Chapter 8

"DAMNATION!"

Rebecca jumped, despite knowing that the outburst was coming.

Richard White was sitting with their subject in his offices a few blocks away. She and George Wendell were on the carpet in front of Sir Boniface.

Last night, once Rebecca could stand and walk, she had hurriedly dressed and rushed outside to check on George. He was at his appointed place with a nasty bump on the head slumped under a hedge. It took her several minutes to revive him. After doing so, she sent him straight to Sir Boniface's house to report the break in.

This morning, after a full report, they were getting dressed down to their respective smalls.

"Two professionals. I would have expected you to handle the security of one house with one man in it better! But no. You, sir, a veteran of more missions than even I can count, got yourself knocked in the head from behind! And Rebecca–"

The tirade stopped. He stared at her, mouth a thin angry line. Had the assassin not chosen to relay a message rather than simply do his work…

"Beside you, George, stands a dead woman. You should both be dead, and your charge with you!"

Sir Boniface sat heavily in his chair, causing a loud creak. He ordered the two agents to sit. Taking a deep breath, he let it out and said, "Tell me again, what can you remember about this man, Rebecca?"

Rebecca gathered dimensions from his hold on her. "Tall, six feet at least. Big, powerfully built. He squeezed the breath out of me, as if I were a rag doll. His voice was heavily accented. Prussian, I'm sure of it. His accent was of West Prussia, upper class, cultured. He admitted to being the man who attacked Richard before. He… apologized for the scratch he gave me."

"We are working with a Prussian agent then. That or a professional hire," Sir Boniface said. "A damnably good one, too. One that can sneak around you two and who could learn Lord Sutton's involvement with–"

He hesitated, looked at his agents. "What I tell you does not leave this room."

When both agents acknowledged, he continued.

"It has long been the desire of Prussia to reunite the German States into a power reminiscent of their fifteenth century grandeur," he said. "It hasn't happened because all attempts have included Prussia dictating policy. Once King Fredrick William's brother is in power, the Queen and Prince Albert believe, a reunification could be brought about with Prussia on a strong constitutional leash. That is, if enough time is spent negotiating the matter."

"We believe Princess Victoria and Prince Fredrick, combined with a coalition of German Princes, could exert enough influence to get this done. Once they gain the throne, we should have an ally in a united Germany."

He pulled back in his chair, causing another softer creak. "For now, the wolves oversee Prussia. These attacks on Lord Sutton's brother are about his work, giving the many reluctant German states confidence in Prince Fredrick's more liberal outlook. He has brought five to the table and gained promises of intent from others. If he is killed, the wolves will destroy our work. Germany will continue to be a group of feudal states, fighting amongst each other for power. Reunification must happen and don't think it won't. But without some intervention, it may come though bloody war."

Sir Boniface ended his lecture on international politics, standing over his desk and the two agents on the other side. "I will see if I can discover who the assassin could be. In the meantime, continue as you have. The outer security in Richard's office and home will be increased. As the assassin said, there will be no more warnings. The next time he strikes, we will catch him, or he will succeed."

He turned to George. "Go home. Get some rest. Tell Howl he will take your place today. He is waiting in his office. If that thump you took gives you any lasting trouble, he will take over. Don't play the suffering hero. I need someone in top form. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir." George stood, and Rebecca stood with him.

Sir Boniface's agents left the office with decorum intact, but their retreating steps were quicker than their arrival, like ducks running from a barking dog.

Once the door closed, Sir Boniface sat back down and rubbed his chest where the pressure had built up. He took the medicine bottle out of his desk drawer and swallowed down a swig. The swamp water had been replaced with something that worked.

Sir Boniface closed his eyes and did as the doctor had said. Breathe, he coached. Relax.

It worked. The pressure lessened the more he forced himself to calm. Once it was under control enough, he stood and opened the door to tell his secretary to cancel his next two meetings. He had to rest a bit. The attacks took more out of him every time they came. He lay back on the couch he had added to the office and closed his eyes.

A shudder intruded on his efforts. Rebecca should have been killed last night.