Royal Heist Part 18

De Jersey stood up straight, like a colonel, his ma.s.sive frame dominating the small studio. "So I demand total loyalty."

"Demand?" Westbrook smiled.

"Yep. We cannot afford a weak link, and if one did arise it would be erased."

"How would you know?"

"I would know, and I would see personally that it was taken care of. You come on board, you obey the rules." De Jersey picked up the empty vodka bottle and tossed it into the fireplace. It smashed to pieces on the empty grate. "No boozing, no drugs, and this"-he moved close to Westbrook, took his jaw in one hand, and ran his fingers over the man's mouth with the other-"one word leaked and everyone goes down." He released his hold and picked up one of the photographs of Westbrook's children. "Every man involved is hungry. They have families, children. So if a blabbing mouth hurts them they will want retribution. Do you understand?" He set down the photograph carefully.

"I resent the threats."

"I hope you do, Harry. That is what your friends call you, isn't it?"

"And we're friends now, are we?" Westbrook asked.

"No. But I will be more of a friend to you than any other man you know. If this is going to work, you will have to trust me one hundred percent, and trust is what makes a friendship."

Westbrook watched as de Jersey picked up his cashmere overcoat. "If you decide not to go ahead, will you still pay me?"

"Of course, per week for however long it takes to accomplish your part of the heist."

"How much?"

"One thousand cash every week and a cut of the jewels once they've been broken up."

Westbrook took another cigarette.

De Jersey struck the match to light it. Their eyes met. "You should get enough to leave your son and heir his rightful inheritance."

Westbrook stared into de Jersey's cold blue eyes. He did not flinch; de Jersey was impressed.

Westbrook said, "I put my trust in you. G.o.d only knows why-it's a gut feeling. This morning I really didn't care how long I had to live, but now I do. I want to live long enough to pull this b.l.o.o.d.y thing off, and if I die in the process it doesn't matter. But if we do it, I'll leave my son more than an empty t.i.tle. I'd like that."

Back at the flat in Kilburn, de Jersey logged onto the computer and began to search. When "The Golden Jubilee Program Pages" came up, he scanned them for details of the Royal calendar. Since the festivities would begin in early May and continue through June and July, he reasoned that the crown and the jewels which were to be in use would have to be removed from the Tower some time before then. But where would they be held for safekeeping? With the jeweler appointed to the Queen? A plan was finally forming. He closed down his computer and leaned back in his chair, smiling. Just then his cell phone rang.

"It's me, Eddy," Driscoll said. "Me and Jimmy. We want to meet up again, the sooner the better."

"Tomorrow," de Jersey said calmly. "There's a pub by Robin Hood Gate in Richmond Park. See you both there at twelve." He hung up confident. His team was coming together.

CHAPTER 13.

The public house chosen for the meeting was in Kingston, far enough from their homes for them not to be recognized, and full enough for them not to stand out. A large family-style dining room was next to the bar. The pub meals were home-cooked and cheap, the atmosphere friendly. Driscoll's dog had accompanied the threesome.

They sat in a booth and ordered beer and sandwiches. They exchanged pleasantries as the drinks and food were put before them, then got down to business.

"It's this f.u.c.king Sylvia Hewitt," Wilc.o.x said.

"She's called us both at home." Driscoll peered at his sandwich. He'd had stomach trouble for days and was apprehensive about eating.

"What's she on about now?" de Jersey asked, sipping his pint. She hadn't called him.

"Well, for one thing, I don't like her having my private number," Driscoll said.

"Goes for me too," Wilc.o.x said. "Rika's on edge now. She thinks I'm having an affair with any woman who calls the house." He gestured to de Jersey's untouched plate. "You want yours?"

"No." He pushed his plate forward. "Change your numbers."

"The wife's in the middle of organizing our daughter's wedding; she'd go apes.h.i.t if we changed the number now. And this Hewitt b.i.t.c.h having my phone number is the least of our worries. She's on to Philip Simmons," Driscoll said.

This caught de Jersey off guard. "What?"

"She'll be on to you. Any second."

De Jersey placed his beer on the mat. "s.h.i.t."

Wilc.o.x took over. "You need to be careful. What if she discovers you went to New York? Airport security is tighter than it's ever been. Do you think you can be identified?"

"I should be okay. Simmons only facilitated the house sale. When she can't get hold of him, she'll start pursuing other avenues to track down Moreno." De Jersey tried to make light of a difficult situation, but he recognized a major headache in the works. "All anyone over there knows is that Simmons is a redheaded Canadian business adviser."

"Listen," Wilc.o.x interjected. He stared at the beer mat in front of him, as if afraid to face de Jersey. "Tony and I still have some collateral. This Hewitt woman told us how much you lost, and we know how much cash those horses of yours eat up. Why don't you get shot of the Hampton property and use the money until you get something worked out?"

"You can pay us later," Driscoll chipped in.

"I have something worked out."

There was a pause. Wilc.o.x didn't look up from the beer mat. Driscoll chewed a nail.

"A plan?" Driscoll said at last.

Wilc.o.x wiped his mouth. "You're not still on about the Crown Jewels. I mean, that was a gag, right?"

"It was no joke."

"Sweet Jesus, he's serious!" Driscoll said incredulously.

"It can work. It'll take a lot of time and preparation. We can't afford to make any mistakes."

"Oh, we can't, huh?"

"Just listen. The items we're going to take will not be in the Tower. We're going after the jewels the Queen wears for the Golden Jubilee. They'll be taken off-site for preparation, and that's where we'll pick them up."

"Where will they go?" asked Driscoll.

"Possibly to one of the jewelers in Hatton Garden," de Jersey replied. "I'll find out soon enough. I've been gathering the people we'll need on our side. There's an equerry, who was close to the Royal Family for years and knows the protocol. We need a subst.i.tute for the Queen, some motors, a lady-in-waiting, and two more heavies."

Driscoll and Wilc.o.x stared at him, speechless.

"We'll need to get into the Royal household's diary of events to figure out the security measures, and I'll need to find myself a computer hacker."

Driscoll's dog yawned and shifted position under the table.

Wilc.o.x broke the silence. "Say you get this organized and pull it off. How much do you think we're looking at?"

"The Koh-i-noor Diamond should fetch us millions. Then there's diamonds, rubies, pearls. . . ."

"f.u.c.k me," Wilc.o.x said, frowning.

"But until it's firmed up, it's just work in progress."

Driscoll drained his beer. "What do you want from me?" he asked quietly.

"The name and address of the actress who does the TV ad for royal jelly."

"What?" Wilc.o.x was unsure he had heard right.

"Why not?" Driscoll said. "It's just a few phone calls."

"You line up the vehicles," de Jersey said to Wilc.o.x. "We need two Daimlers spruced up. Copy the badges, Royal coat of arms. But don't leave traces. Spread the work. The automobiles must never be connected to any of us." De Jersey drained his gla.s.s. "Another drink?" he asked casually.

Driscoll asked for tonic water.

"I'll get this round, you paid for the last." Wilc.o.x headed for the bar.

"You feeling all right?" de Jersey asked Driscoll.

"My nerves are shot. I can't take this all in. I didn't come here to discuss a f.u.c.king heist, Eddy. I told you I wasn't up for it. Him neither." Driscoll jerked his head toward the bar.

De Jersey ignored what he had said. "Wait till you see the commercial. Then you'll understand why I want the actress."

"Fine, right, I'll check it out."

As Wilc.o.x was returning with the drinks, Driscoll leaned in close to de Jersey. "What's the time span we're looking at?"

"It'll be May. According to my contact, the crown fittings will be held three or four weeks before the Jubilee celebrations, which take place on the fourth of June," de Jersey said, lighting a cigar. "So it looks like early May. From now on, contact me only on my cell phone-no calls to the house."

"Hang on!" Wilc.o.x said. "I only went to get a round and now you're talking as if this is all agreed to. Good job I didn't go for a slash too or I'd have no idea what was going on."

De Jersey gave him a half smile. "It's work in progress. Decision time is still way off. Right now I just need the pair of you to help me with the setting up. That's all."

Wilc.o.x raised his gla.s.s to de Jersey. "It looks like early May then," he said.

De Jersey glanced at them. "So it's agreed. You'll help me set it up?"

They nodded, and de Jersey raised his gla.s.s to both.

De Jersey and Driscoll walked into the park with the dog. They headed for a Toyota Estate belonging to Driscoll's wife. After Driscoll opened the door for the dog to hop in, De Jersey watched him swing the door back and forth absentmindedly. "What's up with you?" he asked. "You worried?"

"Well, for starters, you're not on your toes. Not like you used to be. And this Hewitt woman could be trouble." Driscoll closed the door. "Also, I worry about Jimmy. He's doing too much c.o.ke. I've told him that to his face but-"

De Jersey put his arm around Driscoll's shoulders. "I've never taken unnecessary risks with you or James and I'm not going to start now. If this caper looks like a no-win situation, or if one of you isn't up to the job, I'll be the first to pull out."

Driscoll nodded, unconvinced.

De Jersey went on. "It means a lot to me that you've both offered to help."

Driscoll sighed. "You're worth it."

"I'll talk to James," de Jersey said. "He won't know it came from you. It's obvious to me, too, when he's high."

Driscoll drove away, the dog staring out of the rear window. De Jersey watched the car go. He had suspected Wilc.o.x of doing c.o.ke. He would have to keep an eye on him. Wilc.o.x had always been a bit on the wild side, but in the end he delivered.

This time he would deliver even faster than de Jersey expected. That afternoon he got a call from Wilc.o.x saying he might have located the vehicles. He'd seen an ad in Motor News, and he was going to check it out.

The following morning, Wilc.o.x walked along the cobbled mews behind Leicester city center and paused outside a double garage. A peeling "Hudson's Weddings and Funerals" plaque hung precariously from a rusty nail on the garage door. He had parked his Ferrari a good distance away, outside a large petrol station. He'd asked the proprietor to check the oil and fuel, telling him he would return soon.

The double garage appeared to be locked, and Wilc.o.x stepped back, annoyed. But when he gave a really hard knock, there was the sound of footsteps. The door creaked open, and a short, wiry man with bifocal gla.s.ses peered out. He had iron gray hair in a spiky crew cut and was wearing oil-stained overalls. Ken Hudson was seventy and suffered from glaucoma. He gestured for Wilc.o.x to follow him into the gloomy garage.

It was larger than it had appeared from the outside, with four covered vehicles parked in a square. Hudson switched on a yellowish light and launched into a monologue on his now defunct wedding and funeral business. He was selling everything, including the tools, the paint-spraying and car-cleaning equipment, the four vehicles. Wilc.o.x poked around the small back office, which was home to a kettle and a small camping stove.

Hudson squinted at him through his thick gla.s.ses. "You wanna look at the vehicles?"

Wilc.o.x smiled and shrugged. "Eh, Pops, I can shift the hea.r.s.es, but they're not what I'm after. I want to make this a paint shop, respray cars, stuff like that. I'll take 'em, but it's the premises I'm primarily interested in. What's your asking price? It'll be cash, so don't play silly b.u.g.g.e.rs." Wilc.o.x lifted a tarpaulin and discovered a Daimler.

"Ten thousand," Hudson said.

"I'll give you eight, cash."

Hudson paused. "All right, but that's a d.a.m.n good price."

The deal done, Hudson brought out the grubby doc.u.ments, signed everything over to "Tom Hall," and gave him a receipt for the cash. After another fifteen minutes of small talk, the old boy handed over the keys and left. When he was alone Wilc.o.x dragged the tarpaulin off each of the Daimlers. They were exactly what de Jersey had requested. Two were hea.r.s.es and two had been used for weddings, but not for some time. Mildew and cobwebs threaded across the seats. Wilc.o.x inspected each vehicle's engine. He would use two for parts, and it would take a lot of elbow grease to get that bodywork gleaming again.

Before driving back to London, he purchased a book on the Royals and, using a magnifying gla.s.s, checked out their Daimlers. He would need to make a copy of the mascot fitted to the Queen's car. He also had to match the seat colors. It would take time, but he was in no hurry. It was still early days. In some ways it was good to have something to take his mind off his financial problems, and as the Colonel had said, if it didn't work out and he wanted to walk away, he could. He was just carrying out orders, as he had in the past.

Later that day de Jersey arrived outside Sylvia Hewitt's apartment block in St. John's Wood. He had telephoned from a small cafe along the high street. Helen answered and told him that Sylvia was not at home but that she expected her at any moment.

"Would you like her to call you at home?"

"No, I'm in London. In fact, I'm not far from St. John's Wood. May I come round tonight?"

"Of course," Helen gushed.

"Good. I'll see you shortly then."