Next In Line

Chapter 34

‘Thank God you’re still alive,’ were Victoria’s first words after the cabin door had been opened and Ross thrown back inside.

‘Well, at least for another hour,’ said Ross, trying to make light of it.

‘What makes you say that?’ she asked, anxiously clinging to him.

‘I’ll tell you later,’ he said, although he had no intention of repeating what he’d overheard of the conversation between Chalabi and William. ‘Right now, I need to speak to the Princess.’

‘She’s sitting on the balcony of her cabin, and she’s still on the same page of her paperback as she was an hour ago.’

Victoria followed Ross out onto her adjoining balcony, to see the Princess, head down, looking fragile and lost, her usual shy smile replaced by a look of intense foreboding. When she saw the two of them, she leapt up and ran across to their side of the balcony.

‘I owe you an apology,’ were her first words. Ross didn’t comment. ‘You never left me in any doubt how you felt about him,’ said Diana. ‘If only I hadn’t ignored your undisguised loathing of the man.’

‘You weren’t the only one who was fooled, ma’am. But for now, we have to concentrate on the present. So, if I tell either of you to do something, anything, don’t even think about questioning me. Is that understood?’

They both nodded obediently, before Diana said, ‘I’m just thankful you’re still alive.’

‘I think you mean surprised, ma’am,’ said Ross, once again trying to lighten the mood.

‘Did you learn anything from him?’ Diana asked, pointing to the upper deck, but no longer able to mention his name.

Ross chose his words carefully. ‘Yes, ma’am. He’s been in contact with London, who were already aware of the situation, and are now trying to strike a deal to get you released.’

‘What kind of deal?’ asked Victoria.

‘For now, ma’am, I want you to change into your swimsuit and sit on the balcony as if you were still on holiday,’ said Ross, making no attempt to answer Victoria’s question.

‘What about Victoria?’ demanded Diana, a little defiance returning.

‘My only responsibility is to protect you, ma’am.’

‘And Victoria,’ said Diana firmly.

‘If possible,’ said Ross. ‘But first I’m going to brief you on what I think is likely to happen during the next few hours, so that at least you’ll be prepared.’ He avoided saying for the worst, and lowered his voice. ‘Have you heard of the SBS?’

‘Yes,’ said Diana, ‘they held a dinner in my honour last year.’

‘I don’t think that’s what they’ll be holding in your honour this year,’ said Ross.

The governor was pacing up and down outside the prison gates when William’s car screeched to a halt. The Home Secretary’s phone call had left him in no doubt about what was expected of him.

They didn’t bother with any pleasantries. As soon as they’d shaken hands, he led William quickly through the open gate, a senior officer already on the move several yards ahead of them. He unlocked each of the double gates on the way, so their progress to the solitary confinement wing was uninterrupted.

Eventually they descended a narrow stone staircase that led to an underground passageway, where the light bulbs were thirty watts at most, and several of them needed replacing. They came to a halt by a solid metal door, outside which two guards had been posted. William flicked back the shutter to see a man he barely recognized hunched in a corner on a thin, urine-stained mattress in the far corner of the cell.

The duty officer unlocked the heavy door, pulled it open and stood aside to allow the governor and William to enter a space barely six feet square.

Khalifah stared defiantly up at them, but didn’t say a word. The two guards lifted him from the mattress and led him slowly out of his windowless dark cell, and back along the passageway until they reached a spiral staircase, which they almost had to carry him up. Their painfully slow journey ended at the hospital wing, where the matron was waiting by a small empty cubicle, clearly expecting them. Khalifah collapsed onto the bed, as two men dressed in white coats appeared and began to carry out a thorough examination.

Khalifah still didn’t speak while they prodded and probed, and it was some time before the older doctor offered an opinion. ‘He’ll need to eat something substantial and take in lots of fluid before you even think about moving him again. But if I had to guess, I’d say this isn’t the first time he’s been in solitary, because he’s in a lot better shape than I’d expected.’

‘Can I ask him some questions?’ asked William.

‘Go ahead,’ said the doctor.

William walked over to the side of the bed and looked down at Khalifah. ‘Do you speak English?’ he asked, articulating each word slowly.

‘I would hope so,’ came the reply. ‘I was educated at the London School of Economics, one of your cultural outreach programmes that you British are so proud of, although I confess I didn’t register under my present name.’

‘How much do you know about why I need to speak to you?’ asked William.

‘As I have been taken out of solitary and am having a hospital check-up, I can only assume that my brothers,’ he paused, ‘and one particularly formidable sister, have successfully taken over the yacht which the Princess of Wales couldn’t resist — or was it Jamil she couldn’t resist? He frankly fooled every one of you, including the Princess’s devoted lapdog, Inspector Hogan, so even you must realize this isn’t going to end like the Albert Hall fiasco. If you ever want to see your future Queen sitting on her throne, Chalabi is about to tell you exactly what you’ll have to do to make that possible.’

William remained calm, aware that losing his temper wouldn’t achieve anything. ‘We’re expecting Chalabi to call at any minute, and you’ll be allowed to speak to him. But not before Inspector Hogan has confirmed that the Princess is still alive.’

‘That’s assuming the Inspector is still alive,’ said Khalifah, ‘because if I know that lot, they will already be drawing lots to decide who will have the pleasure of killing him.’

William didn’t react, but he feared the governor might not be able to restrain himself for much longer.

‘I also need a bath and my own clothes,’ said Khalifah. ‘I don’t intend to return to my country looking like a fugitive.’

The governor nodded reluctantly, and as he did, the phone by Khalifah’s bed began to ring. William grabbed it and said, ‘Warwick speaking.’

The next voice he heard may have been coming from under the Mediterranean sun, but it was as cold as an arctic blizzard. ‘Good morning, Superintendent. Can I presume that my leader is no longer in solitary confinement, and is ready to take my call?’

‘Not until I’ve spoken to Inspector Hogan,’ said William, not sure what he would do if Chalabi refused. A long silence followed.

‘It’s Hogan, sir,’ said the next voice on the line.

‘Can you confirm that Her Royal Highness is still alive and well?’ asked William.

‘I can, Bill.’

‘And Lady Victoria?’

‘Shit-scared, to quote her,’ said Ross. ‘They’re both outside on the balcony, sitting in the sun.’

‘Satisfied, Superintendent?’ asked Chalabi, after he’d snatched back the phone.

‘Yes,’ said William, who’d picked up two vital pieces of information that he would pass on to the Assistant Commissioner at the first opportunity.

‘Then put me through to my leader immediately, or you’ll have spoken to your friend Hogan for the last time.’

William reluctantly handed the phone to Khalifah, and although he couldn’t understand a word of the conversation that followed, the name Diana occurred several times. After a few minutes Khalifah passed the phone back to William.

‘Now listen carefully, Superintendent,’ said Chalabi, ‘because I’m going to say this once and once only. In a couple of hours’ time, I will be phoning you again, and by then you will have arranged for a car to take His Excellency Mansour Khalifah to Heathrow, where he will board his private jet ready to take off for Libya. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Two hours may not be enough time to find a car and get him to the airport,’ protested William.

‘Come, come,’ said Chalabi. ‘If you can’t, I will have to execute one of my prisoners on the hour every hour. I’m sure Lady Victoria, like her ancestors before her, will set a good example. It shouldn’t be difficult for you to work out who will follow her, if you make one false move.’

‘But...’ began William.

‘There will be no buts, Superintendent. That is if you’re hoping to see the Princess alive again. As you now have only one hour and fifty-eight minutes, I won’t waste any more of your precious time.’

William had his next sentence prepared, only to find he’d already been cut off. Khalifah, who appeared to have made a remarkable recovery, gave him a condescending smile.

‘I won’t hold you up, dear boy,’ said Khalifah in an exaggerated public-school accent, ‘unless the governor wants to hang about and kiss my arse...’

The governor took a pace forward, but William threw out an arm, blocked his path and quietly led him out into the corridor, accompanied by a regal wave of the hand from Khalifah.

‘I’d be happy to serve a life sentence for killing that man,’ muttered the governor as the door slammed behind them.

‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,’ said William.

The governor paused for a moment before saying, ‘I owe you an apology, William, because I can’t begin to imagine what else you know, and can’t share with me,’ he said as the younger of the two doctors came out of the hospital wing and joined them in the corridor.

‘I told him I needed to take a leak,’ said the young doctor, ‘so this will have to be quick.’

‘I don’t think you know Dr Harrison, governor,’ said William. ‘We were on the same track team at London University, although he was a long-distance man.’

‘Where I studied Middle Eastern languages, not medicine,’ confessed Harrison as he shook hands with the governor. ‘So I’m a PhD, not an MD.’

‘What did Khalifah have to say for himself?’ asked William, not wanting to waste any more time.

‘I could only hear his side of the conversation,’ said Harrison, ‘but he made it clear that DI Hogan should be thrown overboard the moment his plane had taken off from Heathrow, and that once the yacht reaches Libyan territorial waters, someone called Victoria will suffer the same fate.’

‘And the Princess?’ asked William.

‘They have no intention of letting her go, even if Mansour Khalifah is released.’

‘Then what else do they have planned?’ asked the governor.

Harrison hesitated.

‘Get on with it, man,’ said the governor.

‘She’ll be paraded through the streets of Tripoli on the way to Martyrs’ Square, where she’ll be beheaded. They’ve even chosen the person who will carry out the execution.’

‘Nasreen Hassan, no doubt,’ said William as he checked his watch. ‘Which means I’ve now only got one hour and forty-nine minutes before...’

The C-130 carrying the elite SBS team flew over HMS Cornwall just after six thirty p.m., to be greeted by three flashes from a signal lamp. The pilot swung around and circled the vessel. The Cornwall’s captain watched from the bridge as the rear door of the C-130 slowly opened, and three rigid inflatable boats appeared and parachuted slowly down to the sea. The plane circled the Cornwall once again, before returning to discharge its remaining human cargo.

The first to make the jump was Captain Mike Davenport, not a man who liked bringing up the rear. Once his parachute had opened, the rest of his men followed in quick succession, dropping into the waves just as the brigadier had predicted, as easily as children jumping into a swimming pool.

The moment they hit the water, they discarded their parachutes and swam to the nearest boat. Once they had all clambered aboard they headed for the Cornwall.

Davenport nipped up the rope ladder that was hanging over the ship’s side. He stepped onto the deck to be greeted by an ensign before being escorted to the bridge, where the captain was waiting for him. They spent the next hour going over his plan in great detail, including the role those selected for the advance party would need to perform if the outcome was to be a success.

After the briefing, Davenport joined his men and ordered them to rest, not their favourite occupation. But as he reminded them, waiting is always the worst part of any mission, so they should try to get some sleep, as they couldn’t begin Operation ‘Overboard’ until the sun had disappeared below the horizon. He was well aware that none of them would have a moment’s sleep, himself included.

William phoned Holbrooke from the governor’s office, to be told he was at Number 10 briefing the Prime Minister with the news that the SBS team were now all aboard the Cornwall, waiting impatiently for the sun to set. Something even the Prime Minister had no control over.

William’s next call was put through to Holbrooke in the PM’s office, when he spelt out in great detail not only what Chalabi expected him to do, but also that Diana was definitely alive and well and, equally important, was on her balcony on the starboard side.

‘How can you be sure their cabins are on the starboard side?’ demanded Holbrooke.

‘There’s no way Lady Victoria would ever use the term “shit-scared”, even if she felt it.’ William went on to warn the Assistant Commissioner what Khalifah had in mind for the Princess when they reached Libya, even if they did go along with his demands. ‘He’ll be calling back in forty-one minutes,’ said William, checking his watch, ‘when he’ll be expecting me to confirm that Khalifah is on his way to Heathrow. If he isn’t, I’m in no doubt he’ll carry out his threat to kill Ross or Victoria, or both.’

‘I’m sure you’re right,’ said Holbrooke, ‘because, like us, he’ll be working to a strict timetable. I’ll tell you exactly what I want you to say when he phones back, but never forget that your first priority is to buy me as much time as possible. The SBS can’t make a move until after sunset, 20.43 local time, which isn’t’ — he checked his watch — ‘for another two hours and nineteen minutes.’

William listened carefully as Holbrooke spelt out in detail the message he expected him to deliver to Chalabi, because he knew he wasn’t a man who repeated himself.

‘The First Sea Lord’s on line one,’ said an urgent-sounding voice in the background.

‘I’ll be with him in a moment,’ said Holbrooke. ‘Your single purpose, Warwick, is to buy me time,’ were the last words William heard before the line went dead.

William made four separate calls during the next thirty minutes. The first was to the Hawk at the Yard, who assured him that three cars would be waiting outside the prison to take him and Khalifah to Heathrow, well before the hour was up. Almost as if command had changed hands. He next called Paul, followed by Rebecca and, finally, Danny, to brief them on the roles they would play during the next two hours.

He barely had enough time to get back to the hospital wing, making it with only minutes to spare. He hardly recognized Khalifah, who was now dressed in a thawb and keffiyeh, and looking more like an Arab potentate than someone who’d just emerged from solitary.

‘You’re only just in time to prevent the next execution,’ said Khalifah as William rushed into the room. ‘I presume you have a car on standby, because I know Chalabi is looking for any excuse to sacrifice Inspector Hogan, who for some inexplicable reason seems to irritate him.’

The phone rang. William didn’t need to ask who it was on the other end of the line.

‘I presume you’ve spoken to Holbrooke and arranged everything?’ was Chalabi’s opening statement.

‘Yes. A car will be outside the prison in a few minutes’ time ready to take Khalifah—’

‘His Excellency Mansour Khalifah,’ corrected Chalabi. ‘Yours isn’t the only royal family.’

‘—Khalifah to Heathrow,’ said William.

‘Where I assume his private jet will be waiting to fly him back to his homeland.’

‘That’s not going to be quite so easy,’ said William defiantly. ‘The plane hasn’t been serviced for over three months and, although the engineers are working flat out, it could be some time before the airport authorities will allow it to take off. Unless, of course, you’re willing to risk your leader’s life?’ he added, taking a calculated risk.

For the first time, Chalabi didn’t respond immediately.

William took advantage of the silence. ‘Once the safety regulations have been carried out, the plane will be refuelled. But we still face the problem of finding a crew who are willing to fly him to Libya. It’s not what one might call a destination of choice.’

‘Stop bluffing, Warwick,’ said Chalabi. ‘I’ll call again in an hour’s time, when I expect...’

‘I’ll need at least four hours before I can be sure everything’s in place.’

‘I’ll give you two, not a minute more. Should His Excellency fail to pick up the phone when I call his private plane in exactly two hours’ time, the executions will begin. I’ll even allow you to listen to Lady Victoria’s final words before she joins Inspector Hogan in the deep.’

The line went dead. William had bought Holbrooke an extra hour, but would it be enough?