Next In Line

Chapter 33

When the SBS dive supervisor got the call from the ops commander at Faslane, he steadied his boat and loaded a diver recall device before dropping it into the water. It sank below the waves, exploding moments later to alert the divers of M Squadron to return to the surface immediately. Within seconds, a dozen rubber-clad bodies appeared above the waves and began racing each other to the safety boat. They didn’t need to be told it was an emergency, because they could see two faster vessels heading at speed towards them.

The order was simple. Return to the base at Coulport, get out of your dive kit and be ready to board a helicopter in twenty minutes. Anyone not on the helipad by then will be left behind. ‘Left behind’ were the only two words the ops commander repeated.

By the time the last of M Squadron reached the helipad at Coulport, the blades of the third helicopter were already rotating, waiting to lift off and, like the other two, be on their way back to SBS headquarters in Poole. No one missed the flight.

‘Are they terrorists or pirates?’ asked Victoria, trying not to show how anxious she felt.

‘Terrorists,’ said Ross, without hesitation. ‘Let’s just hope the pirates are already working out how to rescue us.’

‘Is it money they’re after?’ asked Victoria. ‘Because if it is, surely all they’ll have to do is negotiate the amount with the government?’

‘I don’t think this lot are interested in money.’

‘What else could they possibly want?’

‘Mansour Khalifah. The Libyan terrorist behind the Lockerbie bombing, who’s currently locked up in Belmarsh. He’s Colonel Gaddafi’s right-hand man, and as we’re currently heading south-east, I guess our next port of call is likely to be Tripoli.’

‘As you hardly slept a wink last night, Inspector, do you have a plan to get us out of here?’ Victoria said as she walked out and looked across at Diana’s balcony, but there was no sign of her.

Ross joined her on the balcony, looked around, and announced, ‘I didn’t get one of these,’ not wanting her to dwell on the one subject that was preoccupying both of them.

‘Understandably, Inspector,’ she replied, giving him a hint of a smile, ‘but then it’s not often I’m forced to spend the night with one of the below-stairs staff. Do you have any other reason to believe it might be Libya we’re heading for?’ she added, not letting him off the hook.

‘When we were out in the corridor last night, I heard one of Chalabi’s henchmen say “the Colonel”, and then he raised a fist in triumph. But wherever we’re headed, my first priority is to protect the Princess.’

‘That won’t be easy. In any case, we’re probably in more danger than she is.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘If you’re right about them wanting Khalifah in exchange for the Princess, their only hope of getting him released will be to make sure they don’t sacrifice their queen. Though they may be quite happy to remove a few pawns from the board, even the odd castle, which would account for those four shots we heard last night. It might also help the politicians in Whitehall to make up their minds. That’s assuming your pirates fail to turn up on time.’

‘You’d have made a good detective,’ said Ross. ‘So, what do you think their next move is likely to be?’

‘We won’t find that out until whoever Chalabi is planning to contact in London wakes up, which might not be for another hour or more. So, what should we do until then?’

‘We could always go back to bed,’ teased Ross, trying to keep her mind off what he feared she was really thinking about.

‘I must confess,’ said Victoria, ‘I had considered several scenarios in which that might happen, but being forced to spend the night with you by a group of terrorists who needed a spare room wasn’t high on the list. Frankly, I think you should be more concerned about the latest woman in your life,’ she said, pointing in the direction of the upper deck. ‘And with all your experience of the opposite sex, Inspector, I’d be fascinated to know what you make of her?’

‘She’s clearly ruthless and efficient. The whole operation was well planned, so she’ll know exactly what her next move is. But one thing she might not have anticipated is that there was a paparazzi photographer on the beach when they took over the yacht last night, and he had one thing in common with me,’ said Ross. ‘He never let the Princess out of his sight.’

‘So the morning papers might already have the story on their front pages.’

‘Not if he’s dead. I heard a single shot fired last night from a high-powered rifle, not from the gun that killed the other five,’ said Ross as he peered up at the sky through the porthole.

‘What are you looking for?’ asked Victoria.

‘I’m not looking, I’m listening. Once they realize back in London that the Princess has been kidnapped, there’ll be a Nimrod somewhere up there trying to locate exactly where we are.’

‘But won’t the terrorists see it, and be alerted?’

‘The pilot will make sure he stays high enough to be out of sight. And believe me, they’re well capable of pinpointing a dolphin from twenty miles away, let alone a seventy-metre yacht.’

‘Even if they do find us, what can they hope to do?’

‘Every government agency will move into top gear, but it’ll be the SBS who mount the rescue operation. Their biggest problem will be that they’ll only have a limited window before we reach Libyan territorial waters.’

‘Not exactly where the Princess had in mind to spend her summer holiday.’

‘I’m bound to say, Victoria, you seem remarkably calm, given the circumstances,’ though Ross noted a slight biting of the lip that rather expressed her true feelings.

‘My family have faced worst in the past. My great-great grandfather lost a leg at the siege of Mafeking,’ she said. ‘My grandfather was killed on the beaches of Dunkirk, while my father foolishly invested the family fortune in Lloyd’s of London and is now on what they describe as their “hardship list”, so I expect my inheritance has gone down the drain and I’ll end up having to do what the females of my clan have done so often in the past — marry for money. If you want to know the truth, I’m absolutely terrified. But as my grandmother used to tell my mother when the bombs were dropping on London, “Keep calm. Carry on, and always remember to put your knife and fork down between mouthfuls.”’

Ross could only admire the way this woman reacted under pressure, but didn’t tell her they had only experienced the first skirmish. Victoria went across to the desk in the corner of her cabin, on which there was a large pile of unopened letters addressed to the Princess. She picked up the top envelope and, using a silver letter opener, slit it open with practised efficiency.

‘From one of her many admirers?’ asked Ross.

‘Yes, but this is just a small sample of what HRH gets every day. One of my tasks is to see they’re all answered, even the ones that aren’t too flattering. I brought a batch of them with me, so I could answer them when I’ve got nothing better to do.’

‘How does she react to the unflattering ones?’

‘She never sees them,’ confessed Victoria. ‘I always pick a few from devoted fans for her to read over breakfast, although I don’t suppose I’ll get the chance today.’

‘Do you think the public would go on supporting her if it became known that she’d been on holiday with her lover and not the Prince?’

‘Most of them, yes,’ said Victoria. ‘For the worshippers, she can do no wrong.’

Ross swung around when the door burst open and two of Chalabi’s thugs charged into the room. They grabbed Ross by his arms, dragged him out into the corridor, and locked the door behind them. Alone in the cabin, Victoria burst into tears; her stiff upper lip having finally wobbled.

Ross was frogmarched up the stairs with the barrel of a rifle jabbed painfully in his back, before being shoved out onto the top deck, where Chalabi and Hassan were waiting for him. The morning sun blazed down on them, unaware they were no longer on holiday.

‘The time has come, Inspector Hogan, for us to move on to phase two of my plan.’

Ross suddenly realized why they hadn’t killed him.

‘Every telephone call you’ve made from your cabin during this voyage has been monitored, Inspector. So, for the moment, and I stress for the moment, you’re more use to me alive than dead. I want you to get in touch with Superintendent Warwick, as he appears to be the officer in charge of Royalty Protection.’ Ross said nothing. ‘You’re going to get him on the line right now, so I can spell out in detail what I expect in return for not killing the next Queen of England.’

Once again, they all stood when Mrs Thatcher entered the room.

‘Brigadier,’ said the Prime Minister, before she’d sat down.

‘An SBS team of highly trained operatives have been fully briefed on their mission, which has been given the operational code name “Overboard”, and are already on their way to the Mediterranean,’ said the Director of Special Forces. ‘I flew down to Poole following yesterday’s meeting and briefed the SBS with our latest information. We had an outline plan in place by the time I boarded the plane back to RAF Northolt just after midnight.’

‘But won’t it take days for even the most experienced operatives to be able to mount such a demanding operation?’ asked the Cabinet Secretary.

‘Not in fact, Sir Robin,’ said the brigadier. ‘The SBS spend every waking hour preparing for such a possibility, and can’t wait to be tested by real terrorists, rather than volunteers acting the part.’

‘But how can they possibly hope to board a fast-moving vessel, in the middle of an ocean, whose crew will be looking out for any sign of danger?’ asked the Prime Minister.

‘It depends on which direction they’re looking when our lads turn up,’ said the brigadier. ‘But you can be assured they’ve worked on several variations of this theme countless times and are more than ready for the challenge.’

‘Are you able to share any details with us at this point,’ asked the Defence Secretary, ‘or is it still too early?’

A map of the Mediterranean appeared on the screen at the far end of the room, with three large crosses marked in mid-ocean. The brigadier stood and walked across, a laser pointer in one hand.

‘This is what’s known in the trade as a three-pronged attack. To begin with, two dozen of HMS Cornwall’s most experienced men will mount a diversionary sortie from the east.’ A pinpoint of light focused on one of the crosses. ‘Once we’ve caught the terrorists’ attention, twenty members of the SBS team, under the command of Captain Mike Davenport, will close in on the yacht from the west, six of them on two of the Cornwall’s helicopters’ — the light settled briefly on a second cross — ‘from where the men will fast-rope down onto the deck and neutralize the terrorists. The remaining fourteen SBS men will approach from the north-west in three high-speed RIBs’ — the third cross was highlighted, completing a triangle that surrounded Lowlander. ‘The crucial element of the plan is timing. All three parts of the triangle have to come together at exactly the right moment. None of them can afford to be even a few seconds adrift.’

‘So where are the three parts of the triangle at this moment?’ asked the Cabinet Secretary.

‘Twenty-four of the ship’s company, who will form a diversionary group, are currently being briefed on the vital role they’ll play if this operation is to have any chance of success. The elite M Squadron should be’ — he checked his watch — ‘arriving at RAF Lyneham in the next thirty minutes in two trucks carrying all the equipment they’ll need, including the three RIBs. Once everything is loaded on board the two C-130s, they’ll take off at 1500 hours, earlier if possible. The SBS team should make contact with the Cornwall just after half past six in the evening, local time. I’d give you more details if I could, but the whole operation is very fluid and may well be subject to last-minute changes.’

‘How do you propose getting thirty men off a C-130 and onto the Cornwall?’ asked the Cabinet Secretary, looking at the map. ‘There doesn’t seem to be a runway within five hundred miles.’

‘They’ll parachute into the sea along with their RIBs,’ explained the brigadier. ‘For these men, that’s as easy as jumping into a swimming pool is for you or me. Meanwhile, one of our latest submarines, the Ursula, is closing in on the yacht. In fact, they should already have made radar contact with them by now,’ he added, a pinpoint of light indicating a position well to the south of the third corner of the triangle.

‘What role does a submarine play in this operation?’ asked the Foreign Secretary.

A long silence followed, before the Defence Secretary admitted, ‘It’s there as a last resort, Prime Minister.’

‘A last resort for what?’ demanded the PM.

‘Should we fail to take the yacht.’

‘And if that were to happen?’ pressed the Cabinet Secretary.

An even longer silence followed before the Defence Secretary admitted, ‘HMS Ursula would blow the yacht out of the water. But not before we’re certain they’ve killed the Princess and, even then, not without your authority, Prime Minister,’ he added as a phone began to ring from the far end of the table. William looked suitably embarrassed and was about to turn it off, when he saw whose name was flashing up on the screen.

William stood up, leant across and pushed his Motorola into the middle of the table, while placing a finger to his lips. A room full of men who were used to giving orders fell silent as William pressed the speaker button, so everyone could follow the conversation.

‘Good morning, sir,’ said a voice with a slight Irish lilt, that William recognized immediately. ‘It’s DI Hogan.’

He couldn’t remember when Ross had last called him ‘sir’.

‘As you know, Inspector,’ said William playing along, ‘regulations require that in a situation like this you have to answer four security questions in order to prove your identity.’

‘Understood,’ said Ross, well aware William would be analysing every word he said.

‘How many officers are under my command at Buckingham Gate?’

‘Ten,’ said Ross.

‘How long does it take on average for an ambulance to reach a traffic accident in London?’

‘About eighteen to twenty minutes,’ responded Ross.

William wrote down the numbers ‘ten’, ‘eighteen’ and ‘twenty’, before asking his next question. ‘What was the first car you owned after leaving school?’

‘I wanted a Porsche, but had to settle for a second-hand MG, that only had a thousand miles on the clock.’

William added ‘one thousand’ to his list.

‘What was your mother’s maiden name?’

‘O’Reilly. I had six brothers and four sisters. Our mother ruled us with a rod of iron.’ William wrote down the numbers ‘six’ and ‘four’.

‘Thank you, Inspector Hogan. You can now tell me your reason for calling.’

‘As you may know, Bill, the yacht on which my principal is sailing has been taken over’ — he avoided saying, by a gang of terrorists — ‘and their leader who is now in charge of the vessel wishes to speak to you.’

Everyone in the room expected the next voice they heard to be Nasreen Hassan. That was to be the first of several surprises.

‘Good morning, Superintendent. My name is Jamil Chalabi, and let me assure you I have complete control of this vessel. Let me also make it clear from the outset, if you fail to carry out my orders to the letter, I will not hesitate to make your adulterous Princess walk the plank. That may sound overly dramatic, but I have a feeling the event would be peak viewing on every television channel around the world.’

A young secretary seated behind the Prime Minister fainted, and two of her colleagues helped her out of the room. Everyone around the table remained transfixed by the conversation.

‘Your silence suggests that I’ve caught your attention,’ said Chalabi. ‘So I’ll now tell you what will happen next if you hope to see your precious Princess again. First, you will release my leader, Mansour Khalifah, from solitary confinement in Belmarsh and have him transferred to the prison hospital, where I will be calling him in an hour’s time. Is that simple enough for you to follow, Superintendent?’

‘Yes, it is,’ said William, refusing to rise. ‘But you have to realize that releasing Mr Khalifah will be a decision for the Assistant Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, not for me. And I have no idea where the AC is at the moment.’ William glanced across the table at Holbrooke, who gave him a curt nod.

‘You have one hour, no more. And I suspect he’s sitting in the room with you, so when I phone again, just be sure he’s ready to take my call. Should you attempt to double-cross me, the first person to die — well, let me be more accurate, the sixth — will be your colleague, Inspector Hogan, who is listening to this conversation. His will be a special death, which I’ve given some considerable thought. I’ve always wanted to know how long someone can survive in the sea without a life jacket. Less than a few hours, would be my bet.’ The line went dead.

‘I thought you told us that Chalabi was meant to be a society playboy,’ snapped the Prime Minister, ‘not a ruthless terrorist.’

‘There’s been nothing until this moment to suggest otherwise,’ said Commander Hawksby, coming to William’s aid. ‘However, I must confess that in the course of his duties as the Princess’s personal protection officer, Inspector Hogan has warned me on more than one occasion that Chalabi shouldn’t be underestimated, and that he was convinced, and I quote,’ he said, looking down at his briefing notes, ‘“That he’s not quite as naïve as he would have us believe.”’

‘That’s for sure,’ said the Prime Minister, ‘because he’s certainly made fools of you lot, and—’

‘Was there anything else you learnt from the conversation with Hogan, Superintendent?’ asked the Cabinet Secretary, butting in before the PM said something she might later regret.

‘His answers to the security questions were actually a way of passing on vital information without arousing Chalabi’s suspicions. DI Hogan mentioned the number ten when I asked how many officers I have under my command at Buckingham Gate. The correct answer is fourteen, so we can assume that ten is the number of terrorists involved in the raid, plus Chalabi, making eleven.’

‘So how long does it take on average for an ambulance to reach a traffic accident in London?’ asked the Cabinet Secretary.

‘About seven to eight minutes,’ replied William. ‘So I suspect eighteen to twenty knots is the speed the Lowlander is currently travelling.’

‘And is currently about a thousand miles away from its destination,’ suggested the First Sea Lord.

‘Clever,’ said the Cabinet Secretary. ‘But what about the six brothers and four sisters?’

‘I also know that Inspector Hogan was an only child,’ said William, ‘so I suspect the six brothers are active terrorists, while the four sisters are non-combatants. And rod of iron is slang for a Dragunov sniper rifle, which was presumably responsible for the death of the photographer on the beach.’

‘And Bill didn’t sit easily with the rest of the conversation,’ suggested the Cabinet Secretary. ‘I have a feeling you’re a William, and Inspector Hogan would normally call you “sir”.’

‘It’s an agreed code to let me know that everything he’s said can be relied on, and is not being forced out of him at the point of a gun, or worse.’

The First Sea Lord gave William a respectful nod, before saying, ‘We have less than an hour before we find out what Chalabi’s next demands will be, by which time the SBS transport plane should be on its way to HMS Cornwall. You’re going to have to buy me some time, Superintendent, because my lads will need total darkness before they attempt to board that yacht, and sunset isn’t for another five hours.’

‘No pressure,’ whispered the Hawk, without any suggestion of irony.

‘As I mentioned before,’ said the Prime Minister, ‘we never negotiate with terrorists. But that needn’t stop us coming up with any excuse to keep them talking until the SBS are ready to play their part. With that in mind, Superintendent, if I might give you a word of advice: be sure your phone is fully charged.’