Exocet

17

It was the finest of London mornings, the early winter sun shining on the hoar frost on the trees in St James's Park as the taxi drove up Pall Mall towards Buckingham Palace.

Tony Villiers was wearing the uniform of his own regiment, razor sharp, the scarlet and blue dress cap with gold-rimmed peak, Sam Browne belt gleaming, medal ribbons in a neat row on the left breast.

The taxi driver said, 'Big day, eh, gov'nor? Was you down there in the Falklands?'

'Yes,' Villiers said.

'That's funny, guv. I didn't know the Grenadier Guards was there as well.'

'One or two,' Villiers told him.

The driver grinned in the mirror. 'We showed 'em, didn't we?'

'Yes,' Villiers said. 'I suppose we did.'

They rounded the Victoria monument and were cleared at the main gate where the taxi was allowed through into the courtyard. Villiers alighted and took out his wallet.

'Nothing doing, guv, have this one on me,' the cabby said and drove away.

Villiers followed the people who were streaming in through the main doors of the palace. There were members of all three services, most of them accompanied by their nearest and dearest, the women wearing hats specially bought for the occasion.

There was a general air of gaiety and excitement, a sense of occasion as they mounted the red-carpeted stairs and entered the picture gallery, where rows of chairs waited, facing the raised platform in the centre where the Queen would sit.

A military band played light music, there was a buzz of conversation as people took their seats and talked together in low voices. Each recipient of an award was allowed two guests to the ceremony, usually family. Villiers had no one. Had preferred to leave it that way.

He sat in the chair assigned to him by an usher and looked around him at the marble statues, the paintings on the wall and the crowd waiting so expectantly, children amongst them, keyed up for the big moment.

The talking died away as the band started to play God Save the Queen and everyone stood as she walked in.

People had been formed up in ascending order of decoration, the Navy first as the senior service, then the Army, followed by the RAF. As each man's name was called, he went forward to receive his award at the Queen's hands and a few moments of conversation.

There were several other awards of the Distinguished Service Order that morning. When Villiers' turn came he moved forward and stood there, waiting for the Queen to pin the medal to him.

She said, 'Not much we can say about this one, Colonel Villiers.'

'Major, ma'am.'

She smiled again as she pinned the DSO in place. 'You obviously haven't seen the Army List this morning.'

And then Villiers was moving away, still unable to take it in, as the next recipient moved forward.

He stood in the courtyard outside the palace at the bottom of the steps, and opened the box and looked at the medal again, then he slipped it into his pocket and crossed to the main gates. The constables on duty saluted him as he passed out and moved through the usual crowd of tourists. Here and there a camera clicked, but he took no notice, hesitated, then crossed from the monument, towards St James's Park.

He didn't know where to go next, that was the trouble. He paused to light a cigarette and a black Bentley slid into the kerb beside him, Harry Fox at the wheel.

The rear door opened and Ferguson looked out. 'You're looking well, Tony. Big day.'

'I suppose so,' Villiers said.

'I hear Gabrielle married her colonel in Beunos Aires last month.'

'I know,' Villiers said. 'She wrote to me.'

Ferguson nodded. 'You've heard about your promotion to half-colonel? Makes you the youngest in the Army.'

'Yes.'

'Good. Get in.' Ferguson leaned back.

'What for?' Villiers asked him.

'My dear Tony, who do you think arranged your promotion? I did and not as a birthday treat, but because it suits my purposes. I'd like to point out the rank is only acting. Your regiment weren't at all pleased.'

'You mean you've got a job for me?'

'Of course. Come on, boy, get in. I haven't got much time. I've a meeting at the Ministry of Defence at two o'clock.'

For a moment, Villiers almost did it and then he remembered Gabrielle at Maison Blanche and the look on her face. You're worth so much more than Ferguson and his dark games. You're worth a little joy, that was what she'd said.

He closed the door. As he turned away, Ferguson leaned out of the window. 'What are you playing at, Tony? Where are you going?'

'For a walk in the park,' Villiers said and turned across the grass through the trees.

The expression on Harry Fox's face was one of pure delight. 'Looks like you've lost him, sir.'

'Nonsense,' Ferguson said. 'He'll be back. Drive on, Harry.'

He leaned back in the seat, took a file from his briefcase and started to leaf through it as the Bentley moved out into the traffic.