Page 58 of Next in Line

Ross spent the rest of the afternoon carrying out a thorough examination of the house’s layout, identifying all its entrances and exits. When the hall clock struck six, he returned to his room, took a shower and changed into a dinner jacket. He was standing discreetly in a corner of the hall twenty minutes before the first guest arrived, and he remained at a distance throughout the evening. The finest wines and dish after dish of mouth-watering food passed him every few minutes, and from the exuberant noise and banter that flowed during dinner it was clear that everyone was enjoying themselves, although he wasn’t convinced it was HRH’s idea of a Saturday night on the tiles. He didn’t return to his room in the west wing until the last guest had departed.

Ross left the curtains in his room open and his window ajar so the dawn chorus would ensure he was among the first to wake.

He climbed into bed just before one o’clock and quickly fell asleep.

•••

Ross had showered and shaved, and was just about to go down for breakfast, when a discreet red light began flashing on the telephone next to his bed. He picked up the phone, surprised HRH was already awake, but before he could say a word he recognized Chalabi’s voice, and remained silent.

‘They’ve been told to expect you at the gate, but once you’re on the estate, make yourself scarce, because Diana’s protection officer will be hanging around. Nothing would give him greater pleasure than to kick you out, and I wouldn’t be able to prevent it.’

‘I know that bastard only too well,’ said a second voice that Ross immediately recognized. ‘He kneed me in the balls once, and if he came across me again, he’d happily throw me over the wall.’

‘Do you think we’ll make the front pages tomorrow?’ Chalabi asked.

‘Along with several inside pages,’ promised the second voice. ‘But I wouldn’t recommend you letting Di read them over breakfast, or you’ll be toast.’

‘Don’t worry, she’ll have gone long before then.’

‘When are you seeing her next?’

‘Thursday, at Harry’s Bar, eight o’clock. Make sure you’re there,’ said Chalabi, before hanging up.

When the light went off, Ross suddenly had a purpose – to make sure no photographs from the weekend appeared in any morning papers.

Ross went down the back stairs and had a quick breakfast in the kitchen. Although he was met with the occasional questioning look, no one asked him why he was wearing a black tracksuit and black trainers.

After downing his orange juice, he slipped out of the back door and made his way quickly to the edge of the forest. From his concealed position he could see HRH enjoying breakfast with her host on the veranda. It wasn’t difficult to work out where the line of fire would be for a hit man or a paparazzi photographer, but it would still require all his skills to take this particular snapper by surprise now he’d been warned to be on the lookout for him.

Ross crept stealthily across the lawn to an ancient oak tree on the far side of the lake and climbed its branches like a schoolboy until he reached one that was large enough to perch on. He took out his monocular and scanned the arc of fire. Itwas some time before he spotted the snapper, as his camouflage was good, and his chosen spot was well hidden. Although he’d blackened his face and hands and wore a green and brown woollen hat, a glint of sunlight caught the long lens that poked out from below a bush and gave him away.

‘Got you,’ muttered Ross. He pocketed the monocular, climbed back down the tree and inched his way cautiously towards the wall, making sure he remained out of sight. Every one of his senses was on the highest alert as he skirted the perimeter until finally he saw a foot sticking out from beneath a bush.

Ross crouched down and advanced more slowly, careful not to make the slightest noise. A breaking twig would sound like a gunshot. When he was about thirty feet away, he lay flat on his stomach and, like a predator that’s spotted its next meal, advanced even more slowly towards him, his eyes never leaving the target.

He stopped when he heard the click of a shutter.Click,click,click. Another couple of feet,click,click, and then the final few inches,click, before he raised himself onto his hands and knees. He took a deep breath, leapt forward and grabbed his prey by the ankles, before yanking him unceremoniously from his hiding place.

When the man saw who it was, he said, ‘Fuck off, Inspector. I was invited, unlike you.’

‘Shall we go and find out if that’s true?’ said Ross, twisting an arm half-way up his back. ‘If, as you claim, Chalabi invited you to take photos of him with the princess, which you’ll then sell to the papers without her permission, I have a feeling that, like St Peter, he’ll deny you at least three times. But then it’s possible you know Chalabi far better than I do, so I’ll leave the choice up to you: the front door or the main gate?’

Ross gave the man a few moments to consider his options before he grabbed the other arm and started frog-marching him towards the gates.

‘What about my equipment?’ the snapper demanded.

‘What about it?’

‘It’s worth thousands of pounds.’

‘Then you were foolish to leave it lying about, weren’t you?’

‘I’ll sue you.’

‘If I were to kill you right now,’ said Ross as they reached the gates, ‘there isn’t a jury in the land that would convict me.’ The snapper groaned as an arm was shoved further up his back.

‘He’s leaving,’ Ross said firmly to the guard on duty, who reluctantly opened one of the gates, allowing Ross to hurl the intruder out onto the road. ‘Make sure he doesn’t come back, unless you want your references checked more carefully.’

The guard looked suitably contrite.

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