Royal Heist Part 27

Driscoll was the first to arrive and snapped on the gloves without a word. He was closely followed by Pamela Kenworthy-Wright and Lord Westbrook. The bike riders would not be privy to these early meetings. As de Jersey bolted the door behind them, Pamela complained about the rubber gloves. "Wear them at all times," de Jersey told her. "This box will be placed by the back door."

"Are we expected to do some kind of cleaning?" Pamela inquired.

De Jersey showed her that he too was wearing them. "You know how they identified Ronnie Biggs? He put a dish of milk out for a cat. One thumbprint, that's all it takes. When we move out of here to the second base, we must leave no record of any one of us ever having been here. Is that understood?"

The team all nodded in agreement, and Pamela made tea and coffee before taking her seat in the row of folding chairs facing the drawing board.

The team sat in awkward silence, avoiding each other's eyes. De Jersey leaned against the table. "From now on you refer to me only as the Colonel, and you will refer to each other by Christian names only. First, Pamela."

She raised her beaker.

"James. That's Tony, and Henry." He nodded to each as he said the name. "From now on we protect our ident.i.ties. The less we know about each other the better. I have put my utmost trust in each of you."

They remained silent as he picked up a black felt-tipped marker, crossed to the drawing board, and listed roles beside the names: the Colonel, main bodyguard; Henry, equerry; James, chauffeur; Her Majesty the Queen, not present; Pamela, lady-in-waiting; Tony, private secretary; two bike riders, not present.

Everyone listened as he gave the date and time they would be moving base to get ready for the hit. He detailed their jobs and explained how he and Marsh would stop the Royal convoy and how they would arrive at the safe house in place of the authentic party. By the time he told them how they would accomplish entry to the safe house, they were all ready for another round of tea and coffee. Everyone seemed tense; it was a lot to take in.

After the short break, de Jersey moved on to the last phase of the plan. "So far so good, but the most important element for all of us is getting away with it. I will use four helicopters to act as decoys. They will be ordered from various companies in the Southeast to pick up a pa.s.senger or package from various points in London. When they arrive and their a.s.signment is not there, the helicopters will leave London to return to their bases, which will coincide with the time of the getaway. It will be mayhem after the hit, and the police will monitor the air traffic, so we want as much organized chaos and as many distractions as possible. We will split up and move across London separately. First, two boats will be taken from a mooring at Tower Bridge Marina and driven across the river by the two bike riders. They will both motor to Putney Bridge, put the boats in the boathouse, and take the Tube home."

"That all seems very . . . well, not what I expected," interrupted Westbrook.

"You expected fast cars, speedboats, and getaway drivers?"

Westbrook gave a shrug. "Well, I don't know about boats. That big diamond heist that fell foul of the Dome, they were going to make their getaway by the river."

De Jersey pinched his nose in irritation. The police, he pointed out, were already on to them, and they were not making their getaway via the river. "Anonymity is our best disguise. Just blend in with the commuters."

De Jersey pointed to Pamela and Westbrook. "The City Thameslink Station is a five-minute walk from the safe house. You two will jump in a cab to the station. There's always a stream of them near the Barbican. You'll travel from there to Brighton. There's a train at just gone eleven, which if all goes to plan, you will make easily. The next one is fifteen minutes later. From Brighton you are to separate. Pamela will go by train to Plymouth. Henry will return to his studio in Pimlico." De Jersey knew that the only one of them that could possibly be recognized was Westbrook, but his life expectancy was so short, De Jersey didn't feel the risk of his discovery would endanger any of them as long as Westbrook and Pamela separated.

De Jersey then pointed to Driscoll and Wilc.o.x. "Tony, James, and I will work out the best way to get the jewels to my helicopter for the drop." De Jersey flipped the pages on the board back to the beginning. "Any questions?"

No one said a word. Now de Jersey turned to an enlarged copy of the safe house layout. He gestured to the warehouse, which was to be their second base. "So, we move out from here and drive round the block. Now you all know the fundamentals, and I want us to begin to break it down into sections and allocate specific roles." De Jersey nodded to Westbrook and gestured for him to come to his side.

"Henry here will detail the lineup of the Royal party, how they behave, protocol, et cetera."

Westbrook opened a bottle of water and drank thirstily. His pale face shone with sweat. "The lady-in-waiting must, at all times, adhere to the Royal protocol. She will always be to the left side of the Queen, two or three paces behind, a small enough gap for Her Majesty to pa.s.s her her handbag or flowers without stretching. In the car, she must sit well back and not in any way hamper the view of Her Majesty. In public, she will speak only when spoken to."

Pamela asked a few questions about her dress, her demeanor, and whether or not she should also carry a handbag. De Jersey held up his hand. "As we all have a lot of work to do, I suggest Henry work with Pamela, and we can get on with other things."

Pamela and Westbrook disappeared into the main area of the barn. De Jersey took out a cigar and lit it. "So, what do you think?"

Wilc.o.x glanced at Driscoll, then back to de Jersey. "What about the security measures in the safe house?" He pointed to the basic layout of the house. "This doesn't give any information about what we're going to be facing once we're in there."

De Jersey dismissed his concern. "We know there'll be top-of-the-line security measures. I'd say we can handle it, though."

"Yeah, well, saying and knowing are two different things. Christ only knows what could go wrong."

De Jersey looked to each of them. "Trust me, the security will be taken care of."

When Westbrook had finished with Pamela, he took Driscoll through his paces as the private secretary: where he would stand and how he would behave at each step of the way. By now, Wilc.o.x was seated in the car acting as the chauffeur. The gray uniform was slightly too large, but this would not be noticed from his position behind the wheel. Westbrook instructed him to stare ahead, never look back at the pa.s.sengers and never remove his cap.

De Jersey, playing a front-line role for the first time since the early raids on his father's shops, was the bodyguard. Although the Queen usually had more than one, Westbrook agreed that, as this was not a public event, they would be fine with just de Jersey. The two bikers would pose as Special Branch police officers. De Jersey would be the first to leave the safe house, and it was imperative that he move fast.

The meeting went on for four hours, and by the end the strain showed in them all, apart from de Jersey, who remained energetic and alert. Westbrook looked gray, almost matching the chauffeur's uniform. He took painkillers continually through the session. By the next meeting they should have done all the necessary shopping and any further research. He doled out cash to Pamela and Westbrook for their purchases. He agreed that Westbrook would a.s.sist Pamela in selecting the most suitable outfits for herself and for their Queen, including the correct type of handbag.

After the others had left, Wilc.o.x, Driscoll, and de Jersey began a dissection of the meeting. Wilc.o.x asked about the validity of their security information.

"For Christ's sake, Jimmy, we have the safe house plans, and they're authentic."

"That's not good enough, Eddy. I want to know how it's going to be done. We're risking a f.u.c.king lot out there."

De Jersey lit another cigar. "We walk in through the front door, James. We've discussed this."

"Yeah, okay, so what about this other unknown quant.i.ty? This guy that's gonna give us the IRA code word and intercept the call. We are dependent on him, but we've not even met him. How can you be so sure that he'll be okay on the day?"

"Marsh is an expert, not only in computers but also in telephone engineering. He's done fantastic work so far, and if it weren't for him, I'd never have worked out a way to stop the Royal party without the safe house knowing. He's handling the whole technical side of the operation, and it was at his request that he has no involvement in the physical side of the heist. I respect that because it's not necessary for him to take part."

This satisfied Wilc.o.x and Driscoll to some extent but not completely.

"Look, Eddy," Wilc.o.x said, "we've come this far, and it's just odd for us not to know the full details. I dunno how Tony feels, but we're putting a lot of responsibility on Marsh and also on Dulay. I think we should have had them here for a face-to-face. I mean, how much are we paying these guys?"

"I hear what you're saying, but look at it from my point of view," de Jersey said. "I've been laying out the cash for this. I haven't asked you two for anything." De Jersey picked up his black marker pen and began to write on the board. "Right now I'm paying Westbrook, Pamela, and Marsh full-time, plus one-offs to Gregory Jones and the security guy." He listed the payments, even down to the money he intended paying Malcolm Gridley. Next he listed the fees for the helicopters and the money put aside for them to secure the speedboats. "You calculating all this, Tony? Both of you start figuring it out, cos I'm the one who's thousands out of pocket. Then there are the costumes, the rent for this place and for the warehouse. Too d.a.m.ned right I've kept quiet about a lot of things, especially what it's costing me to set up this f.u.c.king robbery! So far you two have contributed a few grand between you. You hear me complaining? No! You don't hear me asking for the major slice when, as you can see, I've been working morning, noon, and night on this. But don't f.u.c.king thank me. Sit there and moan your a.r.s.es off. The pair of you make me sick."

Driscoll and Wilc.o.x were stunned by de Jersey's anger, and by the sum he had invested in the heist. Equal contributions would make deep holes in the funds they'd salvaged from their ruined fortunes.

"You got something to say, Tony?" de Jersey asked as he started putting away the drawing board. He ripped up the big sheets of paper with the lists of payments and folded up the safe house plans. He put the plans into his briefcase and tossed the other papers in a dustbin.

"You could say that." Driscoll was agitated.

"Well, say it," de Jersey snapped, struck a match, and lit the paper.

"I'm getting serious cold feet about the whole f.u.c.king thing."

De Jersey sat down, flicked the ash from his cigar, and stared at Driscoll. "Spit it all out now."

"Look, Eddy, we go back a long way, but we've never had such a big core team. This Westbrook character, he was stuffing himself with pills all bleeding afternoon. Come four o'clock he was s.p.a.ced out of his head, and this was only the first meeting. What's he gonna be like on the day? Neither of us has met Marsh, so how do we know we can trust him? How do we know he's going to pull it off?"

De Jersey turned to Wilc.o.x. "What about you?"

Wilc.o.x shuffled his feet with embarra.s.sment. "Well, what Tony's saying is true. That Pamela woman's a flake too. Thinks she's auditioning for the National Theatre the way she's carrying on. If we come in on the expenses you're paying out, we'll be paying her a grand a week like the others, more than she's ever earned in her life I reckon."

"She's worth it. She's going to be right in the thick of it," de Jersey snapped.

"You say so, but how do we know she won't cave in?"

"She's as tough as they come, plus she knows the consequences if we fail. She's worth her price."

"But, again, we only have your word and you only have the trust you've placed in them. Then you say we've got two speedboats and you've ordered four helicopters as decoys. Have you got all these extras lined up, or are you just making out lists of things you're thinking about doing but haven't got round to yet? Where are we gonna get these two boats from? Then there's got to be river moorings organized. It's still all up in the air."

De Jersey bit off the end of his cigar and spat it out.

Wilc.o.x continued. "We've got to be tooled up, and I wouldn't trust that Westbrook character to carry a water pistol let alone a shooter. We've never used so many amateurs for a gig before." He took a deep breath. "It could all fall apart, and then I'll be in an even worse situation than when we started. You say you've laid out for everything, and you have, I can see that. But I've paid for the cars, and Tony sorted out the weapons. I can't pay out any more."

Driscoll started again. "I'm broke from this wedding. I mean, we've been lucky in the past, we all know that, but this is stretching it to the limit. We've not even got into how we're getting the gems to France."

De Jersey blew a smoke ring above his head as Wilc.o.x took over where Driscoll left off.

"And this Dulay character. You say we can trust him, but you've had to squeeze his b.a.l.l.s to get him to agree to be part of this, and that's always dodgy. Carrying that gear out of the country is impossible. The scream will be up so loud that every airport and dock will be surrounded. I know you've worked out decoys, and I'm sorry to sound so negative, but I just don't buy it."

"Dulay has a big yacht. I was planning to use it unless you want to use yours," de Jersey said to Wilc.o.x.

He was taken aback when Wilc.o.x shouted, "I b.l.o.o.d.y can't use mine! I had to sell it months ago. You see what I'm talking about? We're up s.h.i.t creek on this one, and you are gonna have to admit it."

De Jersey was finding it hard to maintain his calm. "Things will go wrong if you don't keep your cool. Dulay is picking up the jewels from the south coast. It's all taken care of."

Wilc.o.x bowed his head. "All taken care of! I hope b.l.o.o.d.y Sylvia Hewitt's also taken care of. That's more cash you'll likely have to pay out to keep her quiet. So if you've got it all planned, why the f.u.c.k don't you tell us about it and take care of our worries?"

Driscoll put up his hand, like a schoolkid. "There's another thing, Eddy. I see what you've paid out and I know I've not come in with much, but you've never discussed what you expect to get from the sale of the jewels. Can you give us an idea?"

Wilc.o.x interrupted. "Hang on a minute. We're depending on Dulay for this j.a.panese buyer. Dulay says he's got him, but that's just his word. If he doesn't pull off the sale, we're gonna be left with the hottest gear around. n.o.body'll touch it, no matter what it's worth. We'll all be left with f.u.c.k-all. And another thing-"

Driscoll put up his hand again. "Have you met the buyer?"

"No," de Jersey said, and he flushed with anger because he knew they were right. He was not being as professional as he had been in the past, and he was depending heavily on Dulay and Marsh.

"s.h.i.t, this is a mess. Admit it, Eddy, it's just not working." Wilc.o.x heaved himself out of the worn, old armchair.

"It is, and it will work. I trust Dulay. If he says this j.a.panese guy is good for it, he is, and you checked him out in Paris."

"I don't call that checking out," snapped Wilc.o.x. He was pacing up and down now in fury. "All I did was tail Dulay to the Ritz and see him meet up with the guy. What they said and how far we can trust them is another matter."

"He's agreed to pay an excellent price for the Koh-i-noor Diamond alone," de Jersey said, opening his briefcase.

"How much?" asked Driscoll.

"One million per carat. It's over a hundred carats," de Jersey said, tight-lipped. He took out his notebook.

Driscoll's jaw dropped.

"He wants the Koh-i-noor for starters, but selling him the other gems will be no problem."

"But who is this guy?" Driscoll asked.

"He's a contact of Dulay," said de Jersey defensively.

Wilc.o.x looked at Driscoll. "But how can we trust Dulay? How do we know he's not going to just disappear? And now you tell us this buyer knows about the diamond already. Jesus Christ! We're leaving ourselves wide open. What if this f.u.c.king j.a.p raps to someone?"

Now it was back to Driscoll. "He's right, Eddy. And, thinking about it, I have big worries. If the worst comes to the worst, I can sell my properties and go back to work full-time. At least I'd still have something. I'm getting too old to take such risks. I'm really sorry to sound off at you this way, but-"

"You want out?" de Jersey asked coldly.

"The way things are right now, yes, cos I just don't think we can do it. It all depends on people trusting one another, and with so many parties involved we could get screwed from any angle. Right, Jimmy?"

Wilc.o.x nodded.

"I've never let you down before." De Jersey sounded bitter.

Wilc.o.x gave an impatient sigh. "We both know that. But the plan isn't right yet, and all this farting around today wasn't good enough. We've not got that much time to get it together."

De Jersey flicked the ash from his cigar. "Fine. Walk away. I won't hold you to anything. I never did before and I won't now. That's not to say I'm not disappointed. Of course I am, because I'm down a lot of cash already. You two don't want to come in and help me out, fine. But I've always made sure that whoever worked alongside me got a fair share and I'm not about to change that. The fair share is the reason we can trust the people I've brought in. It is that element of the deal that binds us all together. It worked for us in the past and it will work for us this time."

"Come on, Eddy, we know that," Driscoll said. "And don't think I'm not grateful for our past deals, but they were a long time ago. We were younger then, more prepared for the risks."

Wilc.o.x nodded. "Yeah, I've got six kids."

"And a habit to feed," de Jersey snapped.

"I'm clean," Wilc.o.x said defensively.

"So you say." De Jersey knew that he had to steer them back on course and, worse, that without them he could never pull it off. He pointed to Driscoll. "You think you and Wilc.o.x here are the best I could get for this? I brought you in on this to ease my guilt for the bad investment advice I gave you. I'm not prepared to lose what I've spent the best part of my life building up. Neither do I want to lose my wife or my daughters by spending the rest of my life banged up in prison. I will ensure there's as little risk as possible for all of us. I've taken on board what you've said, but when in the past did you ever know all the details and every member of the team? Never! You trusted my judgment. If you no longer trust me, then get the h.e.l.l out."

Driscoll put his hands up. "Come on now, no need for this. You said it yourself, Eddy. You said if it didn't look kosher you'd call it quits and there'd be no hard feelings."

"What do you say, James?" de Jersey asked.

"I am not doing drugs! I've worked my a.r.s.e off getting these two cars and the bikes ready. I just think the plan's not up to your usual standard, that's all. Maybe if we thrash out the details a bit more, know exactly what you've planned, we'll feel happier."

"Come on, we've all done a good share," Driscoll said, angrily.

"Yeah, us three have, but the computer geek is getting a grand a week and a big cut!" Wilc.o.x was still in a rage.

De Jersey stood up, his military bearing intimidating. "You two are getting greedy. Raymond Marsh is not going to betray us. He's already in too deep. He's hacked into the private Royal diaries, intercepted Scotland Yard calls, and made sure there won't be any links between him and me when this is all over."

Wilc.o.x sucked in his breath. "Leaving yourself out in the open, aren't you? You may be using Philip Simmons as a cover, but something this big will have every cop in the U.K. after you."

"It's more than a cover," de Jersey interjected brusquely. "In cybers.p.a.ce, Philip Simmons is almost as good as flesh and blood. As soon as this is over, he disappears into thin air and all the leads and clues disappear with him. There is no connection back to me because Philip Simmons organized the whole thing."

Neither man understood what he was talking about, but his confidence in the alias was a bonus. After all, de Jersey himself was a direct link to both of them.

He continued, "Marsh is worth every cent we pay him because we couldn't pull this off without him. He's a genius."

Wilc.o.x and Driscoll fell silent. Then de Jersey's bravado slipped. He gave a long sigh. "All I can say is this, I'm not just protecting myself. I have to look out for all of you. I've been working on how all of us move out when the scream goes up, just as I always did in the past. It takes time and planning down to the last second. If there are loopholes then we have to rethink, or I do. So, ask me what you need to know." He picked up the black marker pen and crossed to the board. "List every loophole. We'll go through them one at a time."

Driscoll rested his head in his hands. Wilc.o.x slumped into the old chair. "I can't f.u.c.king think straight now."

De Jersey looked from one to the other. He tossed aside the marker pen. "Sleep on it, then, but I need to know what the two of you decide by tomorrow."

He picked up his briefcase, took out the CD, and opened his laptop. "Take a look at this. When you're through close it down and remove the CD. Don't let it out of your sight. This is for our eyes only." He snapped his briefcase shut and collected his coat. "Good night." A moment later they heard the side door slam shut.