Next In Line

Chapter 15

‘So for the past few weeks,’ said William, ‘Jackie has been reeling Constable Smart in, and if she does decide to cooperate with us, we’ll have more than enough evidence to throw the book at Milner and his cohorts for fraud on a gigantic scale.’

‘And DS Adaja?’ the Hawk asked. ‘What’s he been up to in Windsor?’

‘He’s gathered more than enough proof of racial prejudice, but nothing Milner won’t dismiss as barrack-room humour.’

Hawksby frowned. ‘It’s a problem the force is going to have to deal with in time if we hope to attract people as able as Paul in the future.’

‘He also thinks he may be on to something Milner won’t be able to dismiss out of hand,’ William added. ‘But doesn’t want to say anything until he has sufficient evidence to leave a jury in no doubt of his guilt.’

‘The idea of a young immigrant from Ghana bringing down the head of Royalty Protection has a certain irony about it,’ said the commander with a wry smile.

‘That’s the problem with racial prejudice,’ said William. ‘It won’t have crossed Milner’s mind that Paul just might be as clever as he is.’

‘How about you?’ asked the Hawk. ‘Are you as clever as Milner?’

‘I’ve managed to collect a ton of circumstantial evidence, but nothing that would stand up in a court of law.’

‘Just remember you’ll need a ton of indisputable evidence to bring down Milner, because that man has brought a new meaning to the words “friends in high places”. Who do you think the Palace will instinctively believe — a man who’s served the Royal Family for more than a decade, or a DCI they’ve never heard of? So it sounds to me as if Jackie and Paul have the best chance of derailing the Milner gravy train.’

‘Especially as he’s rarely in Windsor. While—’

‘—the cat’s away,’ said the Hawk. ‘But what about Ross? Has he carried out my instructions?’

‘To the letter,’ replied William.

‘Details,’ demanded the Hawk.

‘He took his daughter to London Zoo quite recently, and claimed it on expenses, including a chocolate nut sundae, and when he presented the claim, Milner didn’t question it.’

‘Which only makes me wonder what can possibly be his chocolate nut sundae. Has Ross come up with anything else we ought to know about?’

‘It would appear that Princess Diana is conducting a relationship with a young—’

‘Gigolo,’ said the Hawk. ‘Yes, I read the details in Dempster. So we can only hope that she eventually comes to her senses.’

‘Ross tells me it’s getting quite serious.’

‘In which case the problem will be taken out of his hands, but it might be wise in future for him to put everything on the record, because if it does get out of control, they’ll be looking for someone to blame, and he’ll be the obvious scapegoat,’ said the Hawk just as the phone on his desk began to ring.

‘I’ll let him know, sir,’ said William.

‘I’ve got Geoff Duffield on the line,’ said his secretary when he picked up the receiver. ‘He’s calling from Heathrow — says it’s an emergency.’

‘With Duffield, everything’s an emergency,’ said the Hawk. ‘Put him through.’ He touched the speaker button so William could listen to the conversation.

‘Good morning, Superintendent,’ Hawksby said. ‘Last time you called me it was a hijacking. What have you got for me this time?’

‘Worse, I’m afraid,’ said Duffield. ‘A private jet has made an unscheduled landing at Heathrow to refuel and change crews before going on to Moscow. We think it’s possible Mansour Khalifah is on board.’

‘If he is,’ said the Hawk, ‘that certainly qualifies as an emergency.’ He tapped away on his computer to find that Khalifah had twenty-six outstanding arrest warrants in almost as many countries, and was near the top of Interpol’s ‘Most Wanted’ list.

‘We’ll have to be sure it’s him before we can make a move. The last thing we need is a major diplomatic incident when we’re accused of arresting an innocent man. Start by questioning the incoming crew.’

‘I already have, sir. All they were able to tell me was that the plane flew in from Libya, and there are only three passengers on board.’

‘Libya might be considered a clue,’ suggested William.

‘But not conclusive,’ replied the commander.

‘How much time do we have before the flight’s cleared for take-off?’ William asked.

‘An hour at the most,’ said Duffield. ‘But we haven’t allocated them a departure slot yet. The replacement crew are waiting to board.’

‘Stop them in their tracks,’ said William. ‘Lock them up if necessary.’

‘I’m not sure I have the authority to do that,’ said Duffield.

‘You do now,’ said the Hawk.

‘Have you got an emergency SO19 team in place?’ asked William.

‘Yes, under the command of an Inspector Roach. They’re on standby.’

‘Get them kitted out as the replacement crew, and tell them we’ll supply the stewardess,’ said William. ‘We should be with you in about forty minutes.’

‘Who have you got in mind as the stewardess?’ asked the Hawk after he’d put the phone down.

‘Please take me through the programme one more time, Victoria,’ said the Princess as her car drove into Prince’s Gardens.

‘It’s a lunch with a difference, ma’am. Only a hundred guests, but every one of them has paid a thousand pounds to be there, so the charity has already benefited by a hundred thousand.’

‘Before expenses?’

‘That won’t be a problem. Asprey’s are hosting the event, and are picking up all the costs as a way of celebrating their hundred and thirtieth anniversary of being granted a royal warrant by Queen Victoria. In fact, David Carmichael, their chairman — who’ll be sitting on your right — told me they would be displaying their unique silver collection in your honour, including a statue of Queen Victoria which is the pride of the collection.’

‘How very generous of Mr Carmichael,’ said Diana as the car drove past Harvey Nichols, a place she’d once told Ross was her favourite store. ‘I must remember to thank him.’ She added a sentence about the silver collection to her speech.

Ross sat silently in the front, thinking about the crowd that would be waiting to greet the Princess. It wouldn’t be large when they arrived, as the guest of honour’s name had been left off the invitation card for security reasons. But the red carpet and the smartly dressed guests all heading in one direction would inevitably attract a group of curious onlookers. By the time they left, there would be people hanging out of windows, clinging onto lampposts, and spilling onto the road just to get a glimpse of her. That was when he would need three pairs of eyes.

HRH interrupted his thoughts. ‘Are you expecting any problems, Ross?’

‘We’ve got a nutter who’s turned up for the last three of your events, and claims he’s married to you.’

‘Is that a crime?’ asked Diana.

‘It is while you’re still married to the Prince of Wales,’ said Ross, immediately regretting his words.

‘What about the guest list?’ said Victoria, trying to get him off the hook.

‘Mainly the great and the good, with one or two exceptions.’

‘Even more nutters?’ asked Diana.

‘No, ma’am, but two of the guests do have criminal records.’

‘Tell all,’ said Victoria.

‘Burglary and fraud. I’m going to have to make sure, ma’am, that you’re not photographed with either of them, because you can be sure that would be the one picture on all of tomorrow’s front pages.’

As the car swung into Bond Street, a dozen photographers leapt out into the middle of the road, while someone in the crowd shouted, ‘It’s Diana!’

‘Mansour Khalifah,’ said William, ‘is, without question, among the most wanted terrorists on earth. We don’t even know how many people he’s killed, or been responsible for killing. If he is on that plane, and we let him get away, the Americans, not to mention the Israelis, might have a word or two to say on the subject. However, as we’re still not certain it’s him on board, we’ll have to tread carefully.’ He passed Jackie another photograph of Khalifah, which she studied carefully as their unmarked car, a single blue light flashing, touched 100 mph as it sped down the motorway.

‘Does he have any distinguishing marks?’ Jackie asked.

‘A birthmark on the side of his neck, just below his left ear. He claims, and his followers believe, it’s a scar inflicted by an American sniper. But it will be well hidden if he’s wearing a traditional robe and headdress.’

‘How am I going to get on the plane?’ asked Jackie as she studied the front cover of an old Newsweek showing Mansour Khalifah was holding a scimitar high in the air, moments before he beheaded a captured American soldier.

‘You’ll be joining a group from the anti-terrorist squad who will be replacing the crew that was meant to be flying him to Moscow. As the stewardess, you’ll have the best chance of identifying him. But leave SO19 to take him out, because this man,’ said William, tapping the cover of the magazine, ‘would kill his mother without a second thought.’

Danny slowed down as they came off the motorway and headed for an unmarked gate that would take them directly onto the main runway.

The officer on the gate was clearly expecting them, because he spent only a moment checking William’s warrant card before pointing him in the direction of an isolated building on the far side of the runway. Danny didn’t slow down again until he spotted Superintendent Duffield standing alone. Not a uniformed officer in sight.

Ross hovered a few paces behind the Princess, who was chatting to the chairman of Asprey as the guests were served their first course. His eyes swept the room once again. That was when he saw her.

She was seated near the back of the room, sprinkling a little too much salt on her food. Then she glanced around furtively before dropping a silver salt cellar into the open handbag on her lap. She clicked the bag shut and went on eating. In normal circumstances Ross would have approached her discreetly and suggested she put the salt cellar back on the table, to avoid any further embarrassment. But these were not normal circumstances, and his instructions were set in stone. Never allow anything to distract you from the primary responsibility of protecting your principal. But he did find himself becoming distracted a second time, when he spotted a man on the centre table slipping a silver napkin ring into his handkerchief while pretending to blow his nose. It then disappeared into a trouser pocket.

By the time HRH rose to make her speech at the end of the meal, six salt cellars, four pepper pots, three napkin rings and a mustard pot — full of mustard — had gone AWOL, and there was nothing Ross could do about it. Among a hundred of the wealthiest people in the land were at least a dozen petty thieves Fagin would have been happy to employ.

The chairman of Asprey listened to the Princess’s speech, a smile of satisfaction never leaving his face. Ross wasn’t going to be the person to tell him his unique Asprey silver collection would be missing several pieces by the time it was returned to the vaults.

The standing ovation that followed the Princess’s speech allowed two or three more guests a chance to take their pick: a silver teaspoon and another pepper pot were among the spoils. Easy for Ross to spot the thieves — they were the ones who weren’t clapping.

After the Princess had signed several menu cards, the chairman accompanied his guest of honour back to her car. On the way she stopped to chat to a few members of the waiting crowd, including an old woman in a wheelchair who told her she had once shaken hands with the Queen Mother. Diana gave her a hug and she burst into tears.

‘How many did you spot, Mr Hogan?’ said a voice behind him.

Ross turned to see a man he remembered arresting for burglary when he was a young Constable.

‘A dozen, possibly more,’ admitted Ross. ‘I was glad to see you weren’t among them, Ron.’

‘I’m not a souvenir hunter, Inspector. In any case, the only thing worth stealing was the statue of Queen Victoria, and to pull that off I would have had to cause a diversion.’ Ross wanted to laugh. ‘Mind you, Mr Hogan, if I’d known you were going to be in the room, I wouldn’t have bothered.’

Ross allowed himself a smile before stepping forward and opening the car door to allow HRH to join Victoria in the back seat.

‘Give my best wishes to the commander,’ said Ron as Ross closed the door and joined the driver in the front.

While the team were changing into their Russian aircrew uniforms — a nice touch, thought William — Inspector Roach continued to brief them. Time wasn’t on their side.

‘Right, chaps,’ said Roach, revealing his military background. ‘Try not to forget we’re up against three ruthless terrorists whose job description doesn’t include taking prisoners. However, we have a secret weapon,’ he said, before introducing them to Detective Sergeant Jackie Roycroft. ‘While DS Roycroft will be handing out magazines, and serving coffee, we’ll be on the flight deck, ready to go into action the moment she gives us the heads-up.’

‘Won’t they be suspicious when we go on board and they don’t recognize any of us?’ asked Jackie.

‘Unlikely,’ said Roach. ‘The plane’s not registered in Khalifah’s name and it was chartered by a third party. In any case, when they see Tiny, they’ll think he couldn’t snuff out a candle, but they’ll soon learn how he became the police lightweight boxing champion, as well as why Sergeant Pascoe’s nickname is “One Blow”.’

‘So, once Jackie says the word “seatbelts”,’ said Pascoe, ‘that’s our sign to move in. It should be all over in a matter of seconds.’

‘I hope so,’ said Tiny, ‘because it’s my night for giving the kids a bath.’

Everyone laughed except William and Jackie, who weren’t accustomed to SO19’s humour before an operation.

‘Right, chaps,’ said Roach, after he’d double-checked the Russian uniforms, ‘let’s get moving.’

William watched from inside the building as Roach led his little gang across the runway towards the waiting jet. None of them could have missed a pair of eyes that was peering out of one of the cabin windows following their every move.

Roach and his two companions climbed the short flight of steps that led up to the plane, and disappeared onto the flight deck without glancing in the direction of the passengers.

Jackie followed close behind. On entering the plane she placed her handbag on the little fold-down table at the front of the cabin. She turned her back on the passengers, opened her bag, took out her lipstick and checked her make-up in a compact mirror. Her eyes settled on a man dressed in a long white thawb with a gold cord around his keffiyeh, who was reading the Financial Times. No one could have looked less like a terrorist. She adjusted her mirror slightly and focused on the two younger men seated behind him. One of them was resting his right hand on a gun, while the other didn’t take his eyes off her. She put the lipstick back in her compact and took out a small can of hairspray, before once again checking in her mirror. She still couldn’t be completely sure it was Khalifah who appeared so relaxed as he turned a page of his FT.

Jackie slipped the hairspray into a jacket pocket and turned around, to find the second bodyguard was still staring at her. She took a risk and gave him a smile, which to her surprise he returned. She kept to the plan and began to straighten the magazines in the rack, the agreed signal that One Blow should join her in the cabin. She was surprised to spot three copies of the out-of-date Newsweek with Mansour Khalifah’s photograph on the cover. Vanity had got the better of him. One Blow strolled past her, and she waited a few seconds before following him down the aisle.

‘Good morning, sir,’ said One Blow as he came to a halt by Khalifah’s side. The first bodyguard didn’t take his eyes off him, while the other was still looking at Jackie, although Khalifah barely gave either of them a glance.

‘Flight control have given us permission to take off, sir,’ said One Blow, ‘if that’s convenient for you?’

Khalifah lowered his newspaper and managed a nod.

‘Thank you, sir,’ said One Blow.

Jackie stepped forward and said, ‘Gentlemen, would you please fasten your seatbelts,’ just as Tiny appeared carrying a bottle of champagne on a silver tray.

Two of them reached for their seatbelts, giving One Blow the split-second he needed to take out Khalifah with a single sharp blow to the neck, while Jackie sprayed the first bodyguard in the eyes with her hairspray and then delivered a blow he couldn’t have expected. But the second guard had spotted the champagne and, long before Tiny had the chance to raise the bottle above his head, he’d leapt up and grabbed Jackie’s arm, twisting it sharply behind her back while thrusting the barrel of his gun firmly against the side of her head.

Tiny immediately realized his mistake.

‘One false move,’ said Khalifah’s bodyguard, ‘and I’ll blow her brains out.’

Tiny didn’t doubt it and slowly lowered the bottle of champagne while One Blow took a pace back.

‘You two,’ said the bodyguard, nodding at Tiny and One Blow, ‘will get off the plane immediately.’ They hesitated for a moment, but when the bodyguard forced the barrel of his gun into Jackie’s mouth, they reluctantly retreated back down the aisle and down the steps onto the runway.

The gunman ordered Jackie to pull up the airstairs and close the plane’s door. On the runway she could see William, standing there looking helpless, while One Blow and Tiny stared up at her. She knew a long-range rifle would be focused on the plane’s doorway from the roof of the terminal, but the officer with his finger on the trigger wouldn’t risk squeezing it while she was still in his line of fire. Once Jackie had closed the door, the bodyguard pushed her forward towards the cockpit, where DI Roach was sitting in the captain’s seat; all part of Plan B, should Plan A go wrong. It had gone spectacularly wrong.

‘Let’s get moving!’ the bodyguard yelled at Roach, the barrel of his gun now lodged painfully in the nape of Jackie’s neck.

Roach didn’t think this was the moment to let him know he was a SO19 and had never flown a plane in his life. He put on his headset and began to pray. A voice from above answered his prayer.

‘Follow my instructions carefully,’ said the real pilot. ‘Turn on the engines by pressing the start switches in the centre of the overhead panel.’

Roach obeyed the command. He rotated the two switches and the engines spooled up, reaching idle within moments.

‘Now you need to arm the autobrake. The switch is in the centre front panel. Rotate it to RTO. Now push the two thrust levers next to your right leg forward, to about half-way, and the plane will start to accelerate. Steer with your feet — you’ll have to ease the pedals gently if you hope to remain in a straight line.’

Roach looked left and right before tentatively easing the thrust levers forward a few inches. The plane started to move forward.

‘Everything on the runway in front of you has been cleared, Inspector,’ said the voice. ‘Now I want you to push the levers a little further forward but not suddenly. The plane will speed up, until you’re doing about ninety miles an hour.’

What then, Roach wanted to ask. The gunman placed a hand on the side of the cockpit door to steady himself as the plane began to gather speed.

‘Now, get ready to shut down the thrust levers in one movement, Inspector. When you do that, the brakes will automatically be applied violently. It will feel like hitting a brick wall. The gunman is certain to be thrown off balance, and that will be your one chance to disarm him.’

‘Understood,’ said Roach, who could see the runway ahead of him was coming to an abrupt end.

‘Now,’ said the voice firmly.

Roach slammed both thrust levers closed, and as the brakes came on, the gun went off. Roach watched as a body slumped to the ground.

‘They did what?’ said the Princess as the Jaguar turned right out of Bond Street onto Piccadilly, a pair of outriders making sure the traffic was held up until the car had safely crossed the junction.

Ross told HRH what he’d witnessed during lunch as the car continued on its uninterrupted journey, and why he hadn’t been able to do anything about it.

‘Poor Mr Carmichael,’ said Diana. ‘Surely there must be something I can do to help?’

‘Nothing short of searching every guest as they leave,’ said Ross. ‘That would only embarrass some of Asprey’s best customers, which wouldn’t exactly please Mr Carmichael.’

‘But he was such a nice man, and took so much trouble to make it a memorable event. Now he’ll only have bad memories of the occasion. Perhaps I could try to make it up to him by ordering a hundred silver frames from Asprey’s, and giving one to anyone I send a photograph to after an official function.’

‘That would only make the situation worse,’ suggested Victoria. ‘The last time you did that, ma’am, Asprey’s didn’t send you a bill.’

The Princess remained silent for some time before saying, ‘I know something that will put a smile back on Mr Carmichael’s face. I’ll ask Her Majesty to award him the MVO.’

‘But that’s only usually given to people who’ve served the Royal Family for several years,’ Victoria reminded her.

‘Precisely,’ said Diana. ‘Don’t forget that Asprey’s have served the monarchy for over a hundred years.’

‘Forgive me for asking, ma’am,’ said Ross, ‘but what is an MVO?’

‘A Member of the Royal Victorian Order,’ replied Victoria. ‘The equivalent of an MBE, but rarer because it’s in the personal gift of Her Majesty.’

‘So, if you take care of me for the next twenty years, Ross, you might even get one,’ said Diana.

That’s something to look forward to, thought Ross as the car drew up outside Kensington Palace, but he didn’t express an opinion.

William watched as four paramedics carried two stretchers down the steps of the plane and onto the runway. They walked slowly towards a waiting ambulance everyone had hoped wouldn’t be required, and gently placed the two stretchers next to each other. One figure had a sheet over its head.

Moments later, two men in handcuffs were bundled off the aircraft and led unceremoniously to separate police cars, the back doors of which were already open.

‘Brave girl,’ said Inspector Roach as the ambulance drove off. ‘She would have made a damn fine member of our unit.’

William didn’t comment, but if he’d been carrying a gun at the time he would have shot Khalifah there and then, and it would have taken a lot more than Inspector Roach to restrain him.