The Count rose to his feet. “Good evening, Commissioner. We prefer to leave the ‘in exile’ bit out, of course.”
“Indeed, indeed, my apologies, Count, Countess. I hope all is well with you, insofar as it can be of course. Yes, well. Do enjoy your dinner. Come along, my dear.” Maud cast a glacial smile back at the couple as she followed in her brother’s wake.
As they watched the A.C. and his sister clumsily edge their way through the tables, the Countess giggled. “What a strange pair! Who is he?”
“The Metropolitan Police Assistant Commissioner, my dear. Quite a powerful man.” Pleased that his wife had relaxed enough to laugh, the Count decided to focus on the menu. The Dover sole was always good here. Little sign of shortage or restraint yet in Claridges. Thank God!
Chapter 13
Saturday, September 14
It was just after midnight and Johnson and Cole were standing in a corner of Buckingham Palace courtyard.
“Not quite where you imagined we’d spend the night, eh, Cole?”
“No, sir. My mum will never believe it.”
It had been raining on and off all evening and a gusty wind had just got up and was swirling down the Mall.
The Germans had not come in their greatest numbers that evening, but there had still been a steady flow of bombers. It seemed to Johnson that a plane was passing over them every ten or fifteen minutes. For the first time, bombs had landed in front of the palace, doing some damage to the Victoria Memorial, and also at the other side of the courtyard from where they stood and where Jack Stewart and his team were now dealing with a number of burning vehicles. The palace itself had not yet been hit as far as Johnson could see. A roving searchlight caught the bright colours of the Royal Standard fluttering high above the two policemen. As Johnson understood it, if the Standard was flying, the King was in residence. He wondered whether there was some special luxurious air raid shelter beneath the palace where the royal family were now huddling away from the bombs.
“The King and his family must be somewhere down below, don’t you think, Cole?”
Cole was about to answer when a look of astonishment came over his face. “No, I don’t think so, sir.”
Johnson followed Cole’s gaze and turned to see a slight man in evening suit approaching them. His face, illuminated by the glare of the fires around them, was instantly recognisable.
“G… good evening o… o… officers. Are you sure you are s… safe over here?”
Johnson seldom found himself tongue-tied, but he was now. It was Cole who found his voice first.
“We are fine, sir. Thank you.”
A voice sounded in the dark behind the King. “Bertie, where are you?”
“Here I am, d… darling. I am with these brave p… p… policemen.”
The slight figure of the Queen emerged from the murk to the right. She was wearing a fur coat despite the blasts of heat blowing across the courtyard. “Good evening, gentlemen. Is it sensible of you to be here? The firemen seem to have everything in hand.”
Johnson finally found his voice. “We are attached to the Auxiliary Fire Service, your… er… Majesty. On a special mission.”
The King withdrew a cigarette case from his pocket and lit up. His wife put her arm through his. “Oh, that sounds exciting, doesn’t it, Bertie? Might one enquire as to what that might be?”
“Well, your, er, well, we are trying to get to grips with the looting problem.”
“Oh, yes. Absolutely dreadful. Mr Churchill was telling us about the p… p… problem the other night. However, Mr… er…”
“Johnson, sir. Inspector Johnson and this is Detective Constable Cole.”