Page 107 of Traitors Gate

‘I’m not at liberty to reveal that.’

‘Then neither am I at liberty to comment on your fishing expedition.’

‘What I can tell you,’ said Dacre before the Hawk could ring off, ‘is my source also claims that the real crown should have been returned to the Tower by your deputy this afternoon, a certain Chief Superintendent Warwick, but it wasn’t.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ said the Hawk as he stared at an empty table where, only moments before, the replica crown had been.

‘Then I suggest you read the first edition of our paper tomorrow morning, commander, when you will discoverexactly what I’m talking about,’ said Dacre as line two lit up on the Hawk’s phone.

‘I’ll be sure to do that,’ said the Hawk, cutting Dacre off before answering line two.

‘Good afternoon, commander, it’s—’

‘Good afternoon, Governor,’ Hawksby replied, ‘I was just about to phone and warn you to expect a call from the editor of theDaily Mail.’

‘He’s already been in touch,’ said the Governor, sounding anxious. ‘He told me he’ll be sending over the paper’s royal correspondent with a photographer to take a picture of the 1937 Imperial State Crown. I have several crowns and coronets at my disposal, commander, but, as you well know, that one is not among them.’

‘Call Dacre back and tell him the Tower is closed, as I’m confident you’ll have the crown back on display by the time you open to the public tomorrow morning.’

‘In normal circumstances, I could get away with that,’ said the Governor, ‘but unfortunately, Dacre anticipated that might be my response and informed me he’s already been in touch with the Crown Jeweller, a Mr Thomas, who can verify the authenticity of the crown. However, when Thomas turns up, he’ll find there is nothing but a velvet cushion to verify.’

‘Tell Mr Thomas he can see the crown like the rest of us at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.’

‘I only wish I could,’ came back the Governor. ‘But unfortunately, because of a certain Colonel Blood, that’s not possible. I’ll spare you the details, commander, but in 1673 King Charles II issued a proclamation allowing the Crown Jeweller access to the Tower at any time of the day or night, and no one, I repeat no one, not even Her Majesty, can prevent him from carrying out his duty.’

‘He could be abroad, out to dinner, at the theatre, even—’

‘He’s on his way to the Tower as we speak,’ said the Governor, cutting him short. ‘Dacre has already contacted Mr Thomas and told him he has reason to believe the crown may have been stolen, and that’s what he will be telling his three million readers tomorrow morning unless Thomas says otherwise. Frankly, all he’ll see now is a large empty display case.’

‘Bluff as long as you can,’ said the Hawk, ‘and I’ll get back to you the moment I have any more news.’

The Hawk put the phone down and began tapping his fingers as he waited impatiently for Ross to call back. The phone began to ring. He grabbed it as if it were a lifeline, only to hear his secretary say, ‘It’s the commissioner returning your call.’

• • •

The editor sat on the corner of his desk, eager to start the early evening news conference.

‘There’s only one story worth working on, as it’s bound to dominate the news agenda for the next few days, possibly weeks,’ he began, ‘and as we’ve got the exclusive, the rest of Fleet Street will be chasing our tail.’ No one interrupted him.

Dacre began briefing his heads of departments on the conversation he’d had with an eminent QC without once mentioning his name, the stonewalling he’d met when he contacted Commander Hawksby and the unconvincing responses he’d received from the Resident Governor when he asked him to confirm that the crown had not been returned to the Jewel House this afternoon.

‘So, Matt, let’s start with you,’ barked the editor at his royalcorrespondent. ‘Knock me out a thousand words. History of the crown, details of the jewels and, most important, how much it’s worth. I don’t want priceless, I want as many noughts as possible.’

The small group gathered in the editor’s office didn’t look up while they continued to scribble away.

‘Meanwhile, I’ll be writing a leader about the four morons who allowed this catastrophe to happen and calling for their resignations. I need photos of the Resident Governor of the Tower, Commander Hawksby, who heads up Royalty Protection, and Chief Superintendent William Warwick, along with his second-in-command whose name I don’t know. And don’t forget, we’ve only got a couple of hours before the first edition rolls.’

‘Forgive me for asking,’ said the royal correspondent, ‘but what if we find the real crown is back in the Tower and Mr Thomas says the one your eminent QC is going on about is nothing more than a replica?’

‘Then I need a picture of the replica crown and the most recent photograph we have of Miles Faulkner.’

‘Who’s he?’ asked the head of the picture desk.

‘The eminent QC’s leading client,’ interrupted the chief crime reporter, ‘who’s currently in Wormwood Scrubs and I’m told will be appearing in court tomorrow, applying for bail.’

‘By which time everyone will have the story,’ said Dacre. ‘So we haven’t got a moment to waste.’

‘What’s our headline if it turns out that Faulkner has been bluffing and only has a replica of the crown?’ asked the deputy editor.

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