Princess: A Private Novel(5)

“You don’t have to kowtow,” Morgan joked. “A simple bow would be enough.”

“Good to see you, Jack!” Knight grinned as he got to his feet and took Morgan’s outstretched hands. “It’s been too long!”

“It’s always too long,” Morgan agreed, having missed the company of his trusted British friend and colleague. “How are things looking here?”

“Sir Tony was found hanging from this beam,” Knight began, pointing to the ceiling. “No note has been found, which is one of the reasons his daughter is certain it wasn’t suicide.”

“What are the others?”

“That he was happy, successful and wanted to continue to be that way,” Knight answered. “From the people we’ve interviewed, it does seem out of character.”

“You never know what’s going on inside someone’s head,” Cook added.

“You don’t,” Knight agreed, but he could make a good guess at what was going on inside Morgan’s and Cook’s—the pair seemed almost at pains not to look at one another, and so it was with a little surprise that Knight heard Morgan’s next words.

“I’ve got nothing to start with on this missing-person case, Peter, so I’m taking Cook with me. Going to need to cover a lot of ground.”

“I can handle Sir Tony’s case alone,” Knight agreed. “Where are you going to start looking?”

Morgan hadn’t been given much to go on from Princess Caroline, so he drew on the initial information Private’s office had been able to gather.

“Sophie moved here from the country,” Morgan explained. “And when someone comes to a big city and gets in trouble, there’s a good chance they run for home.”

“And you think she’s in trouble?” Knight asked.

“From what I can see so far, she doesn’t seem like the kind to just drop off the grid. She was a friend of Abbie Winchester’s.”

Knight nodded. “Abbie Winchester was in the papers as often as the prime minister. If Sophie was in her circle, then it’s likely she tried to live her life on the grid as much as possible.”

“So we start at her home?” Cook asked.

Morgan nodded. “We’re going to Wales.”





Chapter 7


THE HELICOPTER CUT its way through the sky above a patchwork of fields and villages, the spires of local churches reaching up to Morgan and Cook like long-lost friends.

“I love this country,” Cook said proudly, her eyes on the ribbon of a river that glimmered silver in the morning’s strong sunlight.

Morgan glanced at Cook and smiled. “It has its charms.”

Cook let the compliment hang in the air before pulling a tablet from a packed rucksack that held a few changes of clothes, wash-kit, and all manner of items that ranged from torches to bolt-cutters. Cook had learned in the army that she should always be ready to deploy on short notice, and this pre-packed kit had been waiting patiently in her Private London office for an occasion such as this.

“Did you bring sandwiches?” Morgan teased.

Cook rummaged in the rucksack and pulled out a packet of freeze-dried rations.

“Close enough?”

Morgan laughed and waved the food away. “Never again.” He smiled, thinking back on his military days. “Did the background come through on Sophie?”

Cook gave a curt nod. She was all business now—the woman who had risen to become a major in the British Army, earning an OBE for her leadership in Afghanistan. “Sophie Bethan Edwards, born on the third of December ’89 in Brecon, Wales.”

She went on to describe how Sophie had been raised in a middle-class family, and how she had excelled in school, winning a scholarship to the London School of Economics. No sign yet of the mistakes that Princess Caroline had alluded to.

“What did the Princess’s protection team send us on her?” Morgan asked—he had pushed De Villiers further for information.

“Not a lot that’s helpful.” Cook shook her head. “The Princess met Sophie at a closed-doors party in London. They became friends quickly, but due to Sophie’s reputation as a party girl, their friendship was kept behind closed doors as much as possible.”

Morgan thought on that for a moment. Looking out of the window, he saw that the helicopter was approaching the wide mouth of the Severn Estuary. They would soon be in Wales.

“What do you know about these ‘closed-door’ parties?” the American asked Cook, the former officer having spent many years in London.

“You only go if you’re invited, and the only people giving out the invitations are celebrities, sports stars, movers and shakers, or in our case, a member of the royal family.”

“And who gave you your invitation?” Morgan asked with a wry grin.

“That’s not in the briefing,” Cook warned. “But what I will say is anything goes at these places. I’m not saying it’s one of Caligula’s orgies, but they’re private for a reason. I saw more than a few well-known celebrities and sports personalities with white noses.”

“So Sophie met the Princess there. I wonder who else she met,” Morgan said, speculating on who in such circles could wish harm against her. “Anything in the file about a boyfriend, or exes?”