“Shhhh,” she said to the camera man at her side, then patted his arm while she waited for Grace to answer.
“I’m on my way—how’s the shoot going?” Grace’s voice bubbled with the expectation of good news.
“I hate to burst your bubble, but we’re in a world of trouble.” She moved away from the crowd of people who picked things up while glancing out the windows warily. A couple of people had packed their bags and headed for the door. “The terrorist somehow found me and busted the place up. Luckily Chauncey got here…”
“What? Who?” Grace didn’t shriek, so Sophia was sure she wasn’t alone.
“You know—the Scotland Yard Exchange guy—Chauncey Miller, a.k.a. hunky hot shot.”
“Of course. So you’re okay,” Grace whispered now.
“Yes, and you’re going to have to tell David—Chauncey’s orders.” Sort of.
“His orders? To you. Here’s David now. I’ll give him the phone. You can tell him all about it firsthand.” Grace was gone and now Sophia was really doomed.
“David here. Pixie? Where are you?”
“At the shoot for my design special. Look, Azzam showed up and Chauncey ran after him. He said to call you.” Sophia finished. There was no sound on the other end. “Okay. Gotta go.” She pressed the end button and then shut the phone down. She didn’t want to hear from anyone right now. At least not the Scotland Yard Exchange blokes.
When she heard another commotion at the door, Sophia turned in time to see Joe the driver and bodyguard barge in. He looked around, saw her, and headed straight over. Several uniforms followed him.
“Where’s Miller?” He looked serious.
Sophia shuddered. “He ran after the…the terrorist,” her voice squeaked. She started to realize he might be in danger and he’d saved her. For real. Joe took her by the arms.
“You okay? I’ve been tasked with assisting Miller if possible and secondarily getting you back to the house. How long ago did they run off?”
“About five minutes. But if we take your car, we might be able…”
“There is no we. They’ve got too big a head start. We’ll have to trust that Mill—Chauncey can take care of himself and that he can get himself back to the house. You and I are leaving now.” He took her arm and turned.
“Wait. Let me talk to the director first.” She yanked her arm back from him. Geesh, these law enforcement types were pushy and grabby. Her attempt at getting control of her life back wasn’t working out, but she walked over to the director now. He was on the phone, but he hung up when he saw her.
“Any chance of rescheduling this?”
“Why? We’ve got some great footage with a whole new angle for the show. Spy decorator under attack. I can see it now. You have another life you forgot to mention? What are you—undercover? CIA?” He waited for her response while the room took on the look of a TV crime show with chalk marks, yellow tape, uniforms dusting for prints on the door, and cameras still rolling.
“Very funny. I’m just as stunned by events as you are. It’ll only take me a day to clean up after the cops—I mean police—are finished.” She was determined to stay on track, to keep normal.
“You’re a real redheaded pip, aren’t you?” He looked her up and down, wiped the sweat from his upper lip and said, “I’ll talk to the producer. Call me in a week.”
A cop approached them. “Sir, we’re going to need a copy of all the footage you shot here today.”
“Sure, no sweat. Give me your e-mail address and I’ll send it to you.”
Sophia contemplated the wonders of modern technology when she heard a familiar voice at the door. She turned and saw David Young walk in. He must have teleported himself—either that or he’d been on the way, not too far from here, when they’d talked.
“Well, I see we have everything under control,” he said to her and the police officer. He nodded to Joe, who came over and joined them in the dining area of the open space.
“Yes, sir. They have a video that may include some helpful footage. They were filming some kind of design show when Azzam barged in. We’re hoping they caught him on tape. They’ll e-mail it to us.”
David raised his brows at that. “I’m afraid that to preserve the chain of evidence and to ensure authenticity, we’ll have to take your camera with us. We’ll return it promptly once we take a copy of the footage.” David finished with a smile.
She wasn’t sure if it was his British accent or his cool unequivocal charm that got him a free pass, but the director had no problem with that.
“Can I ask what this is all about?” the director said. “No one here has been able to shed light on what exactly is going on.” The man looked at her pointedly. “Who was that madman? And who was that crazy guy that ran after him?”
“We’re still investigating the matter, sir. But if we find at some future point in time that you have a need to know, we’ll tell you.” David looked at her. “Ready?”
“Born a redhead.”
He cracked a smile. So did Joe. Joe took her arm again, but this time he gently guided her in the direction of the door.
“You drive with Joe. I have some things to do yet.”
“Like what?” She was in a mood.
“Like find our man,” David said, raising an eyebrow.
She shut up and got in the car with Joe. She couldn’t help feeling like a child being brought to the headmaster’s office. And still waiting for the boom to be lowered. But what could he do, really?
On the drive back to the governor’s mansion Joe was quiet, but she could tell he was judging her—and not well.
“Why am I still staying at the governor’s mansion? Don’t they have any real safe houses in this city? Or better yet, why not let me go home to my quiet neighborhood?”
“Actually, the governor has taken a special interest in this case and insists that you and our man Miller stay until the case is resolved.”
“Really? He’s not my man. And exactly when do you expect the case to be resolved? Nothing against the governor and Mrs. Governor, but I have a life that I’d like to return to.”
“We’re working on a plan. Worst case scenario is our man Chauncey will return to London and draw Azzam out of the States after him to be dealt with in some kind of trap set by the Yard’s Counterterrorism Command.”
“Why do we keep referring to Chauncey as ‘our man’?”
“I think it’s a British thing.”
“I like you, Joe. You’re real for a cop.”
“Thanks. You’re not very real, but you’re swell for a redhead.”
“I never lived the life of a redhead before I met Chauncey.”
“And is that good or bad?” Joe turned to her as he pulled up the now familiar drive of the governor’s mansion and its shiny new facade of granite.
“Million-dollar question.” She shrugged even though she felt a flip in her chest. She was pretty sure it wasn’t a heart attack and kept herself from lifting her hand to calm the flutter. She let herself out of the car. At the headmaster’s office at last. She wondered who would be here to greet her or, more likely, to bawl her out. She hoped Grace would be here, but there was no reason she should be. She felt lost without Chauncey at her side. Very out of sorts. She was even more out of her element than she’d been with him there. She might even be getting used to him.
But that was crazy since she’d only known him two days. Although he had saved her life at least twice in that time and that kind of thing can grow on a girl.
Joe escorted her inside.
Once through the door, the first thing she saw was Chauncey.
“It’s you!” She couldn’t help the smile, but she immediately withdrew it.
He looked at her and then his eyes shifted to Joe. That’s when she felt Joe remove the hand from behind her back. She hadn’t even realized it was there. No zing from Joe’s touch. Never was with the nice ones. She was destined to zing in on the difficult ones, the tough ones, and sometimes even the b
ad ones.
She lifted her chin in Chauncey’s direction. “Well? How did you get here before us? Last time I saw you, you were running madly out the door into the unknown streets after a guy who was likely to turn on you and blow your head off.” She folded her arms for good measure as he met them in the middle of the rotunda-like entry hall. Was it her imagination, or was it getting crowded in here? And warm too.
He’d been watching her with his mysterious smile, the one that hid untold thoughts. Then he looked at Joe and spoke.
“He vanished. He had a car and help. Either a local cell or he brought someone with him. No time for him to recruit someone new.” He clipped out the words.
“Unless he found an unwitting accomplice. I understand he’s well funded. A person can buy all kinds of help,” Joe said, then he stepped aside and moved toward the study where they’d all rendezvoused the night before. “The governor will want a report.”
“David mentioned that.” Chauncey looked down at her and winked. “I hitched a ride with a policeman.”
He answered her question as if he knew it was stewing in her mind. Of course it was. Then he said, “I can’t wait to see the film. This way to the showing.” He put his arm to her back and showed her into the viewing room. She half expected the audience to be assembled and all waiting for little old her at last to arrive. But when they walked in, no one else was there.
Her knees wobbled as she walked toward the chair nearest the decanter. Where was Joe with the drinks when she needed one?
Chauncey looked like he was going to say something momentous to her—although it could have been her imagination. But David arrived with the camera and some tech guys from the Boston Police Department and they set up a showing of the newly minted and uncut film of her special design segment. She was more nervous now than she’d been when Azzam crashed in for real. They fast-forwarded through her walk-around and she looked like an elf on speed with a Minnie Mouse voice. The moment she looked up and away from the camera, shock registering on her face, Chauncey spoke up.
“Stop it here, this is where he enters. Now move ahead, slowly,” Chauncey instructed the techie running the equipment.
The rest of the events played out slowly on camera, beginning with the camera shaking and then swinging around in a dizzying way to catch the black-clad man streaking past and toward her. The scene clearly showed him raising his gun in her direction, but the angle wasn’t wide enough to catch her reaction. The shouts and screams and crashing sounds rendered the scene difficult to follow even in slow motion, but then Chauncey appeared. The camera swung back around away from the terrorist to catch him. As Chauncey watched this he groaned.
“Dog’s bollocks—we missed a clear angle on him,” he pounded his fist.
They heard her scream on the film and the camera swung back to catch the retreating form of Azzam.
“Well, we got a clear shot of his weapon, a partial of his face…” David said.
“And we know he’s ambidextrous,” Chauncey said. “He’s shooting with his left hand here. When he attacked us yesterday in Charlestown he was using his right hand.”
“Good catch. An ambidextrous terrorist. What luck—how many could there be?” she said.
“Only one. We’ll use this film and my descriptions to do a more lifelike picture of him for a bolo,” he said to David.
“I’ll get you a techie right away to work with you. We can Photoshop something that’ll work. How long do you think he’ll stick around with heat on him?”
“Until his job is done or we get him,” Chauncey said.
“Sounds ominous,” the governor said as he closed the door behind him and took a seat at the back. They all turned around.
“Sounds like we need a plan to set a trap,” Chauncey said.
“My specialty,” the governor said with a smile of relish.
“Great.” David didn’t sound enthused.
“Excuse me, do I need to be here for the plot-hatching portion of the program? Can I go now?” Sophia stood and didn’t know who exactly to look at for permission. She normally thought of David as the boss in police matters, but the governor clearly outranked him. Even so, her sentimental pick for the man to give her orders would be their man Chauncey, the one at the bottom of all this.
“You’re still under my protection and since you ran off this morning, I’m not so sure I should let you out of my sight. You saw for yourself that you are a target now—as much as I am. He’ll take you to get at me. It’s clear. So you go where I go. And you stay where I stay.” His eyes were like steel. His words like law. If there was a sea around somewhere, it would have parted.
She sat back down. David did his suppressed grin. The governor looked at her with an amused, yet polite smile. Joe didn’t look at her at all. He watched Chauncey. Who was watching her.
This was going to be a very boring afternoon.
“I’ll call and have some dinner sent in for us,” the governor said.
“But what if it doesn’t work?” she asked.
“We’ll come up with another plan,” David said.
“I’ll return to London for real,” Chauncey said.
“And leave me here like a sitting duck?” She popped out of her seat with her indignance leading her. How could he?
Chauncey looked at David, who spoke up. “We’ll protect you, Pixie.” He looked at her with his kindest smile and said, “You can stay with me and Grace for a while.”
“No! Never!” That’s all she needed was to be the third wheel in that household. She’d be suicidal within minutes. “Take me with you,” she suggested rather strongly.
That got an eyebrow raise from every gentleman in the room, except Joe. He looked resigned. To what, she wasn’t sure.
Chauncey said, “The point is to draw Azzam away from the States and away from you. Then set a trap for him back in London where he belongs. We know how serious he is. And that his organization is willing to throw some assets at his mission.”
“What mission?” she asked.
“To eliminate me.”
“Eliminate? You mean to kill you? That’s his mission? I thought he was out for personal revenge.”
“Same thing. But now it’s become clear there’s more to it,” David said.
“If we can trap him here, I’d just as soon be in on it. It would be a hell of a boon,” the governor said, not bothering to disguise his political interest as well as his law enforcement interest. His eyes gleamed. “I say we continue with our plan to have our event tonight.”
“Another event?” Chauncey said at the very same moment she thought it.
“Welcome to life in the governor’s mansion. This event was supposed to be an informal cocktail party with a few supporters and some media, but we’ll repurpose it to be your official introduction to the community and expand the media invitations. We can have the police chief mention that the new Scotland Yard detective will be the guest of honor. David, we can have you make an official announcement that you’re expanding the Exchange Program and you have a new arrival who will be part of the state’s intra-agency task force on antiterrorism. Put a picture of him out there, or better yet, have him meet the press this afternoon at HQ at an informal press conference.”
“Chauncey will attend our regular Friday afternoon press conference,” David said. “The chief has a regular meet and greet with the media to talk about statistics and ongoing cases. Part of our cooperative venture—we give them something to feed their 24/7 coverage and they help us out with announcements and occasionally withholding or delaying the dissemination of information,” he explained.
“We’re sticking with my real name, Chauncey Miller?” Chauncey asked.
“Yes. Azzam already has a handle on it,” David said with a questioning look.
“My family—my father doesn’t know. I’d like to get a message to him.”
“Isn’t he inside the Scotland Yard hierarchy?” the governor asked.
“Yes. He’s currently
Deputy Commissioner. Soon to retire—he’s need-to-know only.”
“Didn’t we say there was a possibility of a leak?” Joe said.
“Exactly. While we’re flushing out Azzam over here, we’ll use my father to flush the leak out in London. We give him a new false code, feed him some fake info, have him spread it around to select people and see if Azzam acts on it.”
“Like what?” asked David.
“I’m working on that.”
This is where Sophia perked up in the conversation that she’d sort of been following.
“Who needs a code name? What’s wrong with Miller? Chauncey Miller,” she said in her best Bond imitation. If she was in this game as a target, she may as well play. If she had to admit it to herself, she felt a little thrill as they all looked at her with amused, yet serious expressions as if considering her suggestion. Chauncey in particular examined her with an up and down that gave her heartbeat an extra kick as if he had a wire linked directly to it.
“I’ll keep the notion in mind. You do give the name panache,” Chauncey said, turning back to the others.
It was getting harder and harder for her to tell who was in charge of this operation. Sometimes the governor acted like he was. David was the man who should be, but their man Chauncey had his butt on the line, so they often deferred to him. David nodded. The governor smiled at her.
“Are you sure you’re not an undercover agent in the spy business, young lady?” the governor asked her.
“No, I’m not—sure that is,” she admitted.
“And what’s your code name?” Governor Douglas teased her.
“Pixie,” Chauncey answered him. He laughed his deep British spy chuckle. Very unruffled, and very him. She squinted her eyes at him. He remained undaunted, as usual. She was thinking she wouldn’t get very far as a spy if she couldn’t even daunt her man when he stood and put a hand on her shoulder.
He turned to the governor. “Sophia is far from a Bond girl in spite of her quick response this morning. She is to be left out of any and all plans for a trap. Are we clear?”
“Of course.” David gave her a look. Maybe it was concern. “I’m sure we can find a suitable substitute. We’ll have a stand-in ready for the press conference. I suggest you prepare yourself as well. Change up your appearance a bit to make it look legit.”
The Scotland Yard Exchange Series Page 74
