Operation Eyeglass, as Commander Cavendish had notified the gathered team their investigation was called, was not Toogood’s first major investigation. However, the number of people crammed into the briefing room that morning dwarfed what she had experienced before.
For an hour Commander Cavendish had been detailing the events of the previous two days, and the current state of knowledge acquired since the kidnapping of James Fitzwilliam on the way to his work at the Ministry of Defence.
“I know it has been an intense hour,” Commander Cavendish said as he came to the end of his briefing, “but look around you and you see how many people are involved, and now look at what I have put on the boards here in front of you. This is a complex, fast-moving investigation and all of you must be prepared for priorities and assignments to change as events develop.”
There was some minor shuffling in chairs from an audience eager to get on with said fast moving and developing investigation.
“Before you break off into your respective teams, I want to go over again the exact chronology we know so far. It is vitally important any new information you discover is fitted in correctly to this into the timeline.”
Commander Cavendish moved to the first white board, covered in photographs and scrawled writing. “The day before yesterday, at approximately eight-ten AM, on the corner of Sydney Street and the King’s Road, James Fitzwilliam appears to have been kidnapped by two or more armed men who pulled up in front of his car in a black Renault Trafic van. The vehicle appears to have made off in a southerly direction, and one team is tasked with recovering CCTV footage that may allow us to track the van’s movements in detail.
“Yesterday at approximately ten-twenty AM, Sir Nathanial Fitzwilliam, father of James, was shot and killed whilst riding on the London Eye. There are no witnesses of the actual event, but we know he was shot by someone outside the passenger compartment he was inside. Security cameras and witnesses all record no one entered or remained inside the capsule he had hired only the day before. We need to be particularly sensitive with this crime scene, as I am sure you are fully aware, the murder of someone on a major London tourist attraction is a media circus. Even globally. Any officers assigned to that crime scene are to avoid the media like the plague. And make doubly sure, when you are having conversations in the vicinity, with other officers face-to-face or on the phone, there are no bloody cameras or microphones pointed at you. In fact, no matter where you are working whilst on this investigation, no one is to go anywhere near talking to the media without my express permission. And I can tell you now, I won’t be giving any sodding permission! The only information to be made public about this investigation is when official press announcements happen. Is that clear?
“Moving on,” Commander Cavendish said without waiting for any answers, “between twelve-thirty AM and two PM yesterday, Sylvester Fitzwilliam was killed with a replica ceremonial sword in an upper room of the South Wing of Buckingham Palace. Her Majesty the Queen and the Prince of Wales were both in residence at the time so I again I must emphasise the security threat this murder posed. Also, as I said earlier, there is a strict news blackout on this victim. Very few of the Palace staff know of the killing and it will not be mentioned in any communications with the media. Is that understood?”
The Commander paused for emphasis and scoured his audience to ensure everyone was fully aware of the importance of what he was saying.
“The last element, of what is being treated as a co-ordinated terrorist action targeting the Fitzwilliam family, was the shooting of Emily Fitzwilliam, wife of James, outside a nursery school in Belgravia. Although other people were injured, only Emily Fitzwilliam was fatally wounded.
“During this attack, Cressida Ellis, a three-year old girl and neighbour of James and Emily Fitzwilliam, was taken. Although registration plates are different, information on make and model of the van would indicate it was the same vehicle used in both attacks.
“We have good CCTV footage of this van and its licence plates. One of the plates belong to a similar van reported stolen six weeks ago. The team assigned to this van need to find out where it has been during those six weeks.
“After the shooting in Belgravia the van was tracked heading south over the river. Traffic cameras lost it in the residential streets south of Battersea Park, and again there is a team tasked with getting more images or sightings from that area.”
By now Commander Cavendish had walked through all the whiteboards and as he moved away from the last one there was an expectant air of people finally being able to get on with their work. With another warning about not talking to the media, Commander Cavendish finally let everyone go.
Up until ten minutes before the briefing, Toogood had still been assigned to the team working at the London Eye crime scene. However, one of the developing events Commander Cavendish alluded to must have happened as she had hurriedly been re-assigned to go to Buckingham Palace to work with the security team there.
To keep all police activity at the Palace as low key as possible, unmarked vans had been used to bring in some personnel. But for Kirstin, there was no van. She had to walk.
It took about fifteen minutes to walk from New Scotland Yard, across Parliament Square and up Birdcage Walk, on the southern border of St James’s Park. After passing the Wellington Barracks she crossed the road and casually approached the security office at the Palace entrance on Buckingham Gate. Discretely she got out her warrant card.
“Pest control?” the guard said with a wry smile. “Come inside for a couple of minutes. There is a liaison from the Palace staff that is escorting your lot around.”
When the liaison came across the car park to the security office, Toogood was slightly surprised at recognising Sylvia Hawking.
“I was told,” she explained as they left the security gate office, “since I was one of the people who found the body, I was the best choice for liaison as it keeps the number of staff who know about the murder to an absolute minimum.”
“Is Mark Brown also a liaison?” Toogood asked.
“No, he’s at home. He couldn’t face coming in today. I’ve been told he’s on sedatives. Also, his domestic situation is complex at the moment. He had his daughter with him yesterday when we found -, when it happened.” Sylvia paused and Toogood watched her vision be pulled back to the horrors of the day before. “Do you want to go up to the room where we found him?” She asked nervously.
But Toogood didn’t want to put her through that again. Not just yet. “I need to visit the Security Ops Room, is it called?” Toogood said. “I’ve come for a copy of the Palace security camera footage covering the hours leading up to your discovery of the body.”
“If you’d asked me about the ops room yesterday, I wouldn’t have had a clue what you were talking about, but I’ve been in and out of that place a dozen times today already.”
Sylvia led Toogood through a side door of the Palace, down a short corridor and into a small open plan office with half a dozen desks. Only two were occupied.
“Under the pretext of pest control treatment, most of the office staff have been moved to other places in the Palace.”
They carried on through the office and into another narrow corridor. At the end were some steps leading down.
The Palace security operations room was at the bottom, through a musty smelling door.
“Have the Palace staff accepted the pest control treatment story?” Toogood asked.
“Yes,” Sylvia said quickly. “We had mice found in the South Wing a few months back. And there are treatments for rats in the grounds on a regular basis.”
“Not what I expected,” Toogood said.
Sylvia introduced the new arrival.
“You here for the footage?” one of the security team said, only half taking an eye off a camera feed. He pointed to a DVD case sitting at the end of the desk.
“What timeframe does it cover?” Toogood asked.
“As requested, twelve hours before and four hours after the discovery of the body.”
Toogood picked up the disc and felt it was a waste of her time to walk all this way just to be a courier. “Is there anything interesting on this?”
“Not really, the only noteworthy activity yesterday, other than the murder of course, was the fire alarm,” the security guard carried on scanning the four screens in front of him. Toogood wondered if the earnest vigilance was a reaction to the events of the day before.
“Fire alarm?” Toogood asked, her eyebrows rose in surprise. No one had mentioned that in the morning’s briefing.
“You want to see the highlights of what we put on the disc?” the guard asked.
“Please,” Toogood said, trying to keep the impatience out of her voice.
The guard nudged his colleague, Sean according to his name tag, who went into action and leaned across his desk to press a green button on one of several electronic boxes arranged in front of them. On the largest screen, the lifeless image of stonework and a tarmac drive came into view. Without prompting, Sean began to fast forward. For several seconds nothing seemed to change, then a pair of legs quickly descended from the top of the image, before the fast forward was slowed to normal speed.
“This is Sylvester Fitzwilliam arriving at the south door yesterday morning,” the first guard had “Jonathan” printed on his badge.
Toogood noted the timestamp: eight forty-two AM. She watched the man approach, studying his movements and expression. Sylvester wore a smart suit, with a white shirt and maroon tie. He seemed to be walking relatively casually and did not have the air of someone who was going to be murdered a few hours later. But then, Toogood thought to herself, most murder victims don’t know they are going to end up that way. He certainly didn’t look like someone who’s brother had been kidnapped the day before.
That was a fundamental question raised in the morning briefing. No one had reported James Fitzwilliam missing until his colleague at the MOD had raised it to the Ministry HR team.
“Did either of you speak to Sylvester Fitzwilliam yesterday morning, or the day before?”
This question brought some knowing chuckling from both the security guards.
“The head of royalty protection for the Palace doesn’t fraternize with us security plebs,” Jonathan said. “We sit in here and watch, but no one from your lot comes to speak to us unless something goes missing, or they want a background check on some new cleaning staff.”
That was one of the biggest concerns with the investigation. Sylvester Fitzwilliam was a police officer. The senior officer of the Royalty Protection and Specialist Protection team dedicated to Buckingham Palace. And he was killed on his home turf.
“Have you got footage of who he spoke to the day before yesterday?” Toogood asked.
“That’s not what we were asked for,” Jonathan said defensively.
“I know, but I am interested in his demeanour the day before he was killed, as well as yesterday morning.”
All the while she had been speaking, Toogood had watched the edited highlights of Sylvester’s last hours alive.
“It will take a day, but we should be able to get a copy.”
“A day?” Toogood said, with a deliberate tone of disbelief.
“There are forty-four cameras around the Palace,” Jonathan began, “we have to find him on each feed during a potential twelve-hour period. That’s 528 hours of footage. On top of that, there is a in depth review of security procedures going on. You’re lucky you caught me here, I’ve was in meetings until midnight getting anally probed by my management and your lot.”
Toogood wondered how many of the Palace protection team would be getting probed as well.
Sean fast forwarded to later in the morning. Toogood watched some interior shots of the palace, each with Sylvester talking to different household personnel.
“Have you got the names of the people Sylvester spoke to?’ Toogood asked.
“There is a document file on the disc which lists times and those we could identify that he spoke with,” Jonathan said.
“Why couldn’t you identify everybody?”
“We don’t know everyone on the Household staff,” Jonathan said. “Your Royal Protection buddies should have files on everyone working at the Palace and be able to identify anyone we can’t.”
Sean slowed the footage and suddenly Toogood was looking at the same camera she had first seen Sylvester appear on when he arrived at the Palace. However, there were now lots of people passing through the shot.
“This is the fire alarm, which went off at ten-oh-five AM. It was in the South Wing and the muster point is in the corner of the car park.”
“Would the whole Palace have been evacuated?”
“Not initially. It was just a single fire alarm that had been tripped. In that instance the procedure is to evacuate the nearest part of the Palace and investigate the area. The alarm only sounded in the South Wing and Ballroom area. Royal Two was in the South Wing at the time and his protection team lead him to the North Side of the Palace, making it more secure for him to stay inside the Palace walls.”
“Royal Two?” Toogood queried, “is that the Prince of Wales?”
“Yes,” Jonathan said. “The procedure is that, whilst one of our team investigates the possible fire, some of your lot bring up cars ready to evacuate any resident members of the Royal Family if fire or smoke is detected.”
“I take it no indications of a fire were found.”
“No, we searched for fifteen minutes in the area where the alarm that had been tripped, but there were no signs of flames or smoke. We even checked electrical conduits.”
“What about the fire brigade, are they notified?” By now the security footage had emptied as everyone had got out of the South Wing of the Palace.
“Yes, they are, but if we don’t discover signs of fire, no fire engines are called out.”
“So how long were people outside yesterday?”
“About twenty-five minutes,” Sean said and sped the replay up until the first people started returning into shot.”
For the next four to five minutes Toogood, Jonathan and Sean watched household staff file back inside.
“Are people’s identification checked as they enter?”
“There’s a card swipe system people have to use to get into the building, but with that many people coming in at once, the first person to the door swipes and everyone else doesn’t really bother. They just tailgate through. I checked the records, which are also on the disc, and only ten people swiped back in that door when everyone was coming through.”
Toogood estimated about forty people were on the footage. “Is there another door people would have come in through?”
“Records don’t show an entry on another door until twenty minutes after the all clear was given. And that door was on the west wing and the person was one of your own officers.”
Once the footage was back at Scotland Yard there would be several days work to go through it and identify the possibility that the killer entered the Palace after the fire alarm. The cause of the fire alarm would also be a focus for the investigation, to determine if the alarm could have been set off intentionally. Toogood did not like the idea she was going to end up part of the team trawling through CCTV footage.
“Can I see the room where Sylvester’s body was found?” Toogood asked. She’d seen images of the crime scenes, but whilst she was in the Palace she might as well get first-hand knowledge.
Jonathan provider her a temporary security pass and told her how to get to the second-floor room.
A few minutes later Toogood was entering through the same door she had watched Sylvester do so on the camera footage. As she approached the door she looked up the camera. It was plainly visible. At the door, she swiped her card went through. There was a short corridor that opened into a reasonable sized office space, housing half a dozen desks. Her appearance made everyone look up. She informed them she was from the police and from around the corner a uniformed constable appeared. Satisfied with her identification, he echoed the route up to the second floor.
Toogood had never taken any of the public tours of the Palace, so when she came across the huge Ballroom, with its towering ceiling, ornate decoration, huge chandeliers, and organ, she stood for several moments taking in the opulence of the empty room.
Using a couple of side doors, she was soon away from the opulent area of the Palace. Mundane corridors; the core of a working building. She passed several people carrying ring binders and laptops. When she finally got up to the second floor there was another constable in uniform who checked her identification again and then indicated the door to the crime scene.
The room was quite large, two windows looked out onto trees on the south side of the Palace. Toogood studied the view and saw there was no chance anyone in the surrounding buildings being able to see into the room. No witnesses to anything that happened there yesterday.
The room had little furniture. A few tables, a pile of what looked like laundered tablecloths, and three stacks of chairs in the farthest corner. There were certainly no signs of a struggle and the preliminary forensic reports Toogood had read indicated death would have been quite quick as the sword had penetrated Sylvester’s heart. His body had been found lying on the floor not too far from the door.
Before she left the room she stopped by the dark crimson pool on the otherwise immaculately clean carpet
She knelt beside the stain and suddenly she thought back her time with Sergeant Gui. He had a macabre ritual at crime scenes. He liked to touch the place where the victim took their last breath. He claimed it was important to remember they were trying to bring justice for victims who had paid the ultimate price for the evil of their fellow human beings.
Toogood’s fingers stretched towards the carpet, but he resisted touching it.
“Don’t go through with it, Kirstin,” a man’s voice said. “Having one person in this world that thinks like Gui is more than enough.”
Toogood shot a look at the door and then scrambled to her feet. Her mouth opened with shock and confusion.
“Markus?” she said when her brain had finally processed the completely unexpected sight before her.
“Were you actually going to do what I thought you were?” he said and motioned the blood stain.
“No, of course not,” Toogood said and then looked over Markus’ shoulder at the person stood behind him. The police officer was half hidden by the doorframe, she wondered if it was Gui.
Markus stepped into the room so that the officer behind him could follow him in. Markus smiled and shook his head. “As you can see, Gui’s not with me. Somehow, I don’t think the Met would allow Gui anywhere near the Royal Family, do you?”
The man behind Markus was Detective Constable Carling, Toogood knew him from the morning briefing.
“I didn’t know you were part of this investigation, Markus.”
“I wasn’t until about an hour ago,” Markus said as he crossed the room and peered out the window. He too wanted to see if anything overlooked the room.. “I’ve been working in Wandsworth for the last few months and was hauled out of bed, at a very impolite hour in the middle of the night, to investigate an arson attack on a warehouse. A couple of bodies were found in the fire, along with a burnt-out van. I entered the details of the vehicle into the Police National Computer, thankfully the Vehicle Identification Number was still recognisable on the chassis and suddenly, thirty minutes later, my inspector is getting calls from Counter Terrorism Command that a car is being sent to pick me up. A minute later I get a phone call telling me I am being reassigned and I have to inform my inspector and a very narked Deputy Borough Commander I no longer work for them.”
Markus turned back into the room and scanned its contents. “Constable Carling turns up and tells me he is driving me to Scotland Yard. Then, as we are crossing the river, we get a change in orders and I am brought to Buckingham Palace.
“I had thought the sudden change in destination was because I was finally going to get that knighthood I think, personally, is long overdue. When we arrive, I am informed there’s been a bloody murder here, excuse the pun.”
“Do you know why the burnt-out van was so important?” Toogood asked.
“Yes, it is suspected to be involved in that terror incident in Belgravia yesterday. Although no one has told me how that means I end up here in Buckingham Palace today.”
“You must appreciate the sensitivity of what has occurred here.”
This new voice from the door caused Markus and Toogood to snap their attention there.
Markus recovered first. “Well, well, well,” Markus said with a smile, “Philip Cavendish. It’s been a few years. What rank are you now, Commander?”
Cavendish crossed the room, carrying a warm smile and his hand outstretched. “It’s good to see you, Markus. Last time we worked together, I was a long way from Commander, wasn’t I?”
“I remember,” said Markus, “but I have followed your promotions, I knew you were talented when you were my Sergeant during our investigation into those drug traffickers using the Thames as the gateway into the city. That’s why I put you and your Cambridge educated brain in charge of the surveillance operation.”
“That was a terrific opportunity for me.”
“If I recall, you work for Counter Terrorism now, unless you’ve moved recently. So, are you the SIO on Operation Eyeglass?” Cavendish nodded, and Markus joined the logic together. “So how is a murder in Buckingham Palace being linked with a terror incident in Belgravia?”
Commander Cavendish did not answer, but instead turned to Toogood. “Sergeant, have you got the camera footage from the security team?”
She pulled out the evidence bag with the disc.
“Give it to Constable Carling,” Commander Cavendish said, and when the constable had taken charge of the footage, he gave further instructions. “Carling, take it back to the Yard and get the analysis team onto it right away. I want a detailed, minute by minute picture of Sylvester’s movements and activity by the end of today.”
The constable quickly vanished scurried down the stairs.
“I have to attend a Cabinet Office Briefing Room meeting in fifteen minutes,” Commander Cavendish said, “I hope it makes you realise the sensitivity and critical nature of this investigation. To emphasise this, you should know the victim in his room was Sylvester Fitzwilliam, the senior officer in charge of protection for Buckingham Palace. In short, he was one of us and was also very well known by her Majesty, who is very very concerned by this breach in security.’
“A COBRA meeting?”, Markus said. “You are moving in elite circles. I finally see how my bosses were so unceremoniously pushed aside. I also see how much of a mess we are in as a force, the head of palace protection literally killed on the job.”
“Despite my meeting with the PM, I wanted to meet you here first, Markus. When I saw there was a possibility of getting you onto the investigation team, I jumped at it. Your wealth of experience will be invaluable to everyone. I know you have worked with DS Toogood before, so I will let her summarise the investigation progress to so far.
“But before I go, I wanted to tell you the very latest on the warehouse fire that brought you into my sights. One of the bodies in the fire has been identified, as Anuli Falana, of Nigerian descent. He was on an MI5 watch list a few years ago, before being dropped.”
The Commander looked at his watch and moved to the door. “After DS Toogood has briefed you, I want you to think who best in your infamous network of contacts all over London might provide us with information on any of Anuli Falana’s acquaintances.”
Markus and Toogood watched Commander Cavendish disappear and Markus was about to say something when the Commander’s head popped back into view. “One thing I have to stress to you is that I will not allow DS Guidonis to be part of this investigation. I know you have worked with him a lot, and I know he worked with you and DS Toogood on Operation Darkchapel, but this is far too sensitive and critical for Guidonis’s cavalier and slipshod practices to jeopardise. Do I make myself clear?”
“Like crystal, commander,’ Markus said quickly and reverently. “I wouldn’t involve anyone in the investigation whom I didn’t think is suitable.”
“Good,” Commander Cavendish said and hurried away, permanently this time.
Markus and Toogood stood silently looking at each other until they were sure they were definitely alone.
“I know what these Counter Terrorism boys are like. They all think they are a cross between John Wayne and James Bond. CT investigations are always awash with limitless resources, so the SIO and his lead officers are always swapping people around as new priorities and paranoias pop into their hyper-stressed heads.”
“I had my assignment changed this morning,” Toogood said with a wry smile. “I was supposed to be at the London Eye crime scene.”
Markus rubbed his hands down his face, stretching his tired skin and giving himself ghoulish eyes. “You’d better get on with summarising what the hell is going on. But take it slow, please? I had about three hours sleep last night. So if I am going to make any sense of something linking a body in Buckingham Palace, a fire in Wandsworth, a shooting in Belgravia, something at the London Eye I am going to need a serious amount of very strong coffee.
“Actually, I’ve just realised I’ve not had breakfast. I know a couple of good pubs nearby that do coffee and excellent all day breakfasts.”
“Unfortunately, most of what I need to say can’t be said anywhere near the public,” Toogood said.
“Bugger. Not surprising though. Does Buckingham Palace have something as lowly as a staff canteen?”
“Sorry, we can’t talk there either. Not all of the household staff know about the murder.”
“Oh joy. Then I suppose it’s off to the nearest police station canteen. Can I ask a big favour? Could you bring your car round to the door, save my knackered legs a walk?”
Toogood winced apologetically. “I walked here from the Yard, the Commissioner wants our presence in the Palace to be as low key as possible.”
“Walk!” Markus said incredulously. “Sod that for a game of soldiers. First rule of a Counter Terrorism operation, the budget is big. We are getting a taxi and expensing it.”