Next In Line

Chapter 21

Radiant was the word that came to Ross’s mind when he saw her for the first time that morning.

‘Good morning, your Royal Highness,’ he said, holding open the back door of the car.

‘Good morning, Ross,’ she replied as she climbed in. ‘It was kind of you to give up your weekend. I do hope Jojo isn’t too cross with me.’

‘She understood, ma’am.’

Both of them knew that wasn’t true.

Making their way out of London on a Saturday morning with no police escort was an unusual experience for both of them. Having to stop at traffic lights that didn’t instantly turn green, waiting to give way at roundabouts, and being overtaken by other cars, allowed Diana a rare glimpse of the real world.

Ross glanced in his rear-view mirror to see her chatting on the phone. She was clearly looking forward to a weekend in the country with her... he couldn’t find the appropriate word.

Not for the first time, Ross was grateful that the back windows were tinted. Otherwise, there would have been a steady stream of gawpers in other cars trying to take photos on the move, some even while they were driving.

Although he wasn’t looking forward to spending a weekend in the country with ‘His Royal Upstart’, as William referred to him, he was interested to see what Jamil Chalabi’s home was like. Glitzy and vulgar, he assumed. His thoughts were interrupted when Diana asked, ‘When do you think we’ll get there, Ross?’

He checked his watch. ‘About another forty minutes, ma’am. So we might be a few minutes late.’

She then blindsided him by asking, ‘You don’t like Jamil, do you?’ Ross couldn’t think of a suitable reply. ‘Just as I thought,’ she said as they drove into Guildford.

As they proceeded slowly along the high street, she delivered the single word he most dreaded.

‘Stop,’ she said firmly — more of a command than a request. Her former protection officer had warned Ross that it always happened when you least expected it.

He slowed down and parked on a single yellow line. He unbuckled his seatbelt, but she’d escaped before he could reach the back door. One look, and he knew exactly where she was heading. He quickly followed her into the shop to find her gazing around, her eyes lit up like a drunk who’s found the only bar in town.

Wherever you looked, there were handbags of every shape, size and colour, that had found their way from all over the world to a boutique in Guildford. HRH was clearly in paradise.

To Ross’s relief there was no one else inside the shop, other than a young woman behind the counter, whose mouth was wide open, though no words were coming out. HRH was enjoying the feast that surrounded her, still unsure which would be her first course.

Ross quickly switched the open sign to closed and stood with his back to the door — though within minutes, he accepted that everyone in Guildford would know who had just ridden into town.

HRH was taking her time, closely examining various bags that particularly appealed to her, looking inside to make sure they would cater for the needs of a princess, which often included somewhere to put ‘today’s speech’.

She’d just about completed her preliminary search when an older man appeared from an office at the back of the shop. After a second take, he stammered, ‘Good morning, Your Majesty,’ and bowed low from the waist. ‘Is there anything I can help you with?’

‘Thank you. I’m finding it hard to choose between these,’ said Diana, placing two handbags on the counter.

‘This one,’ he said, picking up the first bag, ‘is a classic French model made by Le Tanneur, who have been established for almost a hundred years. And this one is a Burberry. Your Majesty will be familiar with the brand, as I know it’s one of your favourites.’

Diana turned to Ross. ‘If you had to choose one of these for Josephine, which do you think she would have preferred?’

Ross deserted his post by the door and joined HRH at the counter. He took a closer look at the bags before saying, ‘You have to remember, ma’am, that Jo was French, and when it came to style, she considered the British were still on a learning curve, so there’s no doubt which one she would have selected.’

‘I agree with her,’ said Diana, after taking a third look at both bags. ‘I’ll have this one,’ she said, handing the Le Tanneur to the young woman, who still hadn’t spoken.

‘An excellent choice, Your Majesty, if I may say so,’ said the owner as he began to wrap up the chosen bag.

HRH’s next request didn’t take Ross by surprise.

‘I don’t have any money on me, Ross, so could you possibly...?’

‘Not a problem, ma’am.’ Ross took out his wallet and not for the first time, handed over his credit card.

Once the owner had finished wrapping up the bag, he rushed across to the door, opened it, and said, ‘We look forward to seeing you again, Your Majesty,’ followed by an even lower bow.

When Ross stepped out of the shop, he wasn’t surprised to find that a large crowd had gathered on the pavement outside. They began clapping and taking photos the moment she appeared; one particularly enterprising mother had bought a bunch of flowers from the shop next door, which her young daughter held up as she passed. Diana bent down, accepted the bouquet, and gave the girl a hug. The mother got her photo opportunity.

As Ross shepherded HRH back to the car, he made a request of a young constable who’d assessed the situation.

Diana waved as the car moved off and made its way slowly through the enthusiastic crowd that had spilled out onto the road. When Ross was finally able to speed up, he checked the rear-view mirror and satisfied himself that the young policeman had followed his instructions. He was holding up the traffic to make sure no one could chase after them — a protection officer’s worst nightmare.

As they drove out of town, Ross was beginning to feel grateful that they appeared to have escaped unscathed, when a cry came from the back seat.

‘Oh, help!’ said Diana. ‘We’re going to have to go back.’

‘Why, ma’am?’ asked Ross, who had no intention of returning, even if it was a royal command.

‘He’s given me both bags.’

‘Hardly a surprise, ma’am,’ said Ross.

‘How much was the bill?’ she asked.

‘There was no bill, ma’am.’

‘Then how am I going to pay them?’

‘You already have, ma’am.’

‘You’re not making any sense, Ross.’

‘When Frank Sinatra visited Naples last year, he dropped into a pizza parlour along with his bodyguards and ordered a Margarita they’ve now called Sinatra. I’m told there’s been a queue outside the shop ever since. I predict that by the time the shop you’ve just visited closes tonight, there won’t be a bag on the shelves, and the owner won’t need to advertise for the rest of his life.’

‘We should drop into shops like that more often.’

‘No, thank you, ma’am.’

‘The least I can do is send him a note to thank him. Did you find out his name, by any chance?’

‘I did. Aloysius.’

‘You’re kidding me.’

‘No, ma’am. Apparently his friends call him Al.’

‘And the young woman behind the counter?’ asked Diana, making a note.

‘His daughter, Susan.’

‘How did you find that out?’

‘I served undercover for twelve years, ma’am.’

‘How lucky I am to have you serving me now, Ross,’ she said coyly as she placed her diary back into her handbag.

Ross was no different from any other man. Despite trying to remain cool, he melted.

As they turned off the main road, Ross checked once again to make sure no one was following them. No one was. They had only travelled about another couple of miles when they entered the picturesque hamlet of Chalfordbury, and moments later they approached two ornate iron gates heralding the entrance to a large estate. The gates began to swing slowly open when the car was still a hundred yards away. A guard saluted as they passed by.

A winding drive led through a dense forest and past a large lake, before a grand Lutyens mansion loomed up in front of them that wouldn’t have failed to impress even a Princess. They finally circled a rose garden in full bloom before coming to a halt in front of the house.

Jamil Chalabi was standing on the top step waiting to greet them. As they were over an hour late, Ross wondered how long he’d been standing there. Chalabi walked down to greet his royal guest as she stepped out of the car.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Diana said as he kissed her on both cheeks.

‘Not a problem,’ he replied, leading her up the steps and into the house. ‘I’m just delighted you made it.’

As Ross entered the house, he was surprised to find it was anything but glitzy and vulgar. Beth and William would certainly have admired an art collection that would have graced a gallery. Was it possible he’d misjudged the man?

An under-butler peeled Ross off from the main party and guided him on a long circuitous route to the west wing, before dumping him in a room that was cramped and cold and could only have been described as staff quarters. Ross accepted that that was exactly how Chalabi thought of him.

Once he’d unpacked, he carried out an inspection of the grounds. He began by walking around the perimeter of the property, which took him almost forty minutes. The ten-foot flint stone wall that surrounded the entire estate would have put off the most determined professional burglar, let alone a trainee.

Ross introduced himself to the guard on the front gate, whom he thought he recognized. He was assured that during the weekend there would never be fewer than three guards on duty twenty-four/seven; one on the gate, with two more patrolling the grounds. After confirming there was no other entrance to the estate, Ross made his way back to the house, stopping only to admire the vast oval lake which was stocked with asagi carp. He’d once read that asagi were so highly prized, they cost as much as a thousand pounds each. Ross tried not to think how many of them it would take to fill a lake that size; another way of Chalabi subtly reminding his guests how wealthy he was.

When he returned to the house, there was no sign of HRH or her host, although so many staff were rushing about, they might have been preparing for a banquet, rather than what he had been led to believe would be a cosy tête-à-tête supper.

Ross entered the dining room to find a long oak table had been set for twenty-four, with the finest Wedgwood china, an array of Baccarat wine glasses and a silver cutlery service that took up almost every available space. A tall vase of white orchids dominated the centre of the table.

He checked the place cards and recognized a few well-known names, and some others that were vaguely familiar, but mostly they were unknown to him. He suspected they all had one thing in common; they were there to be impressed by the presence at Chalabi’s table of HRH, so they could be made use of at a later date. Not for the first time, he reflected ruefully that Diana was so sophisticated at some levels, while being so naïve at others. However, he accepted that there was little he could do about it.

Ross spent the rest of the afternoon carrying out a thorough examination of the house’s layout, identifying all its entrances and exits. When the hall clock struck six, he returned to his room, took a shower and changed into a dinner jacket. He was standing discreetly in a corner of the hall twenty minutes before the first guest arrived, and he remained at a distance throughout the evening. The finest wines and dish after dish of mouth-watering food passed him every few minutes, and from the exuberant noise and banter that flowed during dinner it was clear that everyone was enjoying themselves, although he wasn’t convinced it was HRH’s idea of a Saturday night on the tiles. He didn’t return to his room in the west wing until the last guest had departed.

Ross left the curtains in his room open and his window ajar so the dawn chorus would ensure he was among the first to wake.

He climbed into bed just before one o’clock and quickly fell asleep.

Ross had showered and shaved, and was just about to go down for breakfast, when a discreet red light began flashing on the telephone next to his bed. He picked up the phone, surprised HRH was already awake, but before he could say a word he recognized Chalabi’s voice, and remained silent.

‘They’ve been told to expect you at the gate, but once you’re on the estate, make yourself scarce, because Diana’s protection officer will be hanging around. Nothing would give him greater pleasure than to kick you out, and I wouldn’t be able to prevent it.’

‘I know that bastard only too well,’ said a second voice that Ross immediately recognized. ‘He kneed me in the balls once, and if he came across me again, he’d happily throw me over the wall.’

‘Do you think we’ll make the front pages tomorrow?’ Chalabi asked.

‘Along with several inside pages,’ promised the second voice. ‘But I wouldn’t recommend you letting Di read them over breakfast, or you’ll be toast.’

‘Don’t worry, she’ll have gone long before then.’

‘When are you seeing her next?’

‘Thursday, at Harry’s Bar, eight o’clock. Make sure you’re there,’ said Chalabi, before hanging up.

When the light went off, Ross suddenly had a purpose — to make sure no photographs from the weekend appeared in any morning papers.

Ross went down the back stairs and had a quick breakfast in the kitchen. Although he was met with the occasional questioning look, no one asked him why he was wearing a black tracksuit and black trainers.

After downing his orange juice, he slipped out of the back door and made his way quickly to the edge of the forest. From his concealed position he could see HRH enjoying breakfast with her host on the veranda. It wasn’t difficult to work out where the line of fire would be for a hit man or a paparazzi photographer, but it would still require all his skills to take this particular snapper by surprise now he’d been warned to be on the lookout for him.

Ross crept stealthily across the lawn to an ancient oak tree on the far side of the lake and climbed its branches like a schoolboy until he reached one that was large enough to perch on. He took out his monocular and scanned the arc of fire. It was some time before he spotted the snapper, as his camouflage was good, and his chosen spot was well hidden. Although he’d blackened his face and hands and wore a green and brown woollen hat, a glint of sunlight caught the long lens that poked out from below a bush and gave him away.

‘Got you,’ muttered Ross. He pocketed the monocular, climbed back down the tree and inched his way cautiously towards the wall, making sure he remained out of sight. Every one of his senses was on the highest alert as he skirted the perimeter until finally he saw a foot sticking out from beneath a bush.

Ross crouched down and advanced more slowly, careful not to make the slightest noise. A breaking twig would sound like a gunshot. When he was about thirty feet away, he lay flat on his stomach and, like a predator that’s spotted its next meal, advanced even more slowly towards him, his eyes never leaving the target.

He stopped when he heard the click of a shutter. Click, click, click. Another couple of feet, click, click, and then the final few inches, click, before he raised himself onto his hands and knees. He took a deep breath, leapt forward and grabbed his prey by the ankles, before yanking him unceremoniously from his hiding place.

When the man saw who it was, he said, ‘Fuck off, Inspector. I was invited, unlike you.’

‘Shall we go and find out if that’s true?’ said Ross, twisting an arm half-way up his back. ‘If, as you claim, Chalabi invited you to take photos of him with the princess, which you’ll then sell to the papers without her permission, I have a feeling that, like St Peter, he’ll deny you at least three times. But then it’s possible you know Chalabi far better than I do, so I’ll leave the choice up to you: the front door or the main gate?’

Ross gave the man a few moments to consider his options before he grabbed the other arm and started frog-marching him towards the gates.

‘What about my equipment?’ the snapper demanded.

‘What about it?’

‘It’s worth thousands of pounds.’

‘Then you were foolish to leave it lying about, weren’t you?’

‘I’ll sue you.’

‘If I were to kill you right now,’ said Ross as they reached the gates, ‘there isn’t a jury in the land that would convict me.’ The snapper groaned as an arm was shoved further up his back.

‘He’s leaving,’ Ross said firmly to the guard on duty, who reluctantly opened one of the gates, allowing Ross to hurl the intruder out onto the road. ‘Make sure he doesn’t come back, unless you want your references checked more carefully.’

The guard looked suitably contrite.

Ross returned to the outskirts of the forest and picked up the camera, but left the rest of the snapper’s equipment where he’d found it. On his way up to the house, he paused by the lake, where several asagi carp were poking their heads out of the water, mouths wide open, clearly hoping to be fed. Ross sat down and examined the expensive Leica camera for a few minutes, even took some photos of the carp, before it slipped through his fingers and fell into the water, causing the carp to scatter in every direction, while it sank below the surface.

‘What a pity,’ he said as it disappeared out of sight.

Before he got back to the house, Ross put a call through to the local police, gave the duty sergeant the name of the photographer and the registration number of his Porsche. He asked him to make sure he didn’t come within five miles of the estate for the rest of the day.

‘My pleasure,’ was all the sergeant had to say.

After keeping watch for the rest of the morning to make sure the photographer didn’t reappear, Ross returned to the kitchen and enjoyed what his mother would have called a slap-up Sunday lunch. He thanked the cook before preparing to accompany HRH back to London.

When the car set off on its return journey, Ross noticed that Chalabi didn’t have the same self-satisfied grin on his face that he’d displayed when they’d arrived the previous day.

‘I do hope the weekend wasn’t quite as bad as you feared it might be,’ said Diana as they drove out of the gates and headed back towards London.

‘Thank you, ma’am,’ said Ross. ‘It turned out to be far more agreeable than I would have thought possible.’