SAVE THE QUEEN: AN ALEX HALEE AND JAMIE AUSTEN SPY THRILLER (THE SPY STORIES Book 4)

by Terry Toler

  “Stay out of this, Jamie. This is between Alex and me.”

  He waved the gun in my direction. “Get on your knees and put your hands on your head.”

  “Do what he says, Alex!” Jamie said. Her eyes had a look of resignation as she gazed downward, and her shoulders drooped. “We’ll sort all this out. Don’t make things worse than they are.”

  “Listen to her, Alex. That’s good advice. I don’t want to kill you, but I will if you make me.”

  Reluctantly and slowly, I got down on my knees with my back to him and my hands up over my head. He roughly cuffed my hands behind my back.

  “You’re making a big mistake Digby,” I said. “We’re running out of time to find the dirty bomb. I know who’s behind it.”

  “Who?”

  I hesitated again even though it was time to put all my cards on the table. By the time I got down to headquarters, it would be too late.

  “Pok. He’s a hacker from North Korea.”

  “I know who Pok is.”

  “He’s in Iran. I’ve been tracking him for more than a year. I almost had him in North Korea, but he got away. It’s personal with him. He’s trying to set me up. He’s the one who’s been orchestrating all these attacks. From a cyber lab in Iran. Talk to Brad. He’ll confirm it. We’re going to hit the lab with a cruise missile sometime this afternoon.”

  “How do you know Pok’s behind it?”

  “He’s my source. He hacked into the London security system first. All I did was hack in to find him. Which I did. I can prove it.”

  “How?”

  “On my computer. I’ve got a feed directly into his lab. I’ll show you. You can see for yourself. Pok has a whiteboard in his office. On that board it says day five, dirty bomb. That’s how I know about it. The location is St. Margaret’s church. In the organ loft. After the arrival of the Queen. I’ll show you on my computer. That’ll give you all the proof you need.”

  “You’ve got two minutes.”

  I stood to my feet. Bond pushed me from behind toward the door. We walked into the kitchen.

  “I’m telling you, Bond, Pok has a bomb somewhere in the city,” I said. “You’ve got to believe me.”

  “He’s telling the truth,” Jamie added.

  Bond took my arm and sat me down in the chair in front of my computer. “I’m going to free your hands, but don’t try anything stupid.”

  He undid my handcuffs.

  I powered up the computer.

  Furiously typed in a few keystrokes.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes.

  The screen was dark.

  Pok had killed the connection to his lab.

  I was screwed.

  31

  Safehouse

  9: 30 a.m.

  One hour and thirty minutes before the Royal Wedding

  For the first time in my short marriage, I was going to defy my wife. Probably the first of many times.

  I wouldn’t go with Bond Digby peacefully. A dirty bomb was about to explode in London, and we were wasting valuable time. When he took the handcuffs off me, he’d made a critical mistake. With my hands free, he couldn’t arrest me, even with a gun.

  “You’re coming with me,” Bond said roughly, for what seemed like the tenth time.

  “How are you going to make me?” I said defiantly, almost taunting him. I needed for him to move closer.

  Jamie didn’t say anything. Even her facial expression didn’t give away what she was thinking. I was sitting in the chair at the kitchen table. I got the desired reaction. Bond was now towering over me waving the gun in my face. Jamie was behind him. She could disarm him in two seconds if she wanted to.

  “Don’t think I won’t use this,” he said.

  “What are you going to do? Shoot two CIA Officers in a CIA safehouse owned by the United States government? Not even you are that stupid. You’ll be the one arrested for murder.”

  “I thought you weren’t with the CIA anymore. That you were with some AJAX corporation. Was that all a lie as well?”

  “We are with AJAX, and we’re still working with the CIA. Have you stopped to ask yourself why you found us in a CIA safehouse? Would we be here if we weren’t still working with Brad and the CIA? You said I was the source of the intelligence on the car bombing. Brad’s the one who fed you the information. Come on, Bond. Put two and two together. I thought you were good at your job.”

  “I am good at my job, and I have orders to take you in. That’s what I’m going to do.”

  Bond’s tough-guy routine was getting old with me.

  “You’re failing your job interview,” I said, taking him by surprise, evident by his left eye suddenly squinting and his head shaking back and forth in disbelief.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” he said.

  “Jamie said you’d be a good candidate for AJAX. I’m not so sure about that. If you did come to work for us, I’d be your boss. It’s not a good idea to threaten your boss with a gun, especially before he’s even hired you. You’re not making a good impression, I must say.”

  I was trying to bring some levity to the situation and calm things somewhat. That statement did take everyone by surprise, even Jamie who was forcing back a grin. It had such an effect that no one said anything for a good ten seconds.

  “Bond would be good,” Jamie finally said.

  “I’m not so sure. At AJAX, we’re flexible. We do whatever it takes to fulfill the mission. We don’t worry about orders.” I said the word with emphasis. “We do what the circumstances on the ground dictate. The reason you took the handcuffs off me and let me look at my laptop was because, deep down, you knew I was right. Dumb move, by the way. Two strikes against you now. One for being more concerned about what the suits would say rather than what the mission requires. Two, for freeing my hands. Let me show you what I mean.”

  Bond was less than two feet away from me. The gun was in his right hand pointed directly at me. The move had to be executed perfectly to avoid an accidental discharge of the gun. I brought my left hand up and forward, grabbed his wrist and twisted it to my left. The gun was now upside down. In one motion, I grabbed the barrel of the gun and jerked it upward, so it faced the ceiling and no longer pointed at me. If it fired, I’d get a nasty burn on my hand, but I’d survive, which was the main thing. That move put Bond’s wrist in an awkward and painful position.

  He let out a yelp.

  Then I twisted the gun to the right. Normally, I would’ve twisted it to the left and snapped his trigger finger out of spite. In this instance, I gently slipped it off his finger and released his wrist, which he instantly grabbed. The soft tissue would be sore for a few days. I ejected the magazine and tossed the gun to Jamie which she snatched out of the air with ease.

  She unchambered the round and handed the gun back to Bond.

  “Now, sit down, Bond,” I said firmly but in a less-confrontive tone. “Let’s figure out where this bomb is. We’re running out of time.”

  Still rubbing his wrist, Bond sat down in the chair at the head of the kitchen table. Jamie sat on the other side of him, across from me.

  “I believe there is a dirty bomb. And that it’s going to explode at the Royal Wedding sometime before the wedding. After the Queen arrives. My intelligence is correct. The only misinformation is the location. I think the time is dead-on accurate.”

  I looked at my watch. “That gives us less than an hour. The question is where and how are they going to get the bomb into London.”

  “It can’t be there now,” Jamie said. “If it was, the sensors would pick it up.”

  “So, how are the terrorists going to get it into downtown London in the next hour?” I asked. “What about by car or van?”

  Bond still seemed hesitant to join in. I figured that would be temporary as his ego had taken a hit. But… he was a professional. This was what we lived for. Now that he didn’t have the power, he really had no other choice in the matter but to help us. Which he could do. He knew London
inside and out. Better than I ever would. I needed his knowledge. At some point, I would need his credentials to get us where we needed to go.

  Finally, he answered. “All traffic is blocked. No vehicle can get in or out of London as of nine o’clock this morning. The bridges are all shut down.”

  “They didn’t take it in before nine o’clock,” I said. “Like Jamie said, the vehicle can’t be downtown. Because of the sensors. What about by boat?”

  Bond answered, “The river’s blocked off as well. We have military patrols at each end of the Thames and points in between. No one can get within three miles of Westminster Abbey without being stopped.”

  “Submarines?”

  “Sonar would pick that up.”

  “I doubt Pok has access to a sub,” Jamie added.

  I nodded in agreement. I already knew a submarine wasn’t a possibility, but that’s how my mind worked. Like a computer code. It had to follow a logical progression and rule everything out so I could get to the right thread.

  I rubbed my eyes roughly. The adrenaline was overwhelming the fatigue, but I needed my mind sharper.

  “What about the tube?” Jamie asked.

  “Shut down,” Bond said. “No routes into London are running after nine o’clock.”

  “Sewer systems? Water pipes?” she asked. We made a good team. She was taking up the slack at my momentary lack of focus.

  “All were inspected again this morning.”

  “That rules out by land and sea. That leaves air,” I said, although I already knew what Bond was going to say.

  He shook his head no. Then rubbed his right wrist again. “Fighter planes are scrambled. The airspace is a no-fly zone. No planes are allowed to take off or land from any private area within a hundred miles until after the wedding is over.”

  “It seems like air would be the only way to get a bomb into London at the last moment,” I said.

  “We already know that air is the primary threat,” Bond said. “After 9/11, we locked that down. Even commercial flights are diverted to the west. None can take off toward London. The only person allowed in the air is the Queen.”

  My heart did a couple somersaults. “What did you say?”

  “Commercial flights can’t take off toward London. If one were hijacked, our fighter planes would shoot it out of the sky before it got to London. There’s no way a terrorist can fly a bomb into London on a plane.”

  “No. You said the only person allowed in the air is the Queen. What did you mean by that?”

  "The Queen is at Windsor Palace. A helicopter will fly her to Buckingham Palace at around ten thirty this morning.”

  I suddenly bolted out of my chair as I remembered something. In the living room. I’d seen it on the television when I went in to tell Jamie and Bond about Pok. I practically ran in there. The TV was still on, but the sound was muted. On the screen was a picture of the courtyard at Windsor Palace. A blaring headline read that they were waiting for the Queen’s departure to the wedding. Jamie and Bond entered the room and stood next to me, one on each side.

  Sitting on the courtyard were four helicopters along with a number of armed soldiers guarding them.

  “Why are there four helicopters there?” I asked.

  “One will carry the Queen,” Bond said. “The other three are decoys. That way if someone has a handheld missile or wants to attack the Queen, they won’t know which helicopter she’s on.”

  Jamie said, “We do that with the President of the United States. He travels in a caravan of several vehicles. For that very reason. Smart.”

  “Who flies the helicopters?” I asked hurriedly.

  “They are selected by base commanders. One helicopter per base is chosen. It’s a big honor to be selected.”

  “The bomb is in one of those helicopters,” I said soberly.

  “Those are military planes and pilots.”

  “I bet one of those pilots is locked in a closet of an airplane hangar, on a base somewhere. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Somehow, those helicopters were compromised. Or at least one of them has been. Somehow the Iranians got a man on the inside. I don’t know how, but I’m sure that’s what happened.”

  Bond pulled out his phone. I put my hand on his wrist to stop him from making a call to his bosses.

  “Don’t call it in. The bomb could be on a detonator switch. If you send in the cavalry, he’ll blow the whole thing up. The Queen is still in the castle. Depending on the size of the bomb, she could be killed. Not to mention those thousands of people in the streets waiting to watch her leave.”

  “What do you suggest we do?”

  “Can you get us in that courtyard?”

  “With my MI6 credentials, I can get us anywhere.”

  “Jamie, go change into a business professional outfit. Like a pantsuit or something. I’m going to put on a suit and tie.”

  “What’s the plan?” Bond asked.

  “I’ll tell you in the car.”

  32

  9:45 a.m.

  “Who flies the Queen’s helicopter?” I asked Bond as we sped away from the safehouse.

  “The royal pilot. He’s been flying Her Majesty for years. That’s never rotated. It’s either him or his backup pilot.”

  “I think we can assume then, that the bomb’s not on the Queen’s helicopter.”

  “That’s for certain. It’s searched several times before she boards. I don’t know if the other helicopters are searched. All they do is fly in formation. They’re only in the air for less than ten minutes.”

  Bond was driving his car with Jamie in the back seat and I in the passenger seat. His car was equipped with sirens and lights. The lights were flashing, but the sirens were off. Bond was a good driver. He navigated the streets with skill and expected us to arrive at the castle within fifteen minutes.

  “I assume there are no radiation sensors in Windsor,” I said.

  “That’s correct. Too expensive.”

  Dirty bombs were difficult to attain and to make. Terrorists weren’t going to waste one on a smaller area, even if the blast radius included the Queen. The conventional thinking was that they would only be used on high-value targets with huge population centers like London, New York, Paris, and similar cities. Bang for their buck, so to speak. Figuratively and literally.

  “So, that leaves the other three helicopters,” I said. “The bomb is on one of those. There are three of us.”

  Then a question popped into my mind that I hadn’t considered. One that would blow my plan apart. “Do you know how to fly a helicopter?” I asked Bond. I knew Jamie did, although it’d been a while since she’d flown one.

  “Of course. I’m not that proficient though.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. Here’s my plan. When we arrive, you need to get us into the courtyard,” I said to him.

  “That won’t be a problem. Although, I’ll need to give them a good reason why.”

  “Tell them MI6 sent us to accompany the pilots into London. As a secondary security precaution.”

  “I can try. No guarantees, though.”

  “We’ll act like it’s business as usual. Like we’re supposed to be there. You’ll have to be persuasive. If push comes to shove, tell them about the bomb. At least they might have a chance to evacuate the queen. Let’s assume the best-case scenario and they let us in. Each of us will board a helicopter. I’ll go to the one that looks the most likely to have the bomb.”

  “How will you know which one that is?” Bond asked.

  “I’ll know. I’ll be able to tell by looking into the pilot’s eyes.”

  “I should be the one who gets on the helicopter with the bomb,” Bond said. “After all, this is my country and my Queen. It’s my job to protect her.”

  I shook my head no. Violently. Side to side, so he’d get the point. “This is my fight with Pok. And I’m the best pilot. I flew a helicopter a few months ago in the middle east.”

  I waited for an objection. When one didn�
��t come, I continued on with my plan. Before I could, Jamie asked the obvious question haunting my mind.

  “Then what?” Jamie asked, once again proving she was usually a step ahead of me. “Let’s say you get on the helicopter and it does have a bomb. What are you going to do with it?”

  “I don’t know. Any ideas, Bond? What do I do with the bomb? Obviously, get it as far away from people as possible.”

  My mind was wildly speculating and running through all the scenarios. It seemed overwhelming. How do I commandeer the helicopter, fly it safely away from population centers, and ditch it before I get caught up in the blast? A daunting task under any circumstances, much less with so much on the line and so little time to plan the operation.

  As Bond took a curve at a high rate of speed, the tires squealed, and the back of the car fishtailed. Even I was uncomfortable with how fast he was going. Probably wouldn’t be if I were driving. My experience was that things seemed scarier from the passenger’s seat than if I was actually driving. The thought occurred to me that what to do with the bomb was moot if Bond wrapped us around a tree.

  When Bond didn’t answer right away, Jamie asked, “What about the ocean?” She didn’t have her seatbelt on. She clutched the back of our seats as her body leaned into each curve. Those same hands that were burned by the acid. They must be better. Either that, or the adrenaline of the moment was blocking the pain.

  Bond shook his head no, as he leaned into another curve. Both of his arms were taut, and he was straining with all his might to keep us on the road. I wanted to tell him to slow down.

  “That won’t work,” Bond answered. “The ecological damage would be catastrophic if that bomb goes off in the ocean. Our fishing industry would be devastated. The fallout would wash up on shore and contaminate beaches and reservoirs. Not an option.”

  “Where then?” I asked. “I’m open to ideas. We have to get it as far away from London as possible.”

  “Do you think the bomb is on a timer or a detonator?” Bond asked.

  “That’s a good question. We’ll have to play that one by ear. My guess is a timer. They wouldn’t want to risk the bomb going off prematurely. Since they have an approximate time, I think it’s scheduled to go off right after the queen lands at Buckingham Palace, give or take a couple extra minutes.”