The Londum Omnibus Volume Two (The Londum Series Book 12)

by Tony Rattigan

  He was a bit concerned as he had been to Racine’s several times that day to let her know the progress of the scam but she had been out on all occasions. Never mind, if she had been with Lassiter then Jim was sure that he had brought her up to speed. He’d probably bragged about it.

  The bell finished ringing and Bolan answered the door. Without speaking he waved Jim in and closed the door behind him. He didn’t bother inviting Jim into the drawing room; he just walked off down the hall, expecting Jim to follow him. They thought they had Jim in their power now, so there was no need to pretend to be nice to him anymore.

  Lassiter was sitting by the fire, sipping a drink, when Jim and Bolan entered the room.

  ‘Ah, Darby, take a seat,’ he said indicating the other chair by the fire. Jim did as he was bid and Bolan took up position behind Jim’s chair. Jim noticed that they didn’t offer him a drink.

  ‘I’ve brought all the information I have on The Blue Rajah,’ said Jim and handed over the folder.

  Lassiter took the folder, flicked through it and then casually dropped it on the floor beside him, as if he had lost interest in the whole idea.

  Jim, puzzled, looked round to see what Bolan was doing but he was just standing watching him.

  ‘Don’t you want the Blue Rajah?’ asked Jim.

  ‘This?’ asked Lassiter, nudging the folder with his foot, ‘it’s all very impressive but we both know it is fake.’

  ‘But it’s what you asked me for, I swear,’ insisted Jim.

  ‘Please, please,’ interrupted Lassiter holding up his hand, ‘don’t waste my time. You see, I know. I know all about your little scheme. Racine was most informative.’

  Jim tried to rise out of the chair but Bolan grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back down. ‘Why you-’

  ‘Ah, Ah, Ah, Mr. Darby. Mind your manners,’ said Lassiter, waggling his finger at him.

  ‘What have you done with Racine?’ demanded Jim. ‘Where is she, what have you done with her? What’s going on?’

  ‘Well, earlier today Bolan and I paid a little visit to Mademoiselle Deveaux. I thought that your relationship with her bore closer scrutiny. She of course lied about it and said that there was nothing going on between you. I didn’t believe her so I allowed Bolan to apply some persuasion; Bolan can be quite persuasive when he wants to be.’

  ‘If you’ve harmed a hair on her head I’ll-’ warned Jim.

  ‘You’ll do nothing!’ snapped Lassiter. ‘Except be quiet and listen to what I have to say. As I said, Racine was quite forthcoming … eventually. Bolan had to get quite aggressive but at last she told us everything. How you two are lovers, how you intended to send me off on this wild goose chase for The Blue Rajah and after I was dead or imprisoned, you and she would rejoice in my downfall.’

  ‘I’m told you deserve it.’

  ‘Be that as it may, but things are going to play out differently from the way you planned.’

  ‘What do you want?’ Jim asked him.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You must want something from me otherwise you could just have had Bolan shoot me as I walked through the door. So, what is it?’

  ‘You know Mr. Darby, one of the things I like about Londum is the vast array of art and culture. Such things as museums for example. I happened to go to the Tuten Kha-Hawn exhibition recently and was struck by the beauty of a certain Golden Snake-head statue.’

  Jim got a sinking feeling in his stomach.

  ‘I would like you to steal it for me, Mr. Darby. Racine tells me that you have a plan to steal it, a real plan this time I mean, not a work of fiction like this …’ He picked up the folder containing the fake information on The Blue Rajah theft and threw it on the fire. ‘Well, you’re going to get your chance to steal it after all.’

  ‘You’re crazy.’

  ‘No Mr. Darby, you and Racine are the crazy ones, to think you could outwit me. Well, I’m insulted so you are going to pay for that. Here is the deal … you will break into the British Museum and steal the Golden Snake-head, then you will bring it to me, here. In return for the Snake-head you will receive Racine back.’

  ‘Unharmed,’ said Jim.

  ‘Well, let’s not get too ambitious, let’s just say ... alive. And think yourself lucky for that.’

  ‘Okay, all right. I’ll do it,’ said Jim.

  ‘You don’t have a choice.’

  ‘I can’t just walk in and take it you know, it will take me a couple of days.’

  ‘Do you take me for a fool? You already have a plan worked out.’

  ‘Yes but it is only a general plan, I need to check out the details and make sure none of the routines have been changed. I also need a couple of days to make my preparations.’

  ‘Very well, two days it is,’ agreed Lassiter. ‘Today is Sunday. How and when you do it is your business but I shall expect to see you Wednesday evening with the Snake-head statue. If not, Racine will not see Thursday morning. Understood?’

  ‘Understood.’

  ‘You may go now,’ Lassiter dismissed him. ‘Show him out, Bolan.’

  As they walked up the hall Jim said to Bolan, ‘If you’ve hurt her, your life won’t be worth spit!’

  As Bolan opened the front door, he couldn’t resist needling Jim. ‘I warned you that one day there would be a price to pay.’

  Jim turned to face him, ‘You should remember, the Opera isn’t over until the fat lady sings.’

  After Jim left he did a circuit of the house slowly, watching the windows. The only lights in the house were in the drawing room. If she was in one of the other rooms, they were holding her in the dark. But he didn’t think they’d be daft enough to hold her there, they must have her stashed away someplace else.

  He went straight round to Racine’s’ place but it was dark and empty. He broke in and checked to make sure. No sign of her. He poured himself a drink and stood there in the dark as he drank it, trying to think what to do. He could storm into Lassiter’s place with a gun and try and force them to tell him where she was but somehow he didn’t think Lassiter would give her up that easily. They could be hiding her anywhere in Londum. He couldn’t see any way out of it … to save Racine he would have to rob the British Museum.

  Something “Borrowed”

  1:00 AM

  The Hansom cab clattered over the cobblestones as it slowly made its way down Great Russell Street. It turned into Montague Street at the side of the British Museum and pulled to a halt, half way down.

  The cabbie, Bob Carpenter, sat there silently, watching the street until he was sure it was empty, then he leaned forward and tapped quietly on the roof of the cab. The door swung open and Jim Darby climbed out. Jim reached back into the cab and pulled out a haversack, a large canvas holdall and a large coil of knotted rope with a grappling hook attached.

  He was dressed in a dark suit over a roll-neck jumper. Completing his ensemble he was wearing rubber-soled shoes and a pair of leather gloves. Hitching the haversack onto his back and slinging the rope over his shoulder, he climbed up on the carriage so he could talk quietly to Bob and said to him, ‘You know the score, Bob, come back here at four o’clock. I’ll be waiting in those trees.’ He pointed them out. ‘If I’m not there, ride on and then swing by every fifteen minutes until I do show up. If I’m not there by dawn, then obviously something has gone wrong. Go home and wait until you hear from me ... or read about me in the papers,’ he finished with a grin.

  ‘Righto, Mr. Darby, you can count on me,’ affirmed Bob.

  That I can, thought Jim. It was much less conspicuous for a cab to be meandering through the streets of Londum in the early hours of the morning, than a single man, shouldering a heavy backpack. That’s why he had roped in Bob to help him, as his get-away driver. Also, if there was a hue and cry, he stood a much better chance of getting away in a cab.

  Jim waved to Bob and with a flick of the whip, the carriage pulled away and left. Jim picked up the canvas holdall, threw it over the railings
surrounding the British Museum and quickly followed it over.

  He picked the holdall up on the other side and quickly ran for the cover of the trees. He waited until he could no longer hear the noise of the cab travelling over the cobbled street and then gave it a while longer to make sure he could hear no one else around. Once he was sure he was alone, he made his way into the shadows of the building. Making his way along the side of the museum, he arrived at his selected spot. During his reconnoitre of the building, he had spotted a route that would allow him to ascend to the roof and then into the room that he had chosen as his point of entry.

  As previously stated, he liked to plan how to break into places for a bit of fun, to amuse himself. Long before he even knew that the Snake-head statue existed, he had thought that he might, at some point in his career, want to steal something from the British Museum, so he had worked out a few different methods. One for example, was for use in the case he wanted to steal something small. He would create a diversion, such as a pretend fire, and in the disorder he would lift said item and escape, unnoticed in the confusion.

  There was also a plan for larger items when time needed to be taken and stealth was necessary. This would involve a surreptitious entry and exit. To this end, over a period of months, he had visited the museum again and again as a tourist. Each time he had taken to wandering into the areas marked ‘Staff Only’, to study the layout of the back rooms that were not normally open to the public. If he was ever challenged, he would apologise and claim to be looking for the Men’s Room.

  Due to these visits he had spotted a few likely entry points, stockrooms and workshops, that had promising windows that seemed likely ways in. He had marked the positions of these rooms on a map of the museum, and then walked around the outside of the building to see which of them were most easily accessible from the ground. There were a couple but his favourite one was a skylight into a workshop, there was a comparatively easy route up the side of the building for someone fairly fit, who could climb a rope. He was standing below that route now.

  Jim unslung the rope from his shoulder and uncoiled it. He shook it loose and, grabbing the grappling hook, he stepped out of the shadows and threw the hook at the parapet. It caught and he swung on the rope to test that whatever the hook was caught on would hold his weight. It remained fixed firmly, so he tied the end of the rope to the handles of the canvas holdall, there was plenty of slack, and then gripping the rope tightly began to climb.

  He quickly scaled the rope, the time he had spent laboriously tying knots in the rope paid off, they provided something to grip with his hands and he could bring his feet together and ‘stand’ on each knot to push himself up. When he had reached the parapet, he took a breather for a moment and then leant over and pulled up the holdall up after him.

  He gathered up the holdall and the rope and, keeping low, he made his way along the parapet to his chosen point of entry, a skylight on the flat roof. Unfortunately, the part of the roof that he was on was actually lower than the houses facing the museum in Montague St. At this point the museum was three storeys high and the houses were four storeys, but he had little choice. Both sides of the museum had houses facing them and the front and back were too open and exposed. Besides, the front access to the museum had accommodation on either side of the entrance, so it was too risky to attempt entry at that point.

  Actually, the fact that the houses were higher than the museum had helped him with his reconnaissance, one of the houses in Montague St. was a hotel. Jim had simply booked himself a room on the top floor and studied the museum at his leisure.

  So, all things considered, he reckoned one of the skylights leading into a workshop was the best bet. As long as he kept low and quiet, and no restless insomniac chose that time to stare out the window, he figured he could get away with it.

  He studied the skylight above the workshop. Like the rest of the building, the skylights were not one piece of glass, rather they were quartered and each of the four panes were held in place by lead strips. By removing these strips, he could open up the skylight wide enough to lower himself and the bag through.

  He swung the haversack off his back and opening it, he took out a tin of something and a flat-bladed spatula, something like a putty knife but much stronger. Unscrewing the lid of the tin, he put the spatula into the tin and dug out some kind of cream. He smeared it onto the lead strips of the window that was holding the glass in place. Then he sat back to wait for it to take effect. It was a special concoction that he had come across in his travels. Lead has a very low melting point, so it doesn’t need to go up many degrees to make it malleable. The cream had the effect of raising the temperature of the lead by chemical reaction, thereby softening it.

  After a few minutes, Jim was able to scratch away the lead strips with the spatula and remove the pieces of glass from the skylight, all without having to resort to smashing it. He lowered the holdall through the open skylight and then hooked the grapple onto the window ledge and quickly climbed down the rope into the workroom.

  He made his way through the workbenches and crossed to the door. It was locked. Good! In all probability, the guards searched and then locked all rooms that they did not need to keep an eye on. That way, on their rounds they would only need to check that the room was locked and not have to search it every time they made their way through the museum.

  The skylight was thankfully in shadow and couldn’t be seen from the street, so it was unlikely that anyone would spot that it had been breached. Therefore, he didn’t need to hide his means of entry and as he wouldn’t need the rope again until he made his escape, he left the hook and rope in position and just untied the bag. Taking out his lock pick, he unlocked the door, let himself out of the workshop and locked the door behind him.

  Jim looked around to get his bearings; he was in the Eastern wing of a large quadrangle. In the centre of that quadrangle was an open courtyard containing the British Library Reading Room but Jim couldn’t see that from his position.

  He was on the second floor, which meant he was in the middle of the Asya exhibits. All around him were the glorious, lacquered furniture and containers of lacquered rosewood, and the wonderful kimonos and footwear of Ancient Canton and Mongolia. He made his way to the main staircase, passing brightly coloured vases from the courts of the Emperors Ming, Sung and Tang, as well as other dynasties that sounded as if someone were throwing marbles onto a tin roof.

  He could barely see them in the available light though. After-hours the guards turned down the gas lamps to the barest glow, as they walked around with hand lamps lit by oil. There was enough ambient light from the gas lamps to make their way safely around the museum but if anything required closer inspection, they had their personal lamps for illumination.

  Down on the first floor he could just about make out the splendour of the artefacts from the British colony of Bharat (where the curry comes from). He had seen them often enough in daylight though. The fine, jewelled costumes of the Maharajahs, the elephant statues, the effigies of the Bharat Gods. All very beautiful but that wasn’t why Jim was here tonight. He had an appointment with their Eejiptian neighbours, downstairs.

  The ground floor, the Great Hall. Home of, amongst other exhibitions, the grandeur of Ancient Eejipt and the treasures of the Treasures of the Boy Faraoh … Tuten Kha-Hawn.

  He stopped in front of the Snake-head statue for a quick look and then checked his fob-watch. It had luminous hands and he had made sure that he had left it by a lamp, with the case open, to store up some light in the hands before he set out tonight. Ten minutes until the guard came by on his rounds, not worth starting yet. Mere yards away from the statue, beneath a set of stairs, was a cupboard, which he knew contained dismantled display cases. Jim unlocked it with his lock pick, carried his bag into the cupboard and settled down to wait. He left the door slightly ajar so he could watch for the night guard.

  Over a period of time, Jim had taken to unobtrusively following the guards around the museu
m. It was almost impossible to spot him amongst the crowds and he was careful to space out his visits and tail different guards every time. Eventually he had learned their patterns. You see, over time, the guards will figure out the shortest routes around the building that take them to all the necessary checkpoints. These will be passed amongst the other guards and will become universal. Once you have these routes fixed, you will tend to stick to them whether it is day or night, as it is the shortest, most efficient path around the building. So, Jim had merely followed them all until he had memorised them as well, timed the routes and now, barring accidents, could tell within five minutes when a guard would be passing a particular point on his route i.e. traversing the Eejiptian gallery. That is why he knew that he had ten minutes, give or take, before the guard came by.

  As he waited, he let his mind wander back to the day he had posed as Reginald Smallpiece of The Illustrated Science Weekly. It was the press showing before the exhibition opened to the public and the museum curator was proudly showing off about the security precautions in place for the prize exhibits, the mummy of Tuten Kha-Hawn and the Snake-head statue.

  At one end of the gallery was Tuten Kha-Hawn’s mummy and at the other end was the statue. The statue was displayed in a large, wooden-framed, glass display case. It was four-sided and stood on a hefty, wooden plinth.

  ‘How much does the statue weigh?’ asked Jim, as no one else had.

  ‘Around fifteen pounds. Although it’s pure gold, apart from the stand which is made of onyx, it’s not solid you see. Otherwise no one would be able to lift it,’ explained the curator.

  ‘So you could just smash the glass and run off with it?’ someone asked.

  ‘Hardly. The statue, as you can see, is in a four-sided, wooden display case. Each side has a separate lock and the glass in the display case is specially tempered, so it can’t simply be smashed. As well as those obvious security precautions there are some special refinements.’