Black River

ONE

British Prime Minister Duncan Hannes decided he wouldn’t tell the Queen. At least he wouldn’t tell her immediately. The less she knew about a ghost from the past, the better. There was no sense worrying the Royal Family when these matters could be handled by others. But never in Hannes’ political career had he been faced with such a dilemma. He paced the hardwood floor behind his desk at 10 Downing Street in London and thought about the two emails he’d received.

Hannes, a fleshy man with a trimmed gray moustache and ruddy cheeks, looked through his bifocals and read the latest email again. He rubbed his temples, his face drooping from fatigue, and looked out the window at the Tower of London. He punched five buttons on his desk phone and his call was answered on the first ring. “Good morning, Prime Minister Hannes.”

“I wish it was a good morning. That anonymous email I received last week…”

“Yes, we’re still pursuing it, sir. Highly encrypted. Channeled through at least seven servers around the world. We’re still working on its point of origin. However, we may have isolated it.”

“Well, now you have more to work with, Justin.”

“I take it you received another one.”

“Indeed. Now the sender wants money to remain quiet. Who is making this threat, and where is the bloody bastard? You need to get your very best operative there at M15 to find this person. Do it with speed and utmost discretion, obviously.”

“I have a cyber-team coming to your office. They’ll begin tracking immediately.”

“You said you might have isolated it. What do you mean?

“We believe the point of origin is in the states. Possibly Florida.”

“That makes sense because that’s where they found it. This person is threatening to send the information to the news media. That cannot happen.”

“I understand Prime Minister Hannes. We’re working around the clock on it.”

“This threat is unprecedented. If what this blackmailer says is accurate, it could very well open a Pandora’s Box between Britain and India. He or she — whoever sent this demand — this utter blackmail, they alleged to have tangible evidence that could make the Royal Family complicit in the tragedy and horror of something that remains controversial to this very day. The Queen and her family will not be held hostage to their ancestors on my watch.”

“We’ll begin chasing up the latest correspondence immediately.”

“Correspondence? Justin, correspondence is a letter, perhaps a telephone call, even a damn text message. This is a strong-arm blackmail of the worst kind. It involves three nations and has the potential to drag the Royal Family into the dark terrors of something better left buried.”

“Sir, could you read the email to me?”

“Most of it reiterates what was previously stated. The new addendum threatens to release everything to the news media unless ten million pounds is wired into a Cayman Islands account, attached to a letter of impunity from pursuit and prosecution and signed by a member of the Royal Family. Justin…”

“Yes sir?”

“I’m looking out the window across the River Thames to the Tower of London in the distance. And, at this moment in time, I’m not certain whether one of the most famous of the Crown Jewels is authentic.”