CHAPTER 27
John picked once more through the last threads of his rapid thoughts.
He’d been contemplating this moment for a long time.
Ever since years ago when he was accused of being a foreign spy.
He’d had no choice, considering what was at stake, which included his standing in the business community and his reputation both in England and abroad. Monica had been quite clear.
“You will accept the fact that you have been implicated and take whatever punishment King Wilhelm wishes to privately mete out. Just accept it and move on. The good thing is nothing will be public.”
“And if I do not?”
“You will be killed, and your death, a suicide by the way, will serve as proof of your guilt. So we are clear, we prefer you alive.”
“Good to know.”
“In return, you will be allowed to expand your business into Russia after, of course, an appropriate period of official denials and objections. And what do you care? The king has never liked you. There is no real loss here. Now you have a reason to never go to Stockholm again.”
True. So he’d accepted the blame. Lysa, of course, had no idea. As with most things in her life, she remained oblivious to reality. Wilhelm was satisfied. The Swedish government was satisfied. Even the woman now standing across from him, Stephanie Nelle, was satisfied.
Everybody. But him.
His satisfaction was about to come. But he told himself to keep the face of a chess master waiting coolly for his opponent’s next move. Revealing nothing until it was too late for the other side to respond.
“We are waiting,” the king said. “For this so-called truth I need to hear.”
“And you will continue to wait until I am ready to tell you,” he made clear in a defiant tone, which felt great.
“You will not speak to me like that.”
“I will speak to you however I see fit. I am not a Swedish citizen. And as you remind me every chance you get, I am not a royal either. I owe you nothing. You are a pompous, self-righteous fool. You have your crown simply because you were fortunate enough to be the firstborn in your family. You have done nothing to earn it.”
“It is obvious you despise me. Is that why you were there at the circus, to kill me?”
“You cannot be that ignorant. Do you honestly think that the case? That I would shoot you? I am a billionaire twice over. If I wanted you dead, I could hire a professional to do it. I was there to find my wife. Unlike you, who wallows here in the luxury of a pampered life where everyone jumps at your command, I was actually doing something. The same woman from nine years ago, an SVR asset who calls herself Monica Butler-White, is here in Sweden. She’s the one who led the assault on you, though I suspect it was not about a killing. More a message being sent.”
“That says what?” Stephanie Nelle asked.
He’d been waiting for her to enter the conversation. She’d been carefully listening, gauging him, surely waiting for an inconsistency, anything she could use to trip him up. But he’d given this conversation a lot of thought. So he said, “Do. Not. Trifle. With. Us.”
He fished from his pocket the two pieces of paper with the handwritten messages and handed them to Stephanie Nelle, along with the circus entrance pass and ticket. “One was delivered to my hotel room. The others were slipped into my pocket outside the arena.”
Stephanie read them both, then glanced over at Cassiopeia Vitt.
“A bellboy took a message upstairs to his room,” Vitt said. “And another man did bump into Westlake outside the building. I saw his hand go into a coat pocket. Which all seemed to be unexpected on Westlake’s part.”
“It was,” he added. “I was being led. Once again. Only this time we have a witness to what actually happened.” He glared at the king. “It is not just my word any longer.”
“I am still waiting for that truth, Sir John.”
“Nine years ago there was, indeed, a spy among the Swedish royal family. That spy is still here to this day. The SVR is quite good at manipulation. They find a weakness and exploit it. The asset they recruited was perfect, providing Moscow with a wealth of information while never suspecting they were doing so. Bits and pieces that, by themselves, meant little. But placed into context with other acquired intelligence? The information could be quite valuable.”
“So you were not that asset?” the prime minister asked.
He shook his head. “I was not.”
“Then how could you possibly know all that you are saying?” the king asked.
“Because I am married to that asset.”
Stephanie caught the implications of the accusation and reminded herself that John Westlake was an accomplished liar. But the intelligence officer in her reminded her to keep an open mind. Listen. Evaluate. Then make judgments.
“I have known Princess Lysa for a long time,” she said. “I’ve never seen or heard anything that would indicate she’s been radicalized in any way. She is a lovely woman who never has a bad word to say about anyone or anything.”
“Which makes her perfect,” Westlake said. “Her na?veté was easy to manipulate. And why would there be signs? She has no idea she is being used.”
She knew the game. Intelligence assets came in four distinct forms. Those who willingly elected to associate with a foreign power and betray their country.
Those who worked for pure monetary gain, selling their secrets.
Those who’d been blackmailed and forced into their role.
And those who did not even know they were in the game.
The so-called useful idiots.
They represented the vast majority of assets. The best of the best of those were people well connected in their community. Above reproach. Never to be suspected. Like a member of the royal family who liked to talk.
“Lysa has no idea she is an asset,” Westlake said again.
“How is that possible?” the king asked.
“It’s actually quite easy,” Stephanie said. “Most are unwitting. The trick? Finding the right handler to innocently manipulate them.”
“And my wife has one,” Westlake said. “Her closest friend in the world. A society woman who runs in some fairly high circles. She is an SVR sleeper in England. Lysa comes into contact with a wide assortment of politicians, royalty, and businesspeople. She hears a lot and, God love her, my wife loves to gossip. Spilling the tea, she calls it. It is a fault her handler has expertly exploited for a long time.”
“And you allowed that?”
“I had no choice. Once all of you decided I was the spy and should be banished, I was told by the SVR to accept it or be killed. Even worse, they threatened Lysa’s life too.
So I accepted my fate and moved on. And frankly, every one of you deserved that outcome, considering how quick you were to blame me. ”
“I need a name for that handler,” Stephanie said.
“And I will provide that. It is time all this ends.”
“This is preposterous,” the king said. “You are merely trying to divert attention away from yourself. You were the one in that arena tonight, not my sister, who is being held who knows where.”
“And there it is,” Westlake said. “That famous Bernadotte stupidity and arrogance. For once, you need to shut your mouth and listen.”
Stephanie knew that Wilhelm was not without his faults.
He was known to be sometimes misinformed, quick-tempered, and a bit too free with his comments.
Through the years there’d been some serious PR missteps.
He once critiqued the prime minister of Norway on her conservation policy, questioning how someone who could not take care of the seals could take care of Norway.
Needless to say that comment had not been well received.
After a state visit to Brunei a few years ago, he went out of his way to praise the sultan, despite Brunei’s controversial human rights history.
A similar incident happened during a visit to Saudi Arabia.
Each gaffe hurt the king’s popularity. But he’d always rebounded.
“Here is the reality,” Westlake said. “Manipulate your subject enough and control becomes easy. Say the right words, paint the right picture, and the response is guaranteed. Lysa’s handler is good at what she does.
But Lysa makes it easy with her almost childlike na?veté.
She’s a good, decent person who just cannot keep her mouth shut. ”
“What are you saying is happening here?” Cassiopeia asked.
“The situation is more dire than you think. Lysa was not kidnapped. Far from it, in fact. She is a passive participant in what is happening. And she may be in real danger.”