Page 101 of Traitors Gate

‘I’d happily chop off his head for high treason and other misdemeanours,’ said Paul as the Land Rover set off for the palace.

‘And leave his head on a spike on Tower Bridge for all to see, no doubt.’

‘Or will he end up being pardoned like Colonel Blood?’ asked Paul.

‘Not if I have anything to do with it,’ replied William as he looked out of the window and watched the crowds winding their way slowly back home, while articulated lorries were beginning to pick up the makeshift barriers that had been placed along the Mall.

Even before they reached the palace gates, William could see a grey Jaguar on the far side of the parade ground, parked behind an elite motorcycle escort waiting to be given the order to accompany them back to the Tower in the shortest possible time. William waited for two Guards officers to appear carrying two black boxes that he wouldn’t be letting out of his sight until the Resident Governor and two Yeomen returned them to the Jewel House.

• • •

Booth Watson picked up the phone, confident his most important client would be on the other end of the line. Like the Queen, he was never late.

‘So far, so good,’ said Miles, sounding rather pleased withhimself. ‘But the time has come to move on to the next stage of Warwick’s downfall.’

‘Have you decided which national newspaper you’ll leak the story to?’ asked Booth Watson.

‘As the owner of theDaily Mailis an hereditary peer, I think he’ll appreciate the irony of the story.’

‘But when?’

‘Around five this afternoon, which should give the editor more than enough time to clear the front page.’

‘Do you think Warwick already knows?’

‘No, he doesn’t.’

‘How can you be sure?’ Booth Watson queried.

‘He’s sitting in the back of a Land Rover at Buckingham Palace waiting for the Lord Chamberlain to join him. Still, it shouldn’t be too long before he’s enlightened, to use one of his boss’s favourite expressions.’

The Hawk, seated behind his desk back at the Yard, switched off the live wire tap and delivered a stream of invective that would have left a Glaswegian docker with his mouth open. Although in truth, he still had no idea what Faulkner’s next move would be. However, the words, ‘it shouldn’t be too long before he’s enlightened’ rather suggested he was about to find out.

• • •

‘What’s his problem?’ asked Paul as they both watched a young subaltern hurrying across the parade ground towards them.

‘No idea,’ said William, winding down his window. ‘But I have a feeling we’re about to find out.’

‘Chief Superintendent Warwick?’ asked the subaltern even before he’d reached them. William nodded. ‘The LordChamberlain wonders if you could join him in his office.’ He tried to make it sound like a request rather than a command.

‘Of course,’ said William, who jumped out of the car and quickly followed the young officer back across the parade ground, catching up with him only as he entered the palace. They climbed a steep flight of stairs, the walls on both sides filled with photos of members of the Royal Family on overseas tours. The subaltern came to a halt at the end of the corridor, knocked on a door and opened it, standing aside to allow William to enter a large comfortable room that felt more like a study than an office. The Lord Chamberlain was seated behind a large antique desk. A painting of the Queen Mother hung on the wall behind him.

William would have enjoyed spending a few moments studying the paintings that adorned the walls and might have done so had his eyes not settled on two familiar black leather boxes that had been placed on a table in the centre of the room.

The Lord Chamberlain rose from behind his desk and walked slowly across to join him. Without a word passing between them, he opened the larger of the two boxes and gazed down at the Sword of State in all its glory. He finally spoke.

‘This magnificent piece of weaponry dates back to 1678 and was first used officially by Charles II in 1680. The jewelled hilt reminds us that it was never intended to be raised in anger but only used on ceremonial occasions. This ancient artefact will be returned to the Jewel House where it belongs, but not by you.’

William raised an eyebrow.

The Lord Chamberlain turned his attention to the smaller of the two boxes. He lifted the lid and took out the crown which William had recently seen on television when the Queenaddressed both Houses. He placed it in the centre of the table.

‘Whereas this imposter,’ he said with venom creeping into his voice, ‘will not be allowed anywhere near the Tower of London.’

A dozen thoughts passed through William’s mind – none of them positive – as he stared down at the crown and waited for an explanation.

‘Take a closer look, Superintendent, and you will see a magnificent counterfeit crafted by a modern master, but not, I can assure you, by royal appointment. Her Majesty realized the moment she placed this object on her head that it was not the Imperial State Crown which she wore at her coronation, but a usurper.’

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