Queenie in France

By Steven J. Yeo

Representing Edenland at the national speed climbing championships is a dream for Queenie. But Interpol, the Russians, and the Man from Tripoli, all have other ideas. Queenie is soon embroiled in a web of espionage that threatens her chances of competing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Castle Carrington Publishing
• Release date: Jul 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9781998924356

Book preview

Queenie in France

Queenie in France

by

Steven J. Yeo

Published by

Castle Carrington Publishing

www.castlecarringtonpublishing.ca

an imprint of

Perceptions Press

Victoria, BC

Canada

2023

Queenie in France

Copyright © Steven J. Yeo, 2023

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reprinted, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, and recording, or otherwise, now known or hereafter invented without the express prior written permission of the author, except for brief passages quoted by a reviewer in a newspaper or magazine. To perform any of the above is an infringement of copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Published in 2023 by Castle Carrington Publishing

Cover Art and Design: Daegal, [e-mail]

ISBN: 978-1-998924-33-2 (paperback)

ISBN: 978-1-998924-34-9 (Kindle e-book)

ISBN: 978-1-998924-35-6 (Smashwords e-book)

Published in Canada by

Castle Carrington Publishing

www.perceptionsspress.ca

an imprint of

Perceptions Press

www.castlecarringtonpublishing.ca

Victoria BC Canada

Contents

Chapter One Pass the Looseness

Chapter Two That Voice Inside My Head

Chapter Three The De-brief

Chapter Four The Sifu

Chapter Five Stranger Danger

Chapter Six The Mission

Chapter Seven Snuggles

Chapter Eight Three’s a Crowd

Chapter Nine The Tourist

Chapter Ten Best Out of Three

Chapter Eleven Making Friends

Chapter Twelve Brush it Away

Chapter Thirteen Shocking

Chapter Fourteen Cold, Very Cold

Chapter Fifteen Well, that was Stupid!

Chapter Sixteen That’s an Order

Chapter Seventeen A Conspiracy

Chapter Eighteen Not Again

Chapter Nineteen Surprise!

Chapter Twenty Fair Game

Chapter Twenty-One The Europeans?

Chapter Twenty-Two Those are My Terms

About the Author

Queenie in England

Other Publications by Perceptions Press

Chapter One

Pass the Looseness

Of all the places to find myself, tied firmly to a chair, in a dark and damp warehouse, is not one of my favourites. I can feel the ropes burning the skin on my wrists as I twist and pull at their tightness. I haven’t had a drink of water for hours, and my throat feels parched. I need to get out of these ropes before anyone comes, and while I still have the chance. I can hear the voice in my head—call her my conscience—saying, What a fine mess you’ve got yourself into this time, Princess Alexandria. Stop being weak and get yourself out of this situation.

I can see by the light coming through the shattered windows at the top of what looks like an abandoned warehouse that it must be morning. So, that means I have been at this all night. Where is Jacobs, my trusted personal bodyguard? He should have gotten here and let me out by now. But why hasn’t he? He knows where I am, from the blood tracker I had implanted in my arm before we left the palace. Or maybe they killed him or rendered him unable to come to my aid. Surely, he would have done so by now if he were able to. But this is Jacobs, we’re talking about. He is a kind of superhuman, who knows everything. Yes, he’ll be all right. At least, I hope he is all right. I don’t think I could carry on without him by my side, protecting me.

I can remember what Jacobs has taught me, in our many training sessions, of how to use the tightness of the bindings against themselves. The tighter they are, the more I need to relax to get free. But it’s not working. My wrists hurt. I’m thirsty, and where is Jacobs?

That’s it. I have had enough. I’m giving up. I’m going to sit here and try to go to sleep. I will just have to accept my fate. I was taken from my bed last night by two or three armed men from who knows where. They tied me up, put a hood on my head, and bundled me into a van. Then, we drove for about an hour. Or it seemed like an hour. It was hard to tell as I was being thrown from side to side in the back of a dusty old van. I could tell that the men spoke a foreign language. From my royal visits at the palace, I would say they were Arabs or something similar. But that is all I can say. Jacobs would be disappointed with me for not knowing anything more about my captors. But he is right about one thing, when it happens, it happens quickly. I should have stayed calmer and took stock of smells and sounds of everything around me.

Wait, someone is coming. I can hear their footsteps coming closer. One foot is hurt, or something, because I can hear that they are dragging it slightly as they move. I can also hear a quiet splashing sound. Have they brought me some water or something to drink? There he is. He has just stepped from the room off to my right. He has a tray with a sandwich, or something, on it and a glass. He has a bottle of water in his free hand. That is what is splashing. I can hear it as he is shaking the bottle about. He is limping badly, and he has a hood covering his face, with just a couple of sinister eyeholes cut into it. I can see from the colour of the skin on his hands that he is from a hot country, and he bears a tattoo of some sort on the back of his hand. Jacobs would be proud.

Your Highness, time to eat, he speaks softly and has an accent. It is Arabic or Israeli. I’m sure of it now. What was it they say in all the films.

"Allahu Akbar," I say as he approaches me.

Yes, and a Merry Christmas to you too, Princess.

He has confused me. Christmas? What did that have to do with Christmas? It is also March and nowhere near the festive times. I thought those words meant God is good, or something like that. Oh, no. I get it. He is hiding his nationality from me. He is approaching me with the tray and holding it out towards me.

If you want me to eat that, you will have to untie me, I say confidently.

He immediately throws the tray on the floor. The glass smashes, and I can see now that the sandwich is covered with age-old dust and decay, and no longer any good to eat.

Then, you don’t eat, he says in reply. Does Her Majesty want a drink?

Can you remove the lid and feed me some? I ask submissively.

I can do that, if you ask me nicely.

I pause and take a deep breath. I don’t want to appear needy, but Jacobs did tell me to get liquids wherever I can. His words ring in my ears, You can go weeks without food but only days without water. This kidnapper is looking at me through his hood, and I can tell that he is willing me to beg him for some water. I need to drink if only to give myself more time to escape, or to give Jacobs more time to get here.

Please, will you feed me some water? I reluctantly ask him.

He removes the lid and pours some water into my mouth. It is cold and must have been chilled. It is also very soothing. But then, there is something else. A funny taste to it. Just a hint of something else. Oh, my God! That is why he was shaking the bottle. He has drugged me. Look at him smiling at me. I can’t see his face, but I can tell he is pleased. Oh, what have I done? What was it that Jacobs said to prolong the effects of drugs? Pain, pain will fight the effects of drugs, I remember. Time to get back to my bindings just as soon as he has turned the corner, and I am alone again.

He's gone. I am trying to release my bindings. It hurts like hell. Relax, relax, I’m telling myself. Now, think. What can I do that I haven’t done already? Ah, yes, my arms are bound at the elbow too. If I put strain on those bindings, it might loosen them enough to pass the looseness down to my hands. That’s how Jacobs instructed me. Pass the looseness to where it needs to be.

I strain with all my force, and I can feel the rope stretch a little. I can hear the fibres creaking from the strain that I am putting them under. They do feel a little looser. Now, I use my fingers to encourage the rope around my wrists to move, if only a little. I can feel the effects of the drugs starting to work. I must move quicker but stay as relaxed as I can. I put my palms together and manage to slip a thumb out of the bindings. That has loosened the rope enough to get one hand out. I have done it. I soon manage to get my hands and arms free of the bindings. But at what cost? I feel dizzy and sick. I must get out of here before he returns to check if his drugs have worked.

I stand and feel a sudden rush of blood to my head. I sit back down before I fall over. Loosen the muscles first. Just like training for a marathon. Get the muscles working. I flex and kick my legs briefly, and I try to stand again. Yes, that is much better. I am dizzy but not more than I was a few minutes ago. But now, which way to go? I