Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 1831 - 800: Who Cares Who It Is—What Matters Is Being Nonstick!

December 25, 1996, Scotland, Edinburgh.

At seven in the morning, the cold winter rain was like fine needles, piercing the ancient cobbled street of the Royal Mile.

The rain and mist made the spires of the Gothic buildings appear hazy and gloomy, and the city had not fully awakened, with only a few early-rising citizens hurriedly walking by, wrapped tightly in their coats.

At Holyrood Palace, the guards at the side gate of the United Kingdom's official residence in Scotland had already changed to the third shift.

They wore heavy black coats, with the muzzles of their rifles pointing down, but their fingers always rested near the trigger guards. The atmosphere was noticeably more tense than usual.

In the past 48 hours, police across Scotland had received "very high" terror threat warnings, and today was the day Prince Charles was scheduled to visit Edinburgh for a "morale boost and unity" visit.

Inside the palace, Prince Charles was adjusting his Scottish attire in front of the mirror.

Deep green tartan paired with leather boots and wool socks, adorned with a thistle badge on the chest, a complete traditional outfit intended to display "respect and integration" with Scottish culture.

However, he did not look pleased, his eyes ringed with dark circles, evidently not having slept well.

"Your Highness, the convoy is ready."

Major James Ellis, the attendant, said softly.

He was transferred from the Welsh Guard, responsible for the prince's close protection during this trip. "Final route confirmation: We depart from Holyrood Palace, proceed along the Royal Mile to the front square of Edinburgh Castle. You will deliver a ten-minute speech there, then enter the castle for lunch with local community representatives. The entire journey is 1.2 miles, about 8 minutes of driving, with the outdoor speaking segment expected to last 12 minutes."

Charles pressed his temple with his fingers, "I've heard the safety briefing three times, Ellis. Tell me the truth, how great are the risks really?"

He was terrified of dying! 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

After all, he was the Crown Prince.

His mom grew older each year, and he was sure to ascend, he mustn't die before her, right?

Ha ha ha... That wasn't funny.

Major Ellis hesitated for a moment, "The police and Military Intelligence Five have cleared all vantage points along the route, inspecting over two hundred buildings. Each intersection has police cars and plainclothes officers, sniper teams are deployed in four pre-designated positions. The crowd at the castle square has been strictly vetted, and everyone's identity documents verified. Theoretically, we've done everything possible."

"Theoretically."

Charles repeated this word, his tone tinged with irony, "The attack on the Glasgow Tax Office was 'theoretically' thwarted, and the Edinburgh Bank was robbed of three million. Where is McTavish's gang now? 'Theoretically' do you know?"

Major Ellis remained silent.

The hunting lodge outside Inverness, locked down by Military Intelligence Five, had come up empty during last night's raid, and McTavish and his core members seemed to have vanished into thin air.

Only some living waste and empty ammunition boxes were left, showing they left in haste but their whereabouts remained a mystery. This sense of losing control sent chills down all security personnel's spines.

"Your Highness," Ellis finally said, "if you're feeling unwell, we can postpone or cancel the trip for 'sudden health reasons'. The Minister of Internal Affairs hinted yesterday..."

"Postpone?" Charles turned, with a kind of mixed tired and stubborn expression on his face, "Then let The Sun headline read 'Prince cancels visit due to fear of Scots'? Let the SNP mock the Royal Family in Parliament as 'London's cowards'? No. I must go. And..." He took a deep breath, "I must appear fearless."

"Great Britain doesn't need cowards!"

Major Ellis stopped trying to persuade him.

He understood this peculiar, almost obsessive "sense of responsibility" of royal family members.

It's really just about saving face.

He pressed the walkie-talkie, "'Buck' is ready to move, repeat, 'Buck' is ready to move. Final confirmation from all units."

A series of calm confirmations came through the walkie-talkie.

At exactly nine in the morning, the convoy drove out of Holyrood Palace.

Leading were two police motorcycles, lights flashing but sirens silent.

Next was a Range Rover carrying four fully-armed police officers.

Then came the prince's vehicle, a specially modified Bentley convertible, chosen by the Royal Communication Office, arguing that it "needed to display a people-friendly image, allowing the public to see the prince."

The security team strongly opposed this, but the final compromise was: speed controlled below 15 mph, the prince's waving time not exceeding 30% of the entire journey, and must wear a light bulletproof vest.

Prince Charles stood in the back seat of the Bentley, his left hand holding the roll bar, his right hand waving to the sparse crowd on both sides of the street.

The rain had stopped, but the sky remained lead gray. Barricades were set up along the streets, with about three to four hundred people behind them, some were genuine well-wishers, but more were police, plainclothes officers, and "staff" in uniform coats, mixed with many media reporters.

Major Ellis sat in the seat to the prince's left, his body slightly leaned forward, his gaze scanning the crowd and building windows like radar. His right hand always rested near his underarm holster.

Following the Bentley was another Range Rover, carrying additional bodyguards and a medical team. The convoy was completed by two police cars.

Everything appeared orderly.

The Royal Mile is Edinburgh's most famous street, narrow and winding, flanked by ancient stone buildings five to six stories high.

The convoy moved slowly, the prince's smile somewhat stiff. He could see some faces in the crowd were unfriendly, some holding small Scottish flags, others holding crude banners saying "Go back to England," but they were quickly blocked or led away by police or plainclothes.