Flick held a hand up to hide her mouth, as though she wanted to speak to Kristin privately and tugged on Kristin's arm.

When Kristin had taken a couple of steps away from Veronica, Flick tugged her down so she could whisper something in her ear. "What is it, Flick?" Kristin asked, irritated at being drawn away from the other woman.

"I didn't think of it till I saw her in that white skirt again," Flick said, still holding her hand up to hide her mouth from Veronica. "Miss Veronica is the lady who came into the locker room and talked to Miss Irina."

Kristin nearly turned to stare at Max's old girlfriend but managed to resist the urge. She kept her face level with Flick's and said, "Thank you, sweetheart."

She stood upright and took Flick's hand and said to Max, "I'm going to take Flick into the locker room and rinse her off. I'll be right back."

The moment she got Flick away from Veronica she said, "Are you sure Miss Veronica is the woman you saw with Miss Irina in the locker room, Flick?"

Flick nodded vigorously. "Uh-huh."

"Why didn't you say something when you saw her in the park?"

"I guess I didn't think about it," Flick said. "I was kind of excited about riding."

"You're sure she's the one."

"Uh-huh."

At that moment, Veronica slammed open the locker room door and headed for one of the sinks. She turned on the water, wet a white towel and began brushing at the brown stain on her skirt.

"I'm really sorry, Miss Veronica," Flick said.

"I heard you the first time," Veronica said ungraciously.

Kristin was afraid Flick would blurt out something about her mother's inquiries and hurried her daughter out of the bathroom. At the last moment, she turned back to the reporter and said, "You deserve that-and more-for printing that article about Max."

Veronica shot her a sour look without replying.

Kristin took her daughter by the arms and hurried her down the hall as she instructed, "Go back to the box and sit down beside your grandmother and don't move until your father and I come to get you. Do you understand?"

"Is Miss Veronica the one who wants to assassinate President Taylor?" Flick asked.

Kristin stopped dead in her tracks, staring at her daughter. "What are you talking about?"

"Come on, Mom. I'm not stupid. I've heard you and Dad talking."

Kristin couldn't believe she and Max had been that indiscreet. "When did you hear us?" she demanded. "Where?"

Flick looked guilty. "I snuck into Gram's sitting room after you put me to bed one night. I heard you discussing all the tennis players and who might be suspected in an assassination plot. I had to look up suspected and assassination and plot in the dictionary. Jeez, Mom. What are you guys, anyway, some kind of secret agents?"

"Hey, Princess," Max called to Kristin from down the hall. "What's holding you up? They've announced our names. It's time to go!"

Kristin didn't want to let her daughter out of her sight. But she was going to cause a scandal if she failed to show up for the doubles match. She took her daughter by the arms again, to make sure she had her attention, and said in her severest voice, "I want you to forget what you think you heard. I want you to go back to your seat beside your grandmother and be quiet and not say a word. To anyone. Your father and I will come get you when our match is completed."

"All right, Mom. But if Miss Veronica is planning to kill the-"

Kristin put a hand over her daughter's mouth and looked around to see if she'd been overheard. "That's enough, Flick. You heard what I said. Not another word. I mean it!"

Flick made a face. "Okay. But-"

"No buts!"

"K! Come on!" Max yelled.

"Go find your grandmother. Now!" Kristin waited until Flick was started on her journey before she turned back to Max. She hurried down the hall, glancing at the closed locker room door, wondering if the reporter inside was a potential assassin. And whether Veronica was involved in a conspiracy with Irina, and perhaps her son.

"Max, I have something-"

He shushed her and grabbed her hand. "Come on. We need to get out on the court."

"But, Max-"

He pulled her along behind him, lifting his free hand to wave at the polite but enthusiastic fifteen-thousand-strong Centre Court crowd.

It seemed to Kristin that now that Centre Court had a retractable roof, it never rained on days when important tennis matches were being played. Today the retractable roof was open, letting in the hot sunlight and the occasional pigeon or English sparrow, who found a roost on the white roof struts.

Kristin sought out the family box, to the left of the royal box at the far end of the stadium, looking for Flick. She searched each row and found Bella but not her daughter. She was ready to leave the court-scandal or no scandal-when she saw Flick come running out of a tunnel and scoot up the stairs to a seat beside Bella.

Kristin was so focused on her daughter that she was oblivious to what was happening on the court. She only realized they'd won the serve when Max said. "Your serve, Princess."

"Max, there's something I need to tell you."

"Not now, Princess. Time to play tennis."

Kristin hit her first two balls into the net, double-faulting and losing the first point.

"You okay?" Max asked as he met her in the middle of the court.

"Veronica is the woman Flick saw talking to Irina in the bathroom," she blurted before moving to the other side of the court, so she could serve the next point.

Max was as stunned as she'd been when she'd first heard the news. The umpire calling the match said, "Time."

Kristin only had twenty seconds between each point. Telling Max what was troubling her had released enough tension that she was able to get her next serve into the box. But Elena returned it down the line, and Max was apparently still so distracted that when he swung at the ball he missed.

They met again in the middle of the court as Kristin headed back to the deuce side to serve for the third time.

"Why didn't you say something to me sooner?" Max demanded.

"Flick just told me in the hall."

"Did you see where Veronica went?"

"I left her in the locker room cleaning herself up."

"Time," the umpire warned again.

Kristin hurried to the ad court. They were already down love-thirty. She managed to gather her wits enough to hit an ace down the T for fifteen-thirty.

As she and Max crossed paths again, changing from the deuce to the ad court, she cupped her hand over her mouth so no one could read her lips and said, "Flick knows we suspect Irina and Steffan are plotting to assassinate the president."

"She what!" Max exclaimed.

"I told Flick not to say anything to anyone about what she knows. But now she knows I also suspect Veronica. I'm worried she's going to let something slip."

They both glanced up at the family box, where Flick, who was sitting beside Bella, waved back excitedly. "Serve," he said brusquely. "Let's get this damned match over with. Then we'll figure out where to go from here."

Once she and Max committed themselves to finishing the match as quickly as possible, they began to play amazingly well. They took risks to shorten points. And won games. And then the first set.

Between sets, Kristin saw Flick hanging over the rail at the front of the box waving at them. Irina sat at the back of the box alone. Kristin waved back at her daughter and said, "Max, Flick's waving at you."

Max waved back, but he said, "I'm going to have a serious talk with that young lady. She has no business eavesdropping. She might have jeopardized this entire investigation."

"She promised not to say anything."

Max shot Kristin a piercing look. "You believe a nine-year-old can keep a secret like this?"

Kristin shrugged helplessly. "We'll just have to impress on her-"

"Time!" the chair umpire called.

Halfway through the second set, Kristin glanced up and felt her heart stop. Irina had been sitting in the family box throughout the match, but several rows back. Now she was sitting beside Flick. And Flick was talking animatedly to her.

"Oh, no," she said to Max as she changed sides of the court for Max's serve. "Look at the box."

Max glanced up and said, "Brilliant. Do you suppose Flick's spilling everything she knows?"

Kristin didn't have time to consider the question. But when the point was over, her eyes went automatically to the family box. Irina had moved back to her original seat several rows behind Bella and Flick. But she was no longer alone.

"Max!" she said, elbowing him in the ribs. "Veronica's joined Irina in the family box."

"That can't be good," he said, eyeing the two of them.

"Should we just quit now and go get Flick?" she asked.

"On what pretext?"

"I can fake an injury."

He eyed the box and said, "Let's just finish. I don't want to create a scene that provokes a lot of questions."

They won the second set. And the match.

When Kristin knew they'd won, she looked up into the box where Flick was waving enthusiastically back at them. Bella was beside her, exhibiting the calm decorum befitting an English duchess. Veronica and Irina were still sitting several rows behind them. Relieved to see that Flick and Bella were safe, she threw herself into Max's open arms.

"We won, Max!" She turned with him to look back toward the box and saw that Flick and Bella were leaving the box-with Irina and Veronica.

"Oh, no!" she cried. "Max!"

Max let go of her and looked where she pointed. "Let's go!"

"Stop them!" she shouted, pointing toward the box. But the crowd was cheering so loud, no one heard her. "Someone stop them!"

Max didn't call for help. He didn't hesitate. He headed straight across the grass court at a run and climbed upstairs and across seats, right into the family box, then headed for the closest tunnel leading into the hallway, where the four females had disappeared.

Kristin dropped her racquet and ran after him.

31.

Bella's heart was racing. She and Flick were being kidnapped. The unlikely kidnappers were Max and Kristin's coach, Irina Pavlovic, and Veronica Granville, the reporter for the Times whom Max had been briefly dating. They were being forced to exit the stadium to an unknown destination.

"Don't worry, Gram," Flick said. "They won't dare hurt us."

"You seem pretty sure of that, kid," Veronica said.

"My mom's an FBI agent and my dad's a spy and when they catch you, they're going to shoot you dead!" Flick said with relish.

Bella was both astonished and horrified at Flick's announcement. "Flick, don't incite them."

"Incite?" Flick said, focusing on the word she didn't know rather than the warning Bella was trying to give her.

"Don't encourage them," Bella said. "These people are dangerous."

"I see you understand the gravity of the situation," Veronica said.

"The gravity of the situation?" Flick said curiously.

"Do what I say or you die," Veronica hissed into her ear, hurrying them down a hallway that had British soldiers at every entrance back to Centre Court.

Bella couldn't believe what was happening. She would never have guessed when she'd woken up this morning that she would find herself in the middle of an intrigue.

When Flick had returned to her seat after disappearing for a short while, she'd asked if she could tell her grandmother a secret she wasn't supposed to tell anyone. Bella had told her that secrets were best kept to oneself. The girl hadn't been happy, but she'd remained silent.

They'd had room to spread out in the box, because there were so few family members to be seated for this exhibition match and Irina was the only coach. Flick had moved one seat over, then two, then down a row, then up two rows.

Bella finally said, "Flick, come sit here beside me."

"I have to tell someone," Flick said.