Next In Line

Chapter 17

William gave himself thirty minutes to make the short journey.

It hadn’t come as a surprise to receive a summons to the palace to attend the ceremony. The commander had already fully briefed him on the role he would be expected to play. When it came to an award for bravery, he’d told him that Her Majesty would not allow any other member of the Royal Family to take her place for the presentation. After all, the medal bore her name.

He drove out of Scotland Yard and headed in the direction of Whitehall. He turned left at Trafalgar Square, passed under Admiralty Arch and onto the Mall. When the lights at the end of the Mall turned green he circled the statue of Queen Victoria, before coming to a halt outside the North Centre Gate of Buckingham Palace.

A guard checked his name on a clipboard, then directed him through the left-hand archway into a large quadrangle. Following his instructions, William parked his Mini next to the commander’s Jaguar. Once again, the Hawk had beaten him to it.

He got out of the car, unsure where to go until he spotted the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police in full dress uniform, striding out ahead of him; a man who clearly knew where he was going.

When William reached the vast double doors that heralded the state entrance to the palace, his name was taken once again before a page, bedecked in gold — who could have stepped out of an earlier century — led him silently up a wide, red-carpeted staircase, to the first floor.

‘If you go through the Long Gallery, sir,’ said the page, ‘the Throne Room is on your right.’

William glanced at his watch; there were still twelve minutes before the ceremony was due to begin, so he walked very slowly down the centre of the Long Gallery. The room was as wide as a country road, and the walls that towered high above him were littered with pictures. He stopped to admire so many paintings that until then, he’d only seen in The Queen’s Pictures, a book his father had given him when he was a boy. He came to a halt when he reached Van Dyck’s Charles I and Henrietta Maria. He had to take a step back to fully appreciate the large portrait, almost colliding with another guest.

‘Good morning, sir,’ said DS Adaja.

‘Morning, Paul,’ said William without turning round. ‘Beth’s going to be so envious,’ he added, unable to hide a smirk.

‘I doubt she’d even have made it to the Throne Room,’ said Paul. ‘And neither will we if we don’t get a move on.’

William reluctantly followed him, trying to take in a Canaletto and a Van Dyck before he finally entered the Throne Room. Once again, the phrase, ‘took your breath away’, seemed inadequate for what he saw in front of him. He stood for a moment and admired the vast crystal chandelier suspended from the high ceiling in the centre of the room, but then his eyes were drawn to the two high-backed red thrones perched on a raised dais at the far end of the room, on which only two people were entitled to sit. The huge room was filled with long lines of gold chairs that he guessed could seat a couple of hundred guests, but on this occasion, only those in the front row would be occupied. He walked slowly down the red-carpeted aisle towards the thrones. Once he had reached the front row, he spotted the Commissioner and the Hawk deep in conversation. He took his allotted seat at the far end of the row, next to Rebecca. Another ‘Good morning, sir,’ before he smiled at Ross, who was seated on her right. William was about to ask him a question, when everyone fell silent, and rose from their places. He glanced to his left, to watch his boss make her entrance.

So tiny, was his immediate thought, as the Queen walked past them. He wondered if she would sit on her throne, but she came to a halt on the step leading up to the dais, and turned to face her audience.

A gentleman usher indicated with a slight wave of the hand that they should all be seated, while another handed the Queen her speech. William remained standing.

‘First, may I welcome you, and say how glad we are you were all able to join me for this special occasion.’

William couldn’t help wondering who would have a more pressing engagement.

‘We have all gathered today to acknowledge the service given by a remarkable individual, who can surely be described as no ordinary woman.’ She paused to turn a page of her script. ‘When she was called upon to do her duty, she did not hesitate to put her life on the line. As a result of her extraordinary courage a ruthless terrorist was brought to justice.’ The Queen looked up and smiled. ‘So, it gives me considerable pleasure to award Detective Sergeant Jacqueline Michelle Roycroft the Queen’s Gallantry Medal, allowing her to join that select group of police officers who have received the honour and, in her case, the first woman.’

The gentleman usher handed Her Majesty a blue leather box which she opened as William pushed Jackie’s wheelchair forward, coming to a halt in front of the Queen.

Jackie’s colleagues burst into spontaneous applause as the Queen bent down and pinned the medal on her uniform. Until that moment, Jackie had remained reasonably composed, firmly gripping the arms of her wheelchair, determined not to show how nervous she was. Facing an armed terrorist was one thing; facing the monarch was quite another. Despite the fact Jackie had known about the award for several weeks, it didn’t help.

It later became legend among the team that the Hawk had shed a tear, although he denied it to everyone, except his wife.

During the reception that followed, the Queen spent some time chatting to Jackie, although it was William who told her about the bullet that had torn through her chest as the plane screeched to a halt, missing her heart by millimetres.

Her Majesty’s final words were: ‘We are lucky to have officers of your calibre serving in the police force.’

When HM moved on to chat to other members of the team, William took Inspector Roach to one side and thanked him for the role his unit had played in capturing the three terrorists. ‘Although I must confess,’ William added, ‘you misled me when you said Jackie would have made a damn fine member of the anti-terrorist squad, because I assumed—’

‘So sorry, old chap,’ said Roach, clearly unrepentant. ‘I simply meant to point out that we don’t have any women in our branch of the service. But after working with Jackie, I’m bound to say more’s the pity, because I’d like to sign her up.’

‘You can forget that,’ said William. ‘Once she’s back on her feet Jackie’s got an equally challenging task to deal with, and what makes it worse is that this time the suspect is one of our own.’

‘Anything I can do to help?’

‘I’m afraid not. We’re going to have to be a little more subtle than you lot. All I can tell you is that my next meeting with a member of the Royal Family may not be quite as pleasant.’

‘Do you want to hear the good news or the bad news?’ Beth asked when William arrived home later that evening.

‘Why don’t you start with the bad news?’ said William, closing the door behind him.

‘Tim Knox is leaving the Fitzmolean. He’s been offered the position as Surveyor of the Queen’s Pictures.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. He’ll be difficult to replace. What’s the good news?’

‘He’s suggested I apply for the position,’ said Beth as they walked into the kitchen, where the twins and Jojo were tucking into a large pizza under Sarah’s watchful eye.

‘Do they ever stop eating?’ asked William, joining them at the table.

‘He thinks I have a fair chance of being offered the job as director, as several members of the board have made it clear they’d support me, and he’d certainly back me if it came to a vote.’

‘They’d be lucky to get you,’ said William, eyeing the last slice of pizza, but he wasn’t fast enough on the draw.

‘The board will have to advertise the post, so I’d be facing some stiff opposition.’

‘God help the person who dares to stand against you.’

‘Naughty Daddy,’ said Artemisia between mouthfuls. ‘My Sunday School teacher says you should never take the Lord’s name in vain.’

‘Never,’ said Peter.

‘Never,’ repeated Jojo.

‘Quite right. What I meant to say was, heaven help anyone who dares to stand against your mother.’

‘Bath time, children,’ said Sarah firmly.

‘Will you read to us before we go to sleep, Daddy?’ asked Peter as he got down from the table.

‘Of course. Is it still The Wind in the Willows?’

‘No, we finished that ages ago,’ said Artemisia. ‘We’re now reading Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.’ William felt guilty about how many times he’d failed to get home before the children fell asleep. His father had warned him often enough how quickly these years would slip by.

‘I may be able to pull off a little coup,’ said Beth as Sarah took the children up for their bath, ‘which wouldn’t do my chances of getting the job any harm.’

‘You’re planning to bribe the selection committee.’

‘I don’t have enough money to do that,’ said Beth. ‘However, I’ve spotted a painting by Jan Steen that’s coming up for sale at an auction in Pittsburgh, which I might be able to pick up for a reasonable price, although it’s quite possible we’ll be outbid, as it’s on the cover of the catalogue.’

‘How would that help you land the job?’

‘It won’t. But in the same catalogue I came across a pencil drawing by an unknown artist that I’m convinced is a preliminary sketch for the lamp in The Night Watch.’

‘What’s the estimate?’

‘Two hundred dollars. It may be a copy by one of Rembrandt’s contemporaries but, at that price, it’s a risk worth taking.’

‘And if it’s actually by Rembrandt?’

‘It could be worth as much as forty thousand pounds.’

‘So selling it would make a welcome contribution to the museum’s impoverished coffers.’

‘Not a chance. The board would never agree to sell a Rembrandt drawing. They’d put it on permanent display, even though it would cover the cost of the director’s salary for a year.’

‘I’m sure you’ll find a subtle way of letting them know that.’

‘Only if I turn out to be right.’

‘Having been the only one who spotted it,’ said William, before pointing upstairs. ‘But now for higher things. Time for me to go and join the Mad Hatter and find out why he’s having tea with the Queen of Hearts.’

‘What would you like for supper?’ Beth asked as he got up from the table.

‘Any chance of a pizza?’ he said, staring down at the empty plate.

‘You got lucky, caveman. I’ve accepted for some time that there are four children in this family, so I ordered an extra one. When you come back down, you can tell me all about your day.’

‘Just another day at the office,’ said William. ‘Though I did have an interesting chat to the Queen...’

William turned up late for work at Buckingham Gate the following morning, and was back home in time to read the next chapter before the children fell asleep. By the end of the month, they’d finished Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, and had reached Chapter 5 of Through the Looking Glass, only because his more relaxed attitude to timekeeping fitted in with the team’s long-term plan to convince Milner they were only too happy to climb on board his gravy train as first-class passengers.

For the past six weeks, they had been keeping to a strict timetable. They would turn up late every morning, enjoy long lunch breaks, which they then claimed on expenses, before leaving early, all part of a well-orchestrated performance, conducted by William.

When Milner began calling him Bill, he knew Operation Overcharge was falling neatly into place. The Superintendent would have done well to remember that Constable William Warwick hadn’t been nicknamed ‘Choirboy’ by chance when he first joined the force.

The eight o’clock team meetings at the Yard became more regular as they approached the window of opportunity — that ten days when Prince Charles and Diana would be carrying out an overseas tour. Superintendent Milner, DI Reynolds and Sergeant Jennings, who had recently been promoted as a personal protection officer ahead of Constable Jenny Smart, would be with them on the far side of the Atlantic, while DI Ross Hogan would be able to keep a close eye on all of them.

‘How did you manage to pull that off?’ Faulkner asked Tulip as the two men strolled around the exercise yard together.

‘I found a Judas who didn’t even want thirty pieces of silver to betray him,’ replied Tulip. ‘His name is Tareq Omar.’

‘And why is he willing to take such a risk?’

‘Khalifah was responsible for his brother’s death during the recent coup in Algeria, so for him, revenge will be a sufficient reward in itself.’

‘How do we bring the two of them together?’

‘I’ve arranged for Omar to be transferred to cleaning duties on Khalifah’s wing, so their paths will cross regularly, when he’ll pose as a devoted follower of the cause. My only fear is he might kill him.’

‘We want to keep him alive while there’s the slightest chance Khalifah could be my passport out of here.’

‘I thought that was all under control.’

‘So did I,’ said Miles, ‘until BW turned up for our weekly meeting and told me he’d been to see Sir Julian Warwick to confirm our agreement.’

‘What makes you think he didn’t?’ asked Tulip.

‘Lamont says they haven’t seen each other since they met in his chambers soon after he returned from Spain.’

‘Which one of them do you believe?’

‘Lamont, because if he’d been working solely for BW, he would have confirmed his story. So I may need to cash in one of my insurance policies if I’m to have any hope of getting out of this place.’ Tulip knew when not to interrupt the boss. ‘One thing’s for certain,’ continued Miles, ‘I can’t risk meeting Omar myself, so how will he get any worthwhile information he picks up to you, without attracting yard gossip?’

‘My cell’s on the same landing as his, so he can drop in from time to time without anyone becoming suspicious. But it could still be some time before Khalifah trusts him enough to confide in him.’

‘I haven’t got a lot of time left,’ said Miles, not elaborating. ‘If Omar does come up with anything worthwhile, let me know immediately, as I’ve already made an appointment to see Commander Hawksby.’

Tulip couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

William arrived at Buckingham Gate just before eight o’clock the following morning, to find Rebecca waiting for him on the doorstep. Once the night watch officer had gone home, he locked the front door, aware they couldn’t afford to be disturbed, while Milner and the away team were abroad, watching over their principals.

Paul had left home just before seven a.m., and made only one stop on his way to Windsor, to pick up Jackie. She was entitled to six months’ sick leave, but had soon realized that Rebecca dropping in from time to time to bring her up to date wasn’t that exciting, besides which, she’d already become bored with afternoon television.

The vital piece of the jigsaw had fallen neatly into place when Constable Jenny Smart had decided to resign from the unit and applied to be transferred to another section, having been passed over for promotion once too often.

Paul and Jackie hadn’t needed to break into the administration block, because Jenny had left the door wide open.

They spent night and day during the week poring through file after file that provided them with more than enough of the evidence they needed to convince the Hawk about the lifestyle Milner and his cohorts had been enjoying for the past ten years at the taxpayers’ expense.

As they had only got half-way through the damning evidence by Friday night, they didn’t go home, but, despite sleeping on camp beds during the weekend, they still had two more filing cabinets to go through by the time Milner accompanied the Prince and Princess back on the plane to Heathrow.

Back at Buckingham Gate, William used a pass key to enter Milner’s office, while Rebecca found that DI Reynolds’s door hadn’t been locked. He obviously thought no one would dare to enter his sanctuary while he was away. Sergeant Jennings’s office was locked; that would have to wait, but then he’d only recently been promoted, so his sins wouldn’t be quite as damning.

The four of them worked around the clock for the next ten days, and by the time the royal flight landed back in England, they had gathered enough evidence to ensure that Milner would not be retiring to the country in a couple of years with a KCVO as he’d promised his wife (who never hid the fact she was looking forward to being Lady Milner) but would be summarily dismissed from the force without a pension.

Milner turned up at Buckingham Gate in time for lunch the following Monday and was unconcerned to learn that DCI Warwick was on annual leave, DS Adaja was attending a training course in Manchester, that DC Pankhurst was at her grandmother’s funeral in Cornwall, and DS Roycroft wasn’t expected back at work for at least another three months. He was equally unconcerned to find Constable Smart’s letter of resignation waiting for him on his desk.

If Milner hadn’t been so convinced he was untouchable, he would have discovered that all four of them were in fact holed up in Scotland Yard, putting the final touches to a report they would be presenting to Commander Hawksby by the end of the week.