“We are going to discuss at length the possibility that you are crazy and what should be done about it,” Caleb answered grimly. “Tomorrow,” he amended with a grin. “After we see what happens when you see your princess again. For now . . .” Caleb shrugged. “I'm 'gonna' shut up and drive.”

“Thanks,” Art said with a grateful smile. “But isn't that more or less what I just said you should do?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Caleb agreed. “But you're under suspicion of being a crazy person; it sounds better coming from me,” he added with a wink. Caleb's eyes darted toward the rear-view mirror. “Hey!” he shouted, sounding happy. “I think that Mustang is coming up behind us again! Do you have a spare set of buck teeth handy?”

Art looked at his brother for a moment, then shook his head. “Just drive, you lunatic,” he sighed. “Just . . . drive!”

*****

Parking at the Atlanta airport wasn't any worse than usual, which wasn't saying much, but it underscored the fact that only a few people knew about Princess Annika's arrival in the country, and even fewer cared about it. Those who did, however, cared about it intensely, and Art wasn't the only one in that category. A handful of press and die-hard “royal watchers” were gathered outside the door the princess was expected to exit the airport from, all being held at bay by a truly impressive amount of security.

Correctly divining that such an observation would be best made quietly in the presence of so many tightly wound men with guns, from the front of the crowd Caleb leaned in close to his brother's ear. “Guess the king remembers how the last time she was in this country somebody tried to kill his daughter, huh, Art?” he whispered.

“Looks that way,” Art answered just as quietly. “There are at least twice as many guards here as there are people to see Annika,” he marveled. “Sort of gives you the impression that her father was against the idea of her coming here, doesn't it?”

“What is she doing here anyway?” Caleb asked.

Page 28

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