The Hawk Is Dead

34

Wednesday 22 November 2023

The room, as Grace closed the door behind him, almost took his breath away. It was on a different level of splendour to everything he had seen so far in this Aladdin’s Cave of a palace. Gold walls, lined with mostly oval-framed period portraits, beneath an intricately stuccoed gold ceiling. There was a large bay window, giving a view out across the lawns to the lake beyond. A group of chairs arranged around a gold-inlaid coffee table formed a seating area. Candelabras, fine porcelain ornaments and busts on columns were everywhere he glanced.

King Charles rose from behind a very small but beautiful leather-topped desk, on which lay a memo pad and two red felt-tipped pens. He could not have been dressed or presented more immaculately, Grace thought. His silver hair gave him a distinguished air, and his dark navy suit fitted him as if it had been sculpted rather than sewn. Against his white shirt, his black tie was perfectly knotted. Far better than Grace could ever manage himself.

The King was a tiny bit shorter in real life than he had imagined, but Grace was reminded of a quote about the late legend Greta Garbo, which he had heard but never really understood before: Greta Garbo’s understudy does everything that Greta Garbo does, except what it is that Greta Garbo does.

He understood it now.

This was no understudy holding out his hand. Over seventy years of joy, stress and the burden of duty etched into his features in equal measures.

‘Detective Superintendent Roy Grace?’

‘Your Majesty.’ Grace shook his hand then gave a head-bow. ‘If I may say, Sir, this is one of the most beautiful rooms I’ve ever seen.’

The King looked pleased. ‘Thank you.’ He stood ramrod straight and put a hand into one of his jacket’s side pockets, gesticulating with the other hand. ‘This was my dear Mama’s sitting room. It’s barely been touched since her death,’ he said. Then his demeanour became much more serious. ‘But you’re not here for a guided tour, Detective Superintendent, are you?’

Grace smiled. ‘No, Sir.’

The King gestured at the cluster of chairs for him to sit, then sat back down himself. ‘Thank you for coming, I appreciate how busy you must be at the moment. I wanted a private word, because I need to understand exactly what you know at this stage. Where are you at with your investigation? Do you have a suspect — even if you can’t tell the press about it? I appreciate you have an excellent reputation, Detective Superintendent, but this is my darling wife they’ve tried to kill, and there are ramifications of national significance. What have you learned so far from the postmortem, from the derailment, from the bullets used and from your general Intelligence sources?’

‘Your Majesty, it’s what we call early doors so far in the investigation. I can assure you that we have more resources on this case than ever before in the history of the Surrey and Sussex Major Crime Team.’

The King gave him an odd, almost desperate stare. ‘And is that enough? If someone had tried to kill your wife, the woman you love, wouldn’t you be throwing every resource in the nation at it?’

Grace hesitated before replying. Three years ago, someone had tried and very nearly succeeded in killing Cleo, but he wasn’t going to go there now. The King looked deeply worried — and no wonder.

Taking a deep breath Grace replied, ‘Your Majesty, let me give you some important reassurance. I do not believe Her Majesty was the target of the shooter. I have discussed this with both the Met Police and the Royal Protection team, both of which have officers on my team.’

‘I’m sorry, Detective Superintendent, I don’t quite understand,’ The King said sharply.

‘Sir, Your Majesty, please allow me to explain my thought process.’

The King, glaring at him now as if Grace were an imbecile, gestured impatiently for him to continue. Grace told him his findings to date.

When he had finished, The King was a little calmer but seemed only partially reassured. ‘But why — why on earth would anyone want to kill poor Peregrine? He was an extremely decent and loyal man — I’d never heard a bad word about him from any of my staff. Ever.’

‘Might he have had any enemies, Your Majesty? It’s a question we are asking all who knew him. Perhaps someone he was holding back from promotion by staying too long in office?’

‘Enemies? Good Lord, I can’t think of anyone less likely to have had enemies. Peregrine’s deputy is a thoroughly decent chap, and well aware he has several years to wait for that promotion — if indeed he made it through the selection process. I’ve a horrible feeling, Detective Superintendent, that if you are looking for the murderer inside the walls of the Royal Household, you are very much looking in the wrong place — however credible what you’ve told me might be. And all the time you are looking in the wrong place, the killer is out there, preparing to strike again. I need reassurance that my wife is safe. Can you give me that?’

Grace stared The King back in the eye. ‘Queen Camilla is safe, Your Majesty,’ he said. ‘I can assure you.’

The King looked doubtful, still. ‘If you say so, but God help us if you are wrong.’