Victoria followed Ross out onto her adjoining balcony, to see the Princess, head down, looking fragile and lost, her usual shy smile replaced by a look of intense foreboding. When she saw the two of them, she leapt up and ran across to their side of the balcony.
‘I owe you an apology,’ were her first words. Ross didn’t comment. ‘You never left me in any doubt how you felt about him,’ said Diana. ‘If only I hadn’t ignored your undisguised loathing of the man.’
‘You weren’t the only one who was fooled, ma’am. But for now, we have to concentrate on the present. So, if I tell either of you to do something, anything, don’t even think about questioning me. Is that understood?’
They both nodded obediently, before Diana said, ‘I’m just thankful you’re still alive.’
‘I think you mean surprised, ma’am,’ said Ross, once again trying to lighten the mood.
‘Did you learn anything from him?’ Diana asked, pointing to the upper deck, but no longer able to mention his name.
Ross chose his words carefully. ‘Yes, ma’am. He’s been in contact with London, who were already aware of the situation, and are now trying to strike a deal to get you released.’
‘What kind of deal?’ asked Victoria.
‘For now, ma’am, I want you to change into your swimsuit and sit on the balcony as if you were still on holiday,’ said Ross, making no attempt to answer Victoria’s question.
‘What about Victoria?’ demanded Diana, a little defiance returning.
‘My only responsibility is to protect you, ma’am.’
‘And Victoria,’ said Diana firmly.
‘If possible,’ said Ross. ‘But first I’m going to brief you on what I think is likely to happen during the next few hours, so that at least you’ll be prepared.’ He avoided saying for the worst, and lowered his voice. ‘Have you heard of the SBS?’
‘Yes,’ said Diana, ‘they held a dinner in my honour last year.’
‘I don’t think that’s what they’ll be holding in your honour this year,’ said Ross.
The governor was pacing up and down outside the prison gates when William’s car screeched to a halt. The Home Secretary’s phone call had left him in no doubt about what was expected of him.
They didn’t bother with any pleasantries. As soon as they’d shaken hands, he led William quickly through the open gate, a senior officer already on the move several yards ahead of them. He unlocked each of the double gates on the way, so their progress to the solitary confinement wing was uninterrupted.
Eventually they descended a narrow stone staircase that led to an underground passageway, where the light bulbs were thirty watts at most, and several of them needed replacing. They came to a halt by a solid metal door, outside which two guards had been posted. William flicked back the shutter to see a man he barely recognized hunched in a corner on a thin, urine-stained mattress in the far corner of the cell.
The duty officer unlocked the heavy door, pulled it open and stood aside to allow the governor and William to enter a space barely six feet square.
Khalifah stared defiantly up at them, but didn’t say a word. The two guards lifted him from the mattress and led him slowly out of his windowless dark cell, and back along the passageway until they reached a spiral staircase, which they almost had to carry him up. Their painfully slow journey ended at the hospital wing, where the matron was waiting by a small empty cubicle, clearly expecting them. Khalifah collapsed onto the bed, as two men dressed in white coats appeared and began to carry out a thorough examination.
Khalifah still didn’t speak while they prodded and probed, and it was some time before the older doctor offered an opinion. ‘He’ll need to eat something substantial and take in lots of fluid before you even think about moving him again. But if I had to guess, I’d say this isn’t the first time he’s been in solitary, because he’s in a lot better shape than I’d expected.’
‘Can I ask him some questions?’ asked William.
‘Go ahead,’ said the doctor.
William walked over to the side of the bed and looked down at Khalifah. ‘Do you speak English?’ he asked, articulating each word slowly.
‘I would hope so,’ came the reply. ‘I was educated at the London School of Economics, one of your cultural outreach programmes that you British are so proud of, although I confess I didn’t register under my present name.’
‘How much do you know about why I need to speak to you?’ asked William.
‘As I have been taken out of solitary and am having a hospital check-up, I can only assume that my brothers,’ he paused, ‘and one particularly formidable sister, have successfully taken over the yacht which the Princess of Wales couldn’t resist — or was it Jamil she couldn’t resist? He frankly fooled every one of you, including the Princess’s devoted lapdog, Inspector Hogan, so even you must realize this isn’t going to end like the Albert Hall fiasco. If you ever want to see your future Queen sitting on her throne, Chalabi is about to tell you exactly what you’ll have to do to make that possible.’
William remained calm, aware that losing his temper wouldn’t achieve anything. ‘We’re expecting Chalabi to call at any minute, and you’ll be allowed to speak to him. But not before Inspector Hogan has confirmed that the Princess is still alive.’
‘That’s assuming the Inspector is still alive,’ said Khalifah, ‘because if I know that lot, they will already be drawing lots to decide who will have the pleasure of killing him.’
William didn’t react, but he feared the governor might not be able to restrain himself for much longer.
‘I also need a bath and my own clothes,’ said Khalifah. ‘I don’t intend to return to my country looking like a fugitive.’
The governor nodded reluctantly, and as he did, the phone by Khalifah’s bed began to ring. William grabbed it and said, ‘Warwick speaking.’
The next voice he heard may have been coming from under the Mediterranean sun, but it was as cold as an arctic blizzard. ‘Good morning, Superintendent. Can I presume that my leader is no longer in solitary confinement, and is ready to take my call?’
‘Not until I’ve spoken to Inspector Hogan,’ said William, not sure what he would do if Chalabi refused. A long silence followed.
‘It’s Hogan, sir,’ said the next voice on the line.
‘Can you confirm that Her Royal Highness is still alive and well?’ asked William.
‘I can, Bill.’
‘And Lady Victoria?’
‘Shit-scared, to quote her,’ said Ross. ‘They’re both outside on the balcony, sitting in the sun.’
‘Satisfied, Superintendent?’ asked Chalabi, after he’d snatched back the phone.
‘Yes,’ said William, who’d picked up two vital pieces of information that he would pass on to the Assistant Commissioner at the first opportunity.
‘Then put me through to my leader immediately, or you’ll have spoken to your friend Hogan for the last time.’
William reluctantly handed the phone to Khalifah, and although he couldn’t understand a word of the conversation that followed, the name Diana occurred several times. After a few minutes Khalifah passed the phone back to William.
‘Now listen carefully, Superintendent,’ said Chalabi, ‘because I’m going to say this once and once only. In a couple of hours’ time, I will be phoning you again, and by then you will have arranged for a car to take His Excellency Mansour Khalifah to Heathrow, where he will board his private jet ready to take off for Libya. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Two hours may not be enough time to find a car and get him to the airport,’ protested William.
‘Come, come,’ said Chalabi. ‘If you can’t, I will have to execute one of my prisoners on the hour every hour. I’m sure Lady Victoria, like her ancestors before her, will set a good example. It shouldn’t be difficult for you to work out who will follow her, if you make one false move.’