Chapter 39

Princess Luluah, Part 3: 1989

While we waited for the princess to decide what she wanted to do, Anil, George, Malcolm and I decided we would play some pool. Anil was good, George was of a similar standard, I was hopeless, and Malcolm showed signs of a misspent youth.

We settled into our game. Then, I noticed Princess Haifa peering round the doors. She called me over. She was a good person; laid-back and caring, too. The princess told me we were going for a walk. I went to the suite.

Putting on my officious look, I waited for Princess Luluah to emerge into the corridor. Looking down at my shoes, I wondered whether to change into a sturdy pair of walking boots. The arrival of her maids interrupted my thoughts. The princess sauntered out of her suite. Mob handed, we made our way to the stairs. I pushed forward to the front and descended in front of the princesses. Each time I did this, I knew that Princess Luluah would be thinking that I was there to protect her should she stumble and fall. Each time I did this, I knew that if Princess Luluah should stumble and fall I would die, crushed to death.

We exited the doors leading to the extensive grounds. Looking forward to some fresh air and a brisk walk, we set off. After fifty yards or so, we turned around, and strolled back to the suite, job done.

Looking back in the poolroom after this exercise, I found the guys had not finished the game yet. They continued, while I sat down to watch and recover. On completing the game, we sat with our Earl Grey tea near the sauna area, as we found it a relaxing place with its tropical fauna. As befitted a keen protection officer, I kept a close eye on the more attractive members of staff who wandered by.

The communications we had in place worked throughout the buildings, which allowed us some freedom and enabled us to take advantage of some services provided. I often covered the duties of one or other of the static guys, so everyone benefited.

It was important to keep the team members happy and their morale high, as this benefited the principals as well as me, as team leader. I tried to foster a happy working environment for the guys, even though conditions on some jobs were revolting. We were lucky not to have any Saudi guards on this assignment, as it would have changed the relaxed environment for the principals and for us too.

Over the next few days, life became ever more tedious. Playing pool, snooker and working out in the weights room tired us out. If I were lucky, Princess Luluah would venture out for her fifty-yard dash. Our daily covert operations continued unabated with the McDonald’s hamburgers. Mohammed continued feasting on the healthy food delivered to the suites, and looked much fitter and healthier for it. Often I ventured down to see him while he made his tea. Chatting to him in my pidgin Arabic was one of the highlights of my day. George tried to dissuade Mohammed from teaching me Arabic, but he continued nonetheless. Knowledge of our chats soon reached the ears of Martini, but he made no comment.

Each day Anil ventured to the newsagents on his way in. Then he hit McDonald’s two or three times a day to collect the burgers. Those hamburgers were the safest in the country as they travelled back to the princess in her armour-plated Rolls Royce. On the other hand, once the burgers reached the hands of the princess, they became the least safe burgers in the country as she devoured them almost whole.

Management and staff became ever more frustrated as they tried in vain to coax the princess to eat in the dining room. They became even more frustrated at their inability to impose a healthy exercise regime. Therapists arrived at the suite each day, and if they were lucky, they would manage to apply a facial treatment. Sometimes they managed a manicure or pedicure. If they were unlucky, they didn’t make it through the door.

As time went by, some of the team got braver and went swimming, had a massage or a sauna. I was always ready to move at a moment’s notice. Boredom must have set in deeply with the guys at the hotel as they stood guard over several suites and empty rooms.

The costs of security and drivers must have run into tens of thousands of pounds, and who knows what the cost of the McDonald’s burgers. However, Prince Faisal said whatever Princess Luluah wanted, it was Martini’s job to make sure she got it. What toll it took on the princess, who knows? Then some retail therapy was in order. They did not need any therapist to show them how to engage in retail therapy, they were expert at it. Once it became known we were going shopping, George contacted Martini. I was told, when they bought anything, I must collect the VAT forms. This related to another swindle certain people had going on.

As the principals were foreign nationals, they could claim back any tax paid on items they bought over here. Customs and Excise officers stamped the forms when the principals left and the tax was repaid into an account of their choice. A duty of Customs and Excise was to inspect the goods to make sure they left the country. However, I never saw a single inspection carried out, and many of the principals didn’t know they could claim the tax back. Therefore, masses of VAT was paid directly into an account belonging to the ‘boss’, but only after the Customs and Excise stamped the forms.

With that in mind, at midday on the Thursday we were told we were off to Edgware Road. Adrenalin was the drug of the day as extra pressure was put on as the secretary decided to hitch a lift with me. Everything went tits up now. I would jostle for a car parking space as close to the Rolls Royce as possible. Once I secured the space, I would have to get the secretary out of the BMW and secure it. Then I had to get to the lead car before the princess stepped out.

It was ridiculous—putting me in a position over which I had no control. There was no way I could do my job properly. Four scenarios plagued my mind. The first was I could get away with it. The second, I’d get a parking ticket, for which I would be liable. The third, they could clamp the wheel and leave me stranded, looking like a prize prat—and I would still be liable for the costs. The fourth, they might tow the BMW, again leaving me stranded and I would have to find the car, too. I would reclaim it and still be liable for the costs. All of this was courtesy of Martini and the Saudi Embassy. Not content with me being the princess’ bodyguard, they wanted me to be a car jockey, too.

Anil, bless him, did his best to help me—taking his time when stopping and making his way to the princess’ door slowly, giving me valuable seconds in which to catch up. I found out it was impossible to secure the BMW as it simply took too much time. Therefore, I left it unlocked. Anil kept watch on both cars as far as he was able, but if the police, a traffic warden, or the clampers showed up, then it was tough luck on me. He had to take care of the Rolls Royce.

The blood coursed through my veins and I felt my anxiety levels heightening as we bounced from shop to shop. It didn’t help when the princesses walked between several of them, calling for Anil to follow them as they did so. When the princesses got into their car to drive off, I would have to sprint back to my car and then speed down the road to catch up. When I called Bill to complain he said, “Tough; either get on with it or fuck off.” Needing the money, I kept my mouth shut. I knew that if I left, no more work would come my way, so it was checkmate to them.

We stopped at an electronics shop; the princess took a fancy to some gadgets. She wanted one each for her brothers Prince Faisal, and Prince Mohammed. Other electronic gadgets she bought as gifts for friends and family in Saudi. The bill mounted rapidly. Remembering my instructions, I asked the shopkeeper for the VAT forms to reclaim the tax. While I watched the princess, I tried to also watch my car from the window, and then I had to watch what they bought to make sure the shopkeeper included everything on the Customs and Excise form.

Oh, how I wished we were back at Champney’s where I only had to struggle with the dreaded fifty-yard dash now and again! Having enjoyed a wonderful time there, it was obviously payback time now, and I was paying back big-time—or so I thought. Bigger payback was to come.

Jewellery! It must have come to them in a flash as they left the electronics store. Anil took care of several bags while I took care of the VAT forms. An animated conversation between the princesses closed with one word—“Kutchinsky”. The princesses were safely deposited in the Rolls, as I sprinted off to find my BMW. I heaved a sigh of relief as I found the car where I had left it.

No parking ticket on the windscreen. Catching my breath, I thought someone was playing a joke and I was the butt of it with all this mincing around.

Playing out my Michael Schumacher impersonation, I sped off in pursuit of the lead car. We met each other as we rounded Marble Arch and turned into Park Lane heading toward Hyde Park Corner. I appreciated the density of the traffic. I moved in close behind the Rolls and relaxed a little as it was slow going and I was adept at keeping vehicles from coming between us. I mastered the defensive driving courses well and stuck to the lead car like superglue.

Once we reached Hyde Park Corner, I pulled alongside the Rolls on its right-hand side. Pushing myself forward, I blocked the flow of traffic, allowing Anil to pull on to the roundabout. I then slid in behind it. We circled the large monument of Queen Bodicea on her chariot and as we all but completed the circle, we turned left towards Knightsbridge. Further on, we pulled into the left-hand side directly outside Kutchinsky’s jewellers. We caused an obstacle to other road users, and they blasted their car horns in anger, making a bad situation even worse for us should they catch the attention of any nearby traffic wardens.

The princesses exited the Rolls looking like children ready to raid the cookie jar. I looked to Anil as he smiled at me and shrugged his shoulders; he too knew the shop was about to take a hammering. Both cars were parked on double yellow lines and were proving to be a nightmare for the rush hour traffic. Did the princesses care? Not a lot. As with all members of the royal family, all they cared about was themselves. They never gave away anything of significance, unless it benefited them in some way. Having said that, the King did give away tonnes of dates to the people of one region in Saudi Arabia, although it escapes me what they did with them. It was back to the serious business of shopping. Looking in their eyes, I noticed they sparkled in anticipation as much as the diamonds they were about to see.

Walking through the door, I noticed nods of acknowledgement, directed at me. I also noticed the looks of horror on the faces of the staff as they witnessed their closing time pass by. They and I knew they had a long evening ahead of them.

As the children–sorry, princesses—and their entourage sat down, the shop security staff secured the main doors and the security grille as the safe door was opened. The excitable women cackled in unison as various pieces of jewellery landed on the table before them. Many of these pieces would be presents for other members of the royal family. One necklace Princess Luluah chose had one link of gold and the next link encrusted with diamonds continuing all-round it. The cost amounted to the same as the mortgage of my house, a bargain that she placed to one side. Now I wondered how I was going to pay my recently arrived electricity bill. Dozens of watches—yellow gold, white gold, and diamond encrusted—she also placed to one side. Necklaces and chains followed, not to be outdone by the bangles and bracelets. I could hear the princess saying, “Faisal would like this; Mohammed would like that; Khalid would like this; Sultan would like that, and Abdul Aziz, ‘Azoozi’ could have that,” and on it went. As hard as I tried, I did not hear that Mark would like this or that.

Even at six thirty, the cars were not safe because they were parked on double yellow lines, which meant they were still parked illegally. Kutchinsky’s thought Christmas had come early. I had learned the culture of the royal family revolved around corruption. Greed was good, but only good for them.

Would I have to pay my electricity bill in instalments? I wondered, as an attractive assistant brought me a cup of tea and a small plate of biscuits. My eye again caught the gold and diamond encrusted necklace put to one side. I could see my house sitting there! As hard as I tried, I couldn’t hear anyone say Mark would like that. Therefore, I shut my mind to it and tucked into my tea and biscuits. Finally, at eight thirty in the evening, the princess stood up and made her way towards the secure doors. The door attendant opened them and waved us off. The cars were still there. God must have smiled on me, and I was grateful for that.

The next place on the princesses’ agenda was the Richoux restaurant in Piccadilly. Doing a U-turn, we caused yet more upset to the other drivers. We drove towards Piccadilly and stopped by the kerbside outside Richoux’s. Pulling up sharply, I jumped from the backup car and hastily made my way to the door of Princess Luluah.

The secretary and Mohammed could make their own way, in their own time; it was of no concern to me.

Opening her door, I extended my hand to help her out. As she exited, the rings she wore on her right-hand fell into the gutter. I bent down and picked them up. I grovelled; saying how wonderful it was she was losing so much weight her rings didn’t fit her any longer. I surprised myself with the crap I dished out, as it was embarrassing. The princess beamed and positively floated over the kerb and pavement toward Richoux.

The princess invited Anil in, which made a change for him and gave me some company, too. Given the princess was floating on air over her supposed weight loss, she decided to treat herself. A large plate of cream cakes arrived at her table, ready to be devoured. Often the princess smiled at me, as she was so ecstatic about her dramatic weight loss. After all, her rings had fallen off her fingers! The more ecstatic she became, the more she treated herself, making short work of the cream cakes placed before her.

Champney’s may have been one of the best health farms in the country but they did not provide either of the therapies that Princess Luluah needed—food and proper retail therapy.

Once the group had eaten the Richoux stock, they waddled out to the cars. We told the guys at the Intercontinental that we were on our way. We spent so little time there we did not want them to be caught off guard. It would make a change for them to have something to do. As much as I admired Champney’s, they couldn’t compete with the princess’ extracurricular activities. Striding briskly up to the door of the Rolls, I reached out to open it. Anil graciously stepped to one side and allowed me to do so. Both princesses exited by the same door. Anil took care of his other passengers. The doorman tipped his head at the princesses as he held the hotel doors open for them. Princess Haifa dropped a five pound note into his hand.

Walking across the marble-floored lobby, it seemed we had never been away. We entered the lift area and I pushed the call button. As the doors opened, the princesses entered the empty lift. The secretary and I followed.

Once we reached our floor, I checked it was safe for the principals to exit. Peering down the corridor, I could see Gus and Alan standing erect and looking smart, a credit to the team. Moving to one side, I dropped behind the princesses and followed them to their suites.

Once they were tucked up safely, we waited for a brew to arrive from room service. We had to pay for it. Unfortunately, I still felt uneasy with Alan and Gus and so was careful with my rhetoric. Feeling drained after the day’s antics and needing some sleep, I left them.

I slept peacefully. The next day would be a nightmare.

* * *

Waking refreshed, I jumped into the shower and washed the cobwebs away. The drive into London proved a little tedious, but that was nothing unusual. I used the time productively listening to my Arabic language tapes. Driving down Hamilton Place, I turned right and descended into the hotel car park. I parked my aged BMW next to the new Rolls Royce’s, Bentleys, and Ferraris. I hoped their owners would be careful not to bang their doors on my car. Walking through the car park, I shielded my eyes from the dazzling array of metallic pieces of art. I entered the car park lift, which took me directly to the lobby. I made my way to the breakfast lounge. The team were waiting. I began the briefing. The guys had several issues they were not happy about. I promised I would take care of them.

Alan asked why I wouldn’t allow the drivers to attend the briefings. I already saw him and his father as snakes in the grass and I didn’t need any others around. Alan had struck up a friendship with George and anything we discussed was already finding its way back to Martini at the Embassy. George manipulated Alan and I wasn’t about to let the fox into the chicken run. George was a thorn in my side and before the day was out, it would be proved to me how much of a thorn he was.

On the way to Kutchinsky the previous day, the princesses had noticed a women’s fashion shop just past Sloane Street on the Brompton Road. Today they wanted to visit it. They would shop until they dropped. This would to prove an enormous problem. All the cars would have to sit on double yellow lines close to a traffic light controlled junction. We hadn’t even turned a wheel and the apprehension had begun. I knew the day was going to be bad; I just didn’t know how bad it would become.

The princesses were late sleepers so we wouldn’t make it out of the hotel until well after lunch. As I was using my car it meant I could send out for a sandwich on the ten pounds generously granted by Martini.

They were on the move, so I dashed to the car park and brought the BMW round on to the forecourt. I went to the suite and waited, trying to relax as I waited for the women to emerge. I contacted the office and suggested one of the static guys back me up when we went out. They wouldn’t listen.

The women came bounding out of their rooms, blocking the corridor in the process. Peter and Cliff kept an eye on them, while we waited for the principals. The secretary sauntered along the corridor towards us. He entered the suite, spoke with the princesses and then came out. He wandered away, clearly content he wasn’t going to be joining us.

Princess Luluah emerged, a smile on her face, and Princess Haifa followed. The entourage parted in the middle like the Red Sea and the princesses passed through unhindered. I pushed through and placed myself behind the principals. I peered over their shoulders and checked the corridor. The women jockeyed for position behind me.

‘Déjà vu,’ I thought as we crossed the lobby. Anil opened the door for the princess as I watched a guest arriving outside. The women got in the BMW and Mercedes. I would be chauffeuring today as well, what a bloody joke. But that would prove to be the least of my problems.

We drove down Knightsbridge across Sloane Street and pulled up on the left-hand side outside the fashion shop with the double yellow lines glaring at me, positively shouting ‘no parking’.

I dashed to the princesses’ door and escorted them into the shop. Seconds later, their entourage hit the shop like an exploding bomb.

For a while, Princess Luluah walked around looking at the clothes and trinkets on display. Then after choosing hundreds of pounds worth of the fashion jewellery, she asked for a chair on which to sit.

I stood near her as the women went on their rampage, inspecting every piece of clothing and every single accessory the shop held. Several customers entered the shop and it became crowded. I told the women to be aware of pickpockets. Whether they understood me or not, I don’t know, but I had my hands full at this end of the shop. Princess Luluah pulled her seat closer to a circular railing, as she wanted to look at the clothes that hung on it. I felt decidedly uneasy about it and moved in as close as I dared.

A few people moved towards us, and it made me feel more uncomfortable. The group, although separate, had the look of South Americans, possibly Colombians. They moved about all over the place. One went round the other side of the circular railing. They crouched down as though examining the clothing, and, feeling something wasn’t right, I crouched down and pulled the clothing apart. As I did this, the person stood quickly and moved away. Looking at the princess, I saw a slash mark across her handbag.

The adrenalin hit me so hard I thought my heart would burst. All sorts of thoughts rushed through my mind in a millisecond. Part of me wanted to catch the offender; another part of me said no, it could be a decoy. I stayed with my charge and made sure she was safe. Feeling dejected and a failure I pointed at her bag. She calmly checked it and found that it had not been slashed right through. Nothing was missing, and she asked for another bag from a maid. The gang may not have taken anything from her, but they certainly took something from me.