The Hawk Is Dead

73

Monday 27 November 2023

She held back for a moment, to let Lorraine McKnight get well ahead of her. Then she watched her cycle in the driving rain towards the entrance barrier to St James’s Palace. A huddled figure in a flapping high-vis cape, and lit up from behind like a Christmas tree, Rose thought, complete with a flashing beacon on top of her helmet — instead of a fairy. Perfect. She was going to be able to spot her easily.

Rose never bothered too much with safety stuff. Sure, she wore a helmet and she had a red flashing light on the back of her heavy-duty e-bike, but she hadn’t switched that on tonight — she wanted to remain as inconspicuous as possible. The reflector on the rear mudguard would at least enable any vehicle behind to see her. The bike’s black colour was also perfect camouflage for her mission.

She knew the exact route Lorraine would take. They regularly cycled the first half mile or so together before she herself turned left, skirting the outside edge of Hyde Park Corner, before heading off through Belgravia, while Lorraine turned right, straight into the maelstrom of the full traffic nightmare of Hyde Park Corner, before escaping into the sanctuary of Hyde Park itself and crossing it diagonally, towards Paddington and Notting Hill.

Rose, who came a different way in the mornings, asked her once why she didn’t dismount and go for the safety of the underpass. Lorraine had replied it was too much hassle and that Hyde Park Corner was much easier to navigate on a bike than people realized — you just had to be aggressive. And, she had revealed, someone had tried to assault her late one night in that underpass. She felt a lot safer out on the road. And besides, the road didn’t stink of piss.

One of the Royal Protection Officers stepped out of his booth, dutifully braving the rain to check, cursorily, that it was Lorraine, before raising the barrier. Thanking him, and waving him a cheery goodnight, she pedalled out.

Rose, her rucksack weighing heavily on her back, its contents safely bubble-wrapped, rode fast up to the barrier, where she was briefly checked by the same guard, who joked with her that she’d be better off in a kayak tonight. Then she joined the roar and the glaring headlights and tail-lights of the traffic, which was still heavy but now at this hour was moving well.

Lorraine’s bike was a heavy old steed, and with the electric motor doing most of the work, Rose quickly caught up with her along Cleveland Row, before she turned right into St James’s Street and down to the lights at The Mall. But she stayed a few yards behind and didn’t announce herself. Carrying on in the darkness a short distance on, up Constitution Hill, she maintained a steady gap just behind her boss’s rear wheel.

Just one sharp tap was all it would take.

And if it went wrong and miraculously Lorraine survived, she had the apology all prepared. I’m so sorry, Lorraine, that idiot taxi caught my arm and shot me forward into you.

Lorraine would ask her, later probably — again, only if she had miraculously survived — why she had followed her around Hyde Park Corner instead of turning off at the top of the hill and heading towards Putney. And again she had the answer ready. I thought by following you, I could learn to cycle around there safely, too.

She braked as Lorraine slowed, approaching Hyde Park Corner. One of the most hectic junctions in London, basically a huge oblong roundabout fed by six roads. Rose often wondered if perhaps it was the busiest — not that it mattered. Buses, lorries, taxis, cars, vans, motorbikes, and the occasional idiot on an e-scooter weaving in and out. And tonight, in the darkness and the rain, which was now coming down even more heavily, it was as busy and angry as ever.

But at least the traffic was flowing at a steady pace. Good. She did not want it jammed, did not want the traffic crawling at a snail’s pace. Plan A would not work if that was the case.

Suddenly, catching Rose off-guard, Lorraine charged into the fray, pedalling through a narrowing gap between the front of a bus and the rear of a removal lorry.

Desperate not to lose her, Rose powered forward as the gap narrowed even further. Shit. She felt the glare of the bus’s headlights, the heat from its radiator — was the stupid bastard driver trying to crush her? Then she was out, swung left into the gap between a taxi and the lorry, and saw Lorraine, a short distance ahead, slalom in front of another bus as she rounded the corner, then headed up towards the Lanesborough Hotel and the left turn into Knightsbridge. She was riding like a lunatic. Good. Rose followed. The traffic was moving faster here, but it took little effort to catch her quarry again.

And she had to make her move fast now. The move she had been planning since Lorraine had mentioned bringing in the police. At the top of the incline, Lorraine would be turning left, heading across six lanes of traffic towards the slip-road entrance into the park, just by Apsley House. This was the most dangerous part of her ride, where traffic entered at speed from the left, from Knightsbridge. Visibility was lousy tonight, which was perfect. Drivers of buses, taxis, everything, had to contend with blurry windscreens, dazzling lights, reflections on the wet tarmac, the approaching traffic from the right and trying to make the smart choice about which of the multiple lanes to be in.

Rose watched her boss hesitate, left arm sticking out, not that anyone was going to see it or take much notice even if they did. There was a bus — followed by another — thundering in from Knightsbridge at quite a speed. Was she going to try to beat it across?

Yes!

Just one tap. That was all she needed. Her heavy e-bike’s sturdy front wheel would send her flying. Right into the path of the bus.

She could see Lorraine was hesitating — and now she was about to make a mad dash for it, right across the front of the first bus. Perfect! Her heart thumping, Rose accelerated, her front wheel now halfway alongside Lorraine McKnight’s rear wheel.

Then, just as she braced, gripping her handlebars tightly, about to turn into that rear wheel, Rose felt a massive thump from behind. An instant later and she was launched helplessly over the handlebars of her e-bike. In the same instant it seemed the shiny black surface of the road was tumbling upwards towards her.