Golden Eights

by Nigel Seed

  Sir Richard paused and looked at the Prime Minister who nodded for him to continue.

  “However, the government of the time had not predicted that the RAF could hold the Luftwaffe back and, as a precaution, a major part of this country’s gold reserves were spirited away to Canada for safe keeping. That was ‘Operation Fish’ and it was incredibly successful. Despite the U-Boat risks in the North Atlantic, tons of gold were shipped and not a single bar was lost. Most of it was stored in a special vault below the Sun Alliance building in Montreal and the secret never came out until long after the war.”

  Sir Richard paused and sipped his tea.

  “However, what is not known, outside a very small group, is that because the Atlantic crossing was so hazardous it was decided that we would not risk all the gold and a large percentage was sent into hiding in this country. This action was even more secret, so much so, that it did not even get an operational code name. The gold was entrusted to a secret group that had been set up on Churchill’s personal order and they were just known as the ‘Auxiliary Units.’ Very few records were kept of this Secret Army so that if the Germans succeeded in landing and taking over the country, there would be no record that they ever existed. They were the perfect people to hide our gold. Sadly in the rush and panic of those times nobody thought about how to get the gold back. Since there is no record of who it was issued to, we do not know where to look or who to contact. You see our problem?”

  There was a silence as the three soldiers absorbed all they had been told. Geordie was the first to speak. “So, maybe a naïve question, but why don’t you just put a notice in the papers or on TV asking the people who have it to come forward?”

  Sir Richard looked at him skeptically. “A few reasons. First, the treasure hunters and criminals would be out in force and anything they found would probably get ‘lost.’ Next, we don’t have the code word needed to get these people to bring it back and anyway most of the people it was entrusted to are probably dead or in their dotage by now. But the big one is our financial credit in the world. International financial institutions know how much gold we have to back our currency. Or rather, they think they do. There are tons of gold less than they think in our vaults. It is in the country, but we don’t know where. If that became known, outside the UK, the pound would crash in value and the country would be in a huge monetary crisis. Basically, we need it back without anybody knowing it was ever lost, particularly now as we are obliged to make a significant gold transfer at the end of the year.”

  Jim looked up. “Gold transfer?”

  David Orwell leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “Yes. The previous government borrowed considerably from our friends the Chinese. China has now decided that they do not trust our currency and want their payment in gold. That payment is due very shortly. We dare not default or our position in the financial world would be ruined.”

  Ivan looked thoughtful. “So how much gold are we talking about here? Enough to fill a backpack or what?”

  Sir Richard looked across at the Prime Minister who nodded and said, “They need to know. Go ahead.”

  Sir Richard swallowed. “Not easy to calculate. We know that there are nearly 12 tons of gold bars, of various sizes, but that is not all. Golden art treasures were passed to the bank for safekeeping during the war and they are out there somewhere as well. All in all, there is probably somewhere in the region of twenty tons unaccounted for.”

  Geordie gave a low whistle. “Bloody hell, that’s a lot of metal to shift, but with our usual ten percent commission that could pay for my wedding rather nicely.”

  The governor slammed his hands on the table and leapt to his feet “Prime Minister, that is unthinkable!”

  The Prime Minister looked at the three soldiers and noticed their shoulders were shaking.

  “Sir Richard,” he said, “I think you have been the victim of a little Army humor there. I trust these men implicitly and anything they recover will end up in your vaults. Never fear.”

  Jim managed to regain a straight face and turned to Sir Richard who clearly had the sense of humor of a golf ball.

  “Sir Richard, this gold has been missing for more than seventy years and yet only now you want it found. I understand you need it for the gold transfer and that makes it urgent. But what has changed? And surely this can’t be the first time the Bank has tried to find it?”

  The Prime Minister leaned forward again and reached for the mug of tea sitting on the highly polished table. “I asked the same question and it seems attempts have been made over the years to recover the gold. The first was in 1945 as the war ended. That was when we found out that the officer of the Auxiliary Units who had coordinated the concealment in 1940 had been dropped behind enemy lines in 1944, just after D-Day, he didn’t come back. That was Captain George Galway of the Loyal North Lancashire Regiment, a brave man, but one who keeps his secret to this day. Any more, Sir Richard?”

  Sir Richard smoothed his old school tie. “Yes, in fact in 1954 a police inspector named Joseph Docherty, from Scotland Yard, was given the task of searching for it. Nothing much happened for months and then one day he told his sergeant that he had a clue he was following up and would not be back for a week. He took the investigation file with him and was never seen again. Despite a major internal inquiry at the time we have never had a starting point to begin another search since.”

  “So what has changed?” Jim asked.

  Sir Richard was obviously not used to being interrupted and questioned, but recovered his composure and said, “I mentioned the gold treasures that were shipped out with the bullion. One of them, a rare gold coin, has turned up in a New York auction house.” He slid a glossy brochure along the table, opened at the page that showed pictures of each side of a gleaming golden coin on a blue velvet cloth. “If we ask too many questions on an official level or demand it back we will expose the problem and the financial trouble will start.”

  Jim nodded. “OK, that will give us a start point. But what is this coin and how do we know it’s one of ours for sure?”

  Sir Richard paused, then said, “In the time of the Spanish Empire the internationally accepted currency was the Spanish Dollar. These were also known as ‘Pieces of Eight’ due to the custom of cutting them into eight smaller pieces for smaller purchases. These were minted in various places in the Empire such as Mexico City and Lima in Peru. They were made of high-grade silver of which the Spanish had a vast supply. However, as a gift for Phillip II, twenty of these coins were carefully cast in pure gold along with a spectacular, ornate, solid gold crucifix. This was intended for his personal altar. He was a very devout Catholic. Unfortunately for the king, the Spanish galleon carrying these gifts was one of those attacked by English privateers and the cargo of gold and silver, including these gifts for the king, was taken. The privateer in this case was Francis Drake and the ship he captured in the Pacific during his famous circumnavigation of the world was the unarmed Nuestra Seňora de la Concepción. In fact, the spectacular treasure was the reason he did not come back the way he had sailed out, he did not want the Spanish to catch him. He brought his haul back to England after circumnavigating the globe. His investors, who included Queen Elizabeth, took their shares, but Drake kept back the gifts intended for King Phillip and made a present of them to the Queen to ensure he kept her favor. They could well have been one of the reasons he was given a knighthood and why he was honored on the deck of the Golden Hind in Tilbury. The share that the Queen was given was the foundation of the British Empire in large part. The coins were special and were kept in Buckingham Palace until nineteen of them were brought into our vaults for safe keeping in late 1939.”

  Ivan leaned forward with his big hands flat on the highly polished oval table. “You said nineteen were brought to the bank’s vault. What happened to number twenty?”

  Sir Richard looked at him. “We don’t know. It was sent to the Spanish government as a goodwill gift in 1934, but during their Civil War
it vanished. We think it may have gone to Russia, as much of the Spanish gold reserves did, to buy weapons for the Republican Army. But if it did there is no record of it. Equally, it may have been looted when Madrid was taken by the Nationalists. We just don’t know.”

  “So how do you know the one in New York is one of ours and not the Spanish one?”

  “We don’t and that is another part of the problem.”

  Jim looked at his men and then back to the Prime Minister. “Sir, it’s very nice of you to have confidence in us, but surely Scotland Yard or MI6, with all their resources, would be more suited to this task?”

  “Probably true, but there have been cases of police officers selling information to the press. Even MI5 and MI6 have had far too many leaks recently. I dare not trust them with this until we have cleared out the bad apples. So whether you like it or not I’m afraid I am putting you on the spot for this.”

  The three soldiers leaned back in their chairs. This was a big deal. After all these years, trying to track down a highly secret organization, with no starting point, was not going to be easy. Jim ran his hand through his dark hair and looked across the wide table at the Prime Minister who was watching him expectantly.

  “How much authority do we have to get this done and what resources can we call on, sir?”

  “What do you need?”

  Jim shook his head. “At this stage I don’t have the faintest idea. If we narrow down the search area we might need a helicopter or possibly even satellite imagery. I won’t know until we get into it and we may need things at short notice.”

  The Prime Minister thought for a moment. “Would a letter from me giving you authority to call on all British Government resources, military and civilian, do the job for you?”

  “Yes sir, it would.”

  “I will have one drawn up and delivered to your office in Parliament Street before the day is out. In addition, you have whatever budget you need for travel and anything else you need. The details of the financial codes to use for that will come with the letter.”

  There was a pause as the Prime Minister contemplated the three soldiers. He cleared his throat.

  “Gentlemen, I know that you are used to danger in your profession, but I do want to stress the importance of this mission. The need for secrecy is not just for Sir Richard’s benefit, I fear that if this task becomes known, there is a significant risk, to all of you, from criminal elements that would stop at nothing for this amount of gold. I think it is certain they would kill to get their grubby hands on this treasure. But I have confidence in you. Thank you, gentlemen, please keep Sir Richard apprised of your progress.”

  The three men rose and left the Cabinet Room. The rosy-cheeked Dickinson was waiting for them and steered them out of Number 10 and back through the Foreign Office to avoid entanglement with any reporters who might be prowling outside the gates of Downing Street. They walked in silence, each of them thinking about their new task and wondering where the devil they were going to start.

  Chapter 3

  Jim, Geordie and Ivan walked across to the Treasury side of their building for a lunch in the staff restaurant. They were still quiet, absorbing what they had been told. They took their trays to a table away from most of the other diners where they could speak without being overheard.

  Ivan was the first to speak. “Well it seems to me that the first thing we have to do is find out if this coin in New York is number twenty. If it is, we are out of clues to start with and we can ask to go back to a proper job. If not, we might just have a place to start.”

  The other two nodded agreement over their shepherd’s pie.

  “Agreed,” said Jim, “I think we may need to split up and each take a part of this puzzle. Geordie how long have we got before your wedding and how much time can you spare to be away before it?”

  Geordie smiled. “It’s just less than two weeks away and to be honest, I think Sam and her Mum would like me out from under foot while they are organizing it. All I have to do is turn up on the day and stay vertical during the service.”

  “That should be plenty of time to identify our starting point at least. After lunch we need to get up to our garret and work up a plan.”

  Back in their room on the fifth floor, they dragged a whiteboard to the conference area and started to work out what they knew and what they needed to know. What they had was pretty thin. The first port of call had to be the auction house in New York. The catalog listed the sellers of the various items they were offering, but against the coin, it just said ‘A Private Seller.’ It appeared that the present owner did not want to be identified. There could be any number of reasons for that, but it probably only meant that with this being a reputable auction house; they were going to respect the seller’s privacy.

  Jim stared at the ceiling. “Who do we know that can persuade a famous New York auction house to release privileged information?”

  Geordie looked round from the whiteboard. “It has to be Raoul.”

  Ivan shook his head “How can a lieutenant commander in the US Navy do that? Even if he is a Navy SEAL.”

  Geordie sat down and said, “Maybe he can’t, but the SEALs work with a lot of spooky people in some strange agencies in the US. Maybe one of his contacts owes him a favor? Heaven knows the whole of the USA owes him a favor after the V4 incident, if only they knew about him. If it came to arm-twisting he would be ideal, but I suspect we need to be a little more subtle. Since we can’t use any of the usual agencies in this country, I guess we can’t ask the alphabet agencies in the States so we need to use a friend with influence.”

  Jim sat up. “That’s good thinking. Geordie, you take that angle. Give him a call and find out where he is and if he is in the US, go and see him. No mention of this search in phone calls or emails. The spooks are tracking too many of them. You can’t tell him why we want to know. He should trust us enough for that.”

  Geordie went to make his phone call and Jim turned to Ivan. “Ivan,” he said, “if it is not on display in Spain it has either been stolen or it went to Russia. To avoid waiting for the answer from New York, I want you to go to Russia and see if you can find it.”

  Ivan was surprised. “Bloody hell, boss! You do know Russia is a big country, don’t you? Where would I start?”

  Jim smiled. “Not as big as you think, in this case. This is a very special piece so it will probably be in one of two places. My thought is that it is either in the Kremlin itself or in the Hermitage Museum in St Petersburg.”

  Ivan nodded. “I take your point but can’t we just get the embassy people to go and have a look?”

  Jim shook his head. “I would guess that they have already done that as far as they can and not seen it. The Hermitage is huge and they cannot display all their items all the time so it could be in storage and if it is in the Kremlin, I doubt they can just walk in for a look round. We need someone to help us.”

  “Andrei!” said Ivan. “After the big bear hug he got from the Russian president at the end of the V4 incident he must have some really useful influence to get into places others could not go. I’ll call him now.”

  He got up and went to his desk to phone the Russian police commander who had nearly died with them during the New York attack.

  Jim walked back to his computer. He had decided that his part of the initial search would be to see what information was available about Churchill’s Secret Army. The Internet was always a good place to start; provided there was not too much conspiracy rubbish surrounding these people, if that failed he would have to find a computer geek to gain him access to the Dark Net where all sorts of unpleasant things were available. As he sat down, the door opened behind him and Dickinson, the Prime Minister’s assistant, appeared once more, this time holding three envelopes.

  “Hello sir,” he said, “the Prime Minister has sent these over for you. He thought you might need one each. He says to tell you that if anyone gives you any trouble, there is a phone number in there that goes straight thr
ough to the duty officer in Number 10 who can contact him day or night to back you up.”

  Jim opened the first envelope and read the letter. It was simple and straight to the point. It should do the trick. He turned to the young man. “Would you thank the Prime Minister for me? These will do very nicely.”

  He stood as Dickinson left down the narrow staircase. Then walked across to give Geordie his envelope and sat down at the next desk.

  Geordie swiveled round to face him. “Raoul is in Florida with some of his team, they are engaged in a training exercise and operating out of Eglin Air Force Base. It’s a bit of a pain to get there using scheduled airlines, but there is an E-3D Sentry AWACS aircraft leaving RAF Waddington first thing in the morning on its way to the US. If that’s the Prime Minister’s letter I can get them to take me and divert through Eglin on their way.”

  Jim nodded and handed the letter over. “Good idea. Why is a Sentry going to the US, though?”

  “They have been invited to take part in an annual USAF training exercise called ‘Red Flag.’ It’s in the desert just outside Las Vegas.”

  Ivan turned round at his desk. “Typical RAF. We get to freeze our backsides off training to throw bridges across the rivers of Northern Germany and they get to go to Las Vegas. I think I joined the wrong mob.”

  After four more phone calls, Geordie was on his way to Kings Cross station to catch the train for Lincoln. The RAF would have a car waiting for him to take him to the air base at Waddington to be ready for his flight the next morning.

  Ivan had confirmed details with Andrei and then booked a scheduled British Airways flight to Moscow. Leaving at 10:05 the next morning, he had arranged for Andrei to pick him up at Domodedovo airport and not to ask any questions until they met up. He took his copy of the Prime Minister’s letter and went home to pack.