“No. If he’s dead, he’s already dead. Otherwise, he takes his chances. You promised.”

  I felt sick. “I did. Did you bring any supplies? I have a first aid kit.”

  “I have a fully equiped medical kit in the car. Some water as well.”

  “You better pray he doesn’t die, and that he’s not already dead.”

  “I did pray. I’m praying now. Now shut up and let me drive.”

  We were headed south. Two hours in this direction would put us past Orléans, solidly in the countryside. Pietro turned off on a road towards Vouzon and down an unmetalled track down to a derelict barn. There were no vehicles in sight, no sign of movement, but I still opened the window and drew my weapon in case of trouble.

  Pietro stopped the car outside the barn, leaving the deadlights on, and I ran to throw open the rickety door. In the light from the car, I saw Etiènne immediately, naked and bloodied, hanging slumped from a rope slung over a rafter, not quite able to kneel in the dust. His back was a mess—he’d been whipped, and worse. I tried to lift him but he groaned pitifully. “Pietro, bring me a knife or something to cut the rope!”

  I moved in front of Etiènne. His tear-streaked face was swollen and heavily bruised. “Etiènne, it’s Paul. You’re safe now.”

  He tried to open his eyes but the lids were too swollen, and his mouth too dry and sticky for him to speak. “Shhh, we’ll get you down, love,” I murmured.

  Pietro ran in, carrying a battery-operated lantern which gave us better light, and used a Stanley knife to saw at the rope where it was anchored. A few seconds later, I was able to lower Etiènne to the ground. I supported him carefully, though there wasn’t an inch of him that wasn’t lacerated or bruised that I could see. “I’ll get a blanket,” Pietro said.

  “Medical kit too. And the water.”

  Etiènne was conscious and in great pain. Whoever had beaten him had added the sadism of not even allowing him to take his weight on his knees when they’d lowered the rope. I wanted to kill them slowly and painfully for that alone. I stroked his hair and did my best to soothe him while I waited for Pietro to bring the supplies, but I couldn’t tell if it was helping or not.

  Etiènne was too badly injured to lay flat so I kept him upright while Pietro draped a blanket around his shoulders. I cleaned his face with a sterile wipe, and offered him some water, which he sipped with difficulty. “We have to get him to a hospital,” I said.

  “No hospitals. No police. You promised.”

  “But he’s hurt.”

  “He’ll live.” I glared at Pietro for his callousness. “I’m serious. I’ve seen this kind of thing before. We take him back to Paris and I’ll get a doctor to your apartment.”

  “And how do we get him into the building in this condition?”

  He looked around. “Your bags are there. You brought clothes. We get him dressed—”

  “It’ll be agony for him!”

  To my shock, Etiènne clutched weakly at my shirt. “No police,” he whispered. “Do as he says.”

  Pietro looked at me. I gritted my teeth. “All right. But for God’s sake, give him a little time.”

  “We can do that. I wish him no harm, Paul. I have morphine in the kit too. I’m qualified to use it.”

  Between us, we had a fair bit of training so I reluctantly agreed. Pietro had a blood pressure kit in the car. Etiènne’s pressure was okay, and he had no sign of a raging infection. We checked his breathing and pulse, but there didn’t seem to be any indication of internal injuries, though the superficial damage was horrific.

  “I want to kill her for this,” I muttered to Pietro.

  “I understand, but you cannot lay a finger on her. I won’t let you, Paul. Concentrate on your man for now.”

  So after we gave Etiènne the morphine, we cleaned him up as best we could, and put dressings over the worst lacerations. Then we dressed him in the loosest clothes he had in his pack. I left off the shoes until we had to put them on at the building.

  The morphine had left him too drowsy to talk, but he seemed more comfortable. We lay the front passenger seat down at an angle, and I made a pillow out of a blanket for him. Then we carried him to the car, belted him in, and laid the other blanket over him. I still wished we could call an ambulance, or at least put heart and oxygen monitors on him. “He’ll be okay,” Pietro said. “I would not risk him if I didn’t believe that.”

  If he wasn’t so set on protecting his precious Margherita, that statement would have meant more to me. But he promised we would stop in an hour to check on Etiènne, and I would watch him as best I could, so we set off. We would arrive in Paris before dawn, so that would give us additional cover to take him into the apartment. While he drove, Pietro called a doctor who knew the di Pasqua family, and gave her the details of Etiènne’s condition. She agreed with Pietro that the prince would be all right for a couple of hours in a car, though she made no promises about after we arrived and she’d seen him.

  “We will pay for a nurse,” Pietro said. “Whatever he needs.”

  “‘We’?”

  “She.”

  “No thanks. I’d rather trust Al Qaeda. I’ll organise a nurse. We have to tell the police he’s been found.”

  “Yes, after the doctor sees him. But you can’t tell them how or where, or by who.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh right. I’m sure they’ll let me get away with that.”

  “Your man will back you up.”

  “Why the hell should he?”

  Pietro looked at me in the rear-view mirror. “You think he wants his name plastered all over the papers, and the reason for the beating? You think his family want that? No, Paolo, this one will be hushed up.”

  “And what about you? Where will you go?”

  He gave me a half-grin. “They’re not the only family in Italy who needs a trained bodyguard, my friend. I have options.”

  “I have contacts, if you want them.”

  “You’ll need them for yourself, no?”

  “I guess I will.” I hadn’t really thought about that too much. I didn’t care either, so long as Etiènne was safe. “But let me know.”

  “I will.”

  We stopped at motorway services near Fresnay-l'Évêque for me to check Etiènne’s condition. Still unconscious but also still stable, according to his blood pressure, so we continued on into the night.

  Pietro called the doctor when we were twenty minutes out, and she was waiting for us as we arrived at Etiènne’s building. We carried him inside, and the doctor had us place him on his bed and undress him. Then she examined him while Pietro brought up the luggage he’d recovered from the barn.

  “Paolo, I can’t stay. I need to get the car back and away from here,” he said once he’d set the bags down.

  “Then go. Thank you, my friend.” I shook his hand.

  “You’re welcome. But please remember your promise.”

  “I will.”

  “Grazie.”

  I let him out and returned to Etiènne’s bedroom. The doctor had attached a IV, hanging the bag from a light near the bed. She drew me out of the room so we could speak. “We’ll need a nurse and other equipment,” she said. “He will require morphine for a couple of days.”

  I found the number of the medical service we used, and gave it to her. “Tell them what you need, and tell them it’s for the Donadieus.”

  She called them and ordered it all. “Will you be here to look after him?” she asked.

  “Of course. How bad is it?”

  “Painful. Not life threatening unless there is an infection which is a definite risk. I'm prescribing antibiotics for that. He needs an x-ray to check his face but there’s so much swelling now, it’s pointless. I don’t think anything else is broken. Has he urinated?”

  “No.”

  “Then there may be blood and that, we’ll need to check out. The nurse will see to it. He can eat what he likes, but it will have to be soft foods. No alcohol or caffeine. Lots of fluids, but otherwise, whatever he feels like.”

  “How long before he’s back to normal?”

  “A couple of weeks at least, more if his cheekbone is fractured. Do you want his own doctor to take over?”

  “Not...yet. Uh...it’s a delicate matter.”

  She made a face. “I guessed as much. So, I’ll check on him every day, and you call me if there is any change. The nurse will be here in an hour. If you are really worried, call an ambulance. Damn discretion.”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  She gave me her card, and I let her out.

  I went back to the bedroom. Etiènne was asleep. The injuries to his face and torso looked even worse now that he’d been cleaned up a bit. I sat by the bed and stroked his hair. After the nurse arrived, I would call the police, and they could contact the family. But for now, it was just him and me. If not for Pietro and his sense of fair play, I could have lost Etiènne, and all because I hadn’t done my job properly. He deserved better from his bodyguard.

  Dawn was breaking as the nurse arrived. She set up a pole for the IV bag, checked Etiènne’s blood pressure and pulse, and generally gave me an impression of competence. She showed no shock at all at his condition, only checking the dressings we’d put on at the barn, and replacing them where needed. She also put an icepack on his face to help with the swelling there. She gave me a list of things to obtain from a pharmacy that morning. I would have to do some shopping too, as the apartment had been emptied of perishables in anticipation of our absence. No housekeeper to help either. Even though I was sacked, I had a lot of work to do that day.

  I gave it three hours for plausibility, then I called the police to tell them that Etiènne had been dumped at the door of the building and someone had buzzed on the intercom to tell me to come and pick him up. Shortly afterwards, two officers turned up to question me about my false story, but as I stuck to the lie, and Etiènne was still asleep but very obviously alive, there wasn’t much they could do about it right then. They said they would call the family. I told the nurse that no one was to speak to the prince but me, even his mother, because the situation was complicated. She gave me a knowing look, and promised to cooperate.

  I knew exactly when Etiènne’s mother received the news because she called me while I was still in the pharmacy. I sent the call to voice mail, and the next three calls went the same way. When she messaged me, I replied that her son would call her later, but that he was sedated at the moment. I ignored her emails while I bought some essential food items in Carrefour.

  When Maria Costello rang while I was in the lift up to the apartment, I answered. “Paul, what the hell is going on? Prince Etiènne’s mother has been screaming at me on the phone.”

  I gave her the same lie I’d told the police. “He’ll speak to her later, Maria. She’s a very tiring woman, and he’s not well.”

  “She says she sacked you.”

  “Yes. But I work for him, and he hasn’t said anything to me yet. He needs someone in the apartment other than the nurse. The doctor ordered it.”

  “I hope you’re not playing some stupid game there, Paul.”

  “No, ma’am. Just protecting my client, who’s not Princess Marie.”

  “She’s not going to be happy.”

  “I know.”

  She exhaled noisily. “Usually people are lot more grateful when they get their children back.”

  “Why do you think I’m keeping her away from him?”

  “I can understand that,” she said, and I heard the smile in her voice. “Keep me informed. I don’t want this bouncing back on the firm.”

  “No, ma’am.”

  The nurse came out to meet me as I walked in the door. “He’s awake and refusing more morphine until he speaks to you.” I handed her the parcels from the pharmacy and went to Etiènne’s room.

  He was now propped up a little. Still looked like hell. “It’s me, sir.” I sat by the bed and he reached out blindly for my hand.

  “Can’t see,” he whispered.

  “I know, it’s the swelling. The doctor says you’ll be fine in a couple of weeks.”

  “Can I dive then?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He slumped on the pillows. “I, uh, lied to the police,” I said. “I said you were dumped here. But I’ll tell them the truth if you want it.”

  “No. No police. It was because of her. Her father...wanted me punished.”

  “Which he had no right to do.”

  His hand tightened a little. “No. But leave it as it is. I’ll handle it.”

  “Your mother is screaming at people.”

  He winced. “Can’t deal with her now.”

  “No, sir. I told her you’d call when you were ready. But the police will want to talk to you as soon as you’re officially awake.”

  “Okay. God, it hurts, Paul. I wanted to be brave but I couldn’t.”

  I reached over and stroked the hair off his forehead. “No one could be in the face of that. I know the truth. She lied to her father. You did nothing wrong, Etiènne.” He squeezed my hand again. “Take the morphine, get more rest. You need it to heal. Are you hungry?”

  “No. But don’t leave?”

  “No, I won’t. I might have to step out to make a couple of calls, but that’s all.”

  “Good.”

  He fell silent. After a minute or two, I realised he had dozed off. The nurse was at the door and I beckoned her over. “You can give him what he needs now.”

  Once she’d injected the morphine into the IV line, Etiènne relaxed even more into true unconsciousness. Once I was sure he was under, I went outside to call the police again, to tell them he’d woken briefly and they could probably speak to him that afternoon or tomorrow. I changed my clothes to something more suitable to sit in by the bed of a sick man, and made coffee for the nurse and myself. With breakfast in hand, I returned to Etiènne’s room, and took up residence in the armchair.

  “I’ll watch him, sir,” the nurse said.

  “No, I made a promise. You don’t have to hang around in here all day. Go have something to eat.”

  “Very well.”

  I wanted to stay awake and watchful, but the reality was that the chair was comfortable, I had been without sleep for over twenty-four hours, and I’d been under tension all that time, so I had to admit to dozing off a few times. But each time, Etiènne was soundly asleep, the only change being where the icepack was on his face, or if it was there at all.

  The nurse woke me several hours later. “He’s awake,” she whispered.

  I reached over for Etiènne’s hand, and found him looking at me through slightly less swollen eyes. “Sir?”

  “Etiènne,” he murmured. “You should go to bed, Paul.”

  “I said I’d stay.”

  “And you did.” He rolled back and looked at the ceiling. “I suppose I need to speak to people. Police or Maman first?”

  “Your mother, I think. I’ll tell the police you’re ready, if you are.”

  “Let’s get it over with. Then you sleep.”

  “Maybe,” I said with a smile. “Do you want something to eat first?”

  “Something light?”

  “I bought soup.”

  “That’ll do. But call my mother and let me speak to her first, please?”

  I tipped my head at the nurse to indicate she should step outside, then I dialled Princess Marie’s number. “Your son for you, your highness.”

  Etiènne was only able to say, “I’m safe and fine, Maman,” before his mother launched into a tirade at him. At one point, he pulled the phone away from his ear and I thought he might actually hang up on her. But something in what she said caught his attention. “No. Absolutely not. He’s staying with me. You don’t pay his salary. No. Maman, I have to go.”

  Then he hung up. “She wants you fired.”

  “I know.”

  “She’s not going to win this one.”

  I took the phone from him. Now was not the time to argue, in his condition. “Soup, then the police?”

  “Thank you, Paul.” He sank back on the pillow, looking worse than before. I wished he’d waited a day before he’d called his mother, but the amount of havoc she might have caused was considerable.

  The police said they would be around immediately. I put on the soup to heat, and suggested to the nurse she go out for a walk and maybe a late lunch if she wanted. I hadn’t yet worked out if she was staying overnight or whether she’d be replaced. There were a lot of things I needed to sort out. Some assistant I was.

  ‘Immediately’ turned out to be half an hour. I let the gendarmes into Etiènne’s room, then stayed at the door. The interview didn’t take long. Apart from telling them he didn’t remember how he came back to the apartment—which may have been true for all I knew, considering his condition—Etiènne said he would not be cooperating with the investigation as it was a private matter. The gendarmes made some noises about his permission not being needed, which technically it wasn’t, but I knew without his help, it would go no further. They left with sour expressions. I didn’t blame them. Several serious crimes had been committed and they wanted to catch the perps. I wanted to catch them too, but my loyalty to Etiènne restrained me.

  But I did ask, as I helped him eat his soup, why the hell he was protecting his former fiancée? “I’m not,” he said. “I’m protecting our family. But I’m not lying down and letting the di Pasquas walk all over me. Just give me a few days, Paul.”

  “Her man found out where you were, and helped me bring you back. I don’t want him hurt.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll hit much higher than that. I won’t let you be hurt either.”

  Whether he’d feel the same when he’d recovered and realised my ‘protection’ had not been worth what he was paying for it, I didn’t know, but I didn’t want him upset over any of that right now.

  The doctor checked him over the next day, and said the drip was no longer needed. Etiènne insisted on the nursing being cancelled with it, and the morphine too as he disliked being on it. He’d make do with over the counter medication. The doctor thought he would be all right, if less comfortable, and agreed, so long as I reported any changes to her.

  With the application of icepacks, his face was less swollen, though the bruising had become much more obvious. The doctor thought there were probably no fractures present, though an x-ray in a few days would prove that. She also suggested a little gentle activity as and when he could manage it, and otherwise, continuing on with the regime we had started until he was back on his feet.