The Plantagenet Vendetta (41 page)

66

The Duke of York was pacing up and down the room and had been since their arrival. By now it was starting to rile the King.

“Sit down, for goodness’ sake; you’re making me nervous.”

The duke refused to comply. “It’s all that lying in a hospital bed. The linen’s too tight, I tell you.”

Stephen smiled. “I’ll be sure to mention that to Aunt Victoria next time I see her.”

The King looked at his son, but on this occasion did not smile. He checked his watch, then the clock on the wall.

“Where is Grant?”

York checked the time himself. “Reminds me of the last time we were here.”

“Shut up, William.”

Moments later the door opened, and Grant entered. As before, he carried several papers in his hands.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” the physician said.

At least this time there was no Home Secretary there to snigger.

“I have the results.”

The King leaned forward, his eyes firmly on the physician. “Well?”

The physician removed his glasses from his pocket and began reading the top sheet. “As per Your Majesty’s instructions, the urn containing the bodies of the two children was removed from the tomb, along with that of the former queen. After having proceeded to remove the bones deemed not of human origin–”

“Human origin?” York interrupted.

Stephen nodded. “Yes. According to the original accounts from 1674, on finding the bodies under the tower stair, there was evidence of animal bones, probably an ape from the Tower menagerie, along with that of the boys. Not to mention rubble from the excavation.”

He looked at the King. “Thomas told me that.”

The King was in no mood to smile.

“Wasn’t there also a purple rag?” asked Stephen.

“I believe so,” said Grant.

The King leaned forward. “Go on, Maurice.”

The physician returned to the results. “After identifying which bones were human and which were not, bones of both human skeletons were separated into two batches. One was sent to my colleague here, the other to the Ashmolean. Both tests have been completed, and both, I might add, have so far come to a similar conclusion.”

York looked up at the man. “Well, friend, what’s the verdict?”

The physician hesitated. “The results confirm beyond doubt that skeletons of both boys possess a minor biological link to what is commonly dubbed the ‘Plantagenet line’ used, of course, to distinguish descendents of Henry II. They also confirmed that the skeletons were of two boys, definitely brothers,” the physician added, attempting to keep his composure. “It is the considered view, however, of all who have studied the results that the link is insufficient for what we had expected.”

The King’s eyes narrowed. “In English?”

“The boys, sire, were definitely not of direct relation to Edward IV. Furthermore, the subjects in question both died of natural causes.”

All present looked at the physician.

“How about the time period?” Stephen asked.

“Again, Your Grace, we can only speculate…”

“Then give us your speculation.”

“The likeliest age range, based on the probability of a high-protein diet as would be usual for a noble, we could be looking at any time between 1515 and 1600.”

York was the first to speak. “You are quite sure?”

“We can never be one hundred percent sure, Your Grace, particularly after only a few hours of testing. However, it is the esteemed opinion of my colleagues–”

“And what do you think?” asked the King.

The physician paused before answering. “I think that their conclusions are almost certainly correct.”

The King nodded. He controlled his disappointment well.

“And Elizabeth?”

“It would seem the body of the woman did indeed have a biological similarity with what is known of the Woodvilles, but we could find no trace of a family connection to what we know of the Plantagenets.”

The King nodded, remaining calm. “How about Clement?”

“I have spoken to the scientists who managed the proceedings at St Rumbold’s. I have only the preliminary results, but it appears that what they tested were the remains of another man.”

Stephen rose to his feet, a reflex. “What?”

“Sit down,” the King said.

“You’re quite sure?” Stephen asked.

“Again, at this stage, it is difficult to say with any degree of certainty,” the physician replied. “Nevertheless, the results were most surprising. The age of the subject was noticeably different.”

“How different?”

“Perhaps even forty years.”

The result was conclusive.

The King rose to his feet. “Thank you, Maurice.”

The black limousine left the car park, heading back toward Westminster.

Stephen shuffled in his seat, his eyes on his father and uncle. “In truth, this confirms nothing.”

“It confirms one thing,” the King said, clearly distracted. “It confirms we are all in severe danger.”

York was unconvinced. “If the skeletons were not of the princes, then who?”

“Montagu,” the King said. “Disappeared at the Tower during the reign of Henry VIII.”

No one argued.

The hypothesis seemed plausible.

Back in the city, the Home Secretary took the call immediately.

The events of earlier that morning had already left him somewhat bewildered.

Now things had just got worse.

67

Thomas flopped down on the bed, dumbstruck. Despite being aware of the hypothesis, the result of the DNA test was still difficult to digest.

Jen moved slowly to the corner of the room. It seemed unthinkable that she had stumbled on a matter of great importance to the Royal Family.

It was obvious she was not supposed to be there.

Caroline took a seat on the other bed, alongside Anthea. The hairdresser was wide-awake but clearly dazed.

She still couldn’t believe that was the real Caroline.

Thomas sat with his head in his hands, his fingers massaging his temples. Almost immediately he rose to his feet.

“I need to make a phone call.”

He left the room, heading somewhere along the corridor. With Thomas gone, Caroline asked, “What happened?”

The question was for Jen. She let out a deep sigh before speaking for several minutes, leaving Caroline shocked and Anthea mortified.

Particularly the part about Anthea’s mum.

“I need to give her a call–”

“No, no, absolutely not,” Caroline interrupted. “Nobody can know we’re here.”

“But she’s me mum…”

“I know it’s difficult, but trust me.” She put on the most reassuring smile she could manage.

Jen didn’t approve, but she didn’t have a better idea. She wanted to suggest something, but what? The atmosphere was extremely tense, the silence worse than conversation. As soon as she stopped talking, images flashed in her head.

She’d danced with death and survived.

Just.

Had it not been for the man who had recently left the room, she knew she wouldn’t still be here.

She felt her fingers beginning to shake.

There was a knock at the door, followed by the sound of a voice, obviously Thomas. Caroline answered, and the prince re-entered the room. He took a seat on the bed, his attention on Jen and Anthea.

“You have to show me the vault.”

He wasn’t joking.

“Are you mad?” Jen fired back. “Did you not see what happened?”

“It’s because of that we must go back,” he said, his expression stern. “Where is it?”

“Beneath the church.”

“Can you show me on a map?”

“Do you have one?”

“Here.” Caroline picked up something from the desk and offered it to Thomas. It was a tourist information leaflet she had picked up from the hotel lobby. There was a map of the local area in the middle.

Simple, but good enough.

Jen looked at the pamphlet and tried to get her bearings. She fingered her hair nervously, conscious that everyone was looking at her.

“Here.” She pointed at the area marked priory ruins.

“You’re quite sure?”

“That’s where we got in.”

“How did you manage it?”

“We did it at night. The priest had been out.”

Thomas nodded. “Could you do it again?”

Jen doubted it. “For all we know, they’ve put a massive rock in front of it.”

That seemed unlikely, but surveillance was now surely inevitable.

“I can show you the photos.”

She removed her iPhone and showed him all she had. Following that, she showed him Debra Harrison’s camera.

Thomas scrolled through the photographs on the screen. “It’s very dark.”

“It was a vault.”

He looked at her, not taken by her flippancy. He held her gaze, this time for longer.

Her appearance had improved since her visit to the bathroom.

“What good is the vault?” Caroline asked after blowing her nose. “After all, we already know it’s there. And we have photos to prove it.”

“What is your objective?” Jen asked. “Assuming you have one.”

Thomas bit his lip. Now she was annoying him again. Nevertheless, he kept his patience. “We have reason to believe that the Sons of York were responsible for the murders of two p-prominent politicians.”

It took a few seconds for that to sink in. “You mean Bates–”

“Exactly,” he cut her off.

Jen watched him as he began to pace. The man had a restless streak, a strange determination: almost as if he was allowing the burden of the world to be placed on his shoulders.

“What’s that got to do with you? Surely that’s a police matter?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m not getting involved in this unless you’re straight with me.”

He took a breath. “We also have reason to believe that they were responsible for the murder of my grandfather.”

Jen was speechless. She attempted to breathe, but inside she felt numb, almost as if an icy storm was blowing through her chest. Whatever the reasons for the abduction of Debra Harrison, this was the last thing she had expected. Whoever they were, this cabal of men whose roots dated back centuries, their potential impact was clearly mind-blowing.

And had been for centuries.

Her phone began to vibrate, followed by the ringtone. Feeling like a fool, she rummaged through her handbag and looked at the phone’s display.

It was the number Lovell had given her.

She smiled ironically. No doubt hoping to reschedule his neglected appointment.

“Who is it?” Thomas asked.

She looked at him as if he was prying. “Dr Lovell.”

“Answer it,” Caroline said.

“What?”

“Answer it,” Thomas agreed. “Let’s see what the bastard wants.”

Jen was unsure.

“Go on.”

She answered. “Hello?”

“Ah, do I have the pleasure of addressing the lovely Miss Farrelly?”

You know you bloody do.

“Speaking?”

“It’s Francis Lovell here – you might remember we dined together yesterday evening. I must say it was a most memorable occasion.”

I remember.

“Put it on speaker,” Thomas said.

Jen covered the mouthpiece.

“I want to hear what he’s saying.”

She agreed.

“Hi, can you hear me, Dr Lovell?”

“Quite clearly, my dear, and quite heavenly. You do have the most angelic voice.”

Thomas looked at Caroline, guppy mouthed.

“My dear, I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you in any way.”

“Not at all.” She grimaced. “Just been caught up doing a little research.”

“I’m so pleased; I do hope I have not found you unwell.”

“Not at all. Sorry, I’ve just been…sidetracked.”

“You really are the most charming of creatures. Now, Miss Farrelly, or may I be so bold to address you as Jennifer, I was wondering if you were free for a little get-together in about an hour at the home of my good friend, Lord Jeffries. His is one of the most delightful homes in all of England, and Lord Edward was only too pleased to grant my request to show you his splendid house and chapel.”

Jen was horrified.

The man was trying to kill her.

“Ummm…”

“Say yes,” Thomas whispered.

“Are you crazy?”

The words were louder than she had intended.

“I beg your pardon?” Lovell asked.

“Ummm, sorry, just a sec…” She was furious with the prince.

“Tell him you’d be delighted,” Thomas said.

“You tell him.”

“Go, he’s offering you a way in.”

“He’s trying to kill me.”

“He won’t; I’ll be there with you.”

“Hello, I say, is everything okay?” Lovell asked.

Jen took her palm away from the mouthpiece. “Hi, can I call you back in a couple of minutes…thank you.”

She disconnected the call and looked at Thomas. “Are you kidding me?”

“The home of Edward Jeffries is one of the m-most d-difficult to enter in the entire Commonwealth. You’ve been offered easy access. This could be the b-break we n-need.”

Jen was still horrified. “He wants me dead.”

Caroline was equally nervous. “Thomas, this is madness.”

“Madness would be not taking it. While you enter the house, that l-leaves me easy access. You can be my diversion.”

Suddenly Caroline liked what she was hearing.

Jen was not. “I’ll be killed.”

“No, you won’t because you’ll be wearing one of these.” He showed her an object from his pocket. “Not to mention one of these.”

“Is that a wire?”

“Similar. And this,” he showed her a small red microchip, “is what’s commonly called a tracker. MI5 uses it to keep an eye on things.”

“Oh my God.”

“Use this, and the palace, MI5, Special Branch, not to mention several others, can keep a track on you. Meanwhile C-Caroline can listen in.”

Jen looked at him, appalled. “And what about you?”

“Like I say, I’ll be in there with you. While you keep them distracted, I’ll be able to s-search for evidence.”

“What kind?”

“That’s hardly your concern.”

“I’m actually very concerned.”

They eyed each other.

Deadlock.

Jen sighed forcefully, the air moving her hair. She looked at Caroline, then Anthea.

One mistake and she would surely not make it out alive.

She looked at Thomas and fought the urge of a rebuke, instead focusing on his eyes. Not for the first time he displayed the persona of a man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

She took a deep breath.

“What’s the plan?”