by Terry Toler
SAVE THE QUEEN
An ALEX HALEE Thriller
With
JAMIE AUSTEN
TERRY TOLER
Save The Queen
Published by: BeHoldings Publishing
Copyright ©2021, BeHoldings, LLC, Terry Toler
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise—without prior written permission.
Cover and interior designs: BeHoldings Publishing
Editor: Jeanne Leach
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First U.S. Edition: March, 2021
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
BOOKS BY TERRY TOLER
Fiction
The Longest Day
The Reformation of Mars
The Great Wall of Ven-Us
Saturn: The Eden Experiment
The Late, Great Planet Jupiter
Save The Girls
The Ingenue
The Blue Rose
Saving Sara
Save The Queen
Non-Fiction
How to Make More Than a Million Dollars
The Heart Attacked
Seven Years of Promise
Mission Possible
Marriage Made in Heaven
21 Days to Physical Healing
21 Days to Spiritual Fitness
21 Days to Divine Health
21 Days to a Great Marriage
21 Days to Financial Freedom
21 Days to Sharing Your Faith
21 Days to Mission Possible
7 Days to Emotional Freedom
Uncommon Finances
Suddenly Free
Feeling Free
For more information on these books and other resources visit TerryToler.com.
PRAISE FOR THE JAMIE AND ALEX SPY SERIES
“Lots of action and dangerous situations kept my interest. I thoroughly enjoyed it.”
“I want Jamie on my side.”
“I could not put this book down. I read into the early morning until my eyes couldn’t hold up. As soon as I woke up the next morning, I picked up my phone and started reading again.”
“What a great and exciting book.”
“A female Jack Reacher.”
“Very interesting and intriguing stories.”
“Would make a great movie.”
“Great book. It was a page turner.”
“A ‘WOW’ of a thriller!”
“Toler proves that one doesn’t need gutter language or sex to write a great story.”
“A truly gripping read. ”
“While reviews of other author’s books claim to be gripping, this novel sets the benchmark.”
“I’m a sucker for thrillers with a happy ending.”
“I was not disappointed.”
“Love that Jamie Austen is a top-notch, take no prisoners kind of woman.”
“What a ride!”
“These books keep me on the edge-of-my-seat.”
“This series gives insight to current issues in the world.”
“Heartwarming!”
“I want to believe that the good that can be accomplished in these stories could be real.”
“When I finish a book, I think about it for days which is the characteristic of a great author.”
“I can’t wait to see what you come up with next.”
“I love the characters. They draw me in, and I find myself rooting for them.”
“Very entertaining.”
“A perfect read that projects just enough suspense. Adding a young innocent in a tough situation who becomes the hero of the story makes it extraordinary.”
“This is an exciting spy thriller with complex, interesting characters.”
“I would definitely recommend these fantastic books.”
“I love the message of these books.”
“Love Toler’s stories! Suspense and romance combined.”
Contents
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10
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14
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29
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35
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37
1
London Tube
Jamie saw the man before I did.
“Alex,” she whispered, “when you can, look at the man three seats ahead of us on the left. He’s acting strange.”
“We’re in England. I suspect we’ll see a lot of people acting strange on this trip.”
Jamie let out what seemed like an obligatory laugh but kept her steely demeanor. I’d seen it many times on a mission. Seeing it on our honeymoon was something I’d hoped to avoid.
Her instincts were right, more often than not, so I did look more out of curiosity than anything else.
“What do you think?” she asked. “I think he might be a terrorist.”
“We’re not on a mission, Jamie,” I said. “I think you should relax.”
“He’s wearing a jacket. It’s August. And ninety-five degrees outside. Who wears a jacket in August unless they’re up to something?”
That did cause me to look more carefully. I studied the man to see if there were any signs that he had a bomb strapped to his body. Even though he was wearing a jacket, it wouldn’t conceal the bulges of a homemade bomb. Sticks of dynamite made obvious indentations pressing against a shirt, and we were trained to spot them.
After careful examination from a distance, I was convinced he wasn’t carrying a bomb.
“He’s sweating,” Jamie said.
“He’s sweating because he’s wearing a jacket.”
“It’s more than that. His right hand is in the right pocket of the jacket. He hasn’t taken it out the entire time since we got on.”
“There could be any number of reasons for that. He could have his wallet in his right coat pocket. Maybe he’s carrying drugs. Some important papers.”
Jamie let out a sigh. “You’re probably right. I’m being paranoid. The CIA report filled my head with thoughts of knifings, acid attacks, and bombings. It’s easy to profile a man, just because he’s Muslim.”
Jamie had spent most of the flight from Washington D.C. to London poring over the threat assessment report. That and griping about everything that went wrong at our wedding.
I wasn’t sure about the man, so I didn’t respond right away.
He was acting strangely. Nervous tics. Sweaty brow. Leaning forward in his seat. His hand firmly planted in his pocket. All tell-tale signs of a terrorist. A quick scan of the subway car confirmed that there weren’t any authorities nearby to notify.
The car was three quarters full, and I did a quick assessment of potential targets for a terrorist. To our immediate left, one row ahead sat a woman with a child. The boy looked to be five or six years old. Further ahead, across from suspicious guy, was an older couple. American. She was chatting away. He seemed to have tuned her out. I wondered if that was what Jamie and I would be like fifty years from now. That thought brought a smile to my face. We were already that way!
The car was a target-rich environment for a terrorist. But he didn’t have a bomb. Not much he could do with whatever he had in his right pocket. At least, not on a large scale. I tried to tamp down the analysis and clear my thoughts of him. Five minutes later, I hadn’t been successful.
The suspicious man left me with a nagging feeling inside which was always what I relied on in the field. I wanted to let it go but couldn’t. I finally figured out why. One final tell was clearly bothering me. The man was staring straight ahead. Avoiding eye contact with anyone. Even though I was purposefully staring at him, he didn’t look my way at all. Like he was forcing himself to keep his eyes fixed on a target ahead of him. Like he knew me and didn’t want me to know he was targeting us.
Why would a man on a London subway car be targeting us? That was beyond what my mind could possibly imagine. No one knew we were in London, not even Brad, our CIA handler. If the man was randomly targeting us, then why me. I was the biggest guy on the subway car. By far.
“I can’t wait until we get to the hotel,” Jamie said, bringing me back to reality.
“Me either,” I replied. My heart skipped a beat at the thought of finally being alone with my wife. Although, I wasn’t sure if she was thinking the same thing I was thinking. Right after the wedding, we had to rush to the airport to catch our flight. We never had a “wedding night” per se.
“I’m so tired, I’m going right to bed.” Jamie let out a huge yawn.
My heart sunk a couple inches in my chest as her statement was explained. Clearly, I was going to have to wait a little longer to consummate our marriage. We’d been married for nearly twenty-four hours and still hadn’t had sex. I had a lifetime of lovemaking ahead of me, but for whatever reason, I was obsessed with the first one.
Maybe since I’d been thinking about it almost since the day we met. We mutually agreed to wait until we were married. While I was glad we waited, I wasn’t glad we were waiting now.
Neither of us said anything for a good five minutes. Jamie finally broke the silence.
“I know I told the florist Tuesday,” Jamie said, picking up where she had left off on the plane. Griping about the wedding. At least her mind was off suspicious guy.
“We should just drop it. It doesn’t matter now.”
When we had arrived at the chapel for our wedding ceremony, there were no flowers. Jamie called the florist. When she hung up the phone, she asked me, “What day did we tell the florist to have our flowers? Today right?”
“Yes,” I said reluctantly, not fully processing the problem.
“They have it down for tomorrow. Tomorrow we’ll be in London. I think I would know my own wedding date.”
“You told them today,” I said. “I remember.”
“I have my something blue. Something borrowed. I have a white dress. I have everything except my bouquet.” She’d said each word passionately, for emphasis.
“Another thing we don’t have is Curly. He’s not here yet,” I said reluctantly, not wanting to upset her even more. “We can’t get married without him.”
Curly was the minister. I use the term loosely. Normally, he was ten minutes early to everything. He was also our trainer at the CIA. Turns out he also had a license to marry people that he got off the internet. While Jamie wanted a traditional wedding in a church, she didn’t seem to mind that Curly wasn’t a real minister.
“Did you tell Curly the right date?” Jamie had asked.
“Of course. I think I would know my own wedding date!”
Curly never did show up. Turns out he thought the wedding was for Wednesday as well. The associate pastor at the church was there and reluctantly agreed to marry us. The thought of the ceremony brought a smile to my face. Then I remembered what happened afterward.
“I know I told the limo company Tuesday,” I said angrily.
The limo was to be a surprise for Jamie. A driver was to take us to the airport to catch our flight. When we walked out of the church to leave for the airport, the car was nowhere to be found. I called them. They insisted the reservation was for Wednesday. I distinctly remember making the reservation for Tuesday, August 15th. Watson Community Church. Two o’clock in the afternoon.
It was all disconcerting. First the flowers. Then the minister. And finally, the limo. We were bewildered as to how all three important parts of our wedding got messed up.
Twenty-four hours later, we still had no explanation.
That wasn’t even the worst of it. When we arrived at the airport and discovered our business class seats had been changed to coach, I went ballistic.
“There’s been some mistake,” I said to the flight attendant. “We should be in business class. I used my frequent flyer miles to book it.”
“I’m sorry, sir. But your boarding pass says coach. You need to take your seat. The captain is preparing to taxi for takeoff. He can’t move as long as anyone is standing up.”
“I need to speak with someone. They gave me the wrong boarding pass.”
I could see two seats open in business class.
“Those are supposed to be our seats,” I said, pointing at them. “The wrong boarding pass somehow ended up on my phone. Look up our reservation. You’ll see I’m right.”
“We aren’t privy to the reservations. The gate agent handles that. I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to take your seat.”
I was prepared to make a scene if I had to.
Jamie tugged on my shirt. “Let’s just go sit down,” she said. “People are staring. We’re holding up the plane.”
“I’m not sitting ten hours in coach when our reservation was for business class!”
Jamie pulled harder on my arm. I jerked it away, roughly.
“Don’t make a scene,” she whispered. “They’ll kick us off the plane.”
Jamie was right. Every flight had air marshals on them. If I protested too much, they’d have us arrested and thrown off the plane. Starting our honeymoon in jail in the US was not a pleasant thought.
The reservation mix-up still had me fuming.
“I think we should check that man out,” Jamie said, bringing me back to the potential problem at hand. “The more I look at him, the more I’m convinced he’s planning something.”
“Like I said, we’re not on a mission,” I said strongly. I hoped Jamie didn’t think my angst was directed at her. Neither of us had been able to sleep on the plane. We were both squished in coach in middle seats between two people. So much for best laid plans.
The plan had been for us to sleep the entire night in beds on business class and hit the ground running in London after some passionate love making at the hotel. Truthfully, now I needed to crash in the bed as much as she did. The long-awaited physical union would have to wait. One thing I knew was true. Things would go a lot better if we both got some rest first. You only get one first time. I was determined to make it special, even if we had to wait.
That didn’t make it any easier.
I almost wished suspicious guy were planning something. I could take out all my frustrations on him. An impulse hit me to go and talk to him and see what was in his pocket. Then I realized he could delay us getting to the hotel even longer if we got involved. So, I decided not to confront him and put him out of my mind.
Jamie clearly hadn’t. She kept staring
his way.
It wouldn’t do any good for me to try and stop her. She’d only get mad at me. Getting sucked into a mission was not on the itinerary. Neither was fighting with Jamie.
But… if I had to be in a fight, I’d choose suspicious guy over Jamie any day of the week.
***
Ten minutes later
“London isn’t such a safe place anymore,” Jamie said soberly.
The ride to central London was forty-five minutes and I’d pulled out my laptop. I stopped typing to give her my attention. Jamie had the CIA report out again.
“What does the report say?” I asked.
“Terrorist attacks are up 112 percent.”
“That’s a lot.”
“They aren’t big things. More along the lines of knifings and acid attacks. Can you imagine that? Somebody throwing acid in your face. London is averaging two acid attacks a day.”
“I can’t. The pain must be excruciating.”
“The victims are blinded. Permanently scarred. Some die. Maybe they’re the lucky ones. The survivors are usually in for a long recovery.”
I shuddered at the thought and glanced over at suspicious guy. There didn’t appear to be any way he could be hiding acid on his body. It could be a knife in his pocket though.
“Well… hopefully, none of that will happen while we’re here,” I said, still eyeing the man warily.
“Let’s hope not. Security is tighter. There’s a royal wedding on Sunday. The day before we leave. It’s going to be a zoo in London. I guess we didn’t plan our trip very well.”
“It could go either way. Increased security reduces the threat, but a high value target like a royal wedding with lots of people increases it at the same time. Anyway… not our problem.”
I leaned over and gave Jamie a kiss. “You’re sexy when you talk about knifings, and bombings, and terrorist attacks.”
Jamie gave me a faint smile and returned the kiss, but her focus was clearly on the report. “Listen to this. Seventeen people were arrested in London two weeks ago on sex trafficking charges. Thirty-one women, ages twenty to forty were rescued. Three of those arrested for trafficking were women.”
Jamie made a sound of disgust. She worked in the sex trafficking division of the CIA. Her job was to go into the seedy underworld and rescue girls. Something she was extraordinary at doing. By most metrics, she was considered the foremost lethal female operative in the world. She could kill a man with her bare hands in a hundred different ways.
