Jeffrey Archer devises intricate plot to steal Crown Jewels and demonstrates how it can be done
Jeffrey Archer reveals his intel on how to steal the Crown Jewels came from a member of the Royal household, who is now fretting that there will be serious consequences.
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How do you set about stealing a crown? Ask the king of thrillers, Jeffrey Archer – he has it all worked out. He’s just not sure what King Charles and Queen Camilla make of it yet.
The blockbuster author is chatting in his sumptuously-appointed, cream and gold, penthouse apartment in London. Overlooking the Houses of Parliament and next door to MI6, Lord Archer is, like his life, in the middle of the action. And so is the plot of his latest novel, Traitors Gate, which centres around the audacious stealing of the crown jewels from the Tower of London, including the Imperial State Crown.
The idea for the escapade of his gentleman-villain, Miles Faulkner, pursued by Superintendent William Warwick, came from a former member of the Royal Household, who then, Archer says, immediately regretted telling him. The regret may be even keener after the audacious plot by the author – who once served time for perjury – made global headlines over the weekend.
Considering the King wore the crown at his Coronation in May, what might the Palace think of his book? While every author does their research – not many go to the lengths that Archer has to perfect his tale. In Traitors Gate, the priceless 1937 crown, with its diamonds, sapphires, emeralds and pearls, is swapped for a perfect replica. To prove it could be done, Archer commissioned his own double from a master craftsman.
“I’ve sent it to the Queen, who reads all my books,” he says.
“She got it three days ago. I think, knowing her nature, she will come back and say she loves it, but for now, on balance, I’ll sit patiently and wait,” he says, resplendent in a pink cashmere sweater and burgundy velvet slippers with crown monograms.
As for the fellow who told him the idea, Archer says he is beside himself, as he “thought he’d told me in fun”. If the Queen does respond, “I will be able to show him the letter. And say, ‘for God’s sake, calm down’,” he says.
Traitors Gate is the sixth book in the William Warwick series and Archer, 83, could never have predicted it would come out just after a new monarch was crowned.
“I had anticipated wrongly, that the Queen would live to 100,” he says, before proudly showing one of the ceremonial drums used in the Queen’s funeral, sitting atop his glass table.
He approached his friend, master-jeweller Alan Gard, 88, who set about hand-making an exact replica of the Imperial State Crown. With glass jewels instead of its famous Cullinan II Diamond, Black Prince’s Ruby and Stuart Sapphire, it took him 17 months to complete. Archer then commissioned an ermine trim, velvet cap and replica red royal box to hold it.
He challenges anyone to spot the difference from a distance. The only way you could tell, he says, would be if you put it on your head and realised it’s too light. But then you’d have to be the King, to do so.
“It’s fantastic. You couldn’t tell the difference between the real thing,” he says.
Archer will auction it for charity, to raise funds for wife Mary’s new children’s hospital in Cambridge. Let’s just hope a master-villain doesn’t snap it up.
Even if the book’s plot didn’t ruffle the royal plumes, what does he think Charles and Camilla will make of the fake crown? “They’ll love it,” he says, confidently.
Confidence is something Lord Archer has never lacked – throughout his tumultuous career from British politician and peer, to jail-time for perjury and best-selling novelist. When we met previously, he said, “I’ve just got to make sure I stay alive”, to finish his series and he’s well on track. Looking robustly healthy, he says work is the key. “You can’t stop. I met a man last week, who said he was going to retire at 60. What would you do for the next 30 years?” he says, incredulously.
“I’m flat out,” he says, adding his next novel has been finished and is about a missing historical artefact.
Despite selling around 330 million books, he says, he never stops worrying about sales. “I’ll tell you a story to show what every author is up against,” he says. “I’m walking up the street and a man stops and says he loved Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less (1976). ‘What a great book,’ he says. ‘Have you written anything since?’ I didn’t immediately say, ‘You moron, Kane and Abel sold 100 million copies. Where have you been?’ I just looked and thought, ‘Wow.’”
Traitors Gate by Jeffrey Archer will be published by HarperCollins, on October 4 and is available to pre-order now. Visit the Sunday Book Club Facebook Group for more great reads and to share your book tips.
TRAITORS GATE EXCLUSIVE EXTRACT
Royal protection officers go on a secret mission to the home of the Crown Jewels, unaware a threat is lurking nearby, in this scene-setting edited extract from Jeffrey Archer’s new novel.
‘Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown’ – William Shakespeare, Henry IV Part II
Tuesday 22 October, 1996: Commander Hawksby pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk and took out two dice, although he was not a gambling man.
Superintendent William Warwick and Inspector Ross Hogan remained standing as the Hawk, like a Vegas croupier, shook the dice vigorously in his right hand before tossing them onto his desk.
‘Five and two,’ said William. The Hawk raised an eyebrow as he waited for William and Ross to confirm the relevance of the two numbers. ‘Five, sir,’ said William, ‘means that when we leave the palace, we’ll be taking the longer Embankment route.’
‘And the two, Inspector?’ demanded Commander Hawksby, switching his attention to Ross.
‘The password is “Traitors Gate”.’
The Hawk nodded before checking his watch. ‘Better get moving,’ he said. ‘Can’t afford to keep the Lord Chamberlain waiting.’
William and Ross quickly left the office as the commander picked up his phone and dialled a number that wasn’t in any phone book. It was answered after one ring. ‘Five and two,’ he said.
‘Five and two,’ repeated the voice on the other end of the line before the phone went dead.
William and Ross marched along the corridor and jogged down two sets of stairs to the ground floor of Scotland Yard. They didn’t stop moving until they’d reached the entrance, where they saw Constable Danny Ives seated behind the wheel of a dark grey Land Rover, not their usual mode of transport, but appropriate for the occasion.
‘Good morning, sir,’ said Danny as William and Ross climbed into the back of the car.
Danny switched on the engine and eased the unfamiliar vehicle into first gear. He didn’t need to be told where they were going. After all, it wasn’t every day they visited Buckingham Palace.
He never exceeded the speed limit, as they didn’t want anyone to notice them. When they reached the imposing marble statue of Queen Victoria, every other vehicle turned right or left of the palace, while they headed for the entrance, where Danny came to a halt. An Irish guardsman stepped forward as the back window of the Land Rover purred down. He examined Superintendent Warwick’s warrant card, placed a tick next to his name, and stood aside to allow the head of Royalty Protection to enter the grounds.
Danny spotted a grey armoured Jaguar parked in the far corner of the courtyard and drew up behind it. Nothing changes, he thought when he saw Phil Harris, the Lord Chamberlain’s driver, standing to attention by the back door waiting for his boss.
‘I’ve just spotted His Lordship,’ whispered Danny as the head of the royal household came striding across the courtyard towards them like the old soldier he’d been. The Lord Chamberlain, a courteous man who never paraded his rank, gave William a wave before slipping into the back of his car.
The little convoy swept out of an unmarked side entrance onto the Mall and headed for Trafalgar Square. No outriders, no sirens, no blue lights. They didn’t want to alert any curious onlookers – something they wouldn’t be able to avoid on the journey back from the Tower.
Danny followed, and although he kept his distance, he would never allow another vehicle to slip in between him and the Lord Chamberlain’s armoured car.
William picked up the phone in his armrest and dialled a number he called only twice a year.
‘Chief Yeoman Warder,’ announced a voice.
‘We should be with you in about fifteen minutes,’ said William.
‘Everything’s been prepared and is ready for you,’ responded the chief yeoman warder.
‘I can see no reason for any hold-ups,’ William commented, before replacing the phone in the armrest. He would call again only if there was an emergency and there hadn’t been one in the past five years.
‘How are the kids?’ asked Ross, interrupting his thoughts.
‘Growing up far too quickly,’ responded William as they drove on to the Embankment. ‘Artemisia is top of her class, but she will burst into tears whenever she comes second.’
‘Just like her mother,’ said Ross. ‘And Peter?’
‘He’s just been made a prefect and expects to be school captain next year.’
‘Clearly lacks your ambition,’ said Ross, grinning. ‘What about my beloved Jojo?’
‘Your daughter’s in love with Prince Harry and has already written to Buckingham Palace inviting him to tea.’
‘I know,’ sighed Ross. ‘She asked me to deliver the letter.’ Ross felt a moment of guilt as he thought about why his daughter still lived with Beth and William. But since his wife’s death, they’d both agreed he couldn’t do his job properly while trying to bring up Jojo as a single parent. They’d turned out to be wonderful foster parents. But he never admitted to anyone just how much he missed her.
‘Time to think about what we’re meant to be delivering,’ said William.
They didn’t take a left into the heart of the city – a square mile policed by another force, who were unaware of their presence – but continued on through the underpass and didn’t stop again until they emerged onto Upper Thames Street, the Tower of London now in sight. They finally came to a halt in front of the East Gate of the Tower.
The duty warder stepped out of the sentry box and marched across to the Lord Chamberlain’s car.
‘Password?’
‘Traitors Gate,’ Harris responded. The warder turned and nodded, and the two vast wooden gates that barred their way slowly parted.
***
Not far away across London, Miles Faulkner awaited his lunch guest at the Savoy Hotel.
It was nearly five years since Miles had been in London. A man who divided opinion – he considered himself as an international businessman, while the police thought him a crook – he’d ended up serving a few years at Her Majesty’s pleasure.
After serving four years for fraud, Miles had left England and purchased a luxury flat in New York, confident he would be far enough away from prying eyes to return to his profitable but shady import and export business.
And during all those exiled years in New York, one thing remained constantly on his mind. When will it be safe for me to return to London and exact revenge on Chief Inspector William Warwick?
This is an edited extract from Traitor’s Gate, by Jeffrey Archer.
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