Return of the Crown Prince

Chapter 13

13.1

"Mr. York, I presume," Ironside barked. "What took you so long?"

York smiled. I had to wait for your man to leave the bloody truck. I thought you were going to keep him here for protection."

"I don't need protection," the detective snarled.

"Then why did you have that damn dog in your hospital room? Just to keep you company, I suppose. I should kill you for what that mongrel did to my arm."

"He is not a mongrel. He is a German Shepherd. Otto travels with me quite often.

"To the hospital? Give me a break, Ironside. Don't treat me like one of your run of the mill crooks you are used to dealing with. Now would you kindly give me your bloody service revolver?"

Robert Ironside reached into his suit coat and removed the thirty-eight that he kept there when out on a case. He handed it to York. "I suggest we get moving before one of my people come back to the van. I don't want them involved."

Good thinking, Chief, except we need your driver. I cannot drive and watch you at the same time."

"We don't need Mark for that," Ironside countered. "I can drive this vehicle."

York looked at Ironside in surprise. "The city must really respect you Chief … to have equipped this vehicle so that you can drive it yourself." He looked at the driver's seat. "If you expect me to help you into that seat, you are mistaken. I have no intentions of giving you any opportunity to overtake me. I understand your upper body is unusually strong."

"It is not necessary for you to help me. All I have to do is push a button and the seat moves backwards out of the way so that I can get my wheelchair in front of the controls."

York looked down at the floor. There was indeed a track behind both sides of the driver's seat. "Okay, Ironside, push the button."

Ironside maneuvered his wheelchair behind the front passenger seat. Reaching up, he pushed a button and the driver's seat began moving backwards on the track. Once it was completely out of the way, Chief Ironside wheeled into position behind the controls. He turned the engine over and put the van in drive.

York placed his silenced gun at Ironside's neck. "Put in in reverse, Chief. What do you take me for? We are not passing right by the Lighthouse." Ironside did as he was told. He backed the van into a driveway behind them and pulled it back into the street heading in the opposite direction. "You take orders well, Chief. I was not expecting that. I figured you only gave them."

"It's easy to take orders when someone has a gun stuck at your throat," Ironside growled.

York laughed. "Yes, I suppose it is. Now just take the highway out of San Francisco. We have about a half hour drive. I suggest you obey all traffic signals and speed limits. For your sake, we better not get pulled over."

"No one will pull over this vehicle," Ironside insisted.

"Just the same, do as you are told and you prolong your life," York fell into silence.

"How does one end up in a despicable profession such as yours?"

"It was easy. I served in Scotland Yard. From there I went into intelligence. Her majesty decided to cut me from the service with no pension. I had to make a living somehow. This was the logical course of action."

"You killed two people that had nothing to do with the assignment you were on," Ironside reminded him.

"You're good, Chief. How long have you known about me?"

"You made a mistake coming to the scene of the shooting at the Hall of Justice. When you disappeared, I had a police artist sketch your likeness."

"Then you sent it to your buddy in Washington," York finished for him.

"We had you identified almost immediately," Ironside informed him. "You should have left the scene quietly."

"That was my plan but I was unfortunate to run into your Sergeant Brown. I had to convince him I was a doctor or I would never have gotten by him."

"Then you should have kept in going when you walked away from him."

"Now that would have caught his attention, don't you think? It is a good thing for him I handled it the way I did. He would not be alive otherwise."

Ironside grunted. "Don't be so sure. He has captured men every bit as dangerous as you. He's smart and the best in the department."

"I got by him didn't I?"

"You were found out, weren't you?" Ironside countered.

"I got by your cops at the hospital too."

"I would not plan on that happening again," Ironside snarled.

"Oh but I do, Chief. You are going to see to it."

"Don't count on that either. You are going to jail, Mr. York and I am the one that will be bringing you in."

"York put his head back and laughed. "I will say one thing for you, Bob. May I call you Bob?"

"No, you can call me Chief Ironside."

York's laughter roared louder. "You certainly deserve your reputation, Chief. However, this time you have been outwitted. Do not expect your people to come charging in on white horses to save their boss. It is not going to happen. They will not be tracing us with that little invention of your president."

Ironside looked over at York but kept a straight poker face. He said nothing.

"Nice try, Chief but I know you know what I am talking about. Those tiny little chips that were injected under the crown prince and Eve Whitfield's skin to trace them to me will not be working quite as you had planned. You see the military officer that came into your office to inject them was not who you thought he was. He was a plant. The real officer is dead … so is the one that came into your office for that matter. Because I knew the frequency he placed those chips on, it was easy for me to jam them. The jamming began shortly after we picked up the prince and Miss Whitfield. You won't be tracing them anywhere."

Ironside gave nothing away in his expression. He looked straight ahead out the window. "How did you switch the officer? We checked with Washington and they sent his picture over to us to confirm he was who they sent."

"I have a man in Whitmore's administration. He has the ability to get into the pentagon's computer."

"He would have to be pretty high up for that to happen."

"Oh, he is. I approached him some time ago about little venture of ours. It has been quite profitable. Nevertheless, this is going to be the biggest score. You see, Chief, it has to be. Due to your meddling, we will be unable to continue with the kidnappings. But the government is going to pay big for this one. I have three hostages for the president to buy back."

"Three?" Ironside inquired.

"The crown prince, his intended and his closest friend … you, Ironside."

"The government is not going to pay one dime to get me back, York. I am not a foreign dignitary."

"I don't believe that for a second, Chief. Didn't you and your brother save the man's presidency and life by going to Washington and discovering who the real killer of his wife was? Why, you and your brother are now famous the world over, especially that brother of yours. The entire trial was televised all over the world. You got your share of press. You helped bring down the most powerful politicians in Washington. Now you and your brother are super hero status."

"So what? We both did our jobs. That has nothing to do with here and now."

"I think it does. I doubt that it is a coincidence that you were assigned to protect the crown prince, since he is marrying one of your own. I am sure the president figured you would jump at the opportunity to protect them. Furthermore, I think he asked you to find out who was behind all of the kidnappings."

"I protected the crown prince the last time he was in San Francisco. He asked for me. The state department obliged him," Ironside was making it up as he went along.

"Sorry, I don't believe you," York said dryly. "However, it doesn't matter, because you have failed the president. You have failed the crown prince and most importantly you have failed Eve Whitfield." York stared at Ironside to see how that statement had affected him. He might as well have been talking about the weather. The expression on Ironside's face never changed. "I sure would hate to play poker with you. You are very difficult to read."

"It comes from dealing with thugs like you for twenty five, thirty years," Ironside responded.

"Well, let me bring you up to date on my plan. I am raising the ransom to twenty million dollars. It is to be paid in cash, unmarked bills. Once the money is in my hands, the crown prince will be released. I will continue to hold you and Officer Whitfield. That way, I will still be able to have the princes' country keep on the pressure regarding his bride to be. You will get me transportation out of this country. Now you are just going to love this part … I want military transportation to Iran. We will be allowed to land and you and I are going to get off. The American plane will then leave the country. However, you will not. You see, the Iranian government was very upset with you and your brother for helping the president out of his recent predicament. Since they cannot take it out on President Whitmore, they are really excited to be able to take it out on his good friend. You are just going to love what they have in store for you. After they torture you for a while, they plan to strap a bomb to you and blow you to smithereens on camera for the whole world to see. Kind of a deterrence for those who might be thinking about helping the American government in any way." York watched Ironside's expression. He could not believe the man just sat there and never blinked an eye. "Come on Chief, you just have to love what you have to look forward to."

"I gave you far too much credit for brains," was all Ironside said.

York's face turned red with rage. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Do you really think that President Whitmore will allow you to take me out of the country?"

"He will have no choice. He will be thinking he is keeping you alive. He is not going to know where I will be taking you. Neither will the pilots until I absolutely have to tell them. They will have no idea what is going to happen to you at the other end."

"There is a flaw in your plan, York," Ironside growled.

"I don't think so but I'll tell you what, why don't you enlighten me?"

"You would like that wouldn't you? I am not going to tell you anything. Figure it out for yourself," Ironside said.

York grinned. "I don't think you think there is a flaw in this plan. You are scared. You may not show it, but you are scared."

The detective grunted, "That'll be the day."

13.2

Lt. Carl Reese was on his car phone. "Ed! The chief's van is missing."

"Relax, Carl. We know exactly where he is. He's with York," Ed told the Italian cop.

"What! Ed, what the hell is going on? Ironside was not supposed to be part of this."

"Yeah, I know," he said, glancing over at Artie Hinson in the passenger seat of his Ford. "That was before he and Artie Hinson changed the entire plan."

"Hinson? You are not making any sense," Carl all but yelled into the phone.

"Calm down, Carl. You have worked with the chief long enough to know that everything is subjected to change if he gets a bee in his bonnet."

"Why is it when he gets a bee in his bonnet, we are the ones that wind up stung?" Reese complained.

"Listen, I don't like this any better than you do, but he is the boss." Ed smiled as he realized Carl was just worried for the chief's safety. Ironside's favorite lieutenant, over the years had practically become one of the team. He worked with Ironside's office more than he worked in homicide. If the money was in the budget there was no doubt in Ed's mind that the chief would already have had Carl transferred to his office. As it was, he had to be satisfied working Carl as an unofficial member of the team.

"Carl, when you arrive at the scene, you will be in charge. I will not be there."

"What? Ed, you have to tell me what is going on." Carl demanded.

"Just listen to the chief. He will give you instructions. Make sure you listen closely. You will have to read between the lines," Ed said.

"Where are you going? Carl asked.

"To make sure the chief doesn't get in over his head," Ed answered.

"You better be careful. He doesn't like his officers checking up on him."

"This time it was his idea. Later, Carl."

"Yeah, later." Carl hung up the phone.

13.3

Ironside pulled the van down the winding driveway. The house was set far off the street. A white six-foot privacy fence surrounded the property. The chief did not like the looks of this set up even though he did not expect anything less of Phillip York. This would not be an easy place for the police to storm. That really did not matter though, since he and Artie changed the plan. The only one that would be leaving here would be the crown prince. Ironside appreciated his help in getting to York, but he simply could not take any further chances with his life. The rest of them were cops. They were paid for taking chances. The former chief of detectives pondered what this could mean for him if this did not go the way he and Artie had planned. He shook his head slightly. Since when did he worry about what would happen to him if things did not go right? He guessed the reason was that was before he and Barbara got together. Whatever affected him affected her. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her. She put up with a lot to be with him and he loved her.

As he pulled up to gate, York instructed him to open the window and press the button. Ironside did as he was told to do. The gate opened and Ironside drove through. He pulled the van around the circular driveway and parked in front of the house. Two other cars were parked there. The chief made a mental note of the license plate on the vehicle in front of his van.

"Alright, Ironside, get out of the van. Do not try anything. I would hate to have to put a bullet in your head before the Iranians get a chance to meet you."

Robert Ironside released the lock on his wheelchair and positioned his chair at the side door. He hit the button and the van door opened. The lift tray dropped down. Ironside wheeled on to it and was lowered to the ground. York got out of the front passenger side of the vehicle and stepped behind Ironside. "Just follow the sidewalk, Chief. The side door will accommodate your chair."

Ironside wheeled toward the side of the house. He was met there by a scruffy looking character, holding a gun. "I'm glad you are here, York. That broad is a pain in the …"

"Officer Whitfield," Ironside said, raising his voice.

"What?" The man said, confused.

"Her name is Officer Whitfield … and she is not a broad."

"Just get inside, Ironside." York growled.

He wheeled his chair through the door, grabbing both sides of the doorframe to pull himself into the house. He looked around. He did not see anyone other than the one scruffy, dirty little man who greeted him at the door.

"This way Chief," York ordered him. Ironside followed him into an office."

"Whose place is this?" The chief asked.

"What difference does it make? It is secluded, unoccupied, and the fence was a bonus."

"Where's my officer?"

"In the basement," York said, "where she and the prince are going to stay."

"Not if you want my help," Ironside said raising his voice. "Bring Eve and the crown prince up here or I will not lift a finger to help you."

"Get this straight right now, Ironside. I am calling the shots, not you, and I say they stay where they are, GOT IT, COP?"

"Then you are on your own. I will not talk to the president and I will not hold my men off if they try to storm this place. GOT IT, THUG?" Ironside looked into York's eyes with the famous Ironside blue glare.

York stepped back from wheelchair occupant. "Mario, go get Whitfield and the prince. Make sure their wrists and tied … and behind their backs." Mario disappeared from the office.

"I am warning you, Chief, if you or the other two try anything, anything at all, Eve Whitfield will be the first one shot. Do you understand me?"

"I understand you perfectly."

A few moments later Mario returned with Eve and Miguel. Ironside looked at his policewoman and asked softly, "Are you alright, Eve?"

"I am okay, Chief."

"Your Highness?"

"I am fine, Chief Ironside."

Ironside looked at his watch. What was Carl waiting for? He was supposed to start five minutes ago.

13.4

"Duffy, are all of your men in place," Lt. Reese asked the officer.

"Yes, Lieutenant. We are ready when you are."

"Okay then. I hope the hell the chief knows what he is doing. Pushing this man is risky at best." Carl walked over to the police cruiser and pulled out the handset. He pressed the button that would project his voice through the speaker on the cruiser. "Phillip York, Phillip York, this is the police. We have you surrounded. Release your hostages, throw down your weapons and come out with your hands up." Carl waited for a response. He worried about what York might do. He did not agree with the chief walking into this trap. He wished he had had a chance to try to talk him out of it. There was nothing he could do except exactly as Ironside had instructed. Now he would wait.

13.5

York jerked at the sound of the PA system outside. "Police? But how could they possibly …?"

"The chip in Eve and the crown prince," Ironside said.

"I told you, I disabled that chip shortly after my men picked these two up," York argued.

"You would have if the chips were still in them?"

York stepped toward Ironside. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Your replacement's pants were too big, Mr. York," Ironside said.

"What?" Then it hit him. "You made him, didn't you?"

"Something bothered me immediately about the man. He was walking on his cuffs and his pants were just too big. I sent one of my men in the other room to call Washington. We were told that Gary Bahr had lost weight. Problem was he seemed to have lost inches on his height as well."

"So you had the chip taken out and injected new ones," York surmised.

"That's right, Mr. York. My people traced Eve and the crown prince here."

York paced around the room. Damn it! He had underestimate Robert Ironside. After all he had heard about the man and he still had underestimated him. "This doesn't change a thing, Ironside."

"Give yourself up, York. It's over," Ironside said.

"No Chief, it is just beginning. Nothing has changed. I told you are my ticket out of here. There will be no surrendering. If your people storm this house, I kill all three of you. Don't think I won't.

"I have no doubt of that but you are never going to get away now."

"You better hope I do … that is if you care anything about Miss Whitfield and the prince. You will call your police officers outside and tell them to stand down."

"They are not going to leave here no matter what I tell them. It is a hostage situation and they have instructions on how to handle them. They won't pay any attention to me."

"Then you are dead Ironside and so are your precious Eve Whitfield and her future husband. Now call those cops out there, NOW!

Ironside looked at York. What was he seeing in the man's eyes? Just how far should he push him right now? He had Eve and the crown prince to consider. Would Carl be able to figure out what he wanted the way Ed always could? The only thing he was completely sure of was he had to play this out to its conclusion. But would it be the right conclusion?