knowing Anna's personality.

Marie-Celeste had very properly spent the night in another room from Patrick. They had been watching TV on his parents' bed and she had fallen asleep. When his father had come up for bed, Patrick had woken her up and told her to move over to make room for his father, but she had preferred to leave the bed altogether.

She should have gone home, she told herself during breakfast. This looked so odd, when nothing had happened apart from a few kisses. Only a few. It was stupid of them that they had forgotten themselves in John's presence once, because he was really most annoying and he had yelled, "six!" to interrupt them, when in reality it had been number seven.

On the other hand, she told herself as she gazed at Patrick over the table, she would never have known that she could get along with him.

But the news on the radio was distressing and she spilt her tea. They turned on the TV and learnt a little more. "I have to go home," Marie-Celeste said immediately. "I want to be there. It doesn't say if my family are alright."

"Yes, it does," said Patrick, who had been able to read more carefully.

"I have to go home anyway."

Anna sat in the back of the car. She had been keeping her head down while they were still in town, but now they were on the motorway and it was alright to sit up. Malling pulled up at a parking lot along the road and told her it would look less conspicuous if she sat in front as well. It struck her as odd that he would take her to the border all by himself, but when she inquired he replied that they were being followed by another car with Gris and Hegge. Anna turned in her seat immediately, but she did not see them. They were probably good at keeping out of sight and not looking as if they were two cars that belonged together. Apart from that brief exchange it remained painfully silent in the car.

Anna sat thinking about what was to come. It all seemed too dreadfully amateurish to her. She would be in a convent with only one unknown man guarding her when unknown terrorists had blown a hole into the wall surrounding her home. It was incomprehensible. But she had no choice. They all advised her to go into hiding and why should she be stupid and oppose them? But how was it in films or books? How did they dispose of living targets? Did they have the manpower there to protect the targets adequately?

At least she could rely on herself now. That was a good thing. The unknown agent would not act against her without revealing who he was, which gave her a certain freedom of movement. Anna was not averse to having freedom of movement. She would have to make the best of it and hope that they would not hurt her family and that nobody would find her. If they did, she would try to talk it out. They could not possibly kill her, could they? That was unthinkable. No, they would not kill her. Hold her hostage, perhaps, in return for money, but they would not kill her. It lifted her spirits a little to think this. Even if all those men thought she was incapable, she knew she was not.

"Where am I going?" she asked. Although they had all been told that she was to go to a conference centre in France, they had not been told where it was, so nobody would be able to betray it.

"A village called Pelle St. Maurice."

"Where is that?" If her guesses were correct, there would be several Pelles and they would all be very tiny, hence not to be found on any maps.

"It's a lovely area, about six hours by car."

Six hours! Anna sighed. But suddenly she remembered that her maternal grandfather also lived about six hours away. France was enormously big, but maybe there was a chance that it was six hours in the same direction. Her grandfather had a château near Montquierneaux where he lived with the family of his eldest son. Again Anna felt comforted by her thoughts. She was not Queen Anna anymore, she was only Anna coming to visit her mother's country. Her mother had not been anybody special, merely a common aristocrat, which was they had visited her relatives much too seldom.

At the border they briefly paused and Malling exchanged a few words with Hegge. They had not been followed. Anna did not know where the Frenchman was that was supposed to meet them -- she did not see him and they drove on without talking to anybody else. Perhaps he was driving near them inconspicuously again. She gave up trying to spot him after a while and concentrated on sending John energy waves. Not that it would work -- she had absolutely no faith in it -- but there was nothing else to do.

John needed a very long relaxing session to clear his mind. It was out of his hands at the moment and he could not do anything. But what if I did wrong in letting her go? He tried to suppress this thought, but it took long. He wondered if he would feel Anna's necklace around his neck if he played. If it bothered him, he would take it off, but he would try it out first. Just this once, he told himself. He was not a necklace-type of guy, far from it, and when he studied himself in the mirror without his shirt on, he wondered if he did not look absolutely ridiculous.

Gris and Hegge took the first exit after the border and turned back onto the motorway in the direction they had come from. Their duty was done and the Frenchman would take over now. They had seen his car, so they could return with an easy heart. They would not have to worry about Anna now, according to Malling, but still they did worry a very little bit.

Marie-Celeste insisted on leaving right away, but Patrick held her back with one of his crutches. "Don't be annoying!" she snapped in agitation.

"Cellie…don't leave me alone. My parents are at the stadium being morning officials."

Marie-Celeste stared at him. "I can't stay. Surely you understand that!" She felt guilty for being away, for placing her own concerns higher than the family's.

"Take me."

"Take you?"

"Yes, you don't have to carry me! I have crutches." He got to his feet and hopped towards her. "See? I can walk by myself. Take me or cause a traffic accident."

"What do you mean?"

"You're too upset."

Marie-Celeste knew she was too upset, but she never gave in right away. "What can you do about it?" she asked, despite the serious look in his eyes. He would do something about it. He would make her feel better.

"I can yell at you," he suggested.

That was not what she had expected him to say. She had thought it would be more thrilling than that, but she must have temporarily forgotten that she was dealing with Patrick here. Patrick did not say such things. "That's…not going to work," she said weakly. "You'd only upset me more." Suddenly the crutches were around her and they pulled her forwards.

"Cellie I love you I hate to see you upset or otherwise in pain please will you let me come with you if only to hold your hand if you'd be so kind as to let me hold it please Cellie I can't bear it if you look so upset and I want to hold you so that you'll be alright again I love you Cellie you know that and I don't always say what I mean but I say it now don't go alone because you're because I love you I know you don't want me to say it because you think I'm annoying but I swear that I do really love you I mean I always did but now I really do not just the way you look but I know you're really sweet only you play that you're not or maybe you don't know it yourself but I do and I love you and please Cellie let me come with you I think I don't want to hear your answer --" Patrick paused to catch his breath.

Marie-Celeste looked bewildered. "Go on," she urged.

"No." He was suddenly shy.

"You mean I have to say something now?" She looked frightened. He had told her five times that he loved her. What could she possibly answer? Why could he not speak on and allow her to think of an answer?

"I don't want to torture you. Kiss me if that's easier," he suggested.

Marie-Celeste thought he was very sweet. She embraced him. "Tell me when you think I love you, Patrick, because I honestly can't tell."

"You're the only person I accept such a ridiculous statement from, Cellie, and I don't really know why, but I do." He grinned suddenly. "Will you still take me seriously after my pathetic confession?"

"I might even take you more seriously," she said. "Come with me. But none of that affectionate crutch-poking, because the Council of the Witches would think you hated me."

The commentators had already announced the match that would be on next. A box with information on the two players was shown on screen as they started to play.

The camera focused on the higher-ranked and therefore favourite Sanchez first. "Oh, gosh!" the commentator remarked. "This is really going to be a match between two different generations! Compared to Seton this is a schoolboy." The schoolboy wore his hair in a ponytail with a baseball cap over it to tuck away loose strands. Being southern, he also wore a rather large gold cross around his neck along with several other necklaces. "They're as different from each other as you can imagine." John indeed looked the opposite. His hair was cut short, his outfit white and he was not hung with frivolous accessories.

But someone had been writing on him with a ballpoint, which became visible when he swung his racket. "What the heck is written on his arm?" asked the other commentator when there was a close-up of Seton's arm as he adjusted his knee brace. It was impossible to read, however.

Seton stood up and grinned at a banner in the stands that read I Want Anna. "Oh, look. They want Queen Anna," the commentator clarified for the benefit of those who could not read. "Oh!" he cried in delight when Seton gestured, you? never! towards the holder of the banner. "At least he'll have the crowd behind him now," he said when there was a clear show of appreciation for this gesture.

"Yes, it's a pity that he doesn't also have Queen Anna behind him today, but we understood that she's gone abroad as a reaction to this morning's explosion. I wonder what the effect on Seton will be -- somebody put a curse on his girlfriend and yes...well, that's not nice."

"Yes," the other agreed. "It's really a curse. Every day there's a new problem. She deserves a rest now. It's good that she's gone away."

"He doesn't even known where she's gone. He doesn't seem to be too affected, does he? But I spoke to him this morning and he had even considered pulling out, but his mental coach wouldn't hear of it."

"His mental coach?"

"He says he's got a very demanding mental coach."

"Well, that's certainly a new development in sports," the other, who was there to give expert commentary on the game and not so much on trivialities, continued seriously. "With everybody knowing the right training methods nowadays, you see more and more players realise that it all comes down to mentality. I know of a few who see sports psychologists on a regular basis. I had wondered how Seton could look so relaxed when his previous matches were played under such stressful circumstances. He must have a really good mental coach."

"I think so too," said his partner ironically. "I don't know where she finds the time. Half her time is spent being put through every possible kind of trouble and the other half is spent being Seton's girlfriend, but apparently they can still fit the coaching sessions in between somehow."

"He's wearing Anna's necklace," Eliane commented when John took it off at 1-1. She recognised the necklace. She had given it to Anna herself. Apparently he did not like the feel of having a necklace and she smiled.

She checked Anna's phone to see whose calls she had missed. Anna had been advised not to take it, nor to phone home. Eliane was worried. Anna was being sent off somewhere where nobody could reach her. Not even Eduard knew. He said he did not, but perhaps he had been forbidden to tell her. She would try asking him again.

"Congratulations, John! Well done again, but before we discuss the match, may we first know what everyone's been intrigued about -- what is written on your arm?"

John glanced at his arm. "Ooooh…I washed it off…"

"What did it say?"

"If she'd wanted you to read it, she'd have written in bigger letters," John remarked with a smile.

"She? Was it your mental coach who wrote that?"

John smiled and hesitated, studying his fingernails. "Oh, yes."

"But the Palace doesn't say anything about it."

He shrugged. "When everybody already knows? I heard she's the one who decides what the Palace says and I happen to know that she doesn't like saying superfluous things."

"You played very well despite all the trouble surrounding you. Doesn't it get through to you? Nothing seems to be able to unsettle you."

"I've been playing for so long that I know what my opponent can do to throw me off balance, on purpose or not. So what, if he takes a sanitary break or asks for the physiotherapist?" John shrugged again. "I'll wait. Besides, I'm getting older. They'd only be helping me by giving me more time to recover," he grinned.

"But what about the trouble in your private life? The explosion? Doesn't that affect you?"

"Of course it does. There is a certain…" John paused to think of a word that would fit. "…energy? The things that keep happening call up certain feelings and the trick is to transform negative energy into positive. I don't know how it goes, but I seem to be able to do it at the moment. But…I don't know why it happens. I really don't know."

"And what did you say to yourself every time you served? We saw that you said something."

"You don't want to know," John refused politely. "I have to watch my language now. I know some very formidable old ladies who would have me punished for using foul language."

"What are you going to do next? Will you concentrate on tomorrow's match?"

John bit his lip and his face darkened. "Yes." What else could he do when he was not allowed to know where Anna was? They had not even allowed her to take her phone, because they were afraid that he would call her too often. And he had one more match to play. That would be the last and after that he would be able to concentrate on finding out what was going on. He would have liked to start that already, but he would have to postpone it for another day and let his parents distract him tonight.

"Don't call anybody, not even Seton," Malling told Anna once again. They were progressing nicely and they were nearly there now. They had only stopped once at her request and apart from voicing that request she had stayed silent. She was the most taciturn companion he had ever sat in a car with, speaking only the strictly necessary words and ending conversations abruptly when she had the required answer.

"I know," she said a little impatiently. He had already told her that. "Are you going to hire him again?"

"I don't tell people whom I hire," he replied, not liking to reveal such information, even if it was to the Queen. She might be a queen, but he did not know if he could trust her. Perhaps she could not keep secrets.

"There's absolutely no reason why I should know if he works for you," she agreed sarcastically. "As far as you're concerned I was just his little slip up. No harm done, Seton. I understand that you couldn't keep your hands off the woman. It's all in the game. I hope you had a nice time. Was she any good? But back to business now. Next job's calling and you're too damn good to waste on a woman. There'll be others. Cheer up. She thinks you love her? Don't worry. We'll throw a few bombs at her and then we'll tell her she's going into hiding. By the time she comes out, she'll be over you. If she comes out at all," Anna spouted in a heavily sarcastic tone.

Malling had not expected her to be so bold. This outburst surprised him, especially its tenor. It indicated a cynical outlook on the world, something he had not suspected of her.

"I know people rarely act against their own interests," she continued.

"You seem to think you know my interests, Your Majesty."

"I can guess at them."

"Seton never told me you were difficult." He tried to recall what Seton had said, but that was not much to go on. Seton would never say she was ugly, stupid and malicious even if the opposite was not necessarily true. Beautiful? He had not noticed that yet. Nobody would turn his head if she passed. Intelligent? That would remain to be seen. It had become too much of a fashionable adjective nowadays. Sweet? She simply did not say enough to be able to decide that. The fact that he recognised none of Seton's qualifications in her made him wonder what Seton had seen in her and if it had not just been the case that she had simply been available.

"I wasn't difficult with him." Her behaviour had been difficult, but not her trust.

There was his answer. She simply had not been difficult. "Why are you now?"

"Because I have learnt since," she said curtly.

"And what have you learnt?"

"That some people are only out to serve their own good."

Malling wondered if she was talking about Seton. "Such as satisfying their needs regardless of the circumstances?"

Anna gave him a sharp look. "I know what you're thinking, but you're thinking wrong. I'm speaking in general and you're talking about a specific case."

"Am I?" So Seton was apparently above reproach, in Anna's eyes, although it was interesting to note that she was aware of the fact that some people might interpret the situation differently. Which meant that he could probably believe her. Probably -- for he had not been there when things had happened and although he knew Seton, he did not know her.

Anna did not think it deserved an answer, since they both knew that he was. "Until you convince me of the opposite, I won't believe that it's for my own good to be locked up in a convent without protection or contacts with the outside world."

"Seton might reveal your location under pressure. When would he abandon his altruistic motives in order to survive? When would he stop thinking of you?"

"You're the only one who knows where I'll be and you have much less reason to think of me," she retorted.

"That's true, but they'd sooner think of putting pressure on Seton if they decide to put pressure on someone."

That was a horrible prospect to Anna, but she managed to keep her voice calm. "Send him to a convent too." Would she be spending her time away worrying about him? Why could he not admit publicly that he had no idea where she was? Surely he would know that that was best?

He handed her a map when she seemed a little perturbed. "Can you read maps? We have to go to that circled little place."

Anna looked at the map and then at the road signs to see where they were. Was this a test? If so, she would pass with flying colours. She could read maps and any moron would know that it was a fatal mistake to mark a secret location on a map. "You can't go home with this map -- you do realise that, I hope."

Perhaps he had to adjust his impression of her. "Why?"

"You indicated the location on the map."

That was the first time she had looked him full in the eyes and he had to admit that it made a difference. Perhaps people would not turn their heads if they passed her, but what called for an another glance was often disappointing the second time. And Anna's face would never be disappointing even a tenth time. He looked back at the road. He began to see he had underestimated Seton.

"You shouldn't have so little faith in John," she said quietly. She had been observing John and she had picked up some little things from him apart from his general attitude. Did Malling think John would not be careful and did he think that she could not read maps and imagine that it was stupid to mark one?

Malling was taken aback. It was as if she had read his mind. Had she? "What do you mean?" he asked cautiously.

"Would he pick a woman without brains?"

He forgot that he was speaking to a queen. "I'm assuming that you have brains."

"I know my measurable assets," she replied calmly. "I've been to school."

He wondered what she considered immeasurable assets and what she thought about those. Perhaps they were her looks, but she had been right in not mentioning them, because they were of little good in a situation such as this. "How did my men really handle the case?" He was curious about her opinion.

"Didn't you get a report?"

"I did. Reports may not always be accurate, though." Some had a tendency to embellish the story just a little bit and he usually found out when he compared notes, but this time all the reports had been relatively similar and there were no mentions of unprofessional or unfit behaviour.

"I have no complaints." She was not qualified to comment on the way they had handled the case. It had seemed professional to her, but what did she know?

"The domestic details didn't become quite clear to me," said Malling. "The report didn't describe how the five of you spent your time." How did one entertain a queen?

"Logical," Anna commented. "You should be glad that they had the insight not to include such irrelevant activities in the report."

Straight answers were something Anna had difficulties with, apparently. "I didn't receive a full report from Seton. There were a few instances that he might have elaborated upon. For instance when you went shopping. He wrote down something like QA&I went shopping. That's very nice and concise, but how did he go about it? I don't expect them to describe every step in their reports, but this is a good opportunity to ask you if he used his brains."

"He always uses his brains," Anna answered a little indignantly. "Didn't he use his brains when he suggested that we went shopping? Was I supposed to walk around in the same clothes for more than twenty-four hours, looking as if I was going somewhere official? It would have attracted far too much attention."

"How did he keep himself?" Malling had never suspected Seton of enjoying shopping and before he had met Anna, he had thought that she had been the one who had suggested the shopping trip. But perhaps this simply dressed woman had not made shopping the horror he had previously supposed. Perhaps Seton had found it bearable.

She smiled. "I was still a little afraid of him then."

"Afraid?" Afraid of a man who became her lover a few days later? Had he been bullying her around? Not been polite?

"I thought he saw me as a useless burden, because of all of his clever remarks. He shouldn't have made them. I always admire clever remarks," she said apologetically.

"Did you return any of them?" With enough stimulation, he did not doubt that she could have given Seton a tough time.

"Oh, I doubt that. I'm not very good at it," Anna said modestly.

The Count had prepared a press statement for the Information Service. He was good at that, saying enough without giving any details. It simply said that Anna had gone abroad and that the hole in the wall was already being repaired. He also had to cancel Anna's engagements once again.

Eliane had received transcripts of the statements and she was in her sitting room, looking worried, while the Council of the Witches had called a meeting there. Soon she would be old enough to qualify for membership, she realised and she nearly gagged. Surely she did not look that old yet. If Anna had not looked so young, people would not even have believed that she could be Anna's mother. Only Alexandra declared outright that she looked fifty-three, the rest all said something in her forties.

"We must present a unified front," Celeste announced to the assembled family members who had invaded Eliane's sitting room. She had not chosen this location haphazardly, but she had been well aware of the fact that if Eliane did not come to a meeting, the meeting must come to Eliane. The few family members who had occupations outside of the Palace, such as Alexandra, had stayed home and they were all present, even some who lived in town, except three. "Anna is away, Charles-Louis had business in Kiev, but where is Marie-Celeste?"

The question hung in the air, but nobody answered it.

"Where is Marie-Celeste?" her grandmother repeated.

"Here," a voice at the door called. Marie-Celeste came in, followed by the clicking of crutches.

As one, the family turned and stared at Patrick. Being a well-brought up bunch, they immediately made room for the invalid on the sofa and he sank down on it gratefully. He had not wanted to come, but Marie-Celeste had said that he should. Apparently he was something of an oddity here, judging by the looks he was receiving.

"We may begin," said Celeste, nodding at the Commissioner and he proceeded to tell them what had happened and what they did not yet know.

"The Queen has been taken to a secret place --"

"Where?" Marie-Celeste interrupted.

"I don't know. It's secret."

"Does John know about it?" A brother-in-law was more likely to tell than an official.

"No, he doesn't. Nobody knows where she's been taken to and I'd like to ask all of you to report it if anyone displays too much curiosity about it. We shall continue investigating --"

"Make sure you investigate the French connection," Celeste ordered.

The Commissioner's eyes sought the Count's imperceptibly, but the other man shrugged. Apparently the old Queen was rambling, which was not surprising, given her age. "We shall investigate the French connection, Madam," he promised her.

"Perhaps Eliane knows more about it. She is French."

The rest of the family looked embarrassed, but Eliane looked exasperated. She stood up. "Please -- you love my daughter. You're not helping Anna by making wild accusations. Let the Commissioner continue."

He nodded at her. "We don't know very much yet, but we shall keep the family informed. I have to ask you again that you'll be careful around strangers as long as we don't know the motives for the action yet." He nodded again and left the room.

Malling parked the car some distance away from the convent, because Anna had pointed out to him that his car did not have French numberplates and that it would immediately mark her as a foreigner if she was seen arriving in a foreign car. He had reacted as though he would have thought about it if she had not told him that, but she was not so sure. They walked towards the buildings now and it gave her a chance to study the surroundings better. They were lovely and quiet. "Who am I there?" she asked when they neared the door. She would have to announce her arrival inside.

"Mademoiselle Guissard from Paris." He reflected that she was turning out to be a lot more sensible than he had expected. He would not have to be afraid that she would go into town and expose herself unthinkingly.

She nodded and memorised it. There was a nun at the entrance, who seemed to be expecting a Miss Guissard and who handed her a key. Malling accompanied her in the direction of the sleeping quarters. He would see her to her room, so he would know for certain that she had arrived safely, she guessed. Anna glanced around herself. The building had been renovated, but it was very old. Her footsteps on the tiled floor echoed along the walls. The walls were white and bare, apart from the occasional supporting wooden beams, which were dark brown.

She had room 17, but when she got there, it was more a cell than a room. No wonder the doors had been so close together. "Mon Dieu," Anna uttered, still in her French mode after having spoken to the receptionist-nun. The room was obviously not designed to spend long periods of time in. It was barely 2 by 3 metres and only contained a bed, a table, a chair and a closet. Over the table there was a shelf with a glass and a reading light on it and closer inspection revealed that one side of the closet contained shelves. Anna swallowed. This cell was to be her home and hideout for the next few days or possibly weeks. This cell and the bare and empty hallways she had just come through. It was a striking contrast with the richly decorated Palace walls and rooms.

"Will you manage?" asked Malling. Even to him it was very small.

"How long will I be staying here?" Anna set her bag down on the narrow bed. It was ages ago that she had had a single bed. She would go mad if it was very long.

"We paid for two weeks, but if we sort things out sooner…"

"Two weeks…" she sighed and looked out of the window. She seemed to be on the good side, because she overlooked a lawn sloping down to a pond, which was a wonderful view. If all else failed she could always sit here and watch the ducks. "Yes, I'll manage." There was a leaflet on the table and she picked it up. "Oh, all the activities are in here…among others, assertiveness, philosophy, handicrafts, meditation, yoga, music, translation of the classics…and for the evenings there are lectures, a TV room, a well-stocked library, a games room and a swimming pool. The programme seems a bit incoherent, but I think I'll survive."

"Our previous customers never complained about the programme. We chose this because of its broad supply. Can I leave you here?" Malling asked. The activities were not compulsory, which was one reason that he used this particular place. Often the people he sent here did not want to participate. People could do as they pleased here, as long as they adhered to the basic rules of the convent and as long as they paid for their stay.

"I hope I'm not the only loner," Anna worried. "Oh, good," she whispered hopefully when she saw another woman carry a suitcase through the hallway. "She seems alone." The woman was indeed checking the doors as if she was looking for a specific number and she halted in front of number 18, which was diagonally across from 17. She looked to be about thirty-five, small and dark, with quick movements. Anna was glad that she seemed to be around her age. Perhaps she would not be completely alone. At least she would not stand out as the only youngish female.

Malling felt as if he were accompanying a girl on her first day at a new school. It was not much different from that. He walked down the hallway to the wash rooms for ladies at one end to see what the accommodations were like here. Those for men were at the other end, as was written on a sign beside the door. Apparently people had misused them in the past. Anna had followed him curiously and peered into the toilets, showers and washing cubicles. It was all small but clean. Malling felt he ought to give her some advice. She had walked away from her room without locking the door. "Lock your door if you leave your room."

"Oh," she said in a subdued manner.

He walked her back to her room, half expecting her to ask him to take her home again. Shy, Seton had said. He had been right. Shy and frightened of other people and new environments. He was not sure if she would actually leave her room when he was gone. Perhaps she would stay there and starve. "It will be okay," he heard himself say.

Anna nodded bravely. "I make myself nervous, I know. I shouldn't think about whether I'll ever see him again. I will."

"You will. Can I say goodbye now? I don't mean that I'm anxious to leave, but…"

"…You can't stay here forever," she finished his sentence. "Yes. Thank you for driving me here. Maybe I can ask that nun where dinner will be and what time and so on."

They were an interesting crowd, the Commissioner reflected as he caught up with one of his subordinates, who had been waiting outside of the door. Perhaps it was the result of being isolated in the Palace, but the old lady seemed to have absolute power. He had expected one of the men to act as spokesman. Eliane followed him and he turned.

"Do you know if this is directed at Anna personally?" she asked in low, hurried tones. "Should I send my other girls away just in case?" If they were in any danger, she would send them away immediately. She did not want to take any risks.

"I don't know, Your Highness, but it seems to be personal and not directed against her sisters."

"But they might switch their attention to Celeste and Alex now that people have taken away Anna to a secret place." That was her biggest fear.

He understood her worries, having two daughters himself and he wished he could say something to reassure her, but he knew just as little as she did. "I have absolutely no idea what is going on."

Eliane looked frustrated. "Comment ça se peut? Is there not a service -- l'autre homme, who took Anna -- 'e should know about what is going on in the country. 'Ow can you make bombs -- 'ow can you place bombs without that there is some people that know?"

Marie-Celeste had just caught up with them and she interfered. "We expect to updated regularly. I mean, there is very little use in updating my great aunts, but I am personally interested in hearing every new bit of information."

The Commissioner glanced at the young man on crutches hopping after her. He had been watching a little tennis in the past few days, whenever he had been able to squeeze it in. Had Marie-Celeste got herself a Seton as well or was he here on his brother's behalf? His brother would undoubtedly be playing.

"Me too," said Patrick. "I'm useless on one leg anyway. I might eventually get sick of computer games. I'd rather be given a real life problem to tackle."

"Really?" Marie-Celeste asked.

"Où est Anna?" Eliane interrupted.

The Commissioner had no idea what she was saying and he stared at her in confusion. She had lost him before already when she had begun to speak funnily.

"My mother would like to know where Anna is," Marie-Celeste translated.

"I wasn't allowed to know either."

"But you are not her mother," Eliane protested.

"Cellie, we're going to look at the hole," Patrick decided.

"How can you look at a hole?" Eliane lifted her hands in wonder. "A hole is a hole. It's nothing. What is there to see in a hole? Instead of looking ahead you want to look back, at a hole!"

"I'm experienced," said Patrick. "I throw bombs in computer games, but then I usually want to get into something and I have to pick a strategic location. I wonder why they didn't go in and I wonder where exactly they put the bomb."

"Are we going to call?" said the bald man in the black clothes, rolling a cigarette.

The other bald man in black clothes took a sip from his bottle of beer. "Yeah, we could do that," he said vaguely. "Tell 'em it was the Anarchistic Liberation Front, coming to the aid of the oppressed."

"Anarchy rules!" said the other enthusiastically.

"You got it, comrade. Have we got more beer to celebrate this symbolic event? What did Koen do with that money we got for this job?"

"He bought more beer."

"Excellent."

An ugly youngster with various piercings in his face appeared. "Ours was a cool job to," he announced. "But Bridget got bitten by a ferret, ungrateful bugger." He and Bridget had been setting ferrets free during the night. "Her hand is bandaged now, so she couldn't carry the beer and I had to walk twice."

"Cow," the bald guy with the beer addressed Bridget when she came in. "Bitten?"

"Pig," she returned. "What was it like, your job?"

"Cold. Bloody cold. But it was a nice bang and I've heard it was a nice hole too."

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