Next in Line (William Warwick, #5)(21)

‘Don’t worry, chief, I’ll have a Renoir, a Picasso and a Matisse on the wall long before the Superintendent turns up.’

‘I’d prefer a phone, a filing cabinet and a wastepaper basket,’ said William as he began to open the desk drawers, only to discover the cupboard was bare.

Rebecca took a small notepad and a Biro out of her attaché case and handed them to William, as Jennings ambled back into the room.

‘Go back out, Sergeant,’ said William. ‘Knock on the door and wait until you’re asked to come in. And when you do, remember to bring your own chair.’

Rebecca would have liked to have captured the look on Jennings’s face to remind her of their first day at work with Royalty Protection. This time he retreated without comment.

‘I do believe you’re enjoying yourself, chief,’ ventured Rebecca.

‘If Jennings is anything to go by, this is going to be more of a challenge than I’d originally thought.’

There was a knock on the door.

‘Come in,’ said William.

Jennings opened the door and walked back in, carrying a comfortable chair.

‘You can sit down, Sergeant,’ said William.

Jennings placed his chair in front of the desk and sat down. William remained standing, while Jennings leant forward, as if perched on a stool in the corner of a boxing ring, waiting for the bell to sound for the first round.

‘Name and rank?’

‘I’ve already told you,’ retorted Jennings.

‘One more piece of insubordination, Sergeant, and I’ll be getting my red pen out and asking for your pocket book.’

‘Why, what have I done?’

‘It’s what you haven’t done,’ said William. ‘You were on night duty but, when you opened the front door, it was clear I’d woken you, as you were unshaven and yawning.’

Jennings shifted uneasily in his chair.

‘Name and rank?’ repeated William.

‘Sergeant Ray Jennings.’

‘How long have you been a member of the police force, Sergeant?’

‘Six years.’

‘Six years, sir.’

‘Six years, sir.’

‘What is your position?’

‘I’m the third protection officer on the Prince of Wales’s personal team, sir.’

‘Who are the other two officers on that team?’ asked William, making notes.

‘Superintendent Milner, who’s head of Royalty Protection Command’ – he stressed the word head – ‘and Inspector Reynolds, his number two.’

‘When can I expect either of them to make an appearance?’

‘Inspector Reynolds usually comes in around ten on a Tuesday morning.’

‘Around ten?’

‘If he’s been working over the weekend and HRH doesn’t have any engagements before midday, there doesn’t seem much point in coming in any earlier. In any case, he lives in the country.’

‘And Superintendent Milner?’

‘You can never be sure if he’ll be at Buck House or Windsor Castle, but I’ll let him know you’re here the moment he arrives.’

‘And you?’

‘I’m on nights this week,’ said Jennings, stifling another yawn. ‘I was just about to go home.’

‘Before you leave, I’d like a copy of your day sheet, and the name of the officer who signs you off. If I ever see you incorrectly dressed and unshaven again, Sergeant, you’ll be back on the beat with the rank of Constable.’ Jennings immediately sat bolt upright, the surly look disappearing from his face. ‘You can go off duty now, Sergeant.’

Jennings rose, picked up the chair and headed for the door.

‘You can leave the chair, Jennings.’

? ? ?

Jackie and Paul had met up outside Windsor station earlier that morning, and joined a small group of commuters, none of whom was heading for the castle. Paul was unusually silent, displaying a slight nervousness both of them felt. They arrived outside the castle gates a few minutes before eight to be challenged by a guardsman who clearly wasn’t expecting them.

When Jackie produced her warrant card, he reluctantly opened the gates and let them both in. They made their way across to the protection officers’ quarters, which Jackie had identified on one of her tourist outings.

Jackie walked straight into the main office to find a smartly dressed young woman seated at a desk poring over some figures in a ledger. She looked even more surprised to see them than the guardsman.

‘Can I help you?’ she asked.

Once again Jackie produced her warrant card, pleased to find they were not expected.

‘I’m Constable Smart,’ the young woman said, immediately standing up, but clearly still unsure what they were both doing there.

‘Are you the only officer on duty this morning, Constable?’ Jackie asked.

‘Yes,’ she replied defensively. ‘The others don’t usually turn up much before lunch on a Tuesday unless one of the royals has an early appointment,’ she added, trying to cover her indiscretion.

Jackie couldn’t miss the hint of disapproval in her voice, and wondered if Constable Smart might, given time, turn out to be a useful ally.

‘Can I get you a coffee, Sergeant?’ the Constable asked politely.