LONDON
TOWNE
BY: TOPHAT
Chapter Three
Getting Down To Business
Angel changed into one of
Allie’s suits sometime before the helicopter landed-wherever it landed; the
assault team was polite enough, with a little encouragement from Stevens, to
look away while she changed. Stevens had filled her with all the information he
knew-which wasn’t much. He had seen grandfather go down, but didn’t realize
anything was wrong until the old man didn’t get back up. Elliot was with him and
Ronnie was keeping tabs on them both. It took several hours for them to get to
the hospital grandfather was at. In that time she had had several opportunities
to re-immerse herself in the role of Elizabeth McCullough. They changed planes
numerous times, all private planes owned by either grandfather or Elliot. Each
of those pilots owned at least one of the men their life.
______________________________________________________
Continued in Chapter Four!
They never asked where
Ms. Lizzy came from, only if she was in need of their services. This didn’t
happen unless she wanted to make a splash with the press; she was a good pilot
and generally preferred to keep a low profile. This aggravated the press as much
as her touch and go interviews at parties. She gave them enough that they didn’t
swarm her like piranhas-only the paparazzi did that on the few occasions they
actually found her-but not enough that the people outside her close social set
could honestly say they knew anything about her.
The pilots all knew about her
grandfather’s condition and gave her encouraging smiles. It worried her that
Stevens knew so little. Usually, he was Mr. Know-it-all. He could recite chapter
and verse virtually anything she ever needed to know about a mission she was on.
No, if Stevens didn’t know anything more than he was telling her, and she was
almost certain he didn’t-this time, then they were in deep trouble.
By the time she arrived
at the hospital she had changed planes, time zones, and passed through customs
so many times she lost count. If the Joes managed to track her as far the
airport she had first traveled to, then they would loose the trail after that.
“We’re here Angel.”
Steven’s comment shook
her from her reverie. She took his hand as she stepped out of the limo. “Is he
still in intensive care?”
“No. I spoke with Elliot
on the plane, the doctors moved him to a private room as soon as he was stable.
As soon as he’s stable we need to move him back to the estate. It’s more
restful, the press won’t follow, they’re camped outside the hospital at the
moment, and the estate is more secure. ”
“Are you sure? After all,
he was shot in the country. You’re right about the press though, they will make
our movements more difficult. The London House is just as secure as the
estate.”
“The shooter will come
after him again. I have a feeling he’s nearby, he was waiting for Mr. McCullough
to appear but we don’t know why. It’s possible we could flush him out.”
“If you think it’s best,
then that’s what we’ll do. Ronnie will be closer if we’re at the estate.”
They walked in the
hospital, found the appropriate stair well, seasoned professionals, neither one
could shake the unease that came from riding in an elevator during a mission,
the possibilities of danger were just too great. They walked up to the floor
grandfather was now on, and found his room.
Angel knocked softly and
eased open the door. “Elliot.” She said, he being the first one she saw.
He grinned and the voice
she had been longing to hear called her name, “Lizzy? Is that you?”
“Grandfather!” she sighed
relieved, and walked over to his bed.
His Scottish burr was a
bit weak and he looked a bit paler than normal, but other than that he was fine.
“It’s good to see you dear, but you didna need to come all the way from wherever
you were just to see an old fuddy-duddy like me.”
She knelt beside his bed
“Oh, grandfather, I’d walk to the ends of the Earth to see you, and you may be
old, but you’re no fuddy-duddy. How are you, really?”
Elliot answered, “He’ll
be fine lass, a little worse for wear, but it’s not as bad as all that.”
“He was shot!” she
replied angrily, “That’s not nothing! And from what I hear, it could have been
a lot worse!”
A flirty feminine voice
came from the door, “Don’t worry, Lizzy, darling, the old fart will be fine, I
have the assurance of his doctor, and I know he wouldn’t lie to me.”
“Ronnie, it’s good to see
you again!” she moved to hug her friend.
“I suppose when I’m introduced to
this doctor, he’ll have your favorite lipstick on his collar and smell of your
perfume?”
“Cluck, Cluck, dear. I
was merely looking out for the best interests of your grandfather, and besides,
it’s not my fault that every good looking man around here is single.”
“Darling, they’re all
single where you’re concerned. But it’s alright, I forgive you.”
“Good, because we have a
great deal to do if the old fart is leaving in the morning.”
“He can leave in the
morning?”
Grandfather’s doctor came
in the room, “Assuming his vitals are sill strong, yes. You must be Ms.
McCullough, I’m Doctor Marston.” He held out his hand for Angel to shake and
then nodded to Ronnie, “Ms. Davenport.” He smiled broadly and yes, Angel noted
he had a lipstick smudge on his collar and smelled of her friend’s perfume. Too
bad he didn’t know that Ronnie was just playing. Ronnie was a voluptuous blonde
and an incorrigible admirer of the male form-both human and horse-but men were
so much more fun to play with. That is why they were Ronnie’s hobby and horses
were her profession.
Ronnie hooked her arm
through her friend’s, “Come along now dear, let the good doctor check your
grandfather out. The dear man needs rest you know, and he won’t get it with you
hovering. Besides, you owe me several hours of good tales. The old men, the one
you have now, and don’t bother to deny it, I can sense these things. You know,
you never did tell me what happened with that Arab Sheikh. One day I read an
article declaring your intent to marry one of the richest Arabs around and the
next week I see that you’ve flown home to Atlanta very much alone and
unengaged. I imagine he’d make an interesting tea story.” Ronnie dragged Angel
out of grandfather’s room and down to the cafeteria where the two women gossiped
until it was time make arrangements for grandfather’s return home.
“I know the best medical
care is in London, Ronnie, but I just can’t abide the press. I’m sure
grandfather will be fine with Stevens to look after him, and I’ll make sure he
doesn’t try to do too much too soon.”
“Lizzy darling, if you
are relegated to playing nurse maid to the old fart, then who will come and play
with me? We’ve so much to do, I’ve got a dozen new stallions for you to meet and
there will be parties to attend. There’s a new neighbor for you to meet, he’s
quite dashing, perhaps he’d be a good catch for you? No? Oh, well it was worth a
thought, perhaps someone taller, a little more muscle…?” she was interrupted by
Angel’s laughing “What’s so funny? You haven’t sworn off men, I know you too
well for that.”
“It’s nothing, it’s just
good to be able to sit and talk about trivial things and laugh for once.”
“Lizzy, men are not
trivial. They may be playthings, but they are not trivial. And you know that my
stallions won’t be trivial. I bought one especially for you. I know how much
you’re devoted to Midnight, but he’s being offered up on stud services in
Atlanta, so you needed one to ride while you were here.”
Angel chuckled, it was
just like Ronnie, never caring how much a gesture cost, so long as it was
appreciated. “All right, tell me about him. I know he’ll be tall and gorgeous
because you wouldn’t buy anything else. He’ll probably have a wild streak
because you and I both would grow bored with a horse with no spirit. What else?”
“His coat is a deep
mahogany, and you’re right, he’s tall, extremely muscular, a wild streak a mile
wide, and lord how that horse can jump! You’ll have to help me practice. You
and Maverick will make a good team.”
“You mean you’re
competing again?”
“Oh, yes. The next big
match is in St. Louis, and then we’ll have to attend the Triple Crown. You are
staying that long, aren’t you darling?”
Angel was lost in though
and didn’t hear. St. Louis? Could she do that? Could she go to Duke’s hometown?
What if she saw him? What if she didn’t? What if this mess wasn’t wrapped up
before then? What then? What the future hold them? Things had been going so
well. She remembered the last time she saw him, running out the door, his dress
uniform all askew. But who could blame her? He had looked so damn hot all
dressed up, and even hotter a few seconds later when that uniform was in a heap
on the floor.
Ronnie caught her friend
smiling, she knew that look, it was one she herself had expressed often while in
pursuit of her next gentleman friend. “All right, give. What’s his name and what
does he look like? He must be good looking because you’re smiling like a
tigress. Irish or Scottish? Probably Scottish, tall, dark, and gorgeous; most
likely he’s rich and has a lovely castle somewhere in the highlands.”
Angel laughed, “He’s tall
all right, and he has blue eyes, and he’s gorgeous. But you’re wrong on your
other guesses.” She laughed more when her friend’s jaw dropped.
“You mean you’ve gone and
found yourself a bloody American!” she said so loudly other people in the
cafeteria stopped their conversations and stared. “That’s not like you Lizzy. I
can think of only one love interest of yours in the entire time I’ve known you
that wasn’t either Irish or Scottish and that was the Sheik. I never even got to
meet the man.”
“I didn’t plan on it
Ronnie. I didn’t even plan on having anything to do with the man, but you don’t
always choose who you love, a foreign enough concept though that may seem to
you. Duke is blonde, and he’s a wonderful friend and lover, even if the man
closes his eyes every time I get to the cockpit first.”
“So he’s a pilot, and
he’s a duke. Well, he must not be all bad. Does he have any horses? I mean I
know he’s an American, but he can’t be all American if he’s a duke. I know! You
met him on one of those consulting conferences with the RAF. He must be a pilot
in the RAF, that’s how you met him isn’t it? You showed him one of your plane
designs. What do call them? Oh, yes, fighter jets because they fight. Am I
right this time?”
Angel was luckily saved
from answering when a nurse came to tell her grandfather was being released at
this time.
Grandfather complained
the entire way to the country. Elliot at one point grew tired of his friend’s
exclamations that he was fine and didn’t need to be coddled. Elliot at that
point had asked him, quite pointedly, what the hell was the matter with him that
when he was seated between the two-lovilest ladies in all of England all he
could do was complain about it! That had shut him up. Elliot brooded the rest of
the trip, Ronnie filed her nails, seemingly without a care in the world, and
Stevens avoided looking at Angel. That annoyed her as much as it worried her and
as soon as they were safely sequestered in her grandfather’s study she let him
have it.
“What’s going on?” she
demanded as soon as Stevens sat down.
“I assume you are
referring to your grandfather’s accident?”
“Damn it! On the phone
you said it was a sniper’s bullet, you send a helicopter to collect me in the
middle of the night, and when I get to the hospital everyone acts as if it’s
just another day. You all act as if I had been summoned from a buying trip
instead of my normal life. What gives?! I think I have a right to know.”
Stevens templed his
fingers and regarded her coolly. “If there was anything more I knew I would tell
you. I’m as displeased with this situation as you are. If the press weren’t so
bad in London I’d have insisted we stay there.”
Angel poured herself a
generous quantity of whiskey in a glass and took a seat next to her
grandfather’s self-appointed bodyguard. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what
happened?” she asked, once again in firm control of her emotions.
“It was a sunny day after
a long stint of rain. The day started like any other with the three of us eating
breakfast and reading the morning paper. Elliot found an auction that looked
promising; your grandfather eschewed the trip in favor of riding. He was
apparently on his way back to the stables when he was shot. It was sudden,
unpredicted, and went off almost entirely unnoticed. The only person around for
miles was our gardener, Mr. Shaw. Shaw was returning from Jonathan’s estate
with rose cuttings. He was planning a new edition to the rose garden. Shaw had
his shotgun with him, he had been hoping to spot some ducks, he fired off three
shots and people came running. It was a matter of moments before the entire
scene was mass chaos. Shaw and Mitchell carried your grandfather back to the
house and called a doctor while some of the others examined his horse.”
Angle gasped, “He was
riding Chocolate? Is he all right? That old horse is as protective of
grandfather as I am. He must have been bad off if he didn’t get up and stand
guard over grandfather.”
“He did get up and stand
guard next to your grandfather. That was the problem; he had to be tranquilized
before Shaw could reach your grandfather.
“How do you know it
wasn’t just an accident?”
Stevens reached into his
pocket and pulled out a bullet, “Because of this.” He said softly, tossing the
bullet that the doctor had pulled out of her grandfather’s chest. It had come so
close to striking his heart-too close. Stevens left the room.
“Oh, god.” It was a
bullet not unlike what Low Light used in battle. It was a special bullet,
designed to do irrevocable damage, which only assigns of a certain level used.
It was nothing short of a miracle that the bullet had not struck his heart.
Angel moved to stare out into the night through a slit in the curtains. She
wondered just what kind of evil was out there, watching even now, waiting for
the next chance, the next time their guard was down. What did they want? What
could she do to make sure they didn’t get it? She wished circumstances were
different and she could call on the one man who seemed like he always had an
answer. “I miss you Duke.” She placed her palm on the window for half a second
and then turned and walked away.
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