Golden Eights

by Nigel Seed

  Box Tunnel was designed and built by that great Victorian engineering genius Isambard Kingdom Brunel as part of the Great Western Railway. It is almost two miles long and runs beneath Box Hill. There are many rumors about what can be found in hidden tunnels under the hill including stories of captured UFOs being stored there or steam trains being kept as a strategic reserve for when the oil runs out and the diesels grind to a halt.

  Far less fanciful are the real caverns that were excavated, under Box Hill, before and during World War 2. Massive ammunition depots were gouged out, as was a reserve aero engine factory that would have been brought into use had the nearby Bristol Aero Engine factory been destroyed by enemy bombing. Communications hubs were also built under there as was a narrow gauge railway to move ammunition supplies in and out. The entrance to one of these artificial caverns can be seen from the westbound train to the right of the tunnel entrance, though it is now mostly hidden by vegetation. Rudloe Manor sits on top of the hill and is still a Ministry of Defense site. It has been used by a number of 'lodger' units over the years; many of them involved in communication or security duties. I am reliably informed that the mound with the lift shaft does exist and it can be seen on aerial photographs that are available on the internet.

  So there we have it, a mixture of fact from days gone by and speculation on my part. Did the British Government risk taking all their gold across the Atlantic and past the U-Boats? Did they hide some within the UK just in case? Would the Auxiliary Units have been the people to entrust the gold to? Given the secretive nature of the British government on matters concerning the Auxiliary Units, even today, will we ever know?

  After a debate with my publisher, it was decided to adopt American spellings for this book. If that bothers my readers, who are more accustomed to British spellings, I apologize and hope it did not spoil your enjoyment of the story.

  1579 – The Pacific Ocean

  Capitan San Juan de Anton stood on the sunbaked deck of his ship, the Nuestra Seňora de la Concepción, as she sailed slowly along the coast of Peru on a fine Sunday morning. His masthead lookout had reported the ship sailing slowly behind him an hour ago and now he could just see the sails in the heat haze. He watched idly for a while then returned to the management of his own ship. He felt no alarm. The Pacific Ocean was a Spanish Lake and the only full rig ships operating in these waters were under the auspices of His Christian Majesty.

  By nine o’clock that evening the ships were within hailing distance and the captain returned to his stern rail to await the first hail. When it came, it was a rude shock as the voice in Spanish informed him that this was an English ship and ordered him to heave-to and surrender. San Juan was no coward and defiantly refused, despite his ship being unarmed. He soon found, to his cost, that the mystery ship was the heavily armed Golden Hind, captained by the English privateer Francis Drake.

  Drake’s sailors opened fire with their arquebuses and loosed a cloud of arrows from their powerful longbows. The Golden Hind’s bow chaser cannon fired a chain-ball shot which brought down the Spanish mizzenmast and caused the sail to trail in the water. A second shot from one of the heavy guns was followed by another order to strike sail. This time, the wounded Spanish captain submitted rather than see his crew slaughtered.

  The English sailors swarmed aboard and made the Spaniards prisoner while the Capitan was questioned about his cargo. He was forced to admit that he was carrying a considerable treasure. In the cargo, that was properly registered with the Spanish Authorities, were large quantities of gold and silver. A search revealed that there were at least 1,300 silver bars and fourteen chests of gold and silver coins, much of which was privately owned and had not been registered. The haul was so big that it took Drake’s rapacious crew six days to transfer it to their own ship.

  During the transfer, Drake sat in the captain’s poop cabin rummaging for Spanish maps of this coastline. Opening a heavy chest in the corner of the cabin, he found a carved wooden box, polished to a deep lustre with brass reinforcing at each corner. Opening the box revealed a crimson silk lining with recesses for the five Pieces of Eight laying there. A Piece of Eight is made of high-grade silver, but these were solid gold. Drake removed the top tray and then the rest. Surrounded by twenty solid gold Pieces of Eight he puzzled over their purpose. He stood and went to the cabin door. Calling over one of his crew, he sent him to fetch the Spanish captain.

  Minutes later, San Juan entered what had once been his own cabin to face the English pirate.

  “Tell me, Capitan,” said Drake in execrable Spanish, “what is the meaning of these coins? Pieces of Eight are silver yet these are gold. Why?”

  “Ah, Captain,” said the Spaniard sadly, “the vanity of kings has always to be managed to gain favor, has it not? The Spanish Empire is founded in great part upon the Piece of Eight, as you call it. A coin that is minted of silver so pure it is accepted by all men. These are a personal gift for King Phillip, minted especially for him in the moulds of Lima by master craftsmen. A thoughtful gift of this nature, when presented with the gold crucifix you have on my table, should bring a smile to the King’s face and gain us his favor for our future enterprises.”

  Drake looked up from the coins and said, “Do not worry Capitan, they will serve your intended purpose, but with a different monarch. When we come safe home these will make a fine gift for Queen Elizabeth and persuade her to continue to smile upon my voyages.”

  Back aboard the Golden Hind, Drake considered his options. His intention had been to return to England around Cape Horn, the way he had originally entered the Pacific. Seizing a treasure of this size would rouse every ship in the Spanish Empire against him and a new way home had to be found. The charts he had seized from this ship and other ships, gave him the information he needed to find his way across the vast Pacific Ocean and from there, home to England. The specially minted coins would find favor for him with the Queen, especially on top of the share of the treasure she was already owed for partially financing this voyage.

  Chapter 1

  Present Day - London

  Major Jim Wilson, of the Royal Engineers, pushed his way to the door of the overcrowded Jubilee Line tube train and stepped onto the Westminster Underground station platform. He let the crowd carry him though the pedestrian tunnels to the foot of the escalator and he stood on the moving staircase as it carried him upwards once again. He watched the harassed faces of the morning commuters as they rushed to get to their tedious jobs in their dull offices. The ones who got off at this station were mostly Civil Servants who worked in Whitehall or the Houses of Parliament. Heaven only knows how they managed to do this day in and day out for a whole career. He had been doing it for nearly six months now and Jim could feel the frustration building with every week.

  He climbed the stairs out of the station and looked across Parliament Square through the drizzle, then turned to the right, away from the river and walked down the slight slope to the large building across the road at the bottom of Whitehall. 100 Parliament Street is the main office for Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs, the taxation department; a strange place to find a serving Army Officer and his small team of only two soldiers, but then that was the idea. Anybody looking for a team like his would be unlikely to look among the tax officers who served in this building.

  The building nominally has four working floors, but on the side that overlooks Parliament Square there is a small fifth floor annex where staff of various improvement projects used to work. They had been cleared out at short notice, amidst considerable grumbling, to make room for the new team and any additional members they might need in the future. Now there were just three of them rattling around in a room that could hold thirty.

  Jim swiped his building pass through the security gates and took the lift to the fourth floor. He nodded pleasantly to the staff, that looked up from their desks, as he walked through to the doorway at the top of the stairwell. He climbed the narrow staircase. His two soldiers, Sergeant Major Ivan Tho
mas and Sergeant Geordie Peters were already there. Although both were wearing similar nondescript civilian suits to his own, the sharp creases in their trousers and the highly polished shoes marked them out as different from the Civil Servants they were concealed amongst.

  Both men stood as he came in and both said, “Good morning sir.” It was the daily ritual of military formality that was then put aside.

  “Anything today, Ivan?” said Jim, more in hope than expectation.

  “Sorry Boss, nothing at all. It’s beginning to look like this was all a waste of time and effort.”

  Geordie brought the customary morning coffee across and the three of them sat in the cheap red armchairs in the conference area.

  They all sipped the scalding brew and then Geordie said, “So how long do we have to sit here before they let us go back to the Army then, boss? Or have they forgotten all about us?”

  Jim nodded, “After all the good intentions following the attacks on New York I must confess I expected this special unit to be more active than this. We’ll give it another week, I think. That will be exactly six months since we moved in here. If there is nothing for us then, I will ask for us to be posted to a regular unit. OK?”

  They both agreed and went back to their daily routine of checking emails, scanning the Internet, and then playing solitaire on the computers.

  At 10 a.m. they went down to the basement, to the small fitness facility and changed for their daily run. Rain or shine, they ran three times around St James’ Park every day, dodging the tourists and trying to keep their physical fitness at a reasonable level. Back in the basement, they lifted weights for half an hour before grabbing a coffee each from the ground floor coffee shop and then heading back up to the office. It was not a satisfactory routine for three capable and intelligent men.

  They had been sitting in the conference seats for a few minutes over their coffee when the door at the end of the room squeaked and a round rosy face peeped in. A young man in a well-cut blue suit with a faint pinstripe stepped into the room and walked over to them.

  “Major Wilson?” he said, looking round at them.

  Jim looked at him. “I’m Wilson.”

  “How do you do sir? Brian Dickinson, I am from Number 10. I have a message for you from the Prime Minister. He would like to see you and rather oddly, he also said ‘... and tell him to bring his two pirates with him.’ Does that make sense to you sir?”

  Jim nodded. “It does, Mr. Dickinson. When does he want to see us?”

  “In about an hour. Plus, he did ask if you could avoid using the front gates of Downing Street as there are rather a lot of press people there today.”

  “Sounds interesting. How else do we get there? Through the fabled secret tunnels?”

  “Oh no, sir. No need for those today, I will take you through the Foreign Office, they have a rather handy back gate that comes out just opposite the Prime Minister’s house. If we could go now I can ask you to stay in the waiting room, so he can see you as soon as he is free.”

  Chapter 2

  The four of them stepped out of the front door of 100 Parliament Street and turned left. At the end of the building, they turned into King Charles Street and walked along to the staff entrance of the Foreign Office. Security passes were waiting for them and the guard let them through into the central courtyard. As they walked across the wide courtyard, they looked around at the impressive building. Ivan noticed the heads carved in bas-relief into the wall around the courtyard, each with a name below it.

  “Oh wow! These are the Foreign Secretaries, going back years. Some of these people worked for Queen Elizabeth the First.”

  Dickinson stopped. “Are you interested in history?”

  Jim and Ivan nodded and Ivan said, “Particularly military history of course.”

  Dickinson looked at his watch. “We’ve just got time. There’s something in that part of the building you might like.” He led the way over to the right and through a door into an office area. Showing them up a staircase and into a meeting room he said, “Did you know that Lord Wellington and Admiral Nelson met only once? That was in 1805 when both of them were waiting to see Lord Castlereagh. The fireplace from that room was recovered when the building was demolished and this is it. It always gives me a little tingle to think that the two of them might have leaned on this mantelpiece during that meeting.”

  Jim looked across at Geordie who was staring out of the window at the attractive secretaries crossing the courtyard.

  “You seem unimpressed, Sergeant.”

  Geordie hastily turned back into the room.

  Ivan grinned at Jim. “The man’s got no soul, sir. Doesn’t get excited unless you want him crawling around in tight spaces or blowing something up, typical ex-miner.”

  The young Civil Servant checked his watch again and herded them back to the courtyard.

  They walked under a large archway and found a security guard waiting to swing the ironwork gates open for them. Passing through, Jim and his team found themselves in Downing Street as they walked towards the highly polished front door of Number 10. As they reached it the door swung silently open and they walked in. They had been left in the waiting room for only a few minutes when Dickinson returned.

  “He can see you now,” he said while opening a pair of impressive wooden doors.

  They entered the Cabinet Room with its famous oval table. Half way along, on each side, sat a single figure. The first was David Orwell, the Prime Minister, but none of them recognized the other man who watched them as they came in.

  The Prime Minister rose to greet them with a broad smile that they recognized from a thousand newspaper photographs and from their meeting after the V4 attack in the USA.

  “Welcome, gentlemen. Nice to see you again. Do sit down. Before Mr. Dickinson leaves us would you like some tea, coffee?”

  They all declined. Dickinson closed the door to the room closed and the five of them were alone.

  The Prime Minister regained his seat and said, “Well, I suppose some introductions are in order. Gentlemen, this is Sir Richard Wallace and he is the new Governor of the Bank of England. Richard, these are the three men I mentioned who I think are the people to solve our little problem.”

  Sir Richard looked uncomfortable. “I would hardly call it a little problem, Prime Minister and to be honest I am unclear how three soldiers are suitable to help?” He turned to the three and said, “No offense intended, gentlemen, but this is a vitally important issue and very delicate.”

  The Prime Minister looked at Jim and said, “Forgive me Major Wilson, but I haven’t had time to brief Sir Richard about you three. He has rather sprung his surprise on me I’m afraid.” He turned back to Sir Richard. “Richard, you told me that the most important issue was keeping the secret. Is that still correct?”

  “It is, Prime Minister. It is crucial if a disaster is to be avoided.”

  “Then let me give you some background on these three men and you can tell me what you think then. You obviously recall the missile attack on New York six months ago and the huge robbery that it was a cover for?” He looked to Sir Richard for confirmation and then continued. “The story that the press had was incomplete. The perpetrator of the attack was not a mystery as the public was led to believe and the story that the proceeds of the robbery were lost is a lie. I can’t tell you exactly what did happen for security reasons, but it was far more than the story the press was given. The British part of the team sits beside you and not a word of the secret part of that operation has leaked. Major Wilson and his small team have my absolute confidence and have demonstrated an ability to keep their mouths shut, which seems to be a rare quality these days.”

  “Major Wilson and his two pirates here were also the ones that initially discovered the whereabouts of the submarines that were used in the attack, so they have the investigative skills we need. They have my total admiration as highly capable people, which is why I recruited them as part of a secret international task for
ce, which has yet to begin operations. I imagine they are now bored to tears and would welcome something useful to do.”

  Jim leaned forwards and said, “You are quite right about the boredom, sir, and the ability to avoid running off at the mouth. Whatever task you have for us would be very welcome.”

  The Prime Minister turned back to the governor. “Well, Richard?”

  Sir Richard seemed to have a talent for looking uncomfortable, but smoothed the lapels of his chalk-striped and obviously expensive suit and said, “Very well Prime Minister, on your recommendation I accept that these men are our team, but I would have preferred trained investigators.”

  The Prime Minister nodded. “That’s settled then. Gentlemen, Sir Richard has a strange story to tell you and you may wish to change your mind about the tea while you are listening to it.”

  “Well gentlemen I don’t know how much you know about the history of World War Two.”

  Jim said, “I like to think I know a little. I studied at the Royal Military Academy, Sandhurst, and was posted there as an instructor when the historian Richard Holmes was lecturing there. I used to sneak into the back of his lectures whenever I could.”

  Sir Richard was a little taken aback; he cleared his throat and said, “Yes, well, that’s useful of course, but the story I have to tell you is one of the secrets of that war that has not been publicized at all. In fact, I myself only became aware of it recently. It is a secret that is passed to each Governor of the Bank of England as he or she takes over the post.”

  The governor took a breath and then continued, “You will be aware that in 1940 there was a very real possibility of Britain being invaded and you will recall that the British Army had been virtually destroyed in France. Many of the men got out through Dunkirk in all sorts of ships and private boats, but most of their personal weapons and all their heavy weapons and transport were left behind. Luckily for us, Hitler decided he needed command of the sky before he could risk the cross channel invasion and the RAF, with help from some overseas contingents, fought and won the Battle of Britain.”