Royal Protocol - Dana Marton

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rushed downstairs and straight to the stage, flying up the steps Rayne had stumbled on not long ago, falling into his arms. Thank God, whatever was about to happen here, no harm would come to her.

      The sound was on, everything was ready for her performance. The audience was in their seats where they’d been asked to remain for their own safety. Benedek addressed them, explaining everything in two minutes flat. The next three were spent lining everyone up in front of the door in a tight line, ready to go.

      His phone rang.

      “What can I do to help?” his brother, Miklos the Army major, asked.

      “Do not come here. They’re letting people go. I’ll call you back later.” Benedek opened the front door, making sure that if there was foul play involved, his body would shield those behind him.

      His security guard pushed him out of the way the next second, putting himself in front of Benedek. “This is what they want, Your Highness. Don’t make yourself a target.”

      They watched as the rebel forces parted, leaving a five-foot gap to freedom.

      “Run!” was the last word of advice Benedek gave to the men and women before stepping away from the door completely.

      And they did, helping each other, careful not to cause a stampede, many speaking words of encour-agement to their prince as they left. He’d never been as proud of his people as he was at that moment.

      “Go!” he said again when he looked back inside the lobby and spotted the royal guards and a couple of other men who hadn’t come up to the door.

      He glanced at his watch. “Thirty seconds.”

      The rest of the staff and audience were already crossing to freedom, clearing the ring of rebels. A lady of his mother’s age brought up the rear, running with her granddaughter in her arms. The little girl slowed her down too much, as did her gown. Benedek watched them, while yelling at the men who’d stayed behind. “You must leave! There’s no time.”

      Two royal guards separated from the group and dashed out the door. One grabbed the young girl and ran; the other tossed the stately lady in her full-skirted brocade gown right over his shoulder and dashed forward with her.

      They made it before the rebels closed ranks.

      Benedek stepped away from the door and let it close, foreboding filling him as he took in the nearly empty space, the remains of his grand opening night. In hindsight, his hope that the delay wouldn’t last more than an hour was probably too optimistic. He glared at the men.

      “You should not have stayed.” He drew a deep breath. “But I thank you for your loyalty,” he told them.

      “Should probably go back upstairs, Your Highness, ” one of the older royal guards recommended, and they followed him, seeing no purpose in lingering just inside the entrance.

      When they made it back inside the security office, two of the guards immediately went to monitor the cameras set up inside and outside the building. Eight royal guards had remained, plus his personal security guard, plus the director, plus three civilians.

      “Peter Havek, retired police officer,” one of the civilians introduced himself.

      “Tamas Havek, from Havek Construction. Brothers, I have some demolition experience. We could go and look for those bombs. With your permission, Your Highness.”

      The director handed them each a headset, then they were on their way even as Benedek thanked them. The royal guards followed, except for the two who manned the monitors, looking for the bomb with the help of the security cameras. Over a hundred cameras had been strategically placed throughout the building.

      “Craig Miller.” The third civilian spoke with an American accent. “Rayne’s agent. Where is she?” The man’s lips were tight with worry, making Benedek wonder just what his relationship was with Rayne. He looked distinguished with just a touch of gray at the temples, wore an expensive tux and an expensive watch, standing apart from the others. “She doesn’t answer her cell.”

      “My secretary escorted Miss Williams to the palace an hour ago.” As soon as he had a second, Benedek was going to call and check on them. Maybe even now. He reached for his cell phone, then let it drop back into his pocket and turned when the computer behind him sounded a series of beeps.

      The two royal guards at the main console were desperately pushing buttons.

      “Security lockdown just self-initiated,” one reported, casting about a wide-eyed look, disbelief in his voice.

      “Impossible. It can’t self-initiate.” The director rushed over.

      “Someone hacked into the system.”

      “I’ll recall the damn lockdown.” The director’s voice rose, along with the color in his cheeks. “I apologize, Your Highness.” He moved to a free console immediately. Seconds passed. “Whoever initialized it already changed the password.” His tone was filled with outrage.

      Benedek left Rayne’s agent and stepped up to the director. “What does this mean, exactly?”

      “We’re locked in,” the director told him. “Nobody goes out, nobody comes in.”

      “What do they want now? With them out there, we couldn’t leave anyway—”

      The red cell phone rang, cutting him off.

      The man on the other end of the line said, “Bring Rayne Williams to the front door in twenty minutes. The door will open for one minute exactly and you will hand her over. If she’s not there when we open the door, we blow up the building. We’ve planted three bombs in the building.”

      “This makes no sense,” Craig said after Benedek had hung up the phone and explained everything to the men around him. “If they were going to let Rayne go, why didn’t they let her go with the others?”

      “They aren’t planning on letting her go.” Benedek’s jaw clenched. “She’s to be their high-profile hostage. This way they, or at least their leaders, can get away after they blow up the opera.”

      “With us in it?” Craig looked from one man to the other, wide-eyed.

      The director of security nodded. “Your Highness must get out at any cost.”

      “But we don’t have Rayne.” Craig wiped his sweating hands on the side of his designer tux.

      “We’ll tell them that Miss Williams is unwell,” the director said, a speculative look coming into his eyes. “Play for time.”

      “Why?” Craig looked between the two men. “If we tell them that she’s not here, maybe they won’t blow up the building. Without a hostage, the second they make a move, security forces will massacre them. The rebels won’t risk that. They won’t do anything if they don’t have her.”

      “Their main goal is to end the monarchy. They have me trapped. Whatever happens, they’re not going to let me leave here.” Benedek lay down the somber facts. “You shouldn’t have stayed.”

      A moment of silence passed as each man considered what might happen next.

      “We need time to find a way to get Prince Benedek out of the building,” Benedek’s security guard said. “If we tell them that Miss Williams isn’t here, they might turn this into a suicide mission and blow up the building right now.”

      “I’m not going anywhere, unless we all go,” Benedek stated flatly. “If we tell the rebels that Miss Williams is unwell, but will go out shortly, we might gain enough time to find the bombs and disarm them. It’s in their best interest to wait for her. They’ll want to wait.”

      “Why is that?” Craig asked.

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