Page 106 of Traitors Gate

As the lift door opened, Jackie dashed past them, down the stairs, and had reached the door just as Danny drove William out of the Yard on their way to the Tower. The promised squad car drew up and took their place.

Jackie was holding open the front door as Rebecca came out of the lift. She shot past her, opened the back door of the squad car and waited. Paul walked out of the lift and headed slowly towards the car, clutching the bag as though it contained the real crown.

Once Paul was seated in the back, Rebecca joined him while Jackie jumped into the front and told the driver where they were going. He already knew, and the moment she’d closed the door, the squad car took off.

• • •

After they’d left, the Hawk sat at his desk waiting for the editor of theMailto call.

But first he needed to brief the Commissioner, who would inform the Prime Minister, who would seek an audience with the Queen to tell her something she already knew.

The phone on his desk began to ring.

• • •

Ross turned off his mobile, bent down and whispered to Jojo, ‘I’ve just got to do something quite important. Shouldn’t be too long,’ he promised.

Jojo reluctantly let go of his hand and continued to listen to the guide.

‘Colonel Blood and his co-conspirators were immediately arrested and locked up in the White Tower …’

‘But not for long,’ interrupted Artemisia as Ross slipped out of the Rogues’ Gallery and headed for the Royal Family, where he was greeted by another guide addressing an even larger group.

‘The 1937 Imperial State Crown was worn by Her Majesty the Queen at her coronation in 1953.’

‘It looks real,’ said a young boy standing near the front.

Bright lad, thought Ross as he turned a slow circle and studied the layout of the room. His gaze settled on Princess Diana, and a plan began to form in his mind. One more slow circle before he left the gallery and made his way quickly back to the main entrance. He knew the team couldn’t be with him for a few more minutes, so he used the time to buy three tickets from the box office so there wouldn’t be any delays.

‘You do realize,’ said the lady behind the counter, ‘that we close at six.’

That should be more than enough time, Ross wanted to tell her, but simply handed over three five-pound notes in exchange for the tickets.

Ross left the museum and was walking towards the statue of Sherlock Holmes when he saw a squad car heading towards him. He raised a hand as if hailing a taxi, and the car screeched to a halt by his side.

Rebecca was first out, with Jackie following in her wake. Paul was the last to join them, still clinging on to the bag. Ross gave them their tickets, while explaining exactly what he expected them to do once they were all in the Royal Gallery.

Paul handed over the Tower of London shopping bag to Ross as Rebecca left them to go in to the museum. Jackie followed thirty seconds later, with Paul not far behind.

Ross was about to enter the gallery when his mobile began to ring. He pressed the answer button while on the move and, when he saw the name flash up on the screen, said, ‘Not now, sir,’ and cut the commander off for the first time in his life.

Once inside the Royal Gallery, he found his three colleagues as instructed standing apart from each other at the back of the group, looking as if they were listening intently to the tour guide. Ross took his place at the end of the front row. A thick rope barrier surrounded a wax model of the Queen, with the clear warning that if anyone stepped over it, an alarm would go off. Ross had already anticipated that and built it into his plan.

‘The Imperial State Crown never leaves the Tower of London,’ continued the guide, ‘except on official occasionssuch as the State Opening of Parliament when Her Majesty will wear the crown when she delivers the Queen’s Speech to the House of Lords. Look carefully at …’

Ross turned around and nodded firmly.

• • •

The Hawk picked up the phone to hear an unfamiliar voice on the other end of the line.

‘Good afternoon, Commander Hawksby. My name is Paul Dacre, and I’m the editor of theDaily Mail.’

‘Good afternoon, Mr Dacre,’ responded the Hawk, only too aware he was talking to the most powerful editor in Fleet Street.

‘I’ve just had a call from a reliable source claiming that at the Opening of Parliament this morning, the Queen wasn’t wearing the Imperial State Crown, but a replica of little value, and I wondered if you’d care to comment?’

‘And who may I ask is your reliable source?’ asked the Hawk, even though he knew the answer to that question.

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