48

Tuesday, June 22

I arose at dawn and looked out the window. People dressed in their best were already streaming toward the procession route.

“Where will you station yourself, James?” I asked as we ate breakfast. “The cathedral’s roof? That seems to offer the best view.”

“It’s where Senior Inspector Murdock wants me, though it will slow down my response to any threat I see. The sergeants along the plaza have been told to keep an eye on me so as to respond to my signals. They’ll be hard-pressed to do so while watching the crowd and their men, but it’s the best we can do.”

“And where would you like us, Father?” Elizabeth asked, between bites of poached egg and toast.

“I’ve just the place. Safe, yet it should give you a good view.”

“Where, Father?”

James gulped down his coffee before answering. “In front of the boarding school. I’ve two constables there. You’ll be able to see the ceremony well enough, and I can wave to you from the roof. You should be safely out of the way if our assassin does attempt some mischief.”

Herman was up before dawn, having slept perhaps two hours. His eyes were bleary, but his mind was focused. The flasks were at full pressure. The magazine was full, though one shot should be enough. Having it full reduced any rattle as he carried it in its case. Herman dressed in his best clothes despite his upcoming role as an electrician. He had learned that good clothes could deflect suspicion almost as well as a badge. Time to start thinking about the moments after he fired.

He’d paid for one more night to prevent his having to take all his possessions with him. His earthly belongings had shrunk over the past six months. He left the room with only the clothes he wore and a weapon he despised. He felt chained to it and was looking forward to throwing it into the Thames even more than toppling a crown.

Today was a national holiday, and the Underground was crowded with those hoping to find a space along the route. Herman hoped those who chose a spot after the cathedral would be disappointed.

The extent of the British Empire was reflected in the faces of the hundreds of thousands of people crowding the sidewalks and the fortunate few heading for their reserved seating. Vendors loudly hawked Union Jacks, buttons with the date and a likeness of Queen Victoria on them, commemorative mugs, and programs listing the dignitaries in their order within the procession. The majority of the English-speaking world was holding its breath.

Police Commissioner Bradford took pride in the fact that he could still saddle his horse himself. He sat on it now and slowly made his way along the route. The proliferation of flags and bunting would make it easy for a sniper to hide, and his stomach burned as he looked for any suspicious new developments. He finished the route back at Buckingham Palace by eight in the morning and admitted he had done all he could. He wished heartily for the overcast sky to produce a downpour to cancel the entire procession, and for a bromide for his stomach.

Herman arrived at the school promptly at seven. The procession didn’t begin until eleven-fifteen, and he didn’t want to have to loiter too long beforehand. The longer he was there, the greater his chance of being found out. His palms began to sweat when he saw two sour-faced constables at the entrance.

“What business brings you here, then?” asked Constable O’Reilly. “None but those on official business or who are spoken for by the custodian may pass, and as ’e ain’t given out any tickets, he’ll have to say so himself.”

Herman lifted the case. “Electrician, Constable. The custodian will vouch for me.”

Mr. Connery popped out his head, saw Herman, and nodded to the two bobbies. “He’s with me, more’s the pity.” The constables nodded and returned to their task of scowling at passersby.

The custodian was out of breath with his supplemental business, greeting his customers and conducting them to their places. The boys had left for a final rehearsal within the cathedral, leaving behind himself, the cook, his wife, and the nurse with her still-feverish charge. With all that empty space, he reckoned on making a tidy sum today. “Oy! ’Bout time you got here!”

“Do the lights work or not?” Herman asked.

“They do,” the custodian admitted, “But I don’t like worrying they’ll go out again with no notice. You fix it right and proper, or I’ll see to it the cathedral never uses you again.”

“I’ll go right down.”

The custodian gave Herman a quick up and down glance. “You’re dressed fine to get your hands dirty.”

Herman feigned embarrassment. “Well, I was hoping that once the wiring was fixed I might be able to watch from here. Surely you’ve got a spare window I can look out of?”

The man stuck his finger in Herman’s face. “Now I see! You did this all a’purpose, to watch the ceremony. You bloody bastard! No, and hell no. I give you one hour, then you’d best be done and gone.”

Herman shrugged. “Very well. I promise the lights will be in perfect order before I leave. An easy promise to make, since they already are.

He went down to the basement and removed the false wiring. He considered placing another short, then decided against it. If he needed another subterfuge, he was already lost. Once complete, he went to the top of the stairs and listened through the door. He heard the custodian greet a family for the rooftop and counted to twenty to give them time to begin the long climb up.

He opened the door and ambled toward the stairs, careful to keep out of sight of the party above him. When he heard the roof door open, he sped to the second floor and went directly to the corner room. He opened the door and closed it silently behind him. He turned and found himself face-to-face with the formidable Mrs. Foster, standing guard between him and her charge, and the window.

James found Scotland Yard nearly deserted. Its staff was either out on duty or off to see the spectacle themselves. Murdock was in his office, however. It took no great detective to judge from the thick cloud of tobacco smoke that he’d been there for some time.

“A grand way to end your career with Special Branch, James.” His initial smile faded, and his forehead wrinkled. “Any news?”

“None, Senior Inspector. I’ve done my best. It cost two men’s lives—Peg Leg’s son and Constable Williams—and I’ll be glad to have this day behind me. I’ll be on the roof to look for trouble. Those twenty minutes Her Majesty sits still in an open carriage will be the longest of my life. Any final words before I go?”

The older man extended his hand. “Only one thing, James. God save the Queen.”

“Aye, sir. God save us all.”

Elizabeth asked me what I was wearing to the ceremony and surprised me when she wore a blue dress similar to mine. She smiled shyly, twirled about and took my hand. We looked like family. I inspected my hair one last time, but as I turned to go, I paused. Old habits die hard, I thought. I reached into my suitcase and brought out an old, double-barreled .42 caliber friend. The derringer gave a comforting weight to my purse.

Then I reached into my small jewelry case and brought out my pendant made from an 1888 penny, slipping it around my neck. It wouldn’t bring me luck but it might give me courage, which is better, as luck is a fickle companion while courage is your own to command.

The board is set, and the pawn advances.