Victoria texted her father and followed Thompson out of the room. She hesitated in the doorway. “You coming?” she asked Bill.
Bill barely glanced her way. “No, I’m going to see if I can clear up any of the imagery from his cameras. They’re top of the line and shouldn’t be so blurry. You go ahead. Let me know what’s discovered.”
“I will,” she replied and hurried after the station master.
She followed him down a couple of hallways, not really tracking the turns. He moved rapidly, and she barely glanced at her father’s text when it beeped—one glance at the text was enough to know he asked where they were. She couldn’t tell him if she wanted to. Hurrying even faster since checking her text message cost her precious seconds, she stumbled on the hem of her overskirt when her boot buckles caught in it as she tried to step. Damn father and his insistence on dresses.
The moment of clumsiness saved her life. As she staggered, she heard Thompson yell, “Hey, stop!” followed by a soft crunch noise from the wall a little ways up and to her left. She tried to see what produced the noise before she fully recovered from her stumble and ended up sprawled out on the ground in a very unladylike manner with her cheek pressed against the floor. Her voicelet disengaged as her wrist hit the floor and skittered away, bouncing like a rock skipping across the water, except her voicelet left pieces of itself behind as it skimmed the concrete. With one final crunch, it came to a stop, and she could only stare at it in numbed shock.
Chapter Five
Thompson chased after the cloaked figure, his shoes tapping on the floor in rapid succession, and to Victoria’s horror, her father’s patented business loafers walked into her line of sight. Great. Just peachy-keeno. She struggled to get up to face her father in a more dignified pose and was surprised to find him squatting down to check on her.
Struggling to right herself, she finally compromised on leaning back against the wall and waited for her head to stop spinning. “Hi, father,” she said with as much strength as she could muster.
“Are you all right?” he asked quietly. “I came around the corner in time to see you fall and to see the hole in the wall where the bullet struck. It’s lucky you fell.”
Victoria could not have been more shocked than if someone had hit her with a stun gun on full power. “I...what? What bullet?” she asked. But even as she said it, she remembered the sound she’d heard when she stumbled. Cold trembles began deep in her gut. “Someone shot at me?” she whispered.
“Yes, I...”
Bill’s shout covered up whatever her father may have said, and she didn’t know whether to be unhappy or grateful.
“Victoria! Oh my God, are you okay?” Bill exclaimed as he rushed to her. “I saw it on the monitors,” he explained in response to her confused look.
“Oh. Did you see who did it?” Victoria asked, still a bit dazed by the scenario.
Bill sat down next to her, barely glancing at her father. “No. But when she lifted her hand to shoot at you, I could see it was a she. Her upper clothes fit closely, as current fashion dictates.”
He touched her face gently, stroking her cheek. “Come,” Bill said, taking her hand and helping her up. “We need to get you somewhere else. Hastings, please get the voicelet pieces and bring them with you.”
He took her arm and used small movements as he steered her away from their location. He took her back to the station master’s office and sat her in Thompson’s chair. Victoria stayed quiet, not sure what to make of her father’s uncharacteristic solicitations, and Bill’s gentle manner.
A breathless Fiona fussed over Victoria, bringing her tea and a bit of chocolate. “Here, you look a fright,” Fiona said as she handed her the plate full of treats.
“Thanks,” Victoria said, absently munching the chocolate. She still did not know what to think of the attacks and watched the monitor which still showed the hallway where she fell. Soon, Thompson came back with someone from Scotland Yard.
The man from Scotland Yard wore a dark suit, tweed, if she was not mistaken. His weathered face was lined with thick wrinkles around the mouth and eyes. The slight paunch around his middle combined with his broad shoulders might cause one to mistake him for a great big teddy bear. This was her first impression, until she noticed his gray eyes, piercing and sharp. Cops eyes. She had seen his type before—with her sister. She shook her head to ward off thoughts of her sister’s past. Now was not the time to dwell on it if she wanted to stay calm. Never would be the time to ponder it, if Victoria had her way.
“My name is Detective Inspector Daniel Whimsey. Sorry to bother you, Lady Hastings, but I must ask you some questions. Tell me how you came to be here?”
“My father, Bill, and I are traveling together to do a spot check on all the train stations. Checking books, security, cleanliness, and the like.”
“I see,” he said scribbling something on a thin paper notebook. “And how many people knew you would be here?”
Startled, Victoria just stared at him. “I don’t know. Not many. We’re trying to surprise the stations. It can’t have had anything to do with me,” she insisted.
“I need to look at all the angles, my lady,” he replied calmly. “Do you have any enemies?”
“I told you, this can’t possibly have anything to do with me. I stood right there in the office with Mr. Thompson when they did whatever they did in the control room.” She glanced sharply at Bill. “Was Thompson able to fix whatever that woman did?”
“I don’t know,” Bill replied. “We’ll worry about it later. Right now, let’s answer the questions DI Whimsey is asking. Then, you need to go lie down.”
“Quit treating me like I’m about to expire. I’m quite tough you know,” Victoria snapped.
Bill looked sheepish, and she felt the shrew. “I’m sorry if it bothers you,” he said. “It frightened me to see you almost killed. I’ll not apologize for caring for you now.”
She closed her eyes and counted to ten. “I’m sorry for attacking you. My nerves are frayed. It’s not every day a girl gets shot at.” She reached out and took Bill’s hand for support. Her waspishness was a direct result of her fright coming on, albeit belatedly. Someone actually shot at me!
Detective Inspector Whimsey went through more questions, and she answered as honestly as she could. Fiona took copies of their licenses for him and brought him some treats similar to Victoria’s earlier plate. “I need you to write your statement and sign it. I’ll get you a digital verification after the home office approves my report. Also, this will be going to the King’s offices, as all matters relating to inter-parish transportation lines must.”
He took a few more notes then tucked the notebook into an inside pocket of his suit jacket. “My men, as well as local help, should be here to take the statements of everyone else. I’m sorry for any inconvenience this may cause, but we can’t release anyone until we’ve accounted for everyone’s whereabouts.”
“I understand,” she replied. She noticed her father clenching his jaw, and Bill’s hand tightened in hers. “Mr. Howell, can we talk over here a moment? Excuse us, my lady,” he said, then moved to the outer office, not waiting for an answer from Bill or Victoria.
Apprehension made her palms sweaty, and her stomach was hula hooping from the ordeal. Did everyone feel this way after getting shot at? And what could Detective Inspector Whimsey need with Bill alone?
“Victoria,” her father said.
“What,” she replied feigning exhaustion. She didn’t want to deal with her father right now, especially because of his strange response earlier.
“I...Never mind. I can see you’re still upset over the whole thing. We shall speak of it another time.”
“Thank you, Father,” she replied and lay back, closing her eyes.
Bill came back into the office alone. He checked on her, and she smiled. He’d proven much better than the others the Earl continuously paraded for her perusal. “Where’s the Inspector? Off to organize his men, I presume,” s
he asked Bill while standing up and gathering her things.
“Yes, and finishing the statements. We’ll be able to leave soon. I’m getting the feeling this is an organizational nightmare for him.”
They stepped out into Fiona’s reception area, and Victoria gasped. “My backpack is gone!”
“What? Are you sure you brought it?” her father asked.
Victoria shot him a dark look, not caring who saw it. Instead, she asked Fiona, “Were you in here the whole time?”
“I, uh, no,” Fiona stammered, a blush showing through her makeup. “I ran to the bathroom.”
“Yes, you weren’t here when I ran out to find Victoria,” Bill agreed.
“Who could have taken it? Why would they risk it when the station’s on lockdown?” she wondered aloud.
“We’ll find it,” Fiona said. “I’ll tell Gary, um, Mr. Thompson that it’s missing, and we can search all the bags.” She practically ran out of the office.
“Poor girl,” Victoria said. “She’s embarrassed. I hope she finds my bag though. Everything’s in it. My sketches, my pencils, my wallet, everything,” she finished on a note that sounded perilously close to whining—or was that hysteria—to her own ears. She pursed her lips together to keep from saying more.
***
Bill clenched his fists behind his back at the note of tears he heard in Victoria’s voice. Even in the short time he’d known her, he knew it wasn’t the laptop and wallet that disturbed her. It had to be losing the more personal items, her drawing pad in particular, which upset her the most.
His gaze fell on Fiona. She went to the bathroom in the middle of a crisis? That didn’t sound like her. Not after the story Mr. Thompson had told them. Plus, for the first time since he’d met her, she’d lost her cool when questioned about whether or not she’d left the office, a minor difference but still there. He made a mental note to have her checked out. Then again, he could just have DI Whimsey check it out as he apparently recognized Bill from another case. Damn it.
Fortunately, Whimsey had been professional enough not to out him in front of everyone. What was more, the DI asked for his opinion. His gaze fell on Fiona again. The longer he thought about it, the more he thought he’d better have Whimsey do something about her. He sent a quick text via his hand held and, at Whimsey’s sharp glance, subtly nodded.
They left the offices and searched high and low for the perpetrator. It impressed Bill, not only at the thoroughness of the search, but the manner in which Scotland Yard and the station’s security guards worked together quickly and efficiently. He needed to let the king know the station and Bobbies in the area were a testament to the crown.
When he could steal a minute from Victoria and the others, he made a quick call. “Hello, Your Majesty.”
“How’s my favorite Louis?”
“Going by one of my other names, Your Highness.”
“Which one?”
“William, or Bill, my lord.”
“You favor that one, though the title is not much used.”
“Yes, Your Highness. Speaking of titles, did you know that Victoria doesn’t use her highest title here? Or even ask people to acknowledge that she possesses any titles? I’d like you to do a run on the Earl of Louisiana. That is his title from his uncle who died without issue. He lost a lot of titles when his wife died. I think he didn’t know that would be the case, particularly the loss of the Duchy.”
“He didn’t. The duchess asked us to keep that quiet, along with a few others of theirs that they’re in line for. Victoria is actually in line for the Scottish Throne, though she doesn’t know it.”
Bill sat down on the nearest bench. That put a kink in his plans. Although...
“You still there, Bill?”
“It’s just. I’d...” He held back a regretful sigh. He could probably ask the king, but dare he? “I’d planned on marrying her after her birthday, Your Highness.”
The silence on the other end was deafening to Bill. “I see. Are you asking for our permission then?”
“You know I have to, as I now possess the knowledge of her heritage. She is a princess. I’d also like it if you’d seek the permission of the Scottish king, as I cannot properly do it without breaking away from here. And it appears I’m needed, as you had the wisdom to foresee.”
“Oh my good friend, you flatter. You have saved our royal hide more than once. You’d be a grand man to have on the Scottish throne along with the spirited Victoria.”
“Also, I want her father investigated.” Where’d that come from? It slipped out, but he’d learned over the years to trust his instincts. “There’s an assistant to the station master here at New Yorkshire that I think demands a very close look. The vetting process for anyone working in that position is extraordinary. I barely passed, and we have the official documents. My position is only a business one. Everyone working at the station, from the clerks to the janitors, is thoroughly screened.”
“I don’t know how you get your information so quickly, but it’s impressive, nonetheless.”
“In this case, I was left alone at the computer while the station master chased a killer.”
“What! You and I need to have a discussion about your priorities. Wedding plans and fools.”
“Actually, my lord, we have been on the subject. I think Victoria is a target, sir. The person who killed the station guard took a shot at her. The Earl walked close enough that if he’d been the target, they could have easily shot at him, and the station master had to have run past the shooter’s hiding spot in the hall.”
“I see. So you don’t think this is terrorism.”
“Not on the scale that needs the team sent in. Not yet, anyway,” he said referring to the Ultra King’s Service team started to help control the bombings about the time the Irish Civil War reached its peak. “They may be trying to sabotage the trains, but again, I think it has something to do with Victoria more than anything hot political-wise. The U.K.S. could force the hand of the ones after her.”
“I agree. What else do you need from me?”
“I need a special voicelet for her. One that can’t be used by her father to track her.” The king had slipped to the personal me instead of the royal we, which told Bill it had become emotional and not just a matter of the crown anymore.
“Done.”
“Your Majesty, do you know Victoria personally?” he asked with trepidation. Did the Earl have any idea of whom he’d messed with when trying to set her up with the other buffoons?
“Yes. We played together as children. When she was born, our mothers talked of having us engaged, but a couple of things stopped them. They didn’t want to force her. Notice, they weren’t worried about forcing me, but mainly, they didn’t want the Earl to know she was royalty.”
“How does he not know?”
“At the time of their marriage, Victoria’s mother, Ruth Anne, was not in line. Her older sister stood to inherit. So when she asked her parents to let her go to the North American continent with only a few of her titles, they’d allowed it. That’s when she met the Earl. They were married. As she is a Viscountess, and the American nobles and peerage aren’t as familiar with the Scottish King as the European, we passed him off with one of his lessor titles and held the marriage over there.”
“And what about when the older sister died in the Irish bombings?”
“Ruth Anne came and visited us. She just happened to stop in Scotland and be officially recognized as the next queen of Scotland, making Victoria the princess and heir apparent. Currently, there is a regent in her stead until she comes of age. The regent reports to us in the meantime. However, Ruth Anne and her daughter spent about two years in Scotland when Victoria was very young, only going back to the American continent to check on her business.”
“What about the earl? Didn’t he need to be officially recognized?”
The silence on the other end brought Bill to full attention. He peered around to make sure no one showed any undue inte
rest in him as the king answered.
“He was recognized as a traitor to a crown, and a full divorce given her with the Earl stripped of everything, except his own titles as the royal family did not want him to know we’d learned of his activities. We have been watching him ever since. We’ve been able to prevent quite a few bombings and other terrorist activities as a result.”
“Why is he still alive instead of hanging from a noose?”
“We have our reasons; some of which we have already stated.”
“I see.”
“You don’t. You’re only beginning to, but we can’t say more now. Keep in touch, Bill.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he responded, but the click in his ear told him the king had hung up already.
“This is a fine kettle of fish,” he mumbled as he rejoined the search. He caught sight of Victoria, and his body sprung to life. Good thing the king had agreed to his suit.
Chapter Six
Hours later, they were able to leave. However, the perpetrator remained free. No one could explain how the assailant escaped, but she had managed it. Also, Victoria’s backpack remained missing. They had scoured the station, looking in bins and lockers, to no avail.
The Detective Inspector gave her a funny look as she readied to board the train. “I will be in contact, my lady,” he said, putting a hand out for a shake. Without warning, he pulled her in by the hand and gave her a hug, whispering into her ear. “Be careful, lass. Don’t trust anyone on this train. Listen to your instincts. They’ll serve you well.” Then he pulled away from her and turned to her father.
“Thank you for your patience, Sir Hastings. We will endeavor to find out who wants to sabotage your trains and hurt your daughter. Good evening,” he said before leaving.
“What did he say to you?” the Earl demanded of Victoria. She only shook her head and boarded onto the family car. She would have to tell him something, but it bought her time to think.
The Shot: Traincoach of Death, Book 1 Page 4