Bainbridge glanced again at the body of the intruder, the bolt in the chest. The Queen had done that?
“We are not so naive as to believe that we do not have enemies, Sir Charles. This chair was constructed with a number of defense mechanisms and weapons that we can deploy if it becomes necessary. This man, and whomever he represents, clearly underestimated our abilities. They shall not be so foolish a second time.”
“Quite,” said Bainbridge, unsure exactly how to respond. He’d stood before this chair a hundred times before, and never once had he considered that it might have a purpose other than the medical one for which it was created. That the Queen was harbouring deadly weapons. He wondered absently whether she had used them before.
“We suppose you are wondering why we had him propped in the chair in such a manner?”
He was, but he had decided it would be inappropriate to ask. It was not his place to question the Queen’s judgement, only to protect her and her subjects from harm.
Victoria took his silence as an affirmative. “It was so we could see his face, Sir Charles, to look upon the countenance of one who would have us dead.” She chuckled again. Her tone became suddenly serious. “Do you recognise him?”
Bainbridge studied the young man’s face more closely. “I fear I do not, Your Majesty.”
“Then make it your business to, Sir Charles. We are intent on understanding his motivation.”
Bainbridge nodded. “As you say, Your Majesty.” He tugged at his moustache nervously. “Do we know how he got in?”
Victoria gave a gesture that he took to be an approximation of a shrug. “We believe that is neither here nor there. Through a window, we are told, left open by a servant to air the room. We believe he must have obtained a schematic of the palace somehow, to have navigated through the warren of passageways and hidden doors to find us here.”
She looked from Bainbridge to the body in the chair. “But such matters are easily dealt with.” Her tone was now dismissive, as though she considered the whole affair to be nothing but a trivial part of her day, another of the challenges of presiding over an Empire. “We have doubled the guard and sent instruction to the Royal Engineers to post their war machines in the grounds of the palace. No one will enter without us knowing of it.” She paused. “We now fear, however, that whoever is responsible for the attack may escalate their offensive when they discover their initial strategy resulted in failure.”
Bainbridge could see the logic in her thinking, although the idea of an outright assault on Buckingham Palace seemed unimaginable to him. Nevertheless, more sentries, more soldiers, and more police would ensure that the palace could be protected, whatever the eventualities.
The real question was from whom. “So you don’t believe, Your Majesty, that he was a sole agent?” Bainbridge had heard many tales of the foolish individuals who had attempted to break into the palace over the years, usually in search of souvenirs or to try to force an audience with the Queen.
Victoria made a sound that was somewhere between a wet cough and a chuckle. “Look at him, Sir Charles. Young, handsome, wealthy. Why would a man in that position choose to break into Buckingham Palace and attempt to take the life of the monarch?” She stared up at him as though daring him to answer. “Someone got to this young man, filled his head with idealistic notions and a desire to change the world. Someone with far greater concerns than an impressionable young upstart. Someone who wants us dead.”
Bainbridge nodded slowly. “Were there any signs, any warnings? Any letters of protest?”
Victoria sighed. “Every day… thousands of them, from all across the Empire. It seems we cannot so much as stir without causing a ripple of discontent. These are difficult days, Sir Charles.”
Bainbridge had expected as much. He tried to hide his exasperation. “Are there any particular pressure groups of concern? Or perhaps one that has recently increased their activity or the frequency of their protests? Any political camps that have come to your attention?”
“Stop pussyfooting around the question!” Victoria snapped, and the sound of her voice echoed throughout the audience chamber. “If you’re asking us whether we have any notion as to who is behind this attack, then the answer is no. Or rather: no one in particular. We have long lost count of the number of enemies who would see us dead. They are manifold. It is a matter that no longer concerns us.” Her eyes narrowed. “It is your job, Sir Charles, to discover which of them is responsible for this insolence, so that we may smite them. Do you find that callous?”
Bainbridge had never enjoyed entering into these games with the Queen. He knew he could never win. “Not callous, Your Majesty. Just necessary.”
Victoria accepted his answer with a conciliatory gesture. “We fear we have nothing to go on, Sir Charles, other than this silent corpse.”
“Your Majesty has had someone go through his pockets?” Bainbridge ventured.
The monarch inclined her head. “Quite empty. Quite empty of anything useful. No papers, no wallet, no maps or instructions. No keys. Nothing. Whoever had prepared the young man prepared him well for his endeavor, and knew only too well the consequences of any mistake. We wonder if the young man himself was equally aware of his chances.”
Bainbridge stared at the corpse, attempting to read it much as Newbury would have. But it was no good-he couldn’t do it. He didn’t work like Newbury, wasn’t wired that way. Bainbridge worked on instinct, and it had seen him through twenty years of policing. He relied on his gut. And his gut was telling him Victoria was right, that the man was a messenger of some sort, a warning. This was the first wave of the attack. The Queen was sensible to fear the worst. “Whatever the case, Your Majesty, the consequences will be grave indeed when we discover who is responsible.”
“Be sure of it,” she replied, and Bainbridge was in no doubt as to the veracity of her words.
“I shall post a detail from Scotland Yard, Your Majesty, here at the palace. My men can work with the guard to coordinate security.” Bainbridge wanted to be ready if the enemy-whoever that enemy was-decided to strike again.
“As you deem necessary,” she said in a tone that suggested she thought the point of little consequence.
“And I shall have the body removed for identification purposes. I will get to the bottom of this matter, Your Majesty, I assure you.”
Victoria cackled once more, and the look on her face said everything that needed to be said: that his very future depended upon it. “Leave the body for a while,” she said, smoothing the front of her skirts. “We wish to look upon it some more.”
Bainbridge felt a hollow sensation growing in the pit of his stomach. He shifted uneasily on the spot. He didn’t even know where to begin with the investigation. If the body really was devoid of any clues, then he had almost nothing to go on. Newbury was tied up with Sykes. There was no way he’d be able to pull Newbury away from the Sykes case without the whole thing unravelling. And Newbury hadn’t been quite himself for a few months now.
Bainbridge hadn’t felt this lost since his early days at Scotland Yard, when he’d been hauled up before Lord Roth and berated for losing an important piece of evidence during an investigation. Little did either of them know that the Queen’s agents were the ones who had stolen it, and Bainbridge spent a week on the beat for his “incompetence.” Later, he discovered the truth, but by then Lord Roth had already received his comeuppance from the Queen, and Bainbridge had accepted a position as an agent himself.
He gave a short bow and the Queen shifted in her chair, dismissing him casually and returning to looking into the face of the man she had killed just a few hours earlier.
Bainbridge quit the audience chamber with a heavy heart. Newbury and Miss Hobbes would have to continue with the Sykes case without him, at least for the time being. He had no choice in the matter. An attempt on the Queen’s life meant… well… Other than the outbreak of war, he could think of nothing more serious with which to occupy his time.