Ash (35 page)

‘Can I ask who?’

‘David Ash.’

Gloria gave a wry smile. ‘How is
he
these days?’

It was a pointed question, and Kate dealt with it easily. ‘He’s fine. I wouldn’t have assigned him otherwise.’

The policewoman knew of her friend’s casual on-off romantic involvement with Ash and Kate knew she thought he was too far on the good side of forty for her. Gloria understood Kate’s anxiety for this enigmatic colleague of hers, a man the Met had covertly used on one or two baffling cases. Gloria liked him a lot, even though he could sometimes be moody and withdrawn. He claimed not to be psychic, and if that were true, then he at least had some kind of genius for picking up vital clues that her colleagues had often missed.

‘David is at Comraich Castle.’ It was a statement, not a question.

Kate nodded, but kept silent as a waiter arrived to take away the empty plates that had held their
hors d’oeuvres
.

‘Would you like to wait a little while before I bring your main course, mesdames?’ the French waiter suggested tactfully, for he’d observed the two women were deep in conversation before he’d approached their table.

‘Thank you, Vincent,’ said Kate, smiling up at the waiter.

Gloria placed her glass on the table and leaned towards her friend. ‘Now, tell me the problem and I’ll try to help as much as I can.’ Years of training had allowed her to discreetly examine other clients in the small downstairs dining room and, although it was dimly lit, she was satisfied there were no other diners of whom she should beware.

Kate also leaned forward on the table, the stem of her glass held loosely in her fingers. ‘The problem is, I can’t contact him.’

‘And he can’t reach you.’ Again, it wasn’t a question.

‘You know about that? And the Inner Court?’

‘We may need a while on this. First, I have to ask what
you
know about the Inner Court.’

‘Don’t go all policewomanly, Glo.’

‘I’m not, I promise. But you’ve raised a very delicate issue for me. And it could be dangerous for you.’

Kate didn’t even blink. ‘It’s David I’m worried about.’

‘I can understand that. You still haven’t answered my question, though. What do you know about the Inner Court? And who gave you the information?’ she added.

‘An old university friend. A man called Simon Maseby.’

‘Oh, that little slimeball,’ she said, leaning back.

Kate felt distinctly uncomfortable, having slept with said slimeball the night before. ‘You know him, then,’ she said flatly.

‘Oh, the Met knows all about Maseby, although he’s done nothing illegal as far as we can tell. But we are aware he’s a go-between for the IC.’

Kate nodded. ‘Simon was just a mite drunk when he told me a bit more about the organization than he probably should have after we’d signed the contract in my office.’

Gloria moved her glass of wine further away from her and leaned forward again. Her manner became more serious.

‘Right. What I’m going to tell you could cost me my job and maybe even more, Katie. I’m only telling you because David might be in trouble up there.’ She continued in an intense whisper. ‘You’re right to be worried: these people can be very dangerous.’

‘That’s very reassuring,’ came the acerbic response.

‘No. I didn’t mean to worry you more, but I think you need to understand about this organization. But I must warn you, this information is strictly between us. It’s only because I know and love you that I’m breaking the rules. I need your word that you’ll never repeat what I tell you.’

Kate reached forward and laid her hand over Gloria’s, where it rested on the tabletop. ‘You know I won’t, Glo.’

Gloria took another longer sip of the excellent wine and drew in a deep breath, as though she were about to plunge into an ice-cold pool.

Then she began.

‘In this country we have layers of unelected elitist pecking orders under the monarchy with the Royal Knights of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, restricted to members of the royal family, at the top. Prince William took the title in 2008. You may have seen the coverage on the television news, where he wore a black ostrich-plumed hat and various bits and pieces including a garter strapped below his left knee.’

‘And very fetching it was too,’ put in Kate.

‘Don’t mock.’ Gloria gave her a small scowl, which was spoilt by the immediate smile on her lips. ‘All this pomp is important for the country’s tourism industry as well as making the so-titled feel more important. Then there are the twenty-four Royal Knights
Companion
of the Garter, who are usually made up of former prime ministers, public figures, ex-cabinet secretaries, field marshals and public-spirited aristocrats with one or two industrialists thrown into the mix. Unlike Prince William, who is a Royal Knight, the Knights Companions’ costumes are a little less overblown –
only
a little, mind – and the grandeur and ritual that go with them suits the wearers. But then, with the fancy regalia the chiefs in the Met sometimes have to wear, you’ll hear no hypocrisy from me.’

Both smiling, they sipped at their wine together.

‘Okay, now,’ Gloria went on, placing the glass back on the table within easy reach, ‘even more important and much more exclusive than the Knights of the Garter are the Queen’s own personally chosen counsellors. This group is called the Order of Merit, whose membership is limited to twenty-four of the most illustrious people in the Commonwealth. Apart from each chosen member wearing a small blue and crimson cross with a tiny laurel wreath in the centre and an itsy gold inscription that says, “For Merit”, there is no other regalia they’re obliged to wear. Formal lounge suits and appropriate dresses for the ladies with the OM badge pinned to clothing is the only dress code required.

‘When next they sit down for lunch with the Queen at Buckingham Palace it will be only the eighth time since its formation a hundred or so years ago that this exclusive coterie has met with the reigning monarch.’

‘Who are the members – are they the Queen’s favourites?’ asked Kate, now intrigued.

‘Oh, much more than that. Each one has a special talent or skill that not only enables the Queen to keep the country sound, but also helps the Crown endure. And what an intellectually diverse body they are. They include the great mathematician, Sir Roger Penrose, the zoologist Lord May and Neil MacGregor of the British Museum, to name just three.’

‘They seem a pretty dry lot,’ said Kate. ‘Not many jokes over the lunch table.’

‘Don’t you believe it. There are those from the arts present also. Men like Tom Stoppard and David Hockney. David Attenborough and Betty Boothroyd.

Kate leaned back in her chair and almost whistled. ‘That’s one disparate and interesting lot. Can you imagine the conversations that go on?’

Gloria nodded, her expression remaining serious.

‘And an interesting further point: Baroness Thatcher is the only ex-Prime Minister among them. Queen Elizabeth moved fast when Thatcher was ousted as leader by John Major and his cronies because she knew that the Inner Court wanted to bag her for themselves. The prestige, and perhaps legitimacy, it would have afforded the group would have been beyond value. Luckily, and shrewdly, Margaret Thatcher’s loyalty remained with Crown and Country: she accepted the Queen’s honour, not for the glory – the Order of Merit is far too understated for that, even if its influence is irrefutable and widespread – but because she bore no public malice towards the politicians who had betrayed her, and saw quite clearly where her allegiance lay: the people and their monarch. Sorry, I’m getting on my high horse, aren’t I?’

‘Well, you do sound like an admirer,’ said Kate with a grin.

Gloria smiled ruefully. ‘I am. She’s a terrific benchmark for what women can rise to. Unfortunately, her downfall revealed the duplicity of the male of the species.’

Kate could only agree, although she remained silent. She had an idea that her companion had a lot more to say about the various powers in the country and Kate was reluctant to spoil the flow. Instead, she lifted her almost empty wine glass. ‘Shall we top up before we go on, or ask them to bring our main course now?’

‘I’m not in the mood for food at the moment,’ Gloria told Kate. ‘But don’t let me stop you having more champers.’

The waiter was at his client’s side before Kate could reach into the ice bucket. He waved the diminished contents of the champagne bottle in the policewoman’s direction temptingly, but she declined by placing the palm of her hand over the top of her glass.

‘Come on, Glo,’ Kate chided, ‘you’re not on duty now.’

‘Katie, as you well know, I’m always on duty.’

And you always were
, thought Kate fondly. ‘All right, perhaps a fresh bottle later, Vincent.’

As the waiter departed, Kate found her friend staring across the table at her, concern written all over her freckle-cheeked face. Kate raised her eyebrows questioningly. ‘You’re not having second thoughts about this, are you, Glo?’

‘So far I’ve told you nothing you couldn’t find out for yourself.’

‘But now we’re heading into deeper waters,’ Kate commented. ‘We really don’t have to continue with this if it makes you uncomfortable,’ she offered, while hoping fervently her friend would carry on in the same vein.

Gloria relaxed back in her chair. ‘What the hell,’ she said quietly. ‘David Ash is important to both of us, and I know how worried you are about him. You’re still not sure if he’s up to the job, are you?’

Kate averted her gaze, fixing it on the glass in front of her. ‘Is it that obvious?’

‘I could always read you, Katie. And I know I can trust you. To tell you the truth,’ Gloria responded, ‘it’s a kind of relief to talk about these things to someone who’s not wearing a uniform or a Home Office pass.’

They both giggled at that, almost like they used to over silly secrets when they were kids.

Gloria straightened her spine, the pose somehow authoritarian, with only her familiar warm smile humanizing the image.

Kate nodded. ‘Right.’

‘Even more influential than the OM is another very secretive group of extraordinarily wealthy individuals known as the Multinational Chairman’s Group, who together are so powerful they can influence government policies, both foreign and domestic. They lobby ministers to alter tax schemes, business incentives, as well as trade embargoes and such like. Governments are afraid of them because their world assets and resources can sometimes be used to destroy a country’s economic system. Compromises are always sought, of course, because as well as individual countries facing financial crises, the pressure group itself can be damaged in the fallout.’

She deliberated for a moment, then said, ‘You won’t be surprised to learn that much of this is about corporate and individual taxation, particularly where international assets are concerned.’ She paused again and then continued, ‘Then there is the Bilderberg Group of businessmen and politicians which is similar in function, but far more open than the Multinational Chairman’s Group. It has an unofficial annual conference to which a hundred and forty or so people are invited. These are mainly from North America and Western Europe.’

‘So is this Multinational Group connected to the Inner Court in some way?’ Kate asked, deeply puzzled.

‘No,’ came the policewoman’s instant response. ‘You might say that the IC is the very antithesis of the MCG. The Inner Court’s machinations often involve corruption, undue pressure on rivals, questionable tactics – and blackmail. It’s this last factor that gives them so much clout.’

‘But why do you . . . I mean, the law, how can it let them get away with it?’

Gloria frowned at the question. The powerful policewoman took a deeper sip of the Taittinger Nocturne before speaking. ‘I’m afraid the law has to step warily as far as the IC is concerned, but SIS keeps continuous tabs on them.’

‘But their obvious shenanigans can’t be stopped?’ Kate exclaimed a little too loudly. She realized the fine wine was beginning to have its effect on her and moderated her tone again. ‘I mean, Glo, surely in this day and age, groups or organizations – whatever you’d call them – can’t be allowed to get away with such practices?’

Gloria gave a soft sigh, but it was one more of solicitude than frustration.

‘Perhaps I should take you back to the Inner Court’s beginnings. It might just help you understand the predicament both the law and the Crown are in.’

Kate consented with a keen nod of her head. ‘Go on.’

‘Rather embarrassingly,’ Gloria began again, ‘no one really knows when the Inner Court first came into being, or how. It just seemed to evolve, and before anyone was aware, there it was, a secret order known only to the members themselves and the people they conspired with.

‘About two centuries ago, a duke, whose name no longer matters, headed a group of notables, which offered its covert services to King George III, services that necessarily relied on guile, secrecy, influence, and occasionally, assassination.’

‘And was the offer accepted?’ asked Kate.

‘Well, there’s no existing record that it was declined.’

The deputy assistant commissioner gave Kate a moment or two to let her absorb what she’d heard thus far.

‘Go on,’ Kate urged again, though hesitantly, as if this kind of forbidden knowledge might somehow put her in jeopardy. But it was too compelling.

‘Because the Inner Court was never officially acknowledged by the Crown, no connection could ever be suggested, let alone proved, not even to this day. Certainly, there may have been suspicions, but few would have been brave enough to voice them.’

‘I’m sorry to interrupt,’ Kate cut in apologetically, ‘but why the “Inner Court”? Why did these people call themselves that?’

‘We think it was because of its lack of faith in the country’s judicial systems and means of commerce – much as it is today. It believed then, as it does now, that Britain should reassert itself as a significant world power.

‘Its original motives were patriotic but, inevitably, too much secrecy lays the foundations for corruption, as does the quest for too much power and political advantage. Eventually, greed became the IC’s cornerstone, and that began to erode their principles and distance them from the Crown as well as the government of the day. Yet the organization had already made itself indispensable to the sovereign state, and by then it knew where the skeletons were buried, so to speak.’