Page 60 of An Eye for an Eye

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Page 60 of An Eye for an Eye

When the demonstration finally came to an end, William had no way of knowing if the visiting Minister of Defence had been impressed. However, he couldn’t believe the French would possibly equal the sheer range of sophisticated battle equipment that had been on display, including Challenger 2 tanks and Tornados.

Ross continued to keep a close eye on Prince Ahmed, who he noticed yawning from time to time and making no attempt to hide the fact he was bored. Khalil had already advised the French to put a woman next to him, preferably a young woman. The French got the message.

After the Marines had presented arms a second time, William continued to shadow the Saudi Defence Minister as he was accompanied back to his car by the Foreign Secretary who, along with a select group, would join the Queen for lunch at Windsor Castle.

They left Farnborough a few minutes late but arrived on time at Windsor, where a private secretary escorted them tothe audience room. Her Majesty was waiting to greet the King’s cousin. One of them bowed.

William remained in his car, munching a cheese sandwich, as he waited for the Foreign Secretary to reappear with the Saudi Minister by his side.

•••

Peter and Artemisia took their place at the back of a long line as Tony Benn and Tariq Ali led the boisterous crowd out of Trafalgar Square. As they moved along Whitehall, carrying banners high in the air, they continued to chantFree HartleyandArrest the Black Prince, while the police lined the pavements on both sides of the government buildings.

The slow march came to a halt when they reached Downing Street, where they crammed themselves together five deep like a football crowd.

Some of the organizers were handing out banners, while others offered eggs to eager onlookers. Peter held up a banner while Artemisia took a couple of eggs. Her heart was thumping, as she waited for the Saudi delegation to appear.

•••

The extended convoy left the grounds of Windsor Castle at 2.59 p.m. and headed for the motorway. When they arrived in Whitehall at 3.58 p.m., they were greeted with screams of derision as the protestors surged forward, determined to make their presence felt. The police cordon only just managed to hold them back.

Peter held his banner high in the air just as Artemisia hurled her first egg, which landed in the middle of the road,unnoticed. She quickly pushed her way to the front of the crowd and took aim a second time, delighted to see her egg land on the windscreen of the third car, causing it to slow down before it turned into Downing Street.

She leapt up in triumph, but before she landed, two policemen’s arms encircled her, just as her father’s car swept by. They quickly bundled her away to a side street, where she was thrown into a waiting van along with half a dozen other protestors. She sat back, out of breath but proud to have played her part.

Peter watched as his father’s car disappeared into Downing Street, the vast iron gates slamming closed behind him. He dropped his banner and ran into the side street where his sister had been taken, only to see the police van being driven away. His heart hammering, Peter kept on running, heading for the Embankment in search of a red telephone box.

‘Scotland Yard,’ said a voice.

•••

The Prime Minister was standing by the front door waiting to greet his guest when the Saudi Prince’s car pulled up outside Number 10 Downing Street.

If Prince Majid was surprised by the size of the press corps herded behind barriers on the far side of the road, or by the crowds of protestors they had driven past as they turned into Downing Street, he didn’t show it. But as he got out of the car, he was clearly disturbed by the journalists shouting questions that had nothing to do with the purpose of his visit. William suspected no one shouted at His Royal Highness when he was in Riyadh, and if he was ever asked a question, he would be given prior notice – in writing.

‘When are you going to release Simon Hartley?’ screamed theDaily Mirror.

‘Has anyone told you who the real murderer is?’ demandedThe Observer.

‘Does your country believe in justice and a fair trial?’ hollered theExpress.

‘Do you know why your son is known as the Black Prince?’ – the BBC.

After an unusually short photocall on the steps of Number 10, the Prime Minister hurriedly whisked his guest inside.

William assumed the Number 10 press secretary had warned the Saudi Minister’s opposite number what to expect, and told him that the Prime Minister had to face such an onslaught every day, even though the hacks knew he wouldn’t consider answering any of their questions.

When Prince Majid emerged from Number 10 an hour later, he quickly climbed into the back of his waiting car, which immediately sped off. When the gates at the end of Downing Street opened, having ignored the cries of the press corps, he was greeted once again with the screams of protestors, who made the journalists look restrained and polite.

William followed the Prince’s cavalcade as it made its short journey from Whitehall to the Saudi Embassy in Charles Street, where the visiting party was greeted by a smaller but equally vociferous group who screamedFree Hartley,Arrest the Black Prince, andGo home murderers, as the government’s guests disappeared inside their embassy.

•••

Ross looked around before he picked up the phone and dialled a number he hadn’t called for some time. When the phonewas answered, he said, ‘Please put me through to Superintendent Wainwright.’ He hoped he was still the station commander.

‘Who shall I say is calling?’

‘Detective Inspector Ross Hogan.’




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