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Worlds Apart

Chapter 8

"Could the weather be any worse?" Anton grumbled. Sleet bounced on the roof with a chinking sound as Shades quickly took his place by the door behind the driver. Anton waited by the rear passenger door and tried not to shiver. "Why couldn't we stay at a hotel with a covered front?"

Shades glanced around the area, then back to Joseph, several yards away, and waited for the signal to open the doors. His response was half muffled by the fog. "Historic site- some ancestor was crowned here- or beheaded. I can't remember which."

Several feet away, Joseph pointed to a spot on the hotel's walk and bellhops scurried over, slipping on the quickly accumulating ice, to toss several carpet runners over the area. He inspected the improvised fix then quickly returned to stand by Anton.

"The hotel hasn't even taken a shovel to the walks," Joseph said, his voice betraying the irritation he felt. "Let's get them in quickly and stay close. It's slick and getting worse by the minute." He looked to Shades. "The driveway's too slushy- Her Majesty will have to exit this side."

"She'll have to slide," Anton said, under his breath, as Shades came around to his side of the car.

A sudden breeze whipped stinging sleet into their faces and the pellets began to fall heavier. Wetness dribbled down back of Joseph's neck.

"I'll drag her across the seat, if I have to," Joseph growled barely loud enough for the two men to hear, "but they have to get inside and now."

With a grin, Anton yanked the car door open- the comment only showed just how angry Joseph was at the hotel's lack of cooperation. His boss would never actually do such a thing…or would he?

Anton stepped aside as King Rupert got out and Shades moved to flank the king, umbrella open. When Rupert hesitated, waiting to assist his wife, Shades gestured for him to keep moving toward the hotel entrance. "Allow us, sir. Please follow me." Reluctantly, Rupert did.

Joseph leaned into the open doorway and asked Queen Clarisse to please exit on this side. There was a pause and more discussion, rather heated, on the subject from within the car and from his boss. Joseph straightened, his expression even darker than before, but heextended his hand to the occupant who was grudgingly creeping across the back seat. Anton popped open the oversized umbrella.

Queen Clarisse got out, no more pleased, by the look on her face, than her head of security. She straightened her coat and squared her shoulders. Without a word, Joseph took her by the arm and guided her across the makeshift red carpet. Anton hurried to follow, still grinning.

With a final glance in the mirror, Clarisse rose from dressing table. They were to have a short tour of the hotel, including the ballroom where Rupert's great-great-great grandfather was dancing merrily with the local lovely ladies when informed he was now the new king of Genovia. The new king, not wishing to be disturbed and having decadent plans for the evening, had sent the breathless and exhausted messengers away complaining that his now-deceased brother had, in the end and as always, managed to spoil his fun.

After the tour, they were to dine with the President of the Swiss Confederation and his wife in a private dining room. They'd been invited to visit Zurich and stay at the hotel earlier, before the holidays, but their schedule had not allowed the visit until a nearly two months after the new year. Late February, she was finding out, was not the ideal time to visit Zurich.

In the sitting room, Rupert stood by the window watching as flakes of snow drifted serenely past their window.

"No more sleet?" she asked, laying down her bag and wrap on the small loveseat.

Rupert turned, halfway toward her, the pale light from outside giving his face a grayish cast. "No…seems to have stopped. Just snow for now." He rubbed a hand across his chest. "My dear, do you think we…"

His voice trailed off.

"Do I think what?" Clarisse asked, looking up.

Rupert shook his head and took a deep breath, looking once again out the window. "Nothing. It's nothing, my dear."

There was a knock at the door and when Rupert did not turn say anything, she answered. At her "come," Joseph entered.

"Your Majesty, do you need more time?" he asked, looking from her to her husband.

"No, I think we are ready." She reached for her bag and wrap. "Shall we, dear?"

Rupert did not reply.

"Rupert?" she asked.

"Rissa, I think…I'd better….not…" He slowly turned around to face her.

Joseph quickly moved toward him, speaking softly, seemingly, no one. Shades came in immediately, followed by two other agents.

Suddenly, Rupert crumpled. Joseph caught him and with Shade's help eased him to the floor. Clarisse heard a scream- a woman- shouting her husband's name, and she ran forward but someone stopped her, gently keeping her away, pushing her onto a seat.

The screaming stopped and she heard her voice, calling out to Rupert, to the men, to anyone.

Joseph knelt over Rupert, his hands on her husband's neck and Anton bent over Rupert's head. Joseph's hands slid to Rupert's chest and began to compress while the tall agent placed his mouth on her husband's. There were voices, words, but none of it made sense to her. She heard Shades call for an ambulance then order the car be brought around immediately.

It slowly sunk in- a heart attack- Rupert was dying!

The woman was shouting again. Clarisse was on her feet, trying to reach her husband. Arms held her back, this time not letting go, but holding her as she watched the two men working aggressively on her husband.

More people came into the room. She saw Shades kneel beside Joseph then switch places with him. Joseph motioned for the hotel manager to stay, the other hotel staff to leave. He gave commands to the manager, ordering the elevator be ready on the lower level for the ambulance personnel then locked open when it reached their floor and the hallway and lobby be cleared of any onlookers. The manger hurried to comply. Across the room, her husband still lay still.

The voices faded and room began to darken.

Joseph was suddenly at her side.

Dear God!

A dozen separate thoughts raced through his mind as Joseph shot orders at the wide-eyed manager who could not stop staring at his royal guest stretched out on the floor. Was the man even hearing what he said?

"Yes, yes….certainly," the manager said, still staring. Joseph moved to block his view.

"Have someone inform the Swiss President, but I do not want anyone else coming in here- do you understand?"

The man's head bobbed up and down. He didn't move.

"Go!" Joseph ordered, giving the man a shove toward the door. He glanced behind him. Shades and Anton were still working over King Rupert. He looked around for Clarisse and found her, her face white, still holding her purse and coat, half-hidden behind Hans who'd positioned himself between her and the door, providing protection. He saw her knees start to buckle.

"Please sit, Your Majesty," Joseph said, forcing her down onto the seat then kneeling in front of her. She was in shock. "Help is coming- we will do everything we can," he assured her calmly. Sitting, her color improved a bit, but he was still worried. In the distance, he could hear the two-toned sirens and in his ear he heard Pearson say the car was out front in position. He looked to Hans. "Get her heavy coat and gloves."

Hans ran into the other room.

The sirens were louder now, outside the hotel, and a policeman appeared at the door, glanced around the room, and found Joseph. The officer slid a chair out of the way and opened the door as wide as possible before leaving to take a position by the suite's main door. Hans returned and Joseph placed the coat around her shoulders, helping her slide one arm through a sleeve then the other. Over her head, he spoke to Hans, his voice low.

"I'll accompany His Majesty along with Anton. The rest of you bring Her Majesty to the hospital. Once there, have Shades notify Prince Philippe and then find me. You and Pearson are to stay with Her Majesty and see to it she is given a private place to wait- and get her to drink something hot."

There was noise in the hallway.

"Look after her," Joseph ordered, moving back to the king, as paramedics came into the room.

Two and one quarter hours later, Joseph nodded solemnly to the doctors and looked away from the figure on the table. He laid a hand on Anton's arm.

"Stay here," he said softly.

The younger man swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."

As he stepped through the doors, Shades moved from his post off to the side and came to stand beside his boss. Joseph shook his head.

The doctor in charge of the emergency room joined them. "Where is she?" Joseph asked.

It was a moment before Shades could answer. "To the left, down the hall, last door on the right."

Silently, Joseph and the doctor went to inform the queen.

"We're ready, sir, and the tower's given us clearance."

"Thank you." Joseph looked to the open cockpit door and gave the waiting pilot a quick nod. "Let's go."

Placing Shades in charge of their departure had freed Joseph to concentrate on looking after Queen Clarisse. Determined that she would not be disturbed needlessly or fatigued, he'd been at her side since she'd learned of her husband's death. Worried about her health, he'd encouraged her to drink and eat a small, simple breakfast. She was still weak and pale.

While she'd dozed, after returning from the hospital, Joseph and Shades had made necessary arrangements. Philippe, on holiday in Italy, would meet his mother in Genovia. Other family had been notified during the night so that they would not first hear of the king's death in the media in the morning and would be arriving during the next two days. The king's body would be flown by the Swiss military to Genovia and Pearson and Hans had remained behind to accompany it home.

As the jet began to taxi, he made his way down the aisle, double-checking the doors. His remaining men were seated up front, as was the flight attendant. To give Queen Clarisse privacy, only he would be seated in the rear with her.

He closed a window panel in the seat opposite Queen Clarisse then dimmed the lights in the cabin. Outside, it was dark with heavy, low-hanging clouds that threatened more snow. The engines whined, rising in pitch as the plane turned onto the runway and Joseph took his seat on the last row, securing his seatbelt. Across from him, two seats up, Queen Clarisse stared out her window.

The plane rumbled then lifted into the air, the vibrations quickly smoothing to stillness.

She was a widow.

Clarisse slid her window shade closed and shut her eyes as the plane left Zurich and life as she'd known it.

She was fifty-five years old and had been married for thirty-five years to her best friend, and now…

…she was a widow.

Her breath caught and a tear trickled down her cheek. Weary to the bone and slightly groggy from the sedative they'd given her earlier, Clarisse rested her head against the seat and folded her arms, hugging herself. The plane swayed, rocking her gently, and the last thing she was aware of was strong hands gently tucking a soft blanket about her shoulders.