Next In Line

Chapter 11

William was the second person to arrive at the meeting that morning, and wondered if the commander ever went to bed.

The rest of the team were all seated around the table long before the appointed hour and, as each one of them had placed a thick file on the table, it was clear no one had been keeping office hours.

‘Welcome back,’ said the Hawk. ‘As I’ve not been on the ground for this particular operation, I’ll ask DCI Warwick to bring us up to date.’

William outlined in detail the reception he’d received when he and Rebecca had first arrived at Buckingham Gate, before he turned to Jackie and Paul to find out if they’d fared any better at Windsor.

No one was surprised that Paul was the first to offer an opinion.

‘You wouldn’t think we were all serving in the same outfit,’ he told them. ‘Milner addressed me as Detective Sergeant Sambo when he first met me the other day, so heaven knows what he calls me behind my back.’

‘I wish I could say I’m surprised,’ said William, unable to hide his anger.

‘That lot are sexist as well as racist,’ said Rebecca. ‘Women are only good for two things in Milner’s opinion, and one of them isn’t being a Royalty Protection officer.’

‘At least you’ve got an office,’ said Jackie. ‘They’ve put me in an outbuilding that must have been a garden shed before I turned up. I don’t have a desk, just a wheelbarrow and a flower pot.’

Nobody laughed.

‘That’s good to hear,’ said the Hawk, taking them all by surprise. ‘Because it only confirms my feeling that they’ve got something to hide. Our job is to find out what that something is.’

‘Check with Admin for a start,’ said Ross. ‘I took a taxi from my home to Kensington Palace last Thursday, and claimed it on expenses, despite the fact that the number fifty-two bus would have dropped me outside the palace gates. Milner didn’t even query it.’

‘We’re lucky to have you on the inside,’ said William, ‘because the rest of us are still on the starting line.’

‘And I’m fed up with being told that if I’ve got a complaint, I should have a word with the Prince of Wales,’ said Paul.

‘I suspect,’ said the commander, ‘that the Royal Family have no idea what’s going on in their names.’

‘And worse,’ said William, ‘when I was given the one chance to discuss a possible terrorist threat with Milner, he dismissed it out of hand. Told me I was overreacting and, in time, I’d realize he had everything under control.’

‘Until the one time something does go wrong,’ came back the commander, ‘when he’ll realize it’s too late to do anything about it.’

‘Meanwhile,’ said William, ‘we’re just banging our heads against a brick wall.’

‘It’s just possible, sir,’ said Jackie, ‘that I may have found a loose brick in that wall, and if I could remove it, the whole edifice could come tumbling down.’ She paused for a moment, clearly enjoying herself.

‘Take your time, Detective Sergeant,’ teased William.

‘There’s a Constable Jenny Smart who currently works in admin, who’s considering applying for reassignment.’

‘Why?’ asked the Hawk.

‘I think that Milner has promised her once too often that she’ll be next in line to join a Royalty Protection team, and be allocated to her own principal,’ said Jackie. ‘But the last three officers to retire have all been replaced by men, one of them a young Constable only three years into the job, who just happens to be the son of a recently retired officer. Constable Smart remains stuck on the bench while less experienced colleagues are invited onto the field of play. If Milner passes her over one more time, he may end up shooting himself in the foot.’

‘The foot’s far too good for him,’ said Paul. ‘He’d take early retirement and claim a full disability pension.’

‘Patience,’ said Jackie once the laughter had died down. ‘We may not have too long to wait before the odds change in our favour.’

‘How come?’ asked William.

‘Princess Anne’s personal protection officer retires at the end of the month, and Constable Smart is the obvious person to take his place.’

‘If Constable Smart doesn’t get the job,’ said William, ‘that might be our chance to turn her into a whistleblower.’

‘I’ve no doubt she knows where all the bodies are buried,’ said Jackie. ‘So I’ll keep working on her.’

‘Drop regular hints as to why she’s the obvious choice to be the next Royalty Protection officer,’ suggested the commander, ‘sprinkled with how well she’d do the job. Just keep sowing the seeds of doubt in her mind, and she’ll begin to feel she’s at last got someone on her side.’

‘But reel her in slowly,’ said William, ‘because it won’t be easy for her to break ranks after all these years. Meanwhile, let’s all get back to our desks, or our wheelbarrows, and work on gathering as much muck as we can, so that it won’t be possible for Milner to find a loophole, a credible explanation, or any other way of getting off the hook.’

‘But keep in mind,’ said Ross, ‘that Milner has the ear of the Prince of Wales, who he’s taken care of since he left the navy, which may make him almost impossible to remove.’

‘That sort always think they’re above the law,’ said the commander. ‘But Ross has already identified his Achilles heel.’

‘Cash,’ said William.

‘In one,’ said the Hawk. ‘So, let’s stick to the old maxim when chasing a criminal. Follow the money.’

‘But be sure to tread carefully,’ said William, ‘because that lot won’t hesitate to leave landmines in your path. Step on one, and we’ll all be blown to smithereens.’

After a long pause, the commander said, ‘Perhaps the time has come for a change of tactics.’ He hesitated for a moment while he weighed up the consequences of what he was about to say. ‘Why don’t you all play along for now and, like Ross, make it look as if you’ve climbed aboard their gravy train. And Ross, see how much you can get away with before Milner queries your expenses.’

‘I was thinking of inviting the Princess’s lady-in-waiting out for dinner this weekend,’ said Ross. They all laughed, except William.

‘She’ll be used to the finest food and wine,’ the commander chipped in, ‘so you can run up a hefty bill and then see if Milner questions it. But we’ll need other examples of blatant disregard of normal police practice before we can make a move. Be cautious, and act dumb, which shouldn’t be too difficult for Paul.’

The gentle ribbing caused more laughter, which William knew would only spur Paul on to outdo them all.

‘And, Jackie,’ said the commander, ‘keep working on your new best friend’ — he glanced down at his notebook — ‘Constable Smart, because she could turn out to be our best bet. Good hunting.’

Jackie followed the commander’s advice, and over the weekend she and Jenny Smart went clubbing in the West End. Although William had warned her to be patient — not a virtue Jackie had in abundance — a dimly lit basement and one too many vodkas had loosened Constable Smart’s tongue enough for Jackie to come away with all the ammunition she needed.

When Jackie got home just after two a.m., she spent the next hour writing up copious notes. She may have told Jenny how much she expected her to get the job (richly deserved) as Princess Anne’s PPO, but she secretly hoped she’d be passed over once again, because she felt confident that would be the last straw for Constable Smart, and it wouldn’t take a dark basement in a nightclub for her to reveal everything she knew about Milner and his extra-curricular activities.

Jackie was getting off the bus on her way back to work the following morning when she spotted DI Reynolds and Sergeant Jennings entering ‘Pride of Plaice’, which she’d been assured by Jennings was the best fish and chip shop in Windsor.

She was about to cross the road and join them when she saw Reynolds take the owner to one side, clearly having a quiet word. She slipped into a shop doorway and remained out of sight. The two officers reappeared a few moments later and began to eat their lunch out of a newspaper as they headed back in the direction of the castle. Jackie waited until they’d turned the corner, before she crossed the road and strolled into the fish and chip shop.

‘A portion of cod and chips,’ Jackie said when she reached the front of the queue.

‘Coming up, my dear,’ Jackie the assistant.

‘They must be good,’ remarked Jackie. ‘I saw you serving a couple of my colleagues a moment ago.’

‘You work for Royalty Protection?’ he said, giving her a closer look.

‘Sure do,’ Jackie replied as he took his time selecting her fish.

‘Then I hope you’ll become a regular, like the rest of the lads from the castle. Salt and vinegar?’

‘Yes, please.’

He wrapped up the order and placed it in a bag before handing it to her. ‘That’ll be three quid.’

Jackie handed him a five-pound note and waited for the change.

‘Will you be wanting a receipt?’

‘Yes, please.’

He nodded to the girl on the till, who handed back two pounds in change along with a receipt, which Jackie slipped into her handbag. Once she was out on the pavement, she unwrapped her unexpected meal and took a bite from a succulent piece of cod as she walked slowly towards the castle. The Plaice’s reputation turned out to be well-deserved, although she could hear her mother saying, ‘Nothing wrong with fish and chips, my dear, but you should never eat them out of a newspaper on the street.’ Not for the first time, Jackie was glad her mother was more than a hundred miles away.

She’d devoured the last morsel by the time she was back at her desk, where she dropped the front page of last week’s News of the World into a wastepaper basket, before washing her hands. She placed her handbag on the desk, took out the receipt and looked at it for the first time: £9.50.

The prisoner was seated in the glass cube waiting for his lawyer long before Booth Watson appeared. It used to be the other way around.

When Booth Watson entered the inner sanctum, he sat down opposite his client. ‘Good morning, Miles,’ he said as if it were a private consultation in his chambers, and not in a glass cage being spied on by a couple of prison guards. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t seen you for some time,’ he continued, placing his Gladstone bag on the floor by his side, ‘but I wanted to wait until I had something worthwhile to report. To that end, I’ve already had meetings with Sir Julian, who continues to represent the Crown in this case, as well as your ex-wife. Remembering that we only have an hour, let’s get Christina out of the way before I move on to my consultation with Sir Julian.’

‘How much is she expecting to get to keep her trap shut?’

‘Thirty million,’ said Booth Watson without batting an eyelid.

‘She must be joking,’ said Miles at the top of his voice, which caused the guards to look more closely.

‘Christina is not known for her sense of humour,’ Booth Watson reminded him. ‘And don’t forget that she was married to you for ten years, so is well aware what your art collection is worth. While she may not know how much you’ve got stashed away in your Swiss bank accounts, just the mention of Switzerland to her friend Beth Warwick will be more than enough for her husband to ask the tax authorities to instigate a full inquiry. Not something you need at the moment.’

Miles was about to respond when Booth Watson raised a hand. ‘However, I’m convinced I can get her to settle for twenty,’ he paused, ‘in cash, explaining that way she would avoid capital gains tax, which has the added advantage of ensuring she can’t risk letting anyone know about any of your other activities.’

‘How much do I have in my safe-deposit boxes at the bank?’

‘Just over twenty-two million,’ said Booth Watson, who had anticipated the question.

‘So that would just about clean me out.’

‘If you were to offer her the apartment in Mayfair as well as the villa in Monte Carlo, you might end up only having to part with ten million in cash.’

‘And there’s nothing to stop me mortgaging both properties up to the hilt and leaving her with the repayments,’ said Miles. ‘Do you think you can pull that off, BW?’

‘It would present somewhat of a challenge,’ admitted Booth Watson, ‘but it’s not impossible.’

‘Then get the agreement signed as quickly as possible.’

‘We’ve agreed to meet at the bank next Friday afternoon, when I’ll be bringing along two large empty suitcases. I have a feeling that when she sees ten million in cash, it will prove very persuasive.’

‘Perhaps the suitcases could be reclaimed before they reach her bank?’ said Miles, allowing his words to hang in the air.

Booth Watson didn’t make any notes while his client explained what, with the help of ex-superintendent Lamont, he expected to happen not long after Christina had left the bank.

‘And if you pull that one off, BW,’ he said, ‘you can keep a million for yourself.’ That wasn’t the figure Booth Watson had in mind. ‘But none of this is going to make a blind bit of difference,’ continued Miles, ‘if you can’t get me out of here to enjoy the proceeds. So tell me, how did your meeting with Sir Julian Warwick go?’

‘I don’t think it could have gone much better. But I’ll leave you to be the judge of that.’

Miles sat back, folded his arms and listened.

‘I reminded Sir Julian that kidnapping is a serious crime, and also pointed out that stealing a painting worth over a million pounds might just whet the press’s appetite, especially if it were to result in his son ending up in the dock. It didn’t take him a great deal of time to decide which was more important: extending your stay in prison or saving his son from the same fate.’

A flicker of a smile appeared on Faulkner’s face.

‘However, he still wanted his pound of flesh.’

‘Without spilling any blood, I hope,’ said Faulkner.

‘A scratch at most,’ promised Booth Watson. ‘That’s assuming you are willing to plead guilty to the charge of escaping while in police custody.’

‘You must be joking.’

‘I’ve never gone in for jokes, Miles, as you well know. However, if you did plead guilty, Sir Julian would recommend to the CPS that you receive a suspended sentence.’

‘Why would they agree to that?’ asked Miles incredulously.

‘The last thing the CPS would want is for the whole unfortunate episode in Spain to be made public. The Met have enough problems of their own at the moment, and if the trial were to collapse, Sir Julian could end up having to defend his son rather than prosecuting you. No, I’m fairly confident they’ll want to keep this case out of court. So, if you were to instruct me to inform the other side that we might agree to their terms, subject to a written agreement’ — he paused — ‘written by me, I will brief Sir Julian accordingly.’

‘How long will that take?’

‘I’ve already prepared a preliminary draft, so a few days at most. Once you’ve signed the agreement, I would start work on your early release, which means you’ll have to be a model prisoner for the next few months. And, Miles, I mean model.’ Booth Watson bent down and placed the file back in his Gladstone bag. ‘What’s the first thing you’ll do once you’ve been released?’

‘Treat you to a slap-up meal at the Savoy, with a good bottle of wine, as I won’t be ending the evening back in my cell.’

‘I’ll look forward to that,’ said Booth Watson, knowing that if he could get Miles to sign the agreement, he needn’t bother to book their usual table at the Savoy — for the next fourteen years.