THE ESTABLISHMENT

Detective Inspector Nigel Rose sat in his boss’s office on the top floor of Tintagel House, having explained the sensitive situation in full. Superintendent Mal Fuller, a northerner who didn’t like controversy at the best of times and hated the cesspit that was London, shook his head in disbelief.

“Is she absolutely sure, Nige?”

“Incontrovertible proof, sir”.

“Hell’s bells! This is a very delicate one, I don’t need to tell you”.

“No, Sir. That’s why I brought it straight to you. What do we do now?’

“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, lad. This sort of thing can make or break a career so we need to be very, very careful on how we proceed. What do you suggest?”

DI Rose, long used to his boss’s prevarication, was ready with an answer.

“I think we bring him in for questioning, sir”.

“Agreed. Keep me informed and Nige, be careful”.

On the field of play, the polo players twisted and turned as they manoeuvred their horses in chase of the wooden polo ball in the final chukka of the day.

After the game, DI Rose flashed his ID and his arrest warrant to the royal security officer and stated his business.

“I’m here to arrest the Prince of Wales!"

Rose was to question the Prince while, simultaneously, Sharon questioned Louise Grant, his accuser.

Sharon, accompanied by a fellow DC entered the interrogation room.

At the same time, DI Nigel Rose, along with a fellow officer, approached the room where they could hear the Prince of Wales and his lawyer chuckling loudly as if absolutely nothing was wrong.

“Interview with Louise Grant, 1.45pm, Sunday June 1st-present Detective Constable Sharon Mortimer, Detective Alan Bates and Louise Grant.

Miss Grant, can you please start by telling us your full name, date of birth and address?”

“Louise Catherine Grant, 18th January 2056, 52 Ravenswood Crescent, St. Johns Wood, London”

“Thank you. Can you please tell us, in your own words, exactly what occurred on Saturday April 15th?”

“Yes. I was hired as a waitress for a private function at the Pall Mall Club. I work as a contractor in the hospitality industry. I arrived at the club and I was shown to a private suite. I thought that I would be working with several others but it was only me. I saw immediately that the table had been set for four so I wasn’t too concerned”.

“Can I ask you who it was that hired you?”

“I don’t know but my boss, Ronnie...Ronnie Singleton, told me that I’d been specifically requested”.

“And who would pay you for the evening and how much?”

“I normally got paid one hundred pounds before tax plus any tip that I might be lucky enough to deserve”.

“So please tell us what happened”.

“I turned up about 8pm. I was really just waiting for the guests to arrive-which they did about forty five minutes later. There were four of them, complete strangers as far as I was concerned apart from one, the Prince of Wales, who I recognised from the papers and TV. They were all very intoxicated. They were also extremely impolite, not even acknowledging my presence".

“Interview with His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales, 1.45pm, Sunday June 1st -present Detective Inspector Rose, Detective Constable Swan, the Prince of Wales and Sir Peter Grenfell.

Your Royal Highness, I would ask you to please advise your full name for the record”.

“David, George, Arthur Windsor”.

“Thank you, sir. Can I take you back to Saturday April 15th? You attended a private function at the Pall Mall Club , is that correct?”

“It is”.

“Can you please advise who accompanied you that night?”

“My friends: Viscount Herrington, The Honorable George Dunbass, PM, Lord Leslie Carrington”.

“And what was the purpose of the function?”

“It was my birthday; my 35th birthday”.

“Can you describe the young lady that waited on you that night?”

“Haven’t a clue. Some girl that had been hired. I didn’t pay much attention, I’m afraid”.

“We understand from the hire company that the young lady had been specifically requested. Are you aware of that, sir?”

“No”.

“You weren’t the one that did the hiring, I take it?”

“Good God, do you really think that I, the Prince of Wales, go around hiring staff? Look here, what’s this all about? I’ve been extremely patient and well mannered even though you made me look a complete fool in front of my guests today but enough’s enough...”

“Well you didn’t really leave us with much option, sir. Not when you ignored our request for you to attend this building for a private conversation”.

“Do you have any idea how busy I am? Do you think I have the time or inclination to come here to answer some frivolous charge of sexual assault?”

“But you didn’t know that was what we wanted to talk to you about, did you, sir? After all, you have, just a moment ago, asked me what this was about”.

“Look here, Inspector, my client...”

“Detective Inspector, if you don’t mind, Sir Peter, and I’d be grateful if your client would simply answer the questions I put to him".

“They sat to eat and I served the courses as they arrived via dumb waiter. They seemed more interested in drinking than dining though and several bottles of wine were consumed”.

“Were all four drinking?”

“Yes, but the Prince was the main partaker”.

“How many bottles of wine were consumed?”

“Five or six”.

“And what happened then? Take your time, tell me everything”.

“I’d been feeling distinctly uncomfortable throughout. Not once had any of these men acknowledged my presence. I could have been a robot, in fact. Then, suddenly, out of the blue, one of them just stuck his hand up my skirt. I was totally shocked”.

“In a sexual manner?”

“Yes, of course. Up my skirt and...started to touch me. I jumped back in fright and they all started laughing. They thought it was all a big joke. The same man then addressed me, the first time my presence had been acknowledged that evening”.

“Exactly what did he say?”

“He said: “Come on sweetie. Time for dessert”. He stood up and grabbed me, swept everything off the table and pushed me down...I was conscious of the Prince being there but not really joining in, sort of looking on apprehensively. The other two grabbed my wrists so I couldn’t move. Someone pulled down my knickers...”

“Did you resist? Cry out?”

“Of course I bloody did. I was kicking out with both legs. I started to yell for help but one of the others stuffed a napkin in my mouth. They held their hands over my eyes. I couldn’t breath, couldn’t see... I thought I was going to pass out. They were all urging on the Prince: “Come on David. You can do it”. Things like that. I felt a body climb on top of me. My blouse was ripped open, my bra pushed up exposing my breasts. Then...then I was violated. A penis was thrust inside me, painfully”.

“Could you actually see the transgressor?”

"No"

“Sir, the young lady in question says that, aided and abetted by your friends, she was forcibly attacked, held down and sexually violated by yourself...”

“Utter poppycock!”

“So you deny the accusation, Sir?”

“Good God. Of course I deny it. Assuming this attack even took place, how could she possibly know it was I who had attacked her? Did she actually see me?”

“No. She has been quite open and honest regarding that point. She could not see because your so called friends held their hands over her eyes”.

“Well, there you go then. There’s no way that, even if this ridiculous accusation were true, that she could actually identify me as the attacker. Isn’t that so, detective?”

“Detective Inspector! And she claims that she knew it was you because your friends were urging you on by name”.

“How very convenient. Her word against four of the realm’s finest. I think this matter is now at an end, don’t you?”

‘Not quite, Sir. You see, she also identified your very distinctive ring. The ring that you wear on your little finger. The ring that contains the very distinctive crest of the Prince of Wales; the three distinctive ostrich feathers”.

“I lay, stunned, for, maybe, a minute or so, just recovering my breath. When I finally looked up, they were gone; just upped and left. I was in a great deal of pain but I forced myself to do something; so they wouldn't get away with what had happened”.

“What did you do?”

“I retrieved my phone...and I took several photos”.

“I need hardly remind you that the Prince of Wales emblem is known all over the world, Inspector. Surely, you can’t expect my client to be accused on the basis that the woman says she could identify a ring?”

“No, of course not, Sir Peter. And, for the record, it’s Detective Inspector. I’d appreciate that you both address me correctly in much the same way as you wish me to address you. No, simply describing a ring would not, in itself, be considered evidence, I agree. But, you see, the young lady took a photograph!”

The lawyer and his royal client exchanged surprised looks but the experienced barrister recovered himself quickly.

“A photo? Of a ring? I’m sorry, Detective Inspector, but I’m afraid you’ve lost me. If you gave me five minutes, I’m quite sure that I could come up with several images of the Prince of Wales’ crest just by scanning the internet; hardly proof of anything”.

“I agree, Sir Peter. Unless the young lady had been able to photograph your client in the actual act of sexual penetration; non-consensual sexual penetration, then a photograph of a ring purporting to belong to the perpetrator would hardly constitute evidence”.

‘Well, there you are then. You’ve already said that she couldn’t see anything, was, reputedly, being held down against her will, so she couldn’t possibly have been able to take such a photograph. I’m afraid this is starting to wear a bit thin and...”

“Oh she didn’t take the photo during the attack, Sir Peter. She took it immediately after the attack”.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand...”

The police officer took a photo from a file and placed it so that both the accused and his lawyer could see.

“”As you can see, this is a photograph clearly showing the distinctive three ostrich feathers of the Prince’s ring impressed on the young lady’s bare skin as he sexually assaulted her!”

“So I took the photo where the rapist’s ring had been pressing down into me during his attack. It wasn’t just in one place, it was several as he moved about. His insignia is unmistakeable. I also took a photo -down there -where I had been violated, a photo of the mess that they had left. I dressed myself quickly, put on my coat over my torn clothing and, as I was thinking about how to get out of that place without being seen, I looked down from the window and...there they were; all four of them. Down below on the street, high fiving, as if they had just achieved something incredible. It made me feel sick but I took another photo. Then I took another one as the car pulled up and the Prince got in -with no registration plate”.

“Detective Inspector, circumstantial at best. I mean to say, anybody could get a ring with a similar crest and impress it on themselves. Why somebody would wish to do that is anybody’s guess but, indicative of a disturbed mind, don’t you think? I believe this young lady is a gold-digger, looking to make a quick buck...”

“Sorry to interrupt you in full flow, Sir Peter, but you see, it’s not just the impressions of the crest; it’s the blood that was created by the crest scratching the young lady. Blood that, unnoticed, will be detectable on the ring still. I need to confiscate your client’s ring so that DNA examination can take place”.

Instinctively, the Prince withdrew his hand from the table and started to rub his little finger on his trousers. Rose looked witheringly at the Prince and the barrister in turn.

“I’m afraid that’s not going to help you now. Rub away, we’ll still be able to pick up the minutest trace from the ring and, of course, from your trouser leg where you’ve been rubbing the ring. I should add that the accuser also had the state of mind to take some other rather damning photos but, perhaps, the most conclusive proof will be the paternity test that we will require. You see, the young lady was a virgin until she was violated and is, now, pregnant!"

“Detective Inspector, might I have a word with you privately?”

“Why did you wait six weeks before reporting the attack, Louise?"

“Who’d have believed me? I’m a nobody. I’d have been ridiculed. But, when I missed my period, discovered that I was pregnant...”

“I understand, believe me. I was sexually assaulted when I was just sixteen. It’s partly why I joined the police force; protection in numbers, I suppose. There’s a slur on women who cry rape. It’s disgusting. But you’re not to worry. The Metropolitan Police Force is riddled with misogynists, unfortunately, but DI Rose is not one of them. You should know that, as we speak, the Prince of Wales is being interrogated next door and, thanks to your incredible state of mind following such a brutal attack, your evidence is enough for him to be charged today. You’ve been so brave, Louise. I can’t praise you enough”.

Detective Inspector Rose and Sir Peter Grenfell sat opposite each other in an adjoining conference room.

“Detective Inspector, can I ask: are you on the square?”

Here we go, thought Rose. The referral to the Freemason brotherhood that was supposed to sway him in his decision. Like most ambitious police officers, Rose had joined the Masons shortly after entering the force for all the good it had done him and he couldn’t even recall the last time he’d attended a Lodge meeting.

“In fact, I know that you are, Nigel. May I call you Nigel? I know a great deal about you as it happens. I just want you to listen to me for a moment. You see, whether you or I like it, that disgusting piece of shit sat next door, my client, is the heir to the throne. If anything were to happen to his father, he would be the next King! Appalling though that would be, there’s not a fucking thing that you or I could do to prevent it. You have to understand that it’s all to do with bloodlines that go back centuries. I mean do you for one moment believe that Henry the Eighth was a good king, or Mad King George or the idiot that abdicated and married Mrs. Simpson? Every couple of decades we are sent these crosses to bear. Ours is not to question why. Our duty is to serve, to protect. Am I making sense?

The Princess of Wales cannot conceive. It’s a rare medical problem that was only discovered after the wedding. Even if she could, its highly doubtful that she ever would because the sexual proclivity of that man next door is not the same as yours or mine. To put it diplomatically, he bats for the other side. Oh fuck it! Let’s not mince words, he’s a raging homosexual. The only way he could even bring himself to penetrate that poor young woman is because it was against her will.

Yes, I’m admitting that he is guilty. Yes, the young woman was specifically chosen. Not least, because she was a virgin, had the same blood type as the Princess of Wales and, let’s face it, even looks like the Princess. The child will be of royal blood and nobody will be any the wiser. The Princess will do her duty by pretending pregnancy and, in return, she will be allowed to divorce in time and escape from the hell of being married to that dreadful nincompoop.

The country needs an heir, Nigel. The people demand it. The line of succession must continue, don’t you see? Otherwise the very fabric of the Establishment is undermined. The young girl will be looked after. Let me assure you of that. You will be looked after. You’re a bright young man. The Force needs people such as yourself -at the top, Nigel. So, as a fellow Mason, I appeal to you: let’s put this to bed today, once and for all”.

Three quarters of a year later.

News flashes

Reports are coming in of a fatal crash on the MI near Nottingham. Two young women are reported dead.

Further news on that fatal crash that has caused a three mile tailback on the MI, the two women killed have been identified as an ex-police officer, Sharon Mortimer and an inmate of Rampton Hospital, Louise Grant. It appears that one was aiding the other in escaping from the secure mental facility. More on that as it comes in.

The country rejoices today at the news that the Princess of Wales has given birth to a son. The baby boy is said to be a healthy eight pounds and seven ounces. Both mother and baby are doing well.

Buckingham Palace, today, denied reports that the Prince and Princess of Wales are considering divorce proceedings. A spokesman for the Prince assured the press that the royal marriage could not be stronger.

Chief Superintendent Nigel Rose was today awarded a Knighthood for services to his country in the King’s Honours List. This is a continuation of Sir Nigel’s meteoric rise within the Establishment...