“The expedition requires supplies, and arctic conditions make that difficult.”
He poured himself more coffee. He did not offer his employee any—nor, he realized, would any have been accepted. A clear line existed between the upstairs and the downstairs, and this man respected that division. “I’m going to need the Iceland project completed within the next week. It’s critical.”
“What would you suggest I do to spur their efforts?”
“Don’t offer them any more money. Try one of your … unique methods of persuasion. I’ll leave the particulars to your vivid imagination.”
His secretary gave him a nod, signaling a complete understanding. He liked that about the man. No questions, just results.
“I also need imagination used on this Cotton Malone. He knew about the C-83 explosives. That could be a problem.” He paused. “For us all.”
Once Eleanor was crowned this man would become her personal secretary. So he had a stake in what was happening.
“And what of our South African ally?”
He said, “Our business with him will soon be complete. I doubt he’ll care about us after that.”
“Does not the fact that someone may be investigating concern you?”
He shrugged. “Not particularly. Lyon will gladly assume the blame for all that is about to happen. I believe he’s actually looking forward to doing so. The terrorist mentality, I assume. He seems to take this trial of his associates quite personally. But I agree. Men like the South African possess agendas unmindful of others. Fanatics come with an assortment of advantages and liabilities.”
And never had he dealt with such a dangerous personality. He’d located Lyon through intermediaries, and initially the terrorist had not been interested. That was, of course, before his associates were captured and Great Britain agreed to try them in an international court. It had been Lyon who’d reinstituted contact, the only condition to his involvement being that everything Yourstone planned must coincide with the trial. That criterion had been acceptable since it would further divert blame.
He glanced at his watch: 4:05 P.M.
“We’re only a few hours away. What’s happening now is out of our hands.”
Malone waited for an explanation.
“You’ve entered this fight at the last minute,” Mathews said. “I know the challenge that presents. But you’re a pro, and it may be fortuitous for us all that you are here. This entire matter is most delicate.”
“You’re aware that Princess Eleanor is involved?”
“Of course. She is in league with Nigel Yourstone. In fact, it is much worse than the palace realizes. Yourstone and the princess are lovers.”
That shocked him.
“Yourstone’s son is sterile. So the father is making sure there will be a proper blood heir.”
“How does Yourstone plan to murder Albert?”
“He doesn’t. But Peter Lyon does. And in a grand style. A missile, fired at the Tower of London. With Albert there.”
All of which fit Lyon’s grandiose personality. His people were being tried on British soil, and he would make sure the entire nation understood that error.
“Lyon wants to strike a public blow. Yourstone and Princess Eleanor want the second in line for the throne dead. Of course, they want no blame for that. So they made a most diabolical arrangement.”
Lyon was one of the world’s premier arms dealers. Procuring a surface-to-surface guided missile would not be a problem.
“And you kept all of this to yourself?”
“I head the Secret Intelligence Service. As you noted back at the college, my jurisdiction lies outside this country. MI5 handles internal matters.”
“Has MI5 been alerted?”
Mathews shook his head. “I couldn’t risk it. They are not the most reliable of people. Besides, Peter Lyon is an international matter and I want him. Now I have him. My people have worked hard to keep this contained. We just need to finish it.”
“We?”
“A tracking device has been smuggled into the Tower, one the missile will use for guidance. I need you to locate that device.”
“Why not just stop the missile before it fires?”
“I will do that. We have the launch point under surveillance. There is no danger of any missile leaving that locale and striking Albert. But we need to implicate the right culprits in this vengeful plot.”
“You don’t have agents who can handle that?”
“None of my people was recruited by the queen. You were. The palace apparently trusts you, so you are the logical choice to reveal the conspirators.”
“The queen already suspects Yourstone and her daughter.”
“And she is correct. But proof must be uncovered.”
He understood. “And my doing it also insulates you.”
“Exactly. By law, I should not be involved. Luckily, here I am.”
He wasn’t exactly sure of that conclusion, but didn’t argue. “Where is the proof?”
“Now, that’s the most interesting part.”
And as the chopper continued flying toward London, he listened while Mathews explained.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Yourstone followed the cortege into the ground floor of the Wellington Barracks. In a few days the building would be packed with tourists, all eager to view the royal regalia of crowns, scepters, orbs, and swords proudly displayed behind bulletproof glass. Today the crowds were absent, replaced by a small contingent of royal family members taking advantage of the first opportunity to view the newly constructed Jewel House before it was formally opened to the public.
Eleanor walked beside him, her dress a pale blue bouclé, the jacket similar with a gray velvet collar. Hats were her trademark, and she’d chosen a wide-brimmed lattice straw design. Her no-frills wardrobe brought both compliments and complaints. The press praised her frugality, the fashion columnists harangued her lack of style. But no one could accuse her of extravagance.