by V M Knox
Light streamed through the crack between the curtains. Clement reached for his watch: six o’clock, Friday the thirteenth of June. Remembering where he was, he stood and rubbed at his whiskered face. There was a soft knock at the door. Clement opened it expecting to see Johnny. An elderly man stood there holding a basin and jug. Clement held the door wide for the man to enter. He placed the basin and jug of warm water on the stand along with some shaving equipment, smiled at Clement and left. Not a single word had been spoken. ‘Thank you,’ Clement said, closing the door.
Half an hour later he descended to the lower floor where another man dressed in black robes took him to a nearby building. In the early morning light Clement could see the large church clearly now. Its beauty was surprising and there was a palpable serenity about The Hospital of St Cross.
The adjacent building was medieval in style with a short flight of steps worn over the centuries that led inside. There, his guide stopped by a door and indicated for him to enter. Inside was a small medieval Great Hall complete with paved floor, musician’s gallery and a central fireplace. A steep staircase led up the side of the hall to a room at the top. In front of him, Johnny sat at a long refectory table, eating a hearty meal of eggs and thick bread.
‘Morning, Clement. Sleep well?’
‘Not really, thank you, Johnny. Where are we, exactly?’
‘The Hospital of St Cross. About a mile south of Winchester. Marvellous, isn’t it?’
‘Another world,’ he said. Another century, he thought. He looked at the eight chairs around the long table. ‘Others joining us?’
‘Yes. At seven. In addition to you and me, C will join us along with Inspector Walter Thompson, Churchill’s personal bodyguard, two SIS men and the four snipers.’
Over breakfast, Clement shared his thoughts about the blueprints and his theories concerning the coup.
‘I think you’re correct, sadly, Clement. The safe houses have already been changed and everyone on our list of trusted employees from cleaners to drivers, even casual observers, have either been replaced or in some cases arrested. Not even the Masonic Lodges have escaped our attention. Whatever happens, today will be a turning point in history one way or the other. If it ends the way we hope, no one will ever know anything about it.’ Johnny reached down and opened his briefcase. Pulling out a map of Winchester, he spread it over the table. Clement stood staring at the layout of the old city. Fifteen minutes later the tall figure of Inspector Thompson entered the room. Beside him was C as well as six determined-looking young men.
‘Good morning, sir,’ Johnny said as C took a seat at the table. ‘Clement, these men are the snipers; Robert, George, Gordon and David. And this is Inspector Thompson, and Majors Thomas Mollineux and Benjamin Greaves from our office.’
They took up seats around the table, the large map of Winchester on the table before them.
While Clement had never been to Winchester, the inner city layout was straightforward and uncomplicated. For the most part, the inner town was grouped around the High Street with the railway station and the old Great Hall of the long-gone castle at one end and the Bishop’s ruined palace and river at the other. The Great Hall was all that remained of the thousand-year-old seat of the Wessex Kings. The imposing structure sat on a hill which gently descended away through the town towards the river. Between them, on the southern side of the town, was the Cathedral. It was set back from the High Street and occupied a flat, central position.
Clement fixed his gaze on the streets to the south of the Cathedral. ‘Where is Winchester College?’ he said aloud.
‘Here,’ Johnny pointed.
‘Close to the Cathedral, isn’t it?’ Clement said. ‘If they’re no longer at the airfield, then they will be at the school.’ Clement looked at the location of the school and its proximity to the Cathedral. His mind sorted and sifted facts and suppositions. ‘What time is the service at the Cathedral?’
‘Eleven,’ Johnny said.
‘How long has today’s presentation of bravery medals been known about?’ Clement asked.
‘It’ll be listed in the calendar. The Prime Minister has multiple engagements every day, so it will have been scheduled months in advance,’ C said.
Clement continued. ‘If Mr Churchill were to appear in public at such an event, would the Foreign Office know about it?’
‘Of course, Major.’ C said.
‘Then, Sir Cedric Hasluck would have known the date months ago?’
The room was quiet.
‘You think they’re here?’
‘Yes. Sir Cedric will have been told his son is here in Winchester to guarantee his continued co-operation.’ Clement checked his watch. It was already after eight.
‘We need to find Hugh Armstrong.’
Johnny stood. ‘If he remains uncaught by the time the Prime Minister arrives in just under three hours, it’s watch and act. We will place you, Robert, here in the Great Hall.’ He jabbed a finger at the map. ‘I’ll arrange for you to be seated at the front where you will have an uninterrupted view of the proceedings and where you can be as close to the Prime Minister as possible. Then you, George and Gordon, take the High Street. Following the church service, Mr Churchill will walk across the square in front of the Cathedral, then into Great Minster Street, past St Lawrence-in-the-Square under the arch to the Buttercross and up the High Street to the old Westgate arch then to the Great Hall.’ He traced the route on the map. ‘Gordon, you take up a position at Westgate and George you move into place at the Buttercross where Mr Churchill will turn left. David, you wait beside the entry to St Lawrence-in-the-Square and follow Inspector Thompson through the arch towards the High Street staying behind them. Move with Mr Churchill up the High Street in a circle around him. Greaves and I will be in the cathedral forecourt among the crowd. Clement, you take inside the Cathedral, watching the people who have been invited to attend as they arrive. Mollineux will be in the house next to the Cathedral which has a window overlooking the front, here, behind this high red-brick wall. It’s very high, so too high for Armstrong to scale or for Mollineux to drop down. If he is needed, he would have to leave the house by the front and cross the lawns to the south of the Cathedral. So Mollineux, keep your eyes out for any signal from either myself or Major Wisdom.’
‘Is there another way out of the Cathedral?’ Clement asked.
‘Yes, the southern door. It’s about halfway along the nave of the church. The door will be closed but not locked as there will be many people attending. The town is excited about the Prime Minister’s expected arrival, so people will be everywhere.’
‘Please remember, everyone,’ C said. ‘This is a public event. Do not show your weapons unless needed, it will only cause alarm.’
‘Good luck everyone,’ Johnny added.
At nine o’clock they left by car. The Service driver took them into the city and they went to their designated places.
Clement walked along a short street and entered the cathedral precinct. A wide grassed area with large trees was at the front and side of the ancient building. It was a quiet, calm day and the weather was pleasant. Clement breathed in the warm summer air. Such a beautiful city. People were gathering and the noise of the excited crowd was escalating. Clement moved slowly among them, his eyes darting to each face. He crossed the lawns surrounding the Cathedral. All around people were beginning to find vantage places near cordoned-off areas. Clement moved past them and standing under one of the trees in front of the great Cathedral, studied the front façade. There were three entry doors at the front, the central one larger than the other two. Above them was a narrow balcony of sorts. Leaving the forecourt, he wandered towards the doors. Attendants stood there, stopping people from entering without an invitation. Clement showed the man his SIS card.
He walked in; the quiet sanctity of the place was awe inspiring. Checking his watch, he walked once around the entire nave, taking in every nook and chapel which could conceal an assassin. Climbing the steps mid
-way along the nave side-aisle, he turned left to the main aisle. Taking it, he returned down the full length of the building, returning to the front. As he approached the main door, he saw a tiny, narrow door just to the right of the front entry. He looked up. Above him was a ledge surrounded by a balustrade. He walked up to the attendant.
‘Where does that lead?’ He pointed to the narrow door.
‘To the triforium. It’s a gallery mostly used by musicians. It’s not in use today.’
‘Is the door locked?’
‘Yes.’
Clement looked across at the narrow door. Regardless, an assassin could unlock it as quickly as he could. Clement walked over and turned the handle. It was locked. He turned and walked along the northern side, checking and watching for anything unusual. Walking beyond the crossing he walked into the Choir, then crossed to the southern aisle again and walked slowly back towards the front. At the southern door he stopped. It was a large double door of considerable height. It too was closed. He thought it unlikely that Armstrong would use it to gain entry. The door looked heavy and would make a noise when opened. Clement turned again, this time re-entering the Choir. Looking along the reserved seats for special guests, he stopped.
He stared at the seats, his eyes wide, and his heart began to pound so loudly he could hear it pulsating in his ears.
Now he ran. Ignoring the rebuking crowds, he ran as fast as he could down through the Choir, down the steps and along the main aisle. People stared at him aghast as he ran towards the front door. He stood at the entry, frantically scanning the gathering crowd. People were already standing behind ropes waiting and cheering. In the distance near to where he knew the man named David was positioned, Clement could see the official party walking down the path towards the Cathedral. Churchill was in front, his hat held high on his walking stick. Inspector Thompson was behind to Mr Churchill’s left. Clement turned. Mollineux stood in the window of the red-brick house that overlooked Cathedral Square. Clement signalled his alarm. He scanned the front of the cathedral forecourt, his eyes searching for Johnny and Greaves but it was already too late.
At that moment, a black car drove into the precinct and stopped by the Cathedral’s front door. The Dean met Mr Churchill in the forecourt and they both approached the vehicle. The Prime Minister stopped. As an attendant opened the rear door of the vehicle, the King got out. Next the car’s other rear door was opened and the Queen stood in the morning sunshine, waving and smiling to the people. Clement spun around, his eyes turned upwards to the narrow balcony above the entry doors. From his position directly below the balustrade, he saw the barrel. Waving his arms, he signalled to Mollineux who threw open the window and, levelling his rifle on the window sill, fired. As Clement rushed into the Cathedral, he heard four short bursts of gunfire.
Clement went straight for the narrow doorway that led to the triforium. It was unlocked. Outside, he heard screaming. He knew Walter Thompson would be with the Prime Minister but the unexpected arrival of the King and Queen had taken the crowds by surprise. Everyone, of course, except Hugh Armstrong. Clement ran up the spiral stairs to the triforium, his eyes frantically searching for the gunman. He spun around. A door to the outside of the cathedral façade was open. He looked through the narrow window to the external balcony but Armstrong wasn’t there. Fifteen feet from where Clement stood, another small door was open. Below Clement was mayhem. He returned to the triforium where he had a panoramic view of the Cathedral’s interior below him. His eyes rapidly scanned the jostling, panicked crowd below. He watched the flow of the people, rushing for the front door. One figure was pushing his way in the opposite direction.
Clement ran down the narrow spiral staircase, forced his way through the crowds and headed for the southern door. Just as he left the cathedral building, he saw the blond hair and bowed gait of Hugh Armstrong running across a lawn, his injured right arm tucked close to his chest. He turned left, skirting the Deanery. Beyond was The Pilgrim’s School but Clement knew where Armstrong was headed. Over his shoulder Clement heard someone call his name. He turned and saw Johnny about fifty feet behind him. Running on, Clement ran towards Kingsgate and turned left. Once through the arch, he again turned left. Before him on his right were the high flint walls of Winchester College.
Clement ran on, his rapid pulse pounding in his ears. He prayed all the students had been given the morning off to attend the service. If Armstrong was cornered in the school, Clement didn’t want to think what he would resort to doing.
As he entered the college, Clement ran past the porter’s lodge and into the outer courtyard.
‘Did you see a tall, blond-haired man run through here?’ Clement said, flashing his SIS security card.
‘He went into Chamber Court, that way,’ the porter said, pointing.
Clement ran on but stopped under the arch before the inner courtyard and peered around the corner. Diagonally across the wide paved courtyard he saw Armstrong run to some steps in the opposite corner.
Clement ran back to the porter as Johnny joined him.
‘What’s in the corner of the next courtyard, where there are some stone steps?’
‘That’s Hall,’ the porter said. ‘Where the boys take their meals.’
‘And nothing else up there? No other doors or way out?’
‘There is a dumb waiter to the kitchen. It’s not large but it isn’t unknown for boys to use it as a prank. Suspension, of course, if caught.’
Clement and Johnny ran across Chamber Court towards the stairs which spiralled up, turning left to a closed heavy wooden double door at the top of the steps. It was bolted shut.
Taking his Welrod from his shoulder holster, Clement pointed it at the lock and fired. The muted sound ricocheted around the masonry but the door remained bolted from inside. Clement fired again. This time the timbers splintered. Through a gap he could see a long heavy wooden beam had been placed across both doors on the inside barricading them shut. Clement knew it would take too long to break the thick timber beam. He ran down the steps then turned left into the passage beneath. On the wall in front of him was the most bizarre painting he’d ever seen. It had the body of a man with the head of a pig and donkey’s ears. Ignoring it, Clement pushed his way into the kitchens and past the astonished staff then ran towards the dumb waiter at the end of the room. He heard its gear turning.
Johnny was beside him.
Clement held his weapon aimed at the dumb waiter. Johnny opened the door. Inside was a hat and scarf and a note. Johnny tore it open.
‘Look for me where the heroes lie. Heil Hitler.’
‘How did he get out?’ Johnny asked one of the kitchen hands.
‘He ran through there,’ a cook said, pointing to a door.
‘Where does it lead?’ Johnny shouted.
‘It’s a service door for food deliveries,’ the man said.
‘Is there a chapel or school graveyard inside the college?’ Johnny demanded of the bewildered cook.
‘Yes. Seventh Chamber Passage. It’s in the corner, across the quadrangle,’ the man said.
They left the kitchens and returned to the quadrangle. ‘It could be a trap, Johnny!’
‘Only one way to find out,’ Johnny said, running. Their footsteps echoed on the hard surface.
They crossed Chamber Court and entered Seventh Chamber Passage, then paused and edged their way forward into the cloisters. Moving slowly, they heard loud voices, both male, then scuffling. Clement and Johnny paused, secreting themselves behind two stone pillars. A shot rang out; the sound sudden and deafening inside the confined stone surfaces.
Clement crept around the edge and peered along the cloisters in both directions. A man’s body lay on the flagstones. Johnny moved forward but Clement put out his hand. He shook his head. ‘Doesn’t mean the killer isn’t still there. Besides, he’s got one more shot. Three at the Cathedral, two just now.’
‘Last one for himself, perhaps?’ Johnny whispered but Clement didn’t believe it. Armst
rong wouldn’t take his own life; he would want a martyr’s death. Clement edged his way forward.
‘Who’s dead, Clement?’ Johnny asked.
‘I don’t know. I can only see his feet. I’m guessing it’s Hasluck.’
Ten minutes passed. No noise. No further shots.
‘It’s over, Hugh,’ Clement called. ‘You didn’t kill them.’
‘Yes, I did. I’m a perfect shot, Pa taught me. I don’t miss.’
‘You did this time.’
A long silence ensued. ‘Then it’s your fault! I had to shoot with my left hand but I know I got that usurper. I saw him wince. And that cow of a wife. I saw the Dean wrap his arm around her. She was falling so I must have shot her.’
‘The King has a graze to his right arm, that’s all,’ Clement said, hoping it were true. ‘And the Dean was protecting the Queen. She is perfectly fine.’
‘You’re lying. It doesn’t matter now anyway.’
‘Why is that?’
‘There you go again! Having to have everything all neat and tidy.’
‘Hess won’t be joining you, Hugh. And the others have surrendered.’