The Hawk Is Dead

61

Monday 27 November 2023

Grace and Branson were led back to the reception area by the same officer. Grace wondered again, as he did each time he visited a prison, how much of a chore the officers found it to be constantly unlocking and locking two sets of doors to move from one area to another. Or did your mind just switch off to it? Or, his mind wandered mischievously for a moment, did prison officers have double doors in their homes that they had to constantly lock and unlock, to keep their hand in?

They collected their phones from their respective lockers, handed over their passes and locker keys and went back out into the blustery morning.

‘Well?’ Branson asked as they walked towards the car.

‘She’ll do it. For King and Country. Once she’s considered her options.’

‘You smooth-talking salesman,’ he retorted, grinning.

Grace concentrated on powering his phone up and entering the code, as Branson was doing the same with his. Then he frowned. There were two texts from Magellan-Lacey, one from Jack Alexander, and one from ACC Downing. All of them said pretty much the same thing, that they couldn’t get through to him and please call them back extremely urgently.

The second text from Sir Tommy read:

Grace called him back first, and the Master of the Royal Household answered almost immediately, sounding very relieved to hear the detective’s voice. ‘Roy, thank goodness. Have you heard?’ His voice was calm but urgent.

‘No, I’m sorry. I’ve been in a meeting — with my phone off.’

‘Right, well, we’ve got a bit of a shit show going on here. The footman — Geoffrey Bailey — who a couple of your chaps were coming to interview later today — has been found dead.’

Grace stopped in his tracks. He felt a strange sensation, as if something heavy had just sunk all the way through his body. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination but the sky seemed to have darkened suddenly, too. ‘Dead?’ he echoed, and saw Branson glance quizzically at him. ‘Under what circumstances, exactly? Suspicious?’

‘Well, I don’t imagine he climbed into the anaerobic digester by himself,’ Magellan-Lacey responded.

‘The anaerobic digester — that you showed us — which converts waste into heat?’

‘Exactly.’

Grace hit mute on his phone and turned to Branson. ‘That footman Polly and Jack were going to interview this afternoon has been found dead — sounds like he’s been murdered.’

Branson frowned. ‘Geoffrey Bailey?’

Grace nodded, unmuting the phone. ‘What can you tell me about the situation?’

‘Well to be frank it’s bloody awful. We’ve got a sealed-off crime scene right outside the Garden Entrance to the West Wing, right below The King and The Queen’s offices, with a whole caravan of Met Police vehicles arriving and parking on the gravel. Bailey was discovered by an elderly gardener, a super chap.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Arthur Lambourne. He’s completely distraught, as are both Their Majesties — The King would like to see you as soon as you can get here.’

‘I’m very happy to talk to him, but the Met will have primacy on this — and the investigation will be under one of their SIOs.’

‘I know, Roy — the SIO’s already here and throwing his weight around.’

‘Don’t tell me his name,’ Grace said. ‘Greg Mosse?’

‘How did you guess?’

Grace decided to save for later the explanation that Greg Mosse was the Met Detective Superintendent who’d tried to take primacy on the shooting of Sir Peregrine Greaves. ‘I can come straight up now. I’m currently in Sutton — I could be with you in an hour or so.’

‘I think that would be a very good idea, Roy. I think you’d be a calming influence.’

Ending the call, Grace turned to Branson. ‘You’re always going on to me about your driving skills. I’m authorizing you to do a blue light run to the Palace. Fill your boots — and try not to kill us both. Just remember how many times you’ve scared the shit out of me.’

‘Yeah, and just remember how many times you’ve survived!’

Grace gave him a sideways look. ‘Who was it who said, “Live every day as if it’s your last, because one day it will be”?’

‘I think,’ Branson said with a wicked grin, ‘it was someone who isn’t around any more.’