The Hawk Is Dead

65

Monday 27 November 2023

‘I thought we could talk more privately here — safer,’ Sir Tommy said, dishing up coffees, and keeping his voice low even though they were now in his home in St James’s Palace. ‘Until we get to the bottom of all that’s going on — and who is involved — we need to be very guarded.’

Grace and Branson, seated opposite him at the kitchen table, both nodded. ‘We do,’ Grace said. He glanced around the spacious room then back at Magellan-Lacey and asked, ‘Out of interest, how long have you been Master of the Royal Household?’

Sir Tommy looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Ten years!’ He beamed.

‘And you enjoy it?’ Branson chipped in. He sipped his coffee but ignored the plate of chocolate digestive biscuits in front of him, still smarting from Sir Tommy’s remark about his dunking capabilities last time he was here.

‘Best job in the world — absolutely. Apart from—’ he shrugged — ‘you know — the terrible events of last Monday and now today. And of course the late Queen’s passing. That was an immensely sad time for me — and everyone.’

‘It was,’ Grace said. Through the window he saw two sentries, rifles shouldered, march in step across the courtyard.

Narrowing his eyes and addressing Grace, Magellan-Lacey asked, ‘When do you think you might have the deciphered pages from Sir Peregrine’s diary?’

‘I would hope within a few days, at most,’ he replied, shooting a wary glance at Branson.

‘Good,’ he said. ‘Excellent. Hopefully that will reveal something significant.’

‘You told us before, that you knew Sir Peregrine pretty well? Friends as well as work colleagues? That the four of you — with his wife and yours — would have dinner together quite often.’

‘Yes, Roy, we got on pretty well, poor chap.’

Grace nodded in acknowledgement. ‘Did you notice anything different about him — about his demeanour — in the days — weeks — before his death? Did he seem worried about anything?’

Magellan-Lacey shook his head. ‘To be honest he was always a bit of a closed book — you know — one of those people who never really lets you get near the real them. But having said that he could be great company — great fun when he did let his hair down. He was a brilliant mimic — he could do a wonderfully irreverent impression of both The King and The Queen — and quite a few other members of the Royal Household.’ He smiled. ‘The King’s actually a damned good mimic himself, when he chooses to be. He could have had a very successful career on the stage, had circumstances been different. But in answer to your question, no, I didn’t see any change in Peregrine — I last saw him on the Friday before he died and he was very much his usual self, but I can ask around and see if others noticed anything.’

‘Have you managed to think of any reason someone might have wanted him dead?’ Branson asked.

The Master took some moments before responding. ‘I can’t.’ Then he shrugged. ‘But who knows? Doing his job is not always easy — the same with mine. People jokingly nickname the Royal Family “The Firm”, but in many ways that’s what it is. One thousand, two hundred and fifty employees just here in the Buckingham Palace, Clarence House, St James’s Palace complex is more than many medium-size firms employ.’ He raised his eyebrows before continuing. ‘There is always going to be the odd disgruntled employee.’

‘Angry or bitter enough to kill someone over their grievance?’ Branson pushed.

The Master hesitated. ‘Well, I think I said to you chaps before, many of our Household staff have military backgrounds — perhaps that makes for more likelihood of outbursts of violence than with people from civilian backgrounds.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m purely speculating.’

‘Speculate away!’ Grace encouraged. ‘We need ideas. And actually there is something I wanted to ask you about — your own military service background. You were in Kabul, I believe.’

‘I was — not the best place in the world.’

‘You were out there at the same time as a current Household staff employee, Rosemary Cadoret — then a corporal, I believe?’

‘Yes — well, Rose is technically employed by the Royal Collection Trust — an excellent person, tremendously wide know-ledge of art.’

‘There’s also a member of the Royal Protection team — Jon Smoke — who was in Afghanistan, too?’

‘Jon Smoke, yes, indeed.’

‘From what we have found out about Smoke and Cadoret’s records, they came close to being court-martialled over the shooting of a group of Afghan terrorist prisoners of war? It was only the intervention of Sir Jason Finch that prevented that court-martial from happening — is that correct?’

Magellan-Lacey looked around furtively, as if to ensure no one was eavesdropping. Again he spoke quietly. ‘To be honest, their commanding officer, a colonel, was a complete buffoon. About on the same level as that detective from the Met, Greg Mosse.’ He grinned like a naughty schoolboy. ‘Of course I shouldn’t really say that!’

‘Feel free,’ Grace said, grinning back.

‘He put Jon Smoke and another soldier, an excellent fellow called Stuart Macdonald, who was a good friend of both Smoke and Cadoret, into a highly dangerous position behind enemy lines — completely against advice. There was no tactical advantage to be gained from putting them at risk like that. Yes, they did shoot some Taliban insurgents dead, and here on a fine November morning in the middle of London, sixteen years later, it does sound a terrible thing. But being on stage in the theatre of war is a very different place — different world.’ He paused.

‘In what sense?’ Branson asked.

‘It’s something civilians simply don’t understand. In war, the normal rules of moral conduct become suspended. Dehumanization of the enemy becomes part of the psychology — enemy soldiers become targets rather than human beings. It’s something you have to try to instil in your troops. I’ll tell you an interesting statistic: analysis of battles fought in wars around the world throughout the past century reveals that on average only twenty per cent of soldiers ever fire their weapons. And some of those who do just shoot in the air, over the heads of the enemy.’

‘Twenty per cent?’ Grace said, astonished. ‘You’re saying that eighty per cent of soldiers in battles never fire their guns at all — or don’t shoot to kill?’

‘It’s a fact,’ Magellan-Lacey said calmly. ‘Most people don’t want to kill anyone — and when the chips are down they can’t — even when their own life might depend on it. So part of the job of a commanding officer was to make damned sure as many of your troops use their guns as possible. Dehumanizing and ramping up hatred of the enemy is one of the ways. But that’s not a tap you can just turn on and off at will, if you understand what I’m saying?’

They nodded, they understood. Grace studied the man’s face closely. He was shocked by what the Master had just said, but he admired his humanity. ‘Sir Tommy, are you aware of any particular issue between Sir Peregrine and Geoffrey Bailey?’

He frowned. ‘Issue? What do you mean, exactly?’

‘Was there any animosity?’ Grace responded. ‘Under questioning on Wednesday, Geoffrey Bailey gave one of my detectives, DS Alexander, the opinion that he had a grievance over not being granted a medal. DS Alexander was due to interview Bailey for a second time, this afternoon.’

‘I know, I arranged a room for them.’ He grimaced. ‘I’m afraid Geoffrey Bailey was one of those employees — you get them in every organization — who constantly finds grievances in everything he has to do.’

Grace smiled thinly. ‘Tell me about it.’

Magellan-Lacey looked at his watch. ‘I’m going to have to shoot to a meeting in a minute, I’ve got an appointment with HMTK, he wants an update on everything. There is just one other thing I’ve thought of — it may be nothing.’ He turned and pointed out of the rear window. ‘See that room, that’s Sir Peregrine’s office.’

‘The one he didn’t want to leave?’ Branson said.

‘Exactly. My wife noticed something strange a while ago, a good year or so back and it happened more than once, always late at night — around 11 p.m. or so. She’d see what appeared to be a torch flashing in the window.’

‘Like a signal?’ Grace said.

‘Exactly. Like a signal. Just a few seconds then gone. The first time she said nothing as she thought she’d imagined it — that maybe it was a reflection of a vehicle’s headlights or something, or one of the RaSPs checking around with a flashlight. But when it happened again she told me.’

‘Was it some kind of code?’ Branson suggested.

‘Three long flashes each time. Could be the O in SOS — but she only saw it a couple more times. Once we both sat in darkness around that hour and waited, but nothing happened.’

Grace was silent for a moment, thinking. Remembering the deciphered lines from the diary.

I hope my dear wife Margot could be shielded from this particular detail, as she has no idea of my proclivities.

Proclivities.

Was Sir Peregrine signalling to someone? A late-night assignation?

Geoffrey Bailey?

‘Before we wrap up for today,’ the Master said, ‘I just want to give you a quick update on a couple of bits of detective work your team has charged me with. The first was a list of all Royal Protection Officers who are in possession of a motorbike licence — as well as those who actually own a motorbike. My deputy, Matthew Corbin, has completed that task and handed over the list to your chap in Sussex, Luke Stanstead.’

‘Excellent,’ Grace said.

‘And secondly, Matthew has also sent Stanstead a list of all Household staff and RaSPs who had a day off last Monday. He will set up interviews with any of the names on either list for your team.’

‘That’s very helpful.’

‘Good. Right, anything else?’

‘Two things, quickly, Sir Tommy,’ Grace said. ‘The first is the press — as soon as they get hold of this second murder, whether connected or not, the world’s media is going to go crazy.’

The Master put his right hand to his mouth and momentarily, with a thoughtful expression, tore at his thumbnail. ‘Yes — Buckingham Palace Comms have already had their first calls. Until we have drafted a statement, in conjunction with the police, they are fending them off.’

‘What are you intending the statement to say?’ Grace said.

‘It will be along the lines that the Palace believes at this stage there is no apparent link between the shooting of Sir Peregrine and the death of this footman.’

‘And you think the world press will accept that?’ Branson asked.

‘Nope!’ Sir Tommy gave a defiant beam. ‘Not a chance, not for one second.’ He shrugged. ‘When it comes to the British Royal Family, the world media invent their own stories.’

‘Indeed. I can’t imagine how frustrating that must be for everyone.’

He waved a hand, as if swatting away a cluster of flies. ‘They’ve all grown up with it. They’ve mostly developed pretty tough hides.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘And the second thing?’

‘Well, it’s not connected with this enquiry at all,’ Grace said. ‘Out of interest I’ve been googling Buckingham Palace and the Royal Household, to learn as much about its history as I can — and I came across something that really intrigued me. “Granny’s Personal Chips”. I’d be fascinated to see them some time — is that a possibility?’

‘Yes, I’m sure that could be arranged. I’ll speak to Lorraine McKnight, the Director of the Royal Collection. I’m sure she’ll be very happy to arrange for someone to show you them. But you know, if you are interested in jewellery, I can ask her to find you some things on your next visit that I think are even more beautiful.’

‘Thank you,’ he replied. ‘I’d like that. I would also like to interview her at some point this week, as well as Sir Jason Finch.’

‘Of course, I can arrange that very easily.’ The Master looked like he was frowning. ‘But actually Jason’s away for some time this week on annual leave — I believe to Amsterdam. I’ll speak to his secretary and get something in the diary for as soon as he’s back.’

Sir Tommy walked with them back over to Buckingham Palace, to their car. Grace tapped Sussex Police HQ into the satnav, and Glenn drove them out through the gates. He turned left up Constitution Hill, now obeying the speed limit.

As they approached the queue of traffic going into Hyde Park Corner, Branson turned to Grace. ‘Jewellery? Since when have you been interested in jewellery?’