The Scotland Yard Exchange Series

by Stephanie Queen

  Chauncey stopped reaching for the car door and turned to the man.

  “Are you sure Oscar can handle Pixie? She’s a resourceful woman and I can’t imagine she’s going to want to stay here while Azzam may return…”

  “She’s not. Oscar and you will take her back to HQ with you. We already decided on that before you got here. There’s a greater chance he’ll come back for her at this house than to HQ. So we’ll make sure she’s not here. But we’ll also make sure Azzam thinks she is here. We’ll have Mary tell him when he calls in.” He hoped to hell the man called. And soon.

  “What?” Mary said. “I thought I was going to tell him she’s at HQ?”

  “That was for Pixie’s benefit. We’ll set up a decoy here. I didn’t want Pixie to know we were setting up another police officer—she’d never go for it.”

  David nodded his head. “Quite. I found someone the right size. We’ll throw a red bobbed wig on him and get Pixie out right away. In fact I found the short young man who’s perfect for the part at HQ just this morning.”

  “I know him. Arnold. He’ll be perfect,” Mary said.

  “A man? To play my Pixie?”

  “He’s very small and plays women all the time undercover.”

  She was back to professional detective form now and Chauncey felt some relief.

  “Too bad you couldn’t have behaved in this way and trusted the brass at HQ or my father from the beginning,” he told her. “He’d have worked with you, you know.”

  She bowed her head and muttered, “Let’s get on with it.”

  “I envy your way with women, Miller, I really do. You’ll never be henpecked.” David said, but he had a twinkle in his eye when he said it.

  Chauncey gave him a squinty frown and got in the driver’s side of the car—thankfully he was back to driving in the right seat like civilized people. “I’ll call you when I find them all—one way or another.”

  Back inside the house, Sophia paced the floor, peering out of the curtains every time she could scramble toward the window and before Oscar could drag her back.

  “What am I, babysitting a little kid? Stay away from the window before someone drives by and shoots you,” he said to her after the third attempt.

  But this time she’d seen some cars drive up and it looked like David was one of the men who got out of the car and disappeared toward the side of the house where she couldn’t see. There was a knock at the door and Oscar proceeded with caution, his gun raised into the hallway.

  “It’s just the cops from Scotland Yard that Chauncey summoned. Don’t shoot them, for Pete’s sake,” she said.

  He gave her a look over his shoulder as she followed him toward the door.

  No fewer than five men and one woman entered the house. A short woman with a red bob who carried a bag smiled at her as she walked by. Her stomach dropped and her suspicion rose. Chauncey couldn’t have decided to set up another woman cop to parade as her double, could he? That would be too much, too horrible to contemplate.

  “Hey you.” She turned and strode after the woman, but she walked fast and…well…like a man. That stopped her in her tracks. “Too much. This is too much. They have a man playing my part. They’ll never get away with it.”

  “That’s the idea,” David said.

  She spun around and the well of emotions at seeing the familiar face brought her running toward him. Until that moment she’d had no idea how homesick she’d been. She had a flash of Dorothy on the yellow brick road again. Maybe David was the powerful Oz. He took her in and gave her a dignified hug before she pulled herself together and stepped away. He inspected her with his steady gaze before he spoke.

  “Don’t worry, Pixie, we’ll get you out of this in one piece.” He gave her a grave smile.

  She opened her mouth and he quickly added, “And Chauncey too. But I believe he’ll get himself out of this mess along with his father, Mauve, and the child as well.”

  “When you put it that way,” she gulped, “I’m more worried than ever. He’s got a lot of weight on those shoulders and I want to take some of it off, not add to his problems.”

  “That’s why we’ve got you in hand. We’re taking you back to HQ now.” He nodded at someone over her shoulder and she turned to see Oscar with his usual confident king-of-the-world smile.

  “If anyone, I’m the one that’s got him into at least half the mess he’s in since they grabbed his father and poor Mauve on my watch—and you don’t see me worried about it. Your man Chauncey is up to the challenge.”

  “Up to it? You mean he relishes it, don’t you?” she said, realizing the truth of it and shivered. She didn’t fully understand the implication, but she felt the dark cold aspect of it at the corners of her mind and refused to contemplate it further. Forget Dorothy and Oz, she needed to channel Scarlett O’Hara right now and save all this fretting for another day. Some day when she was up to it. Never.

  But that thought caused the bottom to fall out of her stomach so she clutched Oscar’s arm.

  “He really will be all right, won’t he?”

  “Fretting needlessly again, I see. Just like a girl.” He gave her a half smile, half grimace and she swatted his arm.

  “Of course he’ll be fine.” David jumped in after furrowing his brow at Oscar, which for David was the equivalent of a terrible expletive. He took her arm and escorted her back toward the door.

  “We’re going to leave these premises to the fine squad in charge and take you back to HQ right away.” David checked his watch. “I expect to hear from Chauncey soon and we’ll be there in a flash to back him up if he finds Azzam. So don’t worry anymore. Chauncey is smart and capable and we’ve got his back.”

  She let David take her back out the door, but she had no intention of leaving with him. Luckily when they got to the curb, he got a call. She held her breath. He flashed her a look answering her unasked question. It was her man Chauncey.

  The blood pounding through her veins drained her head. She felt dizzy.

  “I need to go—Oscar you take her,” was all she heard David say before he rushed to his car and whistled for another man to join him.

  “Looks like I’ll have to round us up another ride.”

  “I need to go back inside and sit down while you do that,” she said, but her voice sounded shaky. What did this mean? Why was Chauncey calling? Had he found Azzam and needed backup so soon?

  “I’ll walk you back so you don’t fall. You don’t look very well, Pixie,” Oscar said. All the prior playfulness and joking was gone from his voice. “But we’ll need to find a car and driver right away to get you back to HQ. Your man Chauncey will kill me if Azzam gets here before we get you out—and if Azzam doesn’t kill me first.”

  She nodded, registering his words while the cloud of fear her brain seemed to be immersed in quickly lifted. “Azzam would be here by now if he were coming back, don’t you think?” They walked into the noisy hall, where a uniformed sentinal let them pass but not without comment.

  “What’s she doing here, then? Hadn’t you better get her out?”

  “No kidding. I need a car and driver. Pronto.” Oscar’s tone and size brooked no challenge. The man looked like he would have said something but thought better of it. He nodded and walked back down the hall to where there was a commotion and clattering.

  “What are they doing in here?” she asked.

  “Setting up their weapons for an ambush, I expect,” Oscar said, checking the time on his phone.

  She eyed him. “You seem to know an awful lot about this for the only guy who’s not in law enforcement around here.” She didn’t ask him what time it was.

  “One picks up a thing or two.”

  “I should know.” She felt her pulse pick up. The uniform hadn’t come back yet and they were standing in the front door waiting for Azzam to show up any minute. She didn’t need to be a trained professional to know that wasn’t smart.

  “Why don’t we…”

  “Move into t
he parlor. At least there’s some cover there,” she finished. “Since you tested it out earlier today.”

  He scanned the hall and then they moved quickly out of the hall, through the first doorway on the right, and into the parlor. She glanced back through the front door and saw a flash of headlights. That kicked up her heartbeat and she lunged toward the couch. “Incoming. Down.”

  “What?” he said, but then he ducked and slid over to where she lay behind the couch as soon as the gunfire started out on the front lawn. “Shit. All I have is a handgun. There’s only two guys out there so they won’t be holding Azzam off for long. We need to get you to a safer place than the first room.”

  “The basement?” Her teeth chattered even as she spoke. The gunfire echoed inside her rib cage as her heart beat at the same frantic pace.

  “Let’s go,” Oscar commanded. They ran bent over and crashed through the dining room where more than one man shouted at them to get to the back.

  “What the hell—I thought you were gone?” The man in the red wig stared at her incredulously. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

  “I’m taking her to the basement. You blokes had better keep Azzam out and have him shot or disarmed or preferably both before he gets this far. He can’t have many men with him.”

  “Oscar, maybe we ought to go out back?” Pixie said. She’d only seen the one set of headlights before the gunfire started. “I don’t think Azzam has anyone out back.”

  “It’s too big a chance to take.”

  “We have men out back and there’s no gunfire coming at them,” the man in the red wig said. She felt ridiculous standing in the dining room talking with an imposter dressed as herself. But it did help take the edge off her fear-driven state and she felt somewhat less like she was going to die of heart failure.

  The splintering sound of the front door under gunfire made her jump. She hiccupped. Apparently she wasn’t completely over her fear.

  Oscar tugged on her arm and dragged her through to the kitchen and toward the back door in a lumbering run, but the man was faster than he looked. She could hardly keep up and she stumbled.

  Chapter 14

  In the pitch-black night, the only clue Chauncey had about where the kid was being held was his hunch about a safe house that Azzam’s old cell once used. The terrorist had frequently stayed at nearby motels. Chauncey stood hunched, holding onto Mary the flipping Mole like the rodent she was, on a side street. He was about to check out a rooming house when a car screeched in and two men got out carrying a sack. His Arabic was rudimentary, but he could translate as one barked Arabic instructions at the other man to ditch the car and went in a building diagonally across from his position.

  He told Mary, “You stay here.”

  She had her gun drawn, but she’d been a desk jockey at HQ and he could smell her nervous sweat and see her hand shaking. She didn’t answer through her chattering teeth.

  “Better yet, get back in the car and be ready to go when I come back out with your daughter.” He took the gun from her and shoved it in his back pocket.

  At that, the woman shook her head vigorously and grunted with adamant force. “No.” Chauncey turned back to the building and figured he’d wasted all the time he had to waste. He dashed across the street as he slipped his phone from his jacket. Mary followed. Reaching the building where Azzam’s men had entered, he slid along the wall toward the door. He motioned for Mary to do the same, then punched the number in the phone to call David for reinforcements. There was a message from Oscar. Chauncey’s heart thundered like a parade drum. He licked his dry lips. Without stopping to listen to the message he called Oscar. The line was busy. His heart sank and he could feel the blood drain from his head as he sank toward the wall. This was no time to imagine the worst. As he reached the door, he dialed David and left a message. “I’m at the warehouse. Spotted two men who I’m presuming belong to Azzam going inside. Hostages likely. Backup pronto.”

  He shut off his phone, shoved it in his pocket and took a deep breath.

  He prayed to God that his father, Mauve and the little girl were inside and alive. And if they were, he swore to God he would get them out safely and then murder that bastard Azzam. With Mary behind him, blessedly silent, he shoved through the door with angry force and bolted forward into a hallway. There he heard the unmistakable voice of his father.

  Sir Miller and Mauve sat on the floor. Both froze up when they saw him in the doorway. Their captors luckily hadn’t noticed this and continued their lecture. He watched his father slide toward Mauve to shield her.

  Captor number one told them in broken English that they would be seeing their precious Chauncey Miller again soon because Azzam was going to call him here. Once they had all of their captives—the child included—they were going to burn the place down. “Then Azzam will have his revenge,” the man said.

  “Nice plan,” Chauncey said from the door, gun aimed at the big-mouthed man’s head. The two men whipped around. Mary stepped forward then. Chauncey pulled her small gun out from his back pocket and tossed it to her. “Cover number two.”

  She did as she was told and trained the gun on the second man, without shaking. Chauncey shouted at them while he moved forward. “Down on the floor.”

  One of the men did as he was told. The other, captor number two, moved closer to Chauncey’s father, then went for his gun. Wrong move. Chauncey shot the thug in his hand. The gun thudded to the floor and the man fell to his knees.

  Chauncey moved in while Mary bound the first captor with long plastic ties. Chauncey did the same to the second, less intelligent would-be captor and wasn’t too careful with the man’s mangled hand.

  Then he stood with his foot on the man’s back and looked over at his father in the corner. Sir Miller spoke up. “We’re fine.”

  Mauve shuddered a nod.

  “Where’s the little girl?” Chauncey demanded of the man under his boot as he pressed his foot down hard until he felt a crunch.

  “The closet.” The man wrenched out the words without screaming, the only evidence of his pain in the beads of sweat popping on his reddened face. His father gestured toward a doorway in the opposite back corner. Mary dropped her aim on her man and ran toward the door. Chauncey took up his aim on the wary man as he held his position.

  While holding his gun alternately on the two thugs who did the kidnapping, Chauncey flipped his knife open with his other hand and cut the ties binding his father’s wrists. His eyes met his father’s and he saw respect. He blinked and it didn’t disappear this time. It was real. He smiled and put his knife away. Then he extended his hand to the old man to pull him to his feet.

  “None the worse for wear I see,” Chauncey said.

  His father nodded. “I see I didn’t misplace my trust in you to come to the rescue. Now all we need to do is find Azzam.”

  They turned when Mary reappeared weeping and carrying her child—even though she was much too big to be carried. “Bonnie, Bonnie, Bonnie…” Mary wept uncontrollably.

  Chauncey cut the ties from Mauve’s hands and helped the older woman to her feet.

  “So glad to see you Master Miller—never so glad to see you.” Mauve sniffed once and turned to Mary and Bonnie. “So glad to see the child is okay.”

  “Mary”—he commanded the woman’s attention, gripping her shoulder—“are you going to be all right until back-up gets here?”

  She nodded. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she smiled, hugging the child to her.

  Chauncey slipped his phone from his pocket, punched the number in and waited no more than three seconds before David answered.

  He said, “We’re here, but Azzam isn’t. He left Sir Miller, Mauve and the child here. We’ll have to assume he went back to the house.” He left unspoken that Azzam was going back for Sophia.

  “Goddamn it,” David muttered. “Did Mary tell Azzam that Sophia was back at the house?” David’s voice sounded urgent, intense. Too intense. He didn’t like it.


  “What is it?” Trepidation crept in a cold wave across his skin.

  “I’m at HQ and Sophia is not here. I left her with Oscar when I got a call to handle some trouble with Hari’s capture. They should have been here by now. I was about to call Oscar when you phoned.”

  “I’ll call him. Send backup here at the warehouse and you meet me at my father—Sir Miller’s house. Now.”

  “On my way.”

  Chauncey shoved his phone into his pocket and told Mary to sit on these men and wait for backup. He was making a leap of faith in her, but she looked steadier now.

  Mary didn’t bother to say whatever she’d opened her mouth to say. She put Bonnie down and busied herself with securing the thugs to iron railings.

  Chauncey turned to Mauve. “I’m sorry to leave you here. No choice. Father and I are leaving now. Azzam is likely going back to the house and… Sophia is there.”

  Mauve nodded and put an arm around the child.

  Chauncey held his father’s arm and led him at a faster clip than the old man was used to, deposited him at the passenger door and jumped around the other side to get in and start the car. They’d pulled into the street with a squeal almost before his father’s door had closed.

  He slipped his phone from his pocket again as he ran a stop sign. The streets were quiet and dark. He pressed Oscar’s number into the phone and, God help him, he prayed. He spared his father a quick glance and the old man looked straight ahead with one hand on the dash and his mouth in a grim line. The man showed more emotion now than Chauncey had seen in the many years since his boyhood. The phone kept ringing at his ear and he tightened his grip on the wheel. He pressed on the accelerator harder, fearing the worst. It was not a good sign that Oscar wasn’t answering. He was about to shut the phone down when the ringing stopped and he heard the gruff voice amidst a lot of noise.

  “Miller. Get here as fast as you can. We got trouble—Sophia is under wraps for now. Azzam…shit—” Oscar struggled to speak. He sounded like he was running. Chauncey heard the loud bangs and shouts in the background but couldn’t sort through who or how many there were.