The King's Deception

Fleet Street and the City (chapter 9) are correctly described, as are the Inns of Court (chapter 10). Where the Middle and Inner Temples are now headquartered was once a major Templar stronghold. The land grant from Henry VIII and James I to the barristers happened (chapter 13). The Pump Court is also there, as is the Goldsmith house (chapter 58), though I slightly modified the house. The story recounted in chapter 10, of how the War of the Roses may have started in the gardens, is considered true. But nobody knows for sure. The Inns are governed by benchers, led by the treasurer (chapter 26), and act as both a training and governing body for their lawyer-members — similar to the role state bar associations play in the United States. The Middle Hall, featured in chapter 10, is perhaps the Inns’ most historic building, but the round Temple Church is its most recognizable (chapters 9 and 10). The Penitential Cell (chapter 12) inside the church can be visited. The Inns of Court are required, by royal decree, to maintain the Temple Church as a place of worship (chapter 13).

The Daedalus Society is not only Thomas Mathews’ creation but mine, too. However, the tale of Daedalus (chapter 12) is taken from mythology. Nonsuch palace once existed (chapter 25) and how it disappeared is likewise true. The symbols that were supposedly there (chapter 25) never existed but are based on the Copiale Cipher (an image of which appears in chapter 15). I merely adapted that 75,000-character German manuscript to this British story. Only recently has its array of abstract symbols, mixed with Greek and Roman letters, been fully deciphered.

There are many locales that make appearances. Brussels, with its Manneken Pis (chapter 2); Oxford and its many colleges (chapters 16 and 20); Portman Square and the Churchill Hotel (chapter 35); Piccadilly Circus and London’s theater district (chapter 25); Little Venice with its longboats and narrow canals (chapter 4); St. Paul’s Cathedral and the Whispering Gallery (chapter 5); Westminster Abbey and the chapel of Henry VII (chapter 36); Oxford Circus (chapter 8); and The Goring Hotel (chapter 54). The Tower of London is likewise an amazing site (chapter 17), which includes the Royal Jewel House (chapters 45 and 48). London does indeed sit atop a hundred miles of subterranean rivers, each enclosed within a maze of tunnels, the Fleet being the largest and most famous (chapters 58 and 59). The underground chamber described in chapter 59 is entirely my creation, though similar tunnels and chambers are found beneath London all the time.

The Tudor wealth described in chapter 15 existed. Henry VII amassed huge amounts of gold and silver that Henry VIII (through his closure of the abbeys) increased. The disappearance of all that wealth during the regency of the boy king, Edward VI, remains a mystery.

Jesus College, at Oxford, was founded during the time of Elizabeth I (chapter 16). Its great hall stands as depicted, including the queen’s portrait, which still hangs. The chapel and quad (chapter 18) are also faithfully described.

William and Robert Cecil (chapter 16) are historical characters. William’s close relationship with Elizabeth I, including his protection of her during the bloody reign of her sister, Mary, is well documented. William served Elizabeth as secretary of state until his death. His son Robert succeeded him. Both men played integral roles in Elizabeth’s long reign. Toward the end of his life, though, Robert’s popularity and effectiveness waned. The derogatory rhyme quoted in chapter 36, along with his nickname “the Fox,” are real. Robert Cecil’s journal, first mentioned in chapter 15, sprang from my imagination, but the vast majority of historical information contained within it is true (chapters 47 and 49). Robert Cecil personally supervised the interment of Elizabeth I and the subsequent construction of her tomb in Westminster (chapter 52). Burying Elizabeth with Mary was his idea, and he also composed the odd inscriptions that appear on the tomb’s exterior (chapter 36).

At the heart of this story is the all-too-real drama of Abdelbaset al-Megrahi (chapters 37 and 46), a former intelligence officer, convicted of 270 counts of murder for the 1988 bombing of Pan Am Flight 103 over Lockerbie, Scotland. Afflicted with cancer, al-Megrahi was sent back to Libya in 2009 and eventually died in 2012. Both dates have been adjusted to accommodate Malone’s fictional world. Much controversy swirled around that so-called humanitarian act, the English playing a pivotal role by not interceding with the Scottish government. The United States strongly opposed the action, and to this day no one really knows the actual motivations behind its occurrence. Operation King’s Deception is totally fictitious, but the idea that the United States would seek sensitive information to coerce an ally is not beyond the realm of possibility.