Origin

Despite initial suspicions that Edmond Kirsch’s murder was the work of religious zealots, the discovery of this ultraconservative Francoist symbol suggests the assassination may have political motivations as well. Suspicions that conservative players in the highest reaches of Spanish government, perhaps even within the Royal Palace itself, are now battling for control in the power vacuum left by the king’s absence and imminent death …

“Disgraceful,” Garza snapped, having read enough. “All this speculation from a tattoo? It means nothing. With the exception of Ambra Vidal’s presence at the shooting, this situation has absolutely nothing to do with the politics of the Royal Palace. No comment.”

“Sir,” Martín pressed. “If you would please read the rest of the commentary, you’ll see that they are trying to link Bishop Valdespino directly to Admiral Ávila. They’re suggesting that the bishop may be a secret Francoist who has been whispering in the king’s ear for years, keeping him from making sweeping changes to the country.” She paused. “This allegation is gaining a lot of traction online.”

Once again, Garza found himself at a total loss for words. He no longer recognized the world in which he lived.

Fake news now carries as much weight as real news.

Garza eyed Martín and did his best to speak calmly. “Mónica, this is all a fiction created by blog-writing fantasists for their own amusement. I can assure you that Valdespino is not a Francoist. He has served the king faithfully for decades, and there is no way he is involved with a Francoist assassin. The palace has no comment on any of it. Am I clear?” Garza turned toward the door, eager to get back to the prince and Valdespino.

“Sir, wait!” Martín reached out and grabbed his arm.

Garza halted, staring down in shock at his young employee’s hand.

Martín immediately pulled back. “I’m sorry, sir, but ConspiracyNet also sent us a recording of a telephone conversation that just took place in Budapest.” She blinked nervously behind her thick glasses. “You’re not going to like this either.”

CHAPTER 38

MY BOSS WAS assassinated.

Captain Josh Siegel could feel his hands trembling on the stick as he taxied Edmond Kirsch’s Gulfstream G550 toward the main runway at Bilbao Airport.

I’m in no condition to fly, he thought, knowing his copilot was as rattled as he was.

Siegel had piloted private jets for Edmond Kirsch for many years, and Edmond’s horrifying murder tonight had come as a devastating shock. An hour ago, Siegel and his copilot had been sitting in the airport lounge watching the live feed from the Guggenheim Museum.

“Typical Edmond drama,” Siegel had joked, impressed by his boss’s ability to draw a huge crowd. As he watched Kirsch’s program, he found himself, along with the other viewers in the lounge, leaning forward, his curiosity spiking, until, in a flash, the evening went horribly wrong.

In the aftermath, Siegel and his copilot sat in a daze, watching the television coverage and wondering what they should do next.

Siegel’s phone rang ten minutes later; the caller was Edmond’s personal assistant, Winston. Siegel had never met him, and although the Brit seemed a bit of an odd duck, Siegel had become quite accustomed to coordinating flights with him.

“If you have not seen the television,” Winston said, “you should turn it on.”

“We saw it,” Siegel said. “We’re both devastated.”

“We need you to return the plane to Barcelona,” Winston said, his tone eerily businesslike considering what had just transpired. “Prepare yourselves for takeoff, and I’ll be back in touch shortly. Please do not take off until we speak.”

Siegel had no idea if Winston’s instructions would have aligned with Edmond’s wishes, but at the moment, he was thankful for any kind of guidance.

On orders from Winston, Siegel and his copilot had filed their flight manifest to Barcelona with zero passengers—a “deadhead” flight, as it was regrettably known in the business—and then had pushed back out of the hangar and begun their preflight checklist.

Thirty minutes passed before Winston called back. “Are you prepped for takeoff?”

“We are.”

“Good. I assume you’ll be using the usual eastbound runway?”

“That’s right.” Siegel at times found Winston painfully thorough and unnervingly well informed.

“Please contact the tower and request clearance to take off. Taxi out to the far end of the airfield, but do not pull onto the runway.”

“I should stop on the access road?”

“Yes, just for a minute. Please alert me when you get there.”

Siegel and his copilot looked at each other in surprise. Winston’s request made no sense at all.

The tower might have something to say about that.