The Hawk Is Dead - читать бесплатно онлайн полную версию книги автора Peter James (57) #53

57

Sunday 26 November 2023

Crammed around Grace’s small office table were Glenn Branson, Polly Sweeney, Jack Alexander, Nick Nicholl, Norman Potting and the Intelligence Manager, Reena Chacko.

‘From what we’ve just heard in the briefing, this Sir Tommy — he’s quite a busy fellow, boss!’ Nick Nicholl quipped. ‘Does he have to run around the shops, too?’ Mimicking King Charles’s voice he said, ‘Eww, Tommy, one has run out of mustard, be a good chap and nip along to Tesco for a jar of jolly old Colman’s English.’

There was a roar of laughter and Grace himself smiled, before quickly raising a silencing hand.

Then Branson cut in. ‘I can tell you one thing about Sir Tommy, he’s not a fan of biscuit dunking.’

‘Neither of them allowed by protocol or etiquette perhaps, Glenn?’ Norman Potting queried, supplying his two-penn’orth to the discussion.

‘Right,’ Grace said. ‘I was absent yesterday, not having a nice lie-in, as a few of you wags have suggested, but gagging for fresh air in a house full of tortoises.’

‘Nick any for speeding, boss?’ Potting asked.

‘I sure didn’t nick the man I had gone to see for speeding — he moved even more slowly than the tortoises,’ Grace replied with a brief smile. ‘Right, let’s be serious now and move onto the diary. I’ve called you in here because I know absolutely I can trust you six not to leak anything. I didn’t want to share this with the wider team at this stage — what I say must remain very strictly confidential, any leak could potentially destroy our investigation. You need to hear it because it will impact and influence the enquiries that you are undertaking — but what I’m about to tell you must remain within these four walls. Understood?’

From their nods and expressions it clearly was.

‘OK, I do actually have quite a bit of the diary decoded already, and I’m going to share these decoded words from Sir Peregrine with you now.’

There was complete silence, other than the beep-beep-beep of a reversing van somewhere close outside, as Grace began to read aloud:

‘Information has come to my attention from a trusted source that I cannot reveal, for his own protection — and perhaps for mine, too. His providing this information is not entirely altruistic, he has an axe to grind about his contribution at work being overlooked. He is also something of a loose cannon — I suspect I’m not the only person he has told. I also cannot be sure if he is exaggerating any of what he has said. In my opinion he is not the most reliable of people, but I do believe the essence of what he has told me is correct.

Which is that we have a group of conspirators — let’s call them thieves, for that is what they are — who are taking advantage of the temporary disruptions to normal procedures caused by the renovation works currently being carried out at Buckingham Palace.

My source has discovered they are stealing high-value items belonging to the Royal Collection, which have been housed in the Palace. These items include ornaments, sculptures, paintings, small but rare pieces of furniture, and significant jewellery. An item on the target list is a priceless diamond of great historical significance from a collection known as “Granny’s Personal Chips”. My source told me they are planning to replace it with a fake that would be undetectable to the naked eye.

I cannot conclude for certain from this one instance that what my source tells me is correct. The “Granny’s Personal Chips” diamonds have been around for more than eighty years and the theft and switch could possibly have happened a very long time ago. So in the meantime I have continued to make my own very discreet enquiries with people in whom I have absolute trust, across the divisions of the Royal Household.

If you are deciphering this, it can mean only one thing, which is that The Hawk is dead. Maybe from natural causes, but more likely he has been killed in order to silence him by the very people he is in the middle of trying to investigate. Which would mean they are even more dangerous than I have realized.

And which would make The Hawk a whistle-blower from beyond the grave.’

‘Hawk?’ Norman Potting interrupted. ‘Who’s The Hawk? A cryptic clue?’

‘Sir Peregrine himself?’ Grace suggested. ‘There’s a peregrine falcon — that’s a kind of hawk, isn’t it? You’re the one who grew up on a farm, Norman! What do you think?’

Potting nodded. ‘People often see them as the same, but falcons are smaller than hawks. In North America falcons get nicknamed “duck hawks”, so it could be cryptic, I suppose.’

Grace picked up his phone. ‘I know the person to ask.’ He started the call and moments later the Master of the Royal Household answered.

‘Sir Tommy, I’m sorry to bother you.’

‘Not at all,’ Magellan-Lacey replied breezily. ‘How are you doing? Have you got some good news? Close to an arrest?’

‘We’re making progress,’ Grace replied.

‘Good, splendid, super!’

‘Just a very quick question, hopefully: is anyone in the Royal Household nicknamed The Hawk?’ Grace asked.

‘Yes, absolutely, poor Perry — Sir Peregrine.’

‘That was his nickname?’

‘Indeed. Peregrine falcon — often mistaken for a hawk. He picked up the moniker while on secondment in Washington, DC. It was sort of behind his back, but he knew about it and I think secretly he actually rather liked it. Even HMTK and HMQ sometimes referred to him as that, affectionately.’

Grace thanked him and ended the call. Making sure the line was disconnected, he returned to the decoded text:

‘So why is this written in code, I hear you ask?

Well, my source is an employee whom I have become fond of and with whom I have had occasional meetings in private, which I should not have agreed to. I hope that my dear wife, Margot, can be shielded from this particular detail, as she has no idea of my proclivities. My feelings for this person never meant I did not love Margot and our children as much as any husband and father could.

Ordinarily, I would never have disclosed any of this, but this is not an ordinary situation. I’m getting close to having sufficient evidence to expose it, and I’m fully aware that in doing so it will have massive repercussions within the Royal Household, which I have faithfully served for many years.

And, in particular, I want to expose the ringleader of this sordid little group. Someone who is high up in Royal Service, whom I have respected for very many years, and who I know is valued and trusted by both His Majesty King Charles and Her Majesty Queen Camilla.

My source has given me this person’s name, but I’m frightened to reveal it, in case I am pointing a finger at the wrong person — and I would hate to destroy their career through a false accusation. So what I am doing is making all the discreet enquiries I can to establish beyond reasonable doubt — as a jury is required to do in a court of law — that my source has the right person.’

Grace paused and looked around at his team. ‘Does anyone have any comments at this stage?’

Jack Alexander spoke. ‘Boss, surely a lot of these items in the Royal Collection are extremely well known, how on earth could buyers have been found for them? I mean, it’s just not feasible?’

Grace took great pleasure in replying. ‘I think you’ll find your answer in a moment.’

Alexander looked nonplussed. Grace read on:

‘I told my source that surely the thieves would have problems in disposing of a number of the items because they are so well known. But he informed me that many valuable works have been sold via the so-called “dark web”, making the transactions virtually untraceable, with them mostly going to unscrupulous collectors in Eastern Europe and Asia. Additionally, some pieces are melted down and sold for the value of their precious metals. And stones, such as diamonds, are re-cut to alter their identity completely. Utter sacrilege to our heritage! They must be stopped!’

Grace looked at Jack. ‘Does that answer your question?’

He received a nod.

Norman Potting raised a hand. ‘Chief, do you have any sense of who this person high up in Royal Service might be?’

‘I don’t, Norman, no. Not yet.’

DS Alexander raised a hand again. ‘Boss, the footman I interviewed on Thursday, Geoffrey Bailey, may fit the description of “the source” in the diary, especially if Sir Peregrine wanted to keep their relationship a secret.’

‘He does,’ Grace acknowledged. ‘You and Polly are interviewing him formally — has a time been arranged?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Polly Sweeney interjected. ‘Tomorrow at 3 p.m.’

‘Good.’ Then he addressed the entire team. ‘OK, I appreciate you all being here on a Sunday. I’m sure there’ll be a lot of vicars and priests unhappy not to see some of you in their churches today.’

There was a ripple of laughter.

‘There’s something further that Denton Scroope has found and as yet has not been able to decode. Five groups of letters. He doesn’t know their meaning but he believes they are very significant. They are as follows:

R I S K K

E J N W

R S Z K Y Z N K Z K S

N X W K X Z X W K X

And the final one: J F K Y.’

Grace looked at each of his inner circle. ‘Any clues, anyone?’

‘Above my pay grade, chief,’ Norman Potting grumbled in his rural burr.

‘Well, there’s your homework, everyone!’

He turned to Branson. ‘Glenn, stay on, I need a word.’