41

Saturday, June 19, cont.

Herman was able to outfit himself in a fine suit of moderately worn clothes, including a matching cravat and bowler. He purchased a carpet bag that made him appear more profitable, then headed to the Underground. The car was jammed with people of all classes heading home from work. Most were looking forward to a brief stint of freedom, what with the next day being Sunday. There would be one day of work on Monday, followed by the Jubilee on Tuesday. With all of this, the car was in a festive mood.

Herman bypassed the first two hotels he saw once he left Kensington Station. He reckoned they’d already be full, due to the upcoming festivities, but when he saw the Kingsmill Hotel along North End Road, it looked just shabby enough to offer some hope of a vacancy. Herman had a good store of money in hand but felt it best to keep much of it in reserve for his flight after the deed.

There was one room left on the top floor next to the loo, assuring frequent disturbances as his neighbors used the facility, but the space would serve. When the clerk remarked on his case and asked his line of work, Herman replied, “Insurance.”

The queen’s police protective detail had walked the route that afternoon, along with police commissioner, Sir Edward Bradford, the assistant commissioner, Alexander Bruce, and the commanding officer of the Household Guards. Intervals of soldiers and policemen were double-checked. An officer on horseback could usually contain as much of a crowd as ten constables on foot, but for the ceremony the ratio was halved.

Bradford was a slight man. The left sleeve of his coat was pinned to his chest, the empty sleeve a reminder of an encounter with a tigress while in India. Despite the loss of his arm, he was able to continue his military career, even hunt boars afterward with a lance while on horseback, placing the reins in his teeth when the lance was called for.

“Why are we inspecting the route tonight, Commissioner?” the guards’ commander asked. “Wouldn’t tomorrow be more informative?”

Sir Edward had served in the cavalry, and he was favorably disposed toward those who served astride a horse, yet he frowned at the man’s question. “By detecting a flaw now,” he said, with some forbearance, “we give our subordinates sufficient time to address any problem, and for us to reassess the situation tomorrow.”

“You mean to say . . .”

“Yes, Colonel. Even if we find no flaws, I shall repeat my assessment tomorrow, this time by horse to give us a different perspective. I want to see the route through Her Majesty’s eyes.” Seeing the man’s disappointment, he said, “You may send your executive officer tomorrow if you wish, Colonel. I’m sure you have a lot to inspect within your own ranks.”

The guards’ commander nodded, unaware of the rebuke inherent in the commissioner’s remarks. “Thank you, sir. He will be at your disposal.”

Bradford personally approved the measures in place. Special Branch had shared their concern about a possible assassin, and his experience as the chief of the Viceroy’s secret police in India taught him to respect the danger one motivated man represented. He saw in their precautions no flaw a would-be assassin might exploit, but he would return tomorrow, nonetheless. Queen Victoria was his sovereign, and his four years as her aide-de-camp had only strengthened his devotion to her. He would rather lose his other arm than fail her.