The Hawk Is Dead

23

Tuesday 21 November 2023

Hollywood’s legendarily grumpy star W. C. Fields famously said, Start every day off with a smile and get it over with. There were occasional days when Tommy Magellan-Lacey felt that his boss, whom he admired and deeply respected, had taken a leaf out of the actor’s book. This was going to be one.

The King was immensely hard-working but charming, caring and good fun with it. Normally. The flashes of temper that the press loved to pick up on, such as when a pen he was using didn’t work, were in reality few and far between. But when The King did have a mood on him, it always took every ounce of the Master’s tact and diplomacy to contain it. Tommy fully understood how it had been possible, in times long past, for a British monarch in a fit of pique to have a loyal subject’s head lopped off, on a whim. This was a day for walking on eggshells when around The King, he knew. But at least he had prepared as best he could.

As the chauffeur took the boxes from the footmen and handed them the ones from inside the car, King Charles shook his head at the Master. ‘This is unbelievable, Tommy. I mean, poor Peregrine. Terrible, just terrible.’

‘It is, Sir. How is Her Majesty?’

Indicating the Master to follow him, The King walked briskly up the steps of the Garden Entrance and, ignoring the lift — he never took one unless he absolutely had to, always preferring the exercise of walking — he strode up the staircase and entered the magnificently ornate bow-fronted room. The room, hung with spectacular paintings and a treasure trove of objets d’art, had doubled as his late mother’s sitting room and office and was, as the Master recalled, almost exactly as she had left it. Perhaps in time The King would put his own imprint on it, but it was only a year since Queen Elizabeth had died. Too soon.

Following him in, Tommy waited for the footmen to put the two boxes on a table and retire, then closed the panelled door behind him. The King crossed to his desk, which was still covered in tiny items of silverware and priceless ornaments, and again shook his head. Then, venting anger, he said, ‘She’s like that bloody James Bond — shaken — very shaken — but not stirred.’ He gave him a strange look, half smiling, half angered.

‘She’s a strong woman, Sir,’ the Master replied.

‘Too damned strong for her own good. Someone tried to assassinate her, for God’s sake! And she’s just carried on like nothing happened. This is terrible — Peregrine shot dead.’ He shook his head, looking momentarily — and uncharacteristically — bewildered. He sat down at the desk, as if the weight of responsibility was pressing too heavily on his shoulders, then looked up. Softening his tone, he asked, ‘What are we doing to support dear Margot and all the staff, Tommy?’

‘I have this in hand, Sir, rest assured. I’ve spoken to the Apothecary, and he’s ready to see anyone who’s feeling in need of emotional support.’

The Apothecary was the traditional name for the Palace doctor, who held a well-staffed medical centre in the Royal Mews.

‘And I’ve had discussions with the Lord Chamberlain, who is addressing all staff in the Ballroom at midday. He will tell them that counselling is available to anyone who feels they need it.’

‘Good. But what about Margot?’ Margot was Sir Peregrine Greaves’ widow.

‘I went to see her last night, Sir. Predictably, she’s in bits. But she told me all three of her daughters were on their way to Ambassadors’ Court to be with her. Just in terms of admin, other staff members have stepped up to cover the Private Secretary’s role in the interim.’

King Charles shook his head and gave the Master a wan smile. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you, Tommy.’

Magellan-Lacey gave a modest head-bow. ‘Thank you, Sir.’

‘And what about the investigation — what do we know so far?’

‘I’ve been in regular communication with the Commissioner of the Met, who—’

‘Sir Mark Peckham?’ The King interrupted.

‘Exactly, Sir. He has everything in hand, and is in turn liaising with the Chief Constable of Sussex — her name is Lesley Manning — and her senior team. I understand that she has put her top Major Crime detective in charge of the investigation — a Detective Superintendent Roy Grace. As you know, Her Majesty is now en route by helicopter to Hampshire to the first of two hospice visits today, and where the police are on the highest alert, with all leave cancelled, and additional protection being provided by the Army and the RAF.’

The King stared up at him, looking increasingly agitated. ‘My darling wife is being so damned insistent, Tommy! Why can’t she understand there is some maniac out there trying to kill her? It’s all very well you telling me the police have things in hand. But you are not reassuring me!’

‘I’m afraid she is determined to finish her visits to the hospices, Sir.’

The King shook his head again. ‘And who is this Grace character? Some provincial copper — why haven’t we got the top Met people on it?’

‘Officers from the Counter Terrorism Command are going to be on his team. But I understand he’s highly experienced, Sir, very well thought of — and the right man for where the incident happened, with a very great deal of local knowledge.’

The King gave him a strange, withering look. ‘Incident? Are you calling the attempted murder of my wife just an incident?’

He gave The King a placatory smile. ‘I was using police terminology, Sir.’

‘Hmmn. If you say so. I want to see this Grace fellow, can you get him here now?’

‘He’s coming up first thing tomorrow, to talk to Her Majesty.’

‘Why can’t I see him now?’ he said with a growing frustration.

‘I spoke to Her Majesty earlier. She is resolved to honour her commitments to the two hospices in Hampshire and will then return to London this evening. She’s not actually in his county any more — Grace is only responsible for Sussex and Surrey, not Hampshire. I have a call in to the Chief Constable there.’

The King shook his head in near disbelief. ‘Tommy, I don’t like her out there, swanning around England, with a gunman on the loose. As I told her last night.’

Major General Sir Tommy Magellan-Lacey said, standing very stiffly, ‘I’ll do my best, Sir. But you know Her Majesty.’ He gave The King another solemn head-bow.

‘I do!’ King Charles retorted. ‘Bloody determined.’