Return of the Crown Prince

Chapter 06

6.1

Lt. Carl Reese shove open the door to Ironside's office. "Chief, take a look at this!" He hurried down the ramp and straight to the detective. He dropped the map in front of him.

Ironside picked it up. "It's a map of empty buildings and houses in this city. Did you find this in Neil Weeks house?"

"Yes. It was sitting right there out in the open. Ed is probably being held in one of them. I have divided the empty buildings and houses among every available officer. We are searching everyone of."

"Good work, Carl." Ironside looked down the list. "Ed's life may depend on us finding the right building which they are holding him."

"We are concentrating on the buildings and houses that are on the outskirts of town or ones that are secluded unless you have something else in mind."

Ironside studied the map in front of him. One by one, he checked the buildings and houses that were marked on the map. There were so many of them. How could they ever find Ed in time? "This will take too long. We have to narrow down the number of places we check. We have to find Ed, fast."

Carl sat down beside the chief. "That would be taking a chance. What if we miss the one Ed is in?"

"Carl, we are not going to find him in time. This could take hours."

"If you have any suggestions, I would be happy to hear them," Carl said.

Ironside continued to look at each one of the possible targets on the map. Suddenly one of them caught his eye. Could it be that easy? "Look at this," He said as he pointed to a house marked on the map and traced with his finger to the name of the street.

Carl turned the map so he could see where Ironside was pointing. "Weeks Avenue? Come on chief, he could not possibly be that stupid…could he?"

"By now Neil Weeks knows that we have searched his house. He has to kill Ed. He cannot keep him alive much longer. We are just about out of time. I am willing to gamble Weeks chose this house," he said pounding his finger on spot making the house on Weeks Ave, "and I will bet a year's pay Neil Weeks is somehow connected to this house." Ironside reached for phone. After dialing, he barked, "I need information on a house at 2335 Weeks Avenue." Ironside waited. He listened for a moment. "Rented out? When?" Again, he waited for an answer. "Thank you." He hung up the phone.

"We hit the jackpot, Carl. The house was rented two weeks ago by Neil Weeks." He dialed again. "This is Ironside. I want all available units sent to 2335 Weeks Avenue. It is believed to be the house where Sgt. Ed Brown is being held. I will meet them there."

"Let's go, Carl! Mark!" Sanger dropped what he was doing, grabbed his jacket and helped Ironside wheel his chair up the ramp."

6.2

Ed knew it was only a matter of time before the man in charge sent Neil Weeks in to kill him. They could not afford to leave him alive, even only for the possibility he might recognize their voices. Nor could Ed depend on the chief to find him in time. Oh, he knew Ironside would tear the city apart looking for him but what, if anything concrete, did his boss have that would help locate him?

Brown started rolling his body. He moved over to his left. He could not see anything. His captors had seen to that. Nor could he yell for help. They had placed duct tape over his mouth. His hands were bounded behind his back and his feet were drawn up and bound as well. He knew a lot of police officers would just sit and wait for what fate would bring him, but not Brown. He worked for Robert T. Ironside. How many times had his boss been put in this kind of situation? He was living proof that you kept your wits and worked with what you had to free yourself.

Unfortunately, Ed had been taken by surprise. He had been unable to leave the chief any clues as to his whereabouts so he would, like the chief sometimes had, have to depend on himself. Ironside had taught him that the most important thing was not to panic. No matter how hopeless a situation seemed, it was never completely hopeless. There was always a way out. You simply had to find it... and have the time to do it. Ed thought about the times his boss had been held captive and how he turned the tables on his captors. He was going to have to do the same. If the chief could do it so could he. Otherwise the chief never would have chosen for his staff. Ironside expected all of his officers to analyze a situation and find a solution. Ed intended to do exactly that.

Brown continued to roll his body to his left. It was a slow process due to his legs being tied into a fetal position. When his momentum was finally stopped, he had his face up against what he was sure was a wall. If he were lucky, he might be able to locate a nail along that wall. Ed pushed himself into a sitting position. That in itself took him quite a while considering his bondage. When he finally did manage it and with his back to the wall, he felt along the floor board. He scooted along the wall by pushing off with his feet and hands. Although it seem like it took forever, it actually only took him a few minutes to inspect the length of the wall.

When he reached the corner, he prepared to check the next wall. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain across his fingertip. Ed could feel something wet. He realized he had cut the tip of two fingers on something. Carefully he touched the area which had induced the pain in his fingers. A razor blade! It was stuck along the molding of the floor. He could not imagine how it got there, nor did he care. He only cared that it could be his ticket to getting out of there. He used his fingernail to release the razor blade from where the molding and the wall met. Now he just had to figure out how to control something as flat as the razor blade as he tried to remove it from its resting place against the wall.

Sgt. Brown, using both of his bound hands, worked the razor blade. He tried to tip it with one hand while the other was prepared to grab it. He tried unsuccessfully several times. The razor blade, it seemed, did not want to cooperate. On his tenth try, he was able to get his right hand under the blade while tipping it with left. Finally! Ed carefully turned the razor blade so that the sharp end was pointed toward the ropes that bound his hands. He would have to be careful. If he lost control and dropped the blade, he might not be able to locate it in the dark again.

Using a short sawing motion, he moved the razor blade back and forth. He could feel the progress the blade was making through the rope. For twenty minutes Ed continued making progress until he had sawed through the rope. Holding tightly to the razor blade, he pulled his hands apart. On the third try, the rope gave way. Sgt. Brown shook the rope off and freed his hands. He then pulled the blind off his eyes and the tape from his month. Lastly, he removed the rope from his feet.

Brown tried to stand up but fell backwards as his legs felt like rubber. They failed to support his weight. He stretched them out and rubbed up and down their length to return the circulation, cut off by the tightness of the ropes; which had previously kept them bound together. After a couple of minutes, the numbness disappeared and his legs once again supported his weight.

His first thought was to contact the chief and let him know he was alright. He checked the basement door going into the house but it was locked. It was too dark for him to be able to tell the type of lock he was dealing with. He had to figure a way to get out of the basement. Ramming his shoulder against the door, Brown attempted to break the door away from the lock, but it held. After several more attempts and a shoulder that was beginning to pain, he gave up.

He reached up and felt the hinges. Ed smiled, realizing the door opened into the basement. Maybe, just maybe he could return the headache that Neil Weeks had given him. He looked around for something he could use for a club.

6.3

Neil Weeks went around the back of the house. He pulled a key out of his pocket and put it into the lock. He turned the key and opened the door. After entering the kitchen, he closed the door and turned the dead bolt lock. Stopping long enough to pull the gun from his waist, he then looked through his keys for the one that would open the door to the basement. Once he located the correct key, he put it into the lock and unlocked the door.

Weeks pulled the flashlight out of his back pocket and press the button to turn it on. With the gun in his right hand and the flashlight in the left, he started down the stairs. There was no lights to illuminate the way down the stairs. Weeks could not believe that the people who had lived in the house had not installed a light in the hallway down to the basement. When he arrived at the bottom, he again put his gun under his belt and then reached into his pocket to pull out his keys. He fumbled through the keys until he located the correct key. Weeks unlocked the door and opened it inward into the basement. Putting his keys back into his pocket, he then pulled the gun out once again. He entered the basement.

Weeks shined the flashlight where he had left Brown. He was not there. He moved the flashligh around the room. Panic began to rise as there was no sign of Brown anywhere. That is when everything went black and Weeks fell to the floor.

When he awakened, he found himself in the kitchen, tied to one of the kitchen chairs. On the other side of the table sat Sgt. Edward Brown. "Hello, Neil. You will forgive me if I chose not take part in your murder of me."

"Murder? I don't have any idea what you are talking about."

"Of course you don't. That is why you came down the stairs with this gun." Ed pulled the gun he had taken from Weeks and held it up for him to see.

"All I know is that I found you in my basement tied up. I was coming down for you and then I was going to call the police."

Ed laughed. "That's your story, huh. You really are not going to stick to that, are you? Why don't you tell me the truth?"

Week's vision was slightly blurred, probably from the blow on the head. "I know my rights Brown, I have the right to talk to a lawyer."

"How do you know who I am if you just found me in your basement?"

Realizing his blunder, Weeks clammed up. "I want a lawyer."

"Oh you will get a lawyer alright, Mr. Weeks. Where's the phone?"

"There is no phone. I just rented this house recently."

"I guess we will just have to take a stroll to the closest house. Where's my gun and my badge?"

"I don't know what you are talking about," Weeks said, looking away from him.

Suddendly, the door was kicked in and Lt. Carl Reese burst into the room with three other police officers. He took one look at the situation and holstered his weapons. "Bring the chief in," Carl ordered the officers as he grinned at Ed.

Chief Ironside was wheeled into the room. He looked at Weeks and than at Ed. Ed smiled at his boss. He could see the relief on Ironside's face but he knew the chief would not tell him the relief was at seeing him unharmed. "What took you so long, chief?" Ed said with a grin. It was always the line Ironside used when he showed up to rescue him.

"I had to make sure the crown prince's security was set up for this afternoon," Ironside said with a straight face. "You were second on the agenda."

Ed suppressed a smile. That was the as close to an admission that the chief was worried about him as he was going to get. "Well, is his security all set up?"

Ironside wheeled over to the table. His tough demeanor gave way to concern. "Are you all right, Ed?"

"Other then this knot on the back of my head, I am fine. This is Neil Weeks, chief."

Ironside stared at Weeks while saying nothing. Weeks could not continue to look into Ironside's eyes. He turned away for the piercing blue glare of the detective. "You are in a lot of trouble, Mr. Weeks."

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Ironside."

"Oh, I think you do. Your prints were found in Simon Carmell's apartment. I am betting that the bullets taken out of Carmell match that gun that Sgt. Brown is holding. Talk to me, Weeks."

Weeks looked down. "I know my rights. I am not talking to you, Ironside. I want a lawyer. "

Disgusted, Ironside growled, "Read him his rights and book him, Ed. He turned to Weeks. "You'll get your lawyer, Mr. Weeks. It might go better on you if you cooperate with us."

"I have the right to remain silent," Weeks quoted. With that Ed read him the rest of his rights.

6.4

"Chief, you let Weeks off rather easy," Ed Brown said as he took a sip of his coffee.

"We don't have the time to interrogate him right now. The crown prince is coming in this afternoon and I would feel better if we went over his security one more time."

Mark set a cup of coffee in front of Chief Ironside. "But wouldn't Weeks have knowledge about who is going to try to kidnap the crown prince?"

"There is not much doubt about that," Carl said. "In fact he is probably the guy that would watch the crown prince while they have him locked up in that basement.

"We will get back to him as soon as we get the crown prince safely settled in the hotel," Ironside said. "Where in the blazes is Eve?"

"She is checking on Simon Carmell, just like you asked her to do," Mark replied. "She should be back shortly."

"She better be. The press will become suspicious if the crown prince's fiancee doesn't meet him at the airport." Ironside reached for the phone. As he picked it up, the door opened and Officer Eve Whitfield walked down the ramp.

She walk over to the table. She looked at Ed and smiled. "Welcome back. I am happy to see you are all right, Ed."

He returned the smile. "So am I. Thanks."

"Officer Whitfied, where in the blazes have you been? You were suppsosed to be back here by noon," Ironside snapped as he hung up the phone.

"I was, but the office was empty. I checked downstairs and they told me you went after Ed. So I made a couple more inquiries. I've been busy chief and I have some news."

Ironside looked at her and waited. "Well?"

"Simon Carmell has been a very busy boy." Eve dropped a file down in front of Chief Ironside. She pulled out a bank account statement. Pointing to five deposits of ten thousand dollars each, she said, "Each one of these deposits coinsides with each of the kidnapped diplomats. The money was deposited to his account directly after each was released."

Ed and Carl looked over Ironside's shoulder. "Looks like he was involved in the kidnappings," Ed said.

"Then he was working with Neil Weeks. Now that we have him, it looks like the crown prince is safe," Carl surmised.

Ironside shook his head. "No, Carl, I don't think so. Weeks is not smart enough to have planned those kidnappings. He was just taking oders and so was Carmell. "

Eve point out what she knew her boss was thinking. "We have to consider that someone in Washington was feeding information to the kidnappers here in San Francisco and Los Angeles."

Carl walk around the table and sat down. "Chief, you are think that there is another man here who planned the kidnapping."

Ironside continued to glance through the file Eve had set in front of him. "There has to be. Weeks is not the head of this operation at this end. Carl, I want you to check into Neil Weeks background. Find out who he has been hanging out with. Check on his bank account too."

"Eve did you talk to the employees at the Lighthouse?" Ironside asked.

"Yes. Simon Carmell was not very well liked by the rest of the employees. He was never caught directly, but several of them said they were sure he was overcharging patrons and pocketing the difference of what he charged and what the drinks actually cost."

"What about his friends. Who did he talk to? Did they notice him spending time with anyone?"

"He was seen in the company of a man that was descibed as about six feet tall, brown hair, brown eyes, average looking."

"That describes half the men in San Francisco," Ironside complained.

Eve smiled, "Yes, but half the men in San Francisco do not talk with a British accent."

Ironside perked up. "British?"

"That's right chief. Every employee who noticed him said that he was British. I tried to get a line on him but no one seem to know where he lived. Other than Carmell, he kept to himself."

"Ed, call Artie Hinson. Find out if the ransom calls came from a man with a British accent," Ironside ordered.

Ed stepped to a phone. "What's the number to the White House?"

Ironisde reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small address book. Leafing throuh it, he stopped, handed the book to Ed. "That's Hinson's private number. That way you will not have to go through the White House switchboard. "

"Mark!"

"Right here chief," Mark said from the kitchen where he was putting on another cup of coffee.

"Can you have dinner ready when we get back from the airport?" Ironside asked.

"Fit for a king," Mark responded.

"Doesn't have to be fit for a king, just a prince."

"Eve, you are to invite the crown prince for dinner. Ed will be driving the van and Carl, I want you overseeing the crown prince's security. Everything else will have to wait. "

Sgt. Brown hung up the phone and returned to the table. Ironside looked into his face. He could read his sergeant rather well. "The ransom call came from a Brit."

Ed nodded. "The ransom call did indeed come from a Brit. Artie Hinson would like you to call him. He said he has some information for you but he would not give it to me. He said he would be in his office util late tonight."

"Ok, let's go over the prince's security one more time," Ironside said.

6.5

Philip York looked through his binoculars from the helicopter. He handed the pilot a tablet with a map he had drawn on it. "Follow this route."

"Why this one in particular?" The pilot asked.

"Because this is the route Ironside is taking the crown prince on," York answered.

"How do you know?"

"All I have to do is follow the cops."

"I don' t see any cops."

"You don't have to see them. You can smell them. Ironside is too smart to have them in uniform. See the chap reading the paper, sitting on the bench?" He handed the binoculars to the pilot. "That guy is a cop. It is written all over him. So is the chap leaning on the lamp post. Notice he just put his hand to his ear. He's wearing an ear piece. Probably talking to Ironside or one of his people."

"I don't see how you can tell that from just looking at them."

"Just take me work for it. They are cops…Ironside's cops. There is no way, we can take the prince right now. Ironside has this route too well covered. Since the prince is here to see his future wife, we will concentrate on picking the two of them up while together."

York continued to look through the binoculars. He was a clever cop, this chap. He was hoping for him to try for the prince on the way from the airport. He hated to disappoint the famous detective but he much preferred to pick up the crown prince with a lot less cops around. He would do so and soon...but not yet.

In the meantime, he needed to eliminate a problem. He would do that in the morning. Weeks would be arraigned tomorrow. Ironside would have to transport him from the jail at police headquarters to the Hall of Justice and back again. York had found out Ironside intended to interrogate him after he was arraigned. He would take him out at that time.

York wondered if it might be a good idea to take Ironside out at the same time. Weeks thought he did not take Ironside seriously. On the contrary, he took him very seriously. So serious, he could not allow him to interfer with this kidnapping. This one was going to score him one million dollars. He could not let Ironside interfer with that. He decided to head to his vantage point to be sure everything was set. He would have to check the timing. Even the split second it would take to kill Ironside had to be planned. He did not want to miss him. Things would go smoother with him out of the way.

"Okay, I have seen enough. Let's head back," York told the pilot.