The Shadow of Great Britain

Arthur took a step closer, reached out, and picked up the budget sheet slammed on the table to take a look: ”Finance is, of course, still under the jurisdiction of the Treasury. The committee doesn’t have the power to print money; that’s the job for the Mint. As for the various grants, they all need the Treasury’s seal of approval on them.”

Mayne couldn’t help but feel disappointed at these words, though he wasn’t exactly surprised: ”True enough, getting even a bit of budget from those penny-pinchers is like asking for their lives. Even if we held a knife to the Treasury’s throat, they wouldn’t loosen their grip on financial power.”

Arthur smiled at this: ”While the committee doesn’t have the power to allocate funds directly, there’s one thing we can do, and that’s documenting precisely where every penny is spent and what improvements in law and order it brings. All this is clearly written in the ’Annual Police Blue Book’. When the accounts are laid out, let Parliament and the public do the math. Aren’t we English the most fond of tallying? They’ll see for themselves whether this transaction is worthwhile.”

Rowan leaned back in his chair, hands crossed over his chest: ”I originally didn’t want to speak up, but since Richard has already broken the ice, I have one more question. Arthur, after the establishment of the Police Commission, will there be any substantial impact on our day-to-day operations at Scotland Yard?”

”Impact? Not much.” Arthur lit a cigar from the box on Rowan’s table with practiced ease: ”At least when it comes to daily command, patrol dispatch, and case reviews, the committee has no jurisdiction. Those are your duties, along with Chief Mayne’s, and are fundamental to Scotland Yard’s existence.”

Rowan’s eyebrows relaxed slightly at these words.

He’d been worried about another supervisory department looming over Scotland Yard, as dealing with just the Home Office was headache enough.

Although the Police Commission had the expertise of Arthur, the other two members weren’t well-versed.

Henry Hobhouse, the retired Permanent Secretary of the Home Office, wasn’t too much of a concern, as Rowan had interacted with him before and knew that as long as the legal procedures were followed, Hobhouse was not typically difficult.

However, the other member of the Police Commission was the one who seriously displeased Rowan.

Indeed, Rowan was particularly irked by Sir Charles Shaw, who rose to prominence during the Portuguese Civil War and the Spanish Civil War.

From a normal perspective, both Rowan and Shaw served with the 52nd Regiment, although one was in the 1st Battalion and the other in the 2nd, yet they could be considered old comrades.

But the issue was that during the Battle of Waterloo, which influenced Europe’s fate, Rowan not only participated the whole time as a lieutenant within the 52nd but also sustained serious injuries on St. Jean Mountain, and with this merit and record, he gradually rose to the rank of Army Colonel. After retiring from the military, he had the great honor of becoming the first Chief at Scotland Yard.

Shaw, however, found success after missing earlier opportunities, only managing to make a name for himself in recent years.

Rowan considered himself not the petty type; given Shaw’s achievements in Spain and Portugal, his rise upon returning to the country was well-deserved.

But the problem was, Rowan didn’t think that Charles Shaw, who lacked any experience in police administration, should hold a position on the Police Commission above his own head.

Although the Whig Party might not have intended to annoy Rowan subjectively, objectively, Rowan was indeed irked.

Nonetheless, he did not display this sentiment before Arthur, listening in silence as Arthur continued to explain the committee’s functions.

Arthur paced the office: ”The committee’s functions mainly concentrate on three aspects. First is to regularly collect information about police operations nationwide, not just in London, but also in Birmingham, Manchester, Liverpool, and gradually establish a national database. Second is oversight, which not only includes scrutinizing accounts but also covers police discipline, security situations, and public opinion. We need to ensure the police system can respond to Parliament and public inquiries, and that the Home Office won’t draw a blank. Lastly, offering advice, especially on a local level. Since the London model’s adoption, each county wants to emulate it, but circumstances vary in each location. The committee’s responsibility is to provide reform suggestions based on research, indicating what works and what shouldn’t be blindly copied.”

Hearing this, Mayne remarked at the opportune moment: ”I heard a couple of days ago that Hobhouse intends to compile some national security report?”

Arthur nodded: ”He wrote to me about it yesterday, mentioning the necessity for an annual overview, believing it’s the only way to account to Parliament. The committee will later discuss whether to assess police performance nationwide, city and regional grading systems, evaluating from the best to the worst public order.”

Rowan was clearly not keen on such evaluations: ”Grading local police forces? It’s a bit like handing out awards at a parish school. What next, a model security award?”

Mayne, a lawyer by training, could somewhat understand Hobhouse’s reasoning: ”Charles, though formalism might seem childish, numbers and rankings wield power. Consider Parliamentary debates—if someone holds up a security report questioning why Manchester’s security score is perpetually at the bottom, or why Birmingham’s violent crime rate doubled from last year, that’s a lot harder to dismiss than a messy exchange of spit.”

Rowan let out a small laugh: ”Indeed, if we don’t want them asking such questions, we can always tweak the numbers in the report to make it easier.”

He stood up and stretched lazily: ”It looks like the first evaluation of the year will definitely put London at the bottom. Population, industry, immigration, poverty—aren’t all these conditions in London the country’s most complex? If measured with a single rule, Scotland Yard is bound to suffer.”

Arthur smiled as he flicked ash into the ashtray: ”Scoring high isn’t necessarily a good thing, getting low scores isn’t entirely bad. The surging tides of immigration, factories roaring day and night, slums and mansions side by side—as long as the context is made clear, London’s low scores can precisely be presented to the Treasury as a case for more budget and resource support, highlighting the capital’s needs compared to other counties.”

Rowan didn’t continue with Arthur’s topic, instead tapping his fingertips lightly on the table, and then slowly straightening up, changing the subject: ”Speaking of which, is Her Royal Highness well recently? It’s been a while since we last saw her after the Ramsgate incident. I suppose it’s because she’s nearing adulthood and thus Kensington Palace is on high alert.”

Mayne, understanding the implication, chimed in: ”Arthur, regarding certain Scotland Yard budgets, like some special projects of the Police Intelligence Department, do they need to be fully reported to the Police Commission? You know, in matters of police work, explaining everything very clearly can easily lead to public misunderstanding.”

Hearing them raise the issue, Arthur took it up naturally: ”Charles, Richard, although we’re good friends, business is business. All Scotland Yard projects must be reported to the Police Commission, as per regulations and Parliament’s legislation.”

Rowan felt immediately informed after hearing this.

However, having been tricked once by Viscount Melbourne in the Cold Bath Affair, he was extra cautious this time.

Rowan asked: ”Do we report to all three committee members, or...?”

Arthur smiled and waved his hand: ”Just report to me. Once I know, do you think the other two members won’t know?”