Next in Line (William Warwick, #5)(22)

‘Thank you,’ said Jackie as she sat down beside her and turned her back on Paul.

Paul took the hint and went off in search of an office they might occupy, only to end up finding a spare desk and a broom cupboard. However, when he returned, he was pleased to find Jackie enjoying a second cup of coffee with Constable Smart.

? ? ?

DI Hogan rang the front doorbell at ten minutes to eight. It was opened a few moments later by someone who was clean-shaven, smartly dressed and clearly expecting him.

‘Welcome to Kensington Palace, Inspector,’ said the butler. ‘Please come in. The Princess is having breakfast in her room. I don’t expect to see her much before nine, so why don’t I show you around while we’ve got the chance? Let’s start with your living quarters, which are on the top floor.’

‘Where I come from,’ said Ross, ‘that’s called the attic.’

Burrows laughed as he accompanied the Inspector upstairs. ‘I admit your quarters are a little cramped, but you can always join me in the kitchen if you’re at a loose end.’ He opened a door to reveal a room that was larger than any in Ross’s flat. A single bed was tucked away in one corner. ‘In case you arrive back late and have an early appointment the following morning,’ Burrows explained, ‘which isn’t unusual. You’ll soon learn that HRH is more of an owl than a lark.’

Ross nodded as he looked around the room, surprised by how well equipped it was. He picked up a handwritten card on the desk which read simply, Welcome.

‘How do I address you?’ Burrows asked politely.

‘Ross is fine,’ he said, opening a wardrobe to find a dozen coat hangers on the rail.

‘No, I meant Inspector or sir?’

‘I meant Ross.’

‘Thank you, Ross. I’m Paul. But not in front of the Princess. You’ll find a copy of her engagements for the next week on your desk. She’s attending a heart charity lunch at the Dorchester today. The venue’s already been checked by an advance team. That will be one of your responsibilities in the future. But whenever you’re stuck indoors, as she calls it, you can take a break.’ He opened one of the desk drawers and handed over a thick file. ‘Here’s your prep, Ross. I’ll try to answer any questions you might have, but not until you’ve done your homework. Could I just say you’re unusually well-dressed for a policeman?’

‘You can blame my late wife for that,’ said Ross. ‘Jo was French, and didn’t have a high opinion of the Brits’ dress sense, even less about our lack of appreciation of haute cuisine or fine wine, and gave up completely when it came to how to treat a lady.’

‘No wonder the Princess took a liking to you.’

They both laughed. The laughter of two men getting to know each other.

‘You’ll need to keep a couple of changes of clothes to hand,’ continued Burrows. ‘A suit for formal occasions, morning dress for weddings or funerals, and a dinner jacket in the evening. Sometimes you’ll need all three on the same day.’

‘Help,’ said Ross.

‘Fear not. The cupboard may be bare, but I can guide you in the right direction. If you report to Cassidy and Cassidy in Savile Row, Mr Francis Cassidy will kit you out. He also knows where to send the bill.’

‘Will that really be necessary?’ asked Ross. ‘I’ve already got a couple of decent suits and a DJ—’

‘Not appropriate, I’m afraid. Can’t afford to have you looking out of place. You must blend in, so no one gives you a second look. We don’t want it to be too obvious that you’re her protection officer.’

Ross sat down at his new desk and opened a file marked ‘CONFIDENTIAL’.

‘Time for me to collect the breakfast tray and help HRH decide what she should wear for her first outing. She always likes a second opinion. I’ll let her know you’ve arrived.’

‘Is the Prince of Wales up there with her?’

‘You’ll soon learn, Ross, there are some questions you just don’t ask.’

? ? ?

The phone on William’s desk began to ring, and he picked it up to hear a voice bark, ‘Report to my office, immediately.’

William didn’t need to be told who was on the other end of the line. He had a feeling Superintendent Milner’s office wouldn’t be in the basement.

After a couple of enquiries on the way, William ended up outside a door on the second floor where he was greeted with a sign that read in large gold letters:

SUPERINTENDENT BRIAN MILNER

Head of Royalty Protection

He knocked and waited until he heard the command, ‘Enter,’ before he walked into a large, comfortably furnished room that wouldn’t have looked out of place in Buckingham Palace, rather than Buckingham Gate. The walls were lined with photographs of Milner with various members of the Royal Family, leaving the impression they were close friends.

‘Sit down, Warwick,’ said the Superintendent, without any suggestion of a welcome. William hadn’t even sat down before he added, ‘I understand you bawled out one of my officers when he was off duty.’

‘If you’re referring to Sergeant Jennings, sir, when I arrived this morning at sixteen minutes to eight, he was unshaven and incorrectly dressed, despite still being on duty. I didn’t bawl him out. But I did leave him in no doubt how I felt about his attitude and appearance while serving as a police officer.’