Princess Bodyguard

by Sophie Thompson

  Callum looked at his men and shrugged his shoulders. Being called into the colonel's office usually meant they would be heading out to their next assignment before the sun set. Callum hoped he would have time to grab a meal and a shower before they needed to leave. Teasing his nostrils with one last whiff of whatever was being served, Callum handed Sam his gear and followed the private to the colonel's tent.

  When he walked into the office, Callum was surprised to see a tall man with salt and pepper hair instead of the colonel behind the desk. The man had his back to the door, but Callum did not need to see his face to know who he was. The great Andrew Edward.

  "Thank you, Private," Callum said.

  Edward waited until the door closed behind the young soldier before he turned and spoke to Callum.

  "I hear your mission went well."

  Callum assumed that Edward knew about their mission to take out a senior terrorist financier. As the Deputy National Security Adviser for Operations or as Callum liked to think of him 'the guy who did the president's dirty work,' Edward probably organized the op in the first place.

  "You look awful, Mac." Edward spoke casually as he took a seat in the colonel's chair.

  Callum didn't argue. "I'm guessing this isn't a social call."

  Edward had the authority to call up any military or government asset he needed whenever he needed it. It had been a while since Edward had come calling for Callum and his team, which was just fine with Callum. He hated the clandestine missions of Edward's world where people were friends one day and enemies the next. But, Callum owed Edward. He had been there to pick-up the pieces after Callum came home from Honduras. Without Edward, Callum would be a forgotten statistic by now.

  "You're going to want in on this one, Callum."

  Callum took a seat across the desk from Edward. "Andrew, I'll be honest. My team's beat. Isn't there someone else you can get?"

  Callum knew he could be ready in a few hours if he needed to be, but he would not ask his team to keep the grueling pace he set for himself.

  Edward spoke in a firm, unemotional voice although his eyes conveyed sympathy. "It's about Elizabeth."

  Callum felt the air rush out of his lungs as if someone had sucker punched him in the stomach.

  Edward remained silent. He would understand that Callum needed a moment to recover.

  When Callum finally answered, his voice was rough with fatigue and emotion. "I'm not your man. Get someone else."

  "Mac, this is big and she's right in the middle of it. You know I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it was important."

  Callum crossed his arms and sat back against the chair. "I doubt that."

  "Argent. Ever hear of it?" Edward asked.

  "Sure," Callum answered, "A Cold War fairy tale. Don't tell me you want me to go chasing ghosts for you."

  "This is no ghost, Mac. I've seen it. The Cold War project the Soviets ran in the 1980s where they tried to genetically alter and combine viruses to make them more lethal is very much back in business. An autopsy on a man murdered in Switzerland uncovered a complex blend of ricin and botulism toxin. A recipe our analysts found in decoded Argent documents."

  "And?" Callum was too tired for riddles.

  "And last week we learned that there are six vials of the deadly mixture about to hit the open market."

  Callum could hear the stress in Edward's voice.

  "Andrew, you have an army of super-spooks that live for this stuff. Send them. They're the experts. I'm just a knuckle-dragger who goes in to clean-up their mess once in a while."

  Edward's expression changed. "We found a link, Mac. A link I vetted three times myself before I even considered it credible."

  "A link to what, Andrew?"

  "A link between a known associate of the Argent program and Elizabeth."

  "That's ridiculous."

  "Are you familiar with AP?" Edward asked.

  "Sure. Altyn Poltinnik. A Russian organized crime syndicate made up of a bunch of former Russian Spetsnaz soldiers. Into stuff like prostitution, night clubs, drugs."

  "They're into anything that makes money. A lot of it. And the deal of the day is . . ."

  "Genetically altered bio-weapons," Callum guessed.

  "Bingo."

  "What does this have to do with the Princess?" Callum wished he did not care, but he did.

  "Two weeks ago we picked up a series of text messages between AP and someone who supposedly has access to a small stockpile of the Argent virus. The seller needs someone to set-up an auction. Highest bidder wins the vials."

  Callum let out a low whistle. "How does Elizabeth fit into all of this?"

  Edward leaned back in his chair. His intense dark eyes assessed Callum as he spoke.

  "The text message to AP was traced back to the Princess' personal cell phone. We have logged four contacts between the known AP number and her cell phone in the past month."

  "What!?" Callum sprung from his chair. "Elizabeth isn't bartering in bio-weapons, Andrew."

  "I know it seems out of character, but, let's face it, her country is still having some financial difficulties. The money would stabilize the political situation, making the monarchy look good . . ."

  "You're insane."

  "She's building an infectious disease wing in their hospital. It's her pet project. She graduated from Oxford with honors in bioscience. Hell, she spent time in Honduras working with a doctor who specialized in genetically modified treatments for malaria."

  Callum looked at Edward as if he had sprouted two heads.

  "I'm not saying she wants to use them, but personal emotions aside, Mac, even you must see the possible connection. She has the background. Not to mention serious trauma in her life. Who knows what sends people over the edge? All she needs is for someone to set up the sale."

  "It's bullshit and you know it." Callum felt every protective bone in his body go on alert. There was no way Elizabeth was mixed up in this.

  Edward continued, "The body that was full of Argent was General Phillips, a senior general in the Conwyn army. He told one of our agents that a member of the royal family was storing Cold War bioweapons."

  "Did he mention the Princess?" Callum held his breath.

  "No. He never mentioned the Princess." Edward raised his hand. "But before you run off claiming her innocence, the General claimed to know more, but he was killed before we could meet him again."

  "We are doing what we can to bury the truth. The last thing we want is for the public to go into a panic before we can get the vials. But time is not on our side. We need to recover the vials and close down this program before it gets out of control."

  Callum ran his hands through his hair. "If they are already using the stuff on humans, I would say it's already out of the control."

  Edward gave a brief nod of his head in agreement. Frustrated, Callum turned away from Edward and stared out the window again. All he saw was the way Elizabeth looked running after him in her bare feet. Her eyes begged for answers he could not give.

  "Andrew, send someone else."

  "Mac, you're the only one who can get close enough to her in the short amount of time we have. Our analysts think the sale might happen as soon as this Sunday. That gives us four days."

  "No. No way. I'm not going to lie to her again. National security sucks as an excuse when you break someone's heart."

  Edward rose from the chair. "All you need to do is get close to her and figure out what the hell is going on. We need those vials and Argent shut down."

  Edward moved to stand next to Callum. Minutes passed until Edward's quiet voice broke the silence. "If I had to make a call right now, I would say she is innocent and being used. But, whoever is using her is close to her. Too close. She needs you, Mac. I wouldn't ask if there was any other way."

  Callum hated his friend at that moment, but he knew he was right. Someone had access to Elizabeth's cell phone, which meant they had access to Elizabeth.

  Callum stood and turned to Edward. "
I want my team."

  Edward nodded his head in agreement.

  "And I call the shots. No advice from DC unless I ask for it."

  "Of course. You'll be undercover as part of a delegation who is finalizing plans for a small US base to be opened in the south. The agreement has been finalized. It just needs to be officially signed by the king and ratified by Parliament. There is a group traveling to Windsor today for the final meeting, ceremony, and ball. The conference begins tomorrow with most of the meeting and activities taking place at the palace. It should give you the access you need." Callum was not surprised that Edward had already set the plan into motion.

  "There's something else you should know." Edward looked uncomfortable with what he was about to say.

  "What? Just say it."

  "You should know there are rumors that Elizabeth is about to announce her engagement. The local press and European tabloids are all over it."

  Wow. Married. The logical side of his brain was happy she found someone. She deserved happiness and he sure as hell could not give it to her. But the caveman side of his brain wanted to use the guy for hand-to-hand combat practice.

  He took a deep breath and forced back the pain that threatened to tear him in two. He gave up any right he had to feel anything when he let her plane take off without him. But regret would get him nowhere. Callum took one more second to lock his emotions deep inside of himself. He needed to focus on the mission. Do what he was trained to do.

  "When do we leave?"

  "As soon as you and the team are ready." Edward walked over and met Callum at the door. "Listen, Mac, if this gets too hard, just let me know. This is too important for emotions."

  If Elizabeth possessed even a fraction of the power she held over him in Honduras, keeping his feelings for her in control would be impossible, but he had to make an attempt. Whether or not she knew it, Elizabeth was mixed up in Argent and she needed him. He had to help her. Callum looked back at Edward and nodded his head in understanding then headed to gather up his team.

  Chapter 2

  Elizabeth Astoria, Her Royal Highness, Princess of Windsor, watched as Watson closed his cell phone and put it back in his suit jacket pocket. It was rare that he would take a call in the middle of a photo shoot, so Elizabeth knew it must be important.

  "Do you need to go?" Elizabeth leaned over to him and asked in a whispered tone she had mastered during her four years in the public spotlight.

  Watson Winfield was not only her steady companion, but also the royal liaison to the Conwyn Defense Ministry. So, it was not a stretch of Elizabeth's imagination to guess that he might have a few more important things to do than accompany her to the reopening of the Conwyn National Library.

  Watson turned and took her hands in his as a cacophony of clicking camera shutters and popping flashes created a surreal effect on the ancient leather bound books that surrounded them. Elizabeth groaned inwardly knowing that this seemingly intimate scene was sure to make the Internet within the hour, which would inevitably lead to more questions and then more pictures in a never-ending spiral of paparazzi perdition.

  Over the past four years, interest in their relationship by European tabloids was usually kept at a manageable simmer, but when rumors of a possible engagement announcement leaked out of the palace last week, the simmer quickly turned into a rapid boil turning the usually docile press corps into a pack of vultures circling a fresh kill.

  Dealing with the press was a necessary evil as an HRH - her royal highness. Although Elizabeth's presence on the European royal stage was minor compared to the princes and princesses of Britain and Monaco, the unique and tragic story of her family's assent to the throne still captured the hearts of most of the western world.

  As the Princess and second in line to the throne, Elizabeth had grown into the role of professional princess after a difficult adjustment period. To some her job might look like nothing more than a professional ribbon cutter and parade waver, but she knew that her position meant more than that. She had learned how to read people, understand their needs and wants and the difference between the two. Elizabeth was skilled at gauging the atmosphere of a room and adjusting her demeanor and speech as needed. She was a diplomat, psychologist, social worker, teacher, and fashion model all at once. Not quite how the fairytales described the job requirements, but she adjusted.

  Elizabeth also understood that one of her most critical duties was to marry and have children. It was not the dark ages anymore, but the responsibly of birthing the next generation of royals was something that time would never change. And, if marriage to Watson further ingratiated her family to the Conwyn people, then all the better.

  Although there was no question that her family's claim to the throne was legitimate, the Conwyn people, especially those in the northern territory, had questioned if her father was fit to rule since he had spent the majority of his life in England. It was a valid question. Elizabeth and Stefan had only visited Windsor once a year for the holidays, and even then spent the majority of their time inside the palace walls. She did not know the people and they did not know her.

  During her first year in Windsor, Elizabeth had felt like a fish out of water. She had to learn the customs and traditions of the various groups and tribes that made up her country. The press had weeks upon weeks of stories and pictures of Elizabeth mispronouncing words and fumbling during situations that should have been second nature to her if she was a true Conwyn.

  Eventually, she found a way to put her past hopes and dreams - and pain - behind her, and embrace her new life. Once she opened her heart, Elizabeth soon became the darling of the people. They were fascinated with everything she wore, everything she ate, everything she said, and, of course, everyone she dated. Although there had been a few men here and there that escorted her to events, Elizabeth's heart was too battered and bruised to let anyone past the walls she had built. Until Watson.

  Watson had been a constant in her life from the moment she and her family settled in the palace. Where her family where outsiders, Watson was a constant and true Conwyn. He came from a long and distinguished line of prominent Conwyn citizens, to include former prime ministers and important generals. During his four years at the Conwyn military academy, Watson roomed with Elizabeth's cousin, Prince Henry, and the two of them soon became the most desired bachelors of Windsor.

  After the tragedy, Watson played an invaluable role in bringing her father up to speed with matters of state and defense. Watson went out of his way to smooth over relationships with key members of Parliament and industry leaders. Soon his assistance migrated into more personal aspects of the royal family's life. Watson would take Elizabeth and Stefan to town festivals, restaurant openings, and even once to the birth of a prize pig. He introduced them to everyone he knew. Being seen with him was the stamp of approval the country had been looking for.

  Stefan eventually became comfortable in his role as prince, enjoying both the work and the women that seemed to come with the job. Elizabeth's brother soon became known as one of the most sought after bachelors in Europe leaving Elizabeth and Watson on their own. Over the next year and a half, Elizabeth and Watson established a unique friendship that soon grew into more.

  Elizabeth had heat and passion with Callum. She never wanted anything like that again. Passion was overrated as far as she was concerned. All she wanted and needed was a nice man who she could respect and love. Someone who appreciated her and her duties to the country. And she was sure Watson was that man.

  Elizabeth looked up into his handsome face framed by soft brown curls and highlighted by sparkling green eyes as he gently rubbed her knuckles with his thumbs. There was no doubt that he was typecast for the role of Prince Charming. What more could a woman want? Certainly not the hulking, dark hair, quiet type that disappeared to never been seen of again. No woman needed that type of man in her life. Ever.

  "I need to head back to the Ministry. General Phillips's body just arrived at the airport on a plane back
from Switzerland and I need to finalize the details of the ceremony and burial," Watson said.

  "Yes, of course. You should have told me earlier. I could have made your excuses here." She shook her head. "I still can't believe what happened. Do you have any more information on how he died?"

  Elizabeth had met the general on a number of occasions and could not believe that the kind man had come to such a violent end.

  "It still looks like a heart attack while he was walking along the river, but I understand the final autopsy reports should be sent tomorrow. People said he had not been feeling earlier that day," Watson said.

  Watson tucked Elizabeth's hand in the crook of his elbow and led her out of the library and in to the grand hall with its twenty-foot painted ceilings held up by stone buttresses that were carved when Catherine the Great reigned. They passed through a set massive wooden doors that led outside where her bodyguard, Victor, and personal secretary, Maya, waited patiently for her.

  "You will let me know what the reports say?" Elizabeth asked as they reached her stretch sedan.

  "When we know more, I will tell you," Watson promised.

  Ian, Elizabeth's driver opened the car door as a signal that it was time to leave. They were on a tight schedule and needed to be at the meeting with the Americans within the hour. That was just enough time for her to make the drive across the city and finish some key correspondence in the car.

  "I'll see you tonight for the ballet with the Americans." Watson leaned over and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek then assisted her into the car. "You look beautiful, by the way," he told her as he stepped back and shut the car door.

  Elizabeth smiled at his compliment. She watched as he gave one last wave and walked toward his own car followed by a small entourage. Maya and Victor took their designated seats in the car. Maya in the back with Elizabeth and Victor up front with the driver.

  "He is so beautiful. I really have no idea why you act like it is a national tragedy that you are going to marry him," Maya said as the car pulled away from the curb.