“King’s Arms, Holywell Street and Parks Road, please,” he told the cabbie through the open passenger window.
The taxi swung round the concourse in front of the station and threaded its way through the busy streets. Large tour buses and those ferrying people to and fro from outlying villages and towns were lined up at every conceivable stopping place. Jack called out his name and waved as he paid off the driver.
“Ralph. Good to see you,” Jack said as he clasped Ralph on the shoulder. “It’s been a long time. Are you still dealing with the great unwashed down in the Home Counties?”
They had managed to meet up every few years and usually spent their time talking about rowing and work. Jack had rowed at number 1 seat in the Cambridge boat when they were in their final year. It was a position that required perfection in technique, as one error and the whole boat would suffer. It came as no surprise to those who knew him when he was given the job as ‘Keeper of Special Collections’ at the Bodleian Library.
“Steak and kidney pie and a pint of the Special for me. Same for you Ralph?”
Jack pointed to a table by the far wall and left Ralph to secure their spot while he went to the bar. Ralph looked around at the other patrons. Mostly students from Wadham College next door, and one or two academics. The tutors look barely older than the students, Ralph mused. The students, although masquerading as adults, still looked like the young kids which they obviously were.
He let the ambience of the pub take over. Rumored to have been built on the site of an Augustinian Priory and a haunt of King James I who had close links to Wadham College, it was steeped in history. Those darkened and stained walls must have a few stories to tell, he mused; there must have been a lot of ale and talking that had gone on there over the years.
Jack pulled him from his reverie as he placed two heaped plates on the worn table.
“Well cheers, Ralph. To our continuing success.” They clinked their glasses and took a long swig of the dark brown ale.
After they had caught up on what had transpired in their lives over the past twelve months Ralph broached the subject of the reason for his visit.
“You got my text about why I’m interested in the Magna Carta documents?”
“Of course. I knew with you there would always be a reason why you wanted to buy me a beer. No such thing as a free lunch,” he laughed. “But seriously, you seem to have hit on this year’s big interest. Everyone wants to get in on the action with the celebrations. And of course the City fathers see it as a way of boosting their already overflowing coffers. Not much has changed there.” He laughed. “I’ve set things up for you to have a look around and put together an information pack for you to take back with you. If I know you, Ralph, you’ll want to have everything at your fingertips when those people from the ABA come over. What’s the angle, anyhow?”
Ralph explained about the VC wanting him to schmooze the Americans and set up some connections for future collaborations. Jack joked about Ralph being no different than the rest and having lost his focus on education and learning. But it was all said in good humour. When they left the pub they walked through the side streets enjoying the sun. Before long they arrived at the Weston Library. It had recently been refurbished and Jack introduced him to Henry Gunter.
“Ralph I’d like you to meet Doctor Gunter. Henry, Professor Ralph Chalmers. Ralph and I go back more years than I care to count. We were students at Cambridge before you were even born.” They all laughed.
“Henry was fortunate enough to get a research fellowship. A mysterious benefactor, whom he refuses to disclose, keeps him in beer and tobacco. Seriously though, Henry here’s our expert on the Magna Carta Liberatum, otherwise known to us mere mortals as ‘The Great Charter of the Liberties of England’, including the ones that we have here. He’s spent the past couple of years helping to document all we know about them. Ralph here’s preparing for a delegation from the American Bar Association to London this summer, Henry. No surprise they are coming for the celebrations that you’ve helped to prepare.”
Ralph listened as Henry explained that he had focused on documenting the four versions of the Magna Carta held at the Bodleian. He explained that three were from the 1217 re-issue and one was a 1225 version issued by Henry III.
“So the ones that you have here are quite different from the ones that I saw at London?”
“Essentially, yes. It was only a short time after the Barons had got King John to affix his seal to the Runnymede documents that he died and Pope Innocent III annulled it. But as the liberties that we now call freedoms had been sealed into law, they couldn’t be denied. Not long after that, the Vatican ratified the modified version. I’ve also documented the manuscript at Lincoln Cathedral, now Lincoln Castle. Hugh Wells, the then Bishop of Lincoln took it there as he was witness to the signing at Runnymede. It’s all a bit confusing unless you really study what has happened to the documents over the last 800 years.”
“Can you tell just by looking at them which ones are the first issues and which are the later ones?” Asked Ralph.
Henry hesitated and looked at Jack. “Well I ought to be able to say yes to that question after all the time I’ve spent studying them. But it’s not that straightforward. Nowadays we do rely a lot on multispectral imaging and other techniques so that we can be sure.”
After they had shown Ralph the manuscripts Ralph thanked them and they said their goodbyes.
On the train back to London Ralph pondered over the papers that Jack had given him. He was puzzled over what Henry had said about identification and authentication of the various manuscripts. If anyone stole the originals and then replaced them with good copies, it would take an expert to know that they had been switched.
***
Colonel Stigart had been surprised when he was asked to attend a meeting with Commander Mike Renton at New Scotland Yard. Previous meetings had been called by MI5 and Renton was with SO15, the Operations people. He sensed that the Commander was in a somber mood as he was shown in.
“Robert. Thanks for coming in. How was Washington?”
“Good. You know, tying up loose ends with Milton’s and the American Bar Association, that sort of thing.”
“But why the meeting? You know how MI5 get anxious if they get a whiff that you’re talking to our lot,” Stigart said.
He was always careful to check the boundaries as the protocols between MI5 and MI6 were very strict.
“Don’t worry, Robert, it’s all been cleared. I’m handling the Magna Carta Project. Well the security bit, that is. Here, have a seat and I’ll ask someone to bring us some tea.”
While they waited, Renton went to a white board where he had projected a map of the Thames at Runnymede.
“This is the next stage, Robert. The unification event went off smoothly, and thank god those blasted manuscripts are now back safe and sound where they belong. The Lincolnshire boys have been fully primed and the Wiltshire Police can look after the Salisbury one for the rest of the celebration programme. Our lads can easily secure the British Library, so the problem has moved on. It’s now all about Runnymede.”
They drank their tea as Renton explained what had been done to secure the site. To Stigart it all looked very professional and he wondered why he had been called in.
“You want my opinion on all of this Mike?”
“Yes and no. Well to be straight, not really.”
“So? Why did you ask me to come in?”
“Something has come up. We’ve been warned by our friends in GSG 9, over in Germany, that an organization calling themselves The Elias Factor is planning to interrupt the event at Runnymede. They’re believed to be operating in Washington, New York, and now Berlin. So far they’ve not been involved in any terrorist attacks; they’ve been concentrating on drugs and prostitution rackets. Their leader’s a bloke called Mankovich, or that could be an alias. We think he might be Croatian.”
Stigart knew a lot about Grenzschutzgruppe 9 der Bundespolizei. Th
ey were the German counter-terrorism and special operations unit equivalent of Renton’s outfit. They had been formed after the 1972 Olympics where the Palestinian group Black September had killed and kidnaped members of the Israeli team. He knew that they had been involved in many covert operations and had a reputation for being the best in the world.
“I know about them, Mike, but as I said, where do I come in?”
“Sorry, Robert. We know about the FBI finding some brochure or something about the celebration event here in London on Álvaro Caminah’s body. We thought that might be a red flag, but it turned out to be a false alarm. But there’s more.”
Renton explained how GSG 9 had received intelligence that The Elias Factor had set their sights on getting hold of one of the Magna Carta documents. He emphasized that such a coup would gain maximum publicity for terrorist groups around the world, as it would strike at the heart of the ideas of democracy and a unified set of principles represented by the law.
“It would be an attack on Western ideals that would be aimed particularly at Americans. Sort of symbolic. Then, when they had no more need for it, they’d sell it or use it as barter with a more politically biased organization.”
“It’s a bit late for that, Mike. The London Unification Event went without a hitch. All right, this event at Runnymede’s high profile, but only in the sense that it’s where the documents were signed, and of course its proximity to Windsor Castle.”
“Well I’d like you to keep close to Milton’s and to the people coming over from the US. Someone from this Elias Factor lot could easily infiltrate. You have a link to the CIA, see if you can’t find out if they know anything about this group, especially as it might be linked to the drugs connection in Washington.”
“Okay, Mike. I’ll make some enquiries and keep an eye on things. I have a few barrister friends who know who the movers and shakers are in all the big American law firms. But what about Runnymede? Do you want me involved? I’d have to clear it, of course.”
“That’s already done, Robert. The Home Office Minister’s backing us on this one. It’s top priority.” He gave a rueful grimace. “We’ve had trouble down there already. Last week a courting couple saw a man putting something by the Kennedy Memorial. He attacked the young man and nearly killed him. The girl said that he shouted something but she couldn’t understand what he said; she thought it might have been Polish or some other Eastern European language. It looked like he’d been digging a hole. For all we know, he may have intended to plant a mine that could be remotely detonated. You know, like the ones in Iraq.”
“Your modern terrorist would hardly rely on a mine nowadays, Mike. They’d be more likely to use a drone. That way they could target anyone they wanted from miles away.” Renton looked pained.
They chatted on and Colonel Stigart promised to get back to his MI5 counterpart with any news he could glean from the CIA.
Back in his office at MI6 HQ on the Thames, the Colonel remembered that Professor Ralph Chalmers was still officially on their books. It was a long shot, but he remembered that the Professor had studied history at Cambridge.
Ralph was surprised to get the call. He was even more surprised to be asked if he knew of any connection between the name Elias and the Magna Carta. He had studied the documents that Jack had given him at Oxford and was able to tell Stigart that Elias of Dereham was the Canon who was entrusted by the Barons to deliver the 13 copies of the Magna Carta.
“But I thought that these four were the only originals,” Stigart said. “Where’d the other nine come from?”
“Seven were from the ceremony at Runnymede and six were written a few weeks later at Oxford, but they all bore King John’s seal,” Ralph explained. “That made them all originals.”
“And are any of those still around?”
“The one at Salisbury Cathedral, where Elias of Dereham came from, one at Lincoln and two at the British Library in London. The other nine have never been found. Why?”
“Oh, it’s just that something’s come up about them. Anyhow, as always, we appreciate your input, Ralph. We’ll need to get together for a drink soon. We’re long overdue for a chat. Next week sometime?”
They agreed to meet early the next week at Stigart’s club in London. Ralph was curious. It was not like the Colonel to get in touch unless he had something definite in mind.
***
Stigart thought that the Professor was the ideal man for this job. If German intelligence was correct and this Elias group were aiming to disrupt the event at Runnymede and try to get hold of the Salisbury manuscript, then Chalmers would have the perfect cover to find out who they were. It might even uncover the link between this Mankovich and Alvaro Caminah’s death. The FBI had told him that Alvaro had studied ancient documents at the University in New York, and Mankovich could have used him to get information about the inks and other materials used to inscribe old manuscripts. It was all beginning to fit into place. What if Mankovich had commissioned Caminah to create a fake that he could use to replace the original at Salisbury? It was unlikely that anyone would notice until the celebrations were in full-swing. Then, when Mankovich told the world how he had managed to bamboozle the authorities, they would be a laughingstock. No doubt he would also seek a ransom for the return of the original. Maybe he had it wrong but a chat with the Professor would give him a chance to test his theory.
________________________
Chapter 3
The door swung open as Ralph walked up the steps of the National Liberal Club in Whitehall Place.
“Good morning Lieutenant-Commander. Colonel Stigart is waiting for you in the bar, sir.”
Ralph was surprised that the man had remembered him and more so at having been addressed by his rank. Actually he felt good about it even though his days in the Navy Reserves seemed a long time ago. He nodded and uttered a brief, “Thank-you”.
The Colonel was in his usual position, leaning with one foot on the brass rail as he contemplated a glass of whisky. He turned when he saw Ralph come into the room.
“Ralph, good to see you. Whatever it is you’ve been doing I’d like some. Fit as a fiddle as ever and looking relaxed and up for the game.” He laughed and gripped Ralph’s hand.
“Good to see you Robert. Thanks for the kind remarks but I’m a bit frazzled. Students seem to be less enthusiastic than a few years ago.”
“Just kids, Ralph. A few years back they would’ve all been off to war; cannon fodder, most of them. But at least they had a few years to grow up. Some of those buggers that’ve deserted ‘Queen and Country’ to run off and join ISIS are as mad as ruddy hatters. They’d never do it if we still had conscription or the draft like the Yanks used to have. What the buggers need is a few weeks of ‘square bashing’ and a good old fashioned Sergeant Major to knock the nonsense out of them.” He took a long pull on his whisky. “Look here, I’m forgetting my manners, Ralph. Are you still on the tomato juice?”
“And a splash of Worcestershire sauce if they have it.” He was about to say and ‘no celery stick’, but checked himself.
They chatted away about the state of the country and how the Colonel was planning to take his yacht to the Canaries later that year. Over lunch Stigart broached the reason for the meeting. Ralph needed no reminder that he was on the books with MI6, at least as an agent. Stigart told Ralph about his discussion with Commander Renton and how anxious Renton was about the upcoming event at Runnymede. Ralph and the Commander had locked horns on more than one occasion when Ralph had worked with him on the Canary Wharf assignment and he wondered if any future encounters might prove awkward.
“So, Ralph, you’d be my eyes and ears at the ‘Do’, so to speak.”
“Do I detect that you don’t share his views, Robert?”
“Well to be frank, I can’t see what this Elias organization is going to get out of disrupting things there in front of a group of Americans and a few City people. I know that Runnymede’s a symbolic site, what with the signing of the
Magna Carta there and the Kennedy Memorial and all of that, but there are much more obvious targets around London.”
“I agree, but there must be some reason why an organization that’s engaged as you say in drugs and other illegal activities in Europe and America would call itself The Elias Factor. Seems an odd choice to be named after the man who delivered the Magna Carta manuscripts after the signing. Either whoever is running it’s crazy, it’s simply a coincidence, or they’re either overly clever or arrogant.”
“I’m not sure I follow your logic, Ralph.”
“If they’re intending to disrupt the event, it’ll certainly create publicity for their cause. But why would a drugs and prostitution ring want to do that? It just doesn’t make sense. On the other hand, if their main aim is to cause a distraction so that they can get up to no good elsewhere, it seems a more likely explanation.”
The Magna Carta Murders (The Ralph Chamers Mysteries Book 12) Page 3