Golden Eights

by Nigel Seed

  On the other side of the vehicle, the police sergeant was now staring into the back of the robbers’ truck at the four bodies lying there.

  “Four dead? That’s going to be a lot of paper work.”

  “Shouldn’t be four,” said Jim looking over the Sergeant’s shoulder, “only two of them were shot as they tried to open fire on us. One irritated my Sergeant Major and I think he has a broken jaw. The other one was knocked out by some kind of ‘Vulcan Death Grip,’ I have no idea how. You’ll have to ask Spock here,” he said, indicating a grinning SAS Trooper.

  “Now sir,” he replied, “you must know there is no such thing as a Vulcan Death Grip, all the Trekkers know that. I got him with a nerve pinch to the neck. That stops them yelling or moving. Then push on a pressure point to switch the lights out. He should come round within the hour with just a stinking headache and a stiff neck.”

  “Where the devil did you learn that?” asked the Police Sergeant.

  “Hereford.”

  “Ahh, that explains a lot. Never mind.”

  The police inspector came around the side of the truck, putting his mobile phone back in his pocket as he walked. He looked at Jim with more respect than before.

  “Seems you were right sir. You will be leaving here without making statements and it seems these men are indeed terrorists. My Chief Constable has despatched two unmarked cars to escort you onwards. Our armed response team will be in them just in case there are any more of these beggars around. They should be here in about fifteen minutes.”

  “I was rather hoping to be gone by then, Inspector.”

  “Sir, if I am cleaning up this mess and breaking Lord knows how many regulations and laws, you could wait for fifteen minutes to make my Chief Constable happy, couldn’t you?”

  “I could and would you thank the Chief when you report to him about our little adventure? I’m sure he’ll be calling for you to give him a personal debrief.”

  “He already has, so maybe you could give me a few details. Like what you have in that truck for instance and why some of your men are carrying non-standard weapons.”

  “I wish I could, but I’m afraid you already have all the information I am able to give you. However, I do need something from you. I need to know who set these people on to us. We have been keeping a low profile so it’s quite worrying. I don’t suppose you would let one of my specialists here have a word with one of the prisoners?”

  “No, sir. That is one line I’m not crossing. They will be interrogated hard but without any crude coercion.”

  The one Jim had nicknamed Spock looked aggrieved at that. “My coercion is anything but crude, I’ll have you know. Painful it may be, but far from crude.”

  Chapter 53

  The rush hour in London was running down as they left the motorway and headed through the city to the Bank of England. The escorting police cars made the journey easier, but even they could not clear the crush of cars out of the way all the time, so it was fully dark by the time they reached the bank. As the heavy Army truck pulled around to the vehicle entrance the armed police placed their cars both sides of the doorway and took up positions watching the street. The four soldiers from the back of the truck dropped the tailgate and climbed down stiffly.

  Jim opened the passenger door and dropped to the floor of the unloading bay. Sir Richard was there to greet him with an outstretched hand and a surprisingly warm smile.

  “Well, you did it again. Tilshead this time, eh? Never heard of it myself and I hear you had some excitement on the way back with your spoils? Maybe you should think again about taking my security people along as back up?”

  Jim looked at the governor for a second before replying. “Maybe we should, but the problem was handled rather well by my people.”

  “How will you keep this event out of the press? It could attract far too much of the wrong kind of attention.”

  “I’m aware of that, Sir Richard. I’ve got the Hampshire Police to agree to hold the attackers on terrorism charges. With an armed attack on a British Army truck in broad daylight it seems quite plausible to me. And that way they can be held without seeing a lawyer for seven days. By which time we will have disappeared back into the woodwork.”

  “Good enough. Would you like to watch my people unload your truck?”

  “I would, but I think my lot would like to go and stand by a hot air duct somewhere, its bloody cold in the back of one of these vehicles on a day like this.”

  Sir Richard called one of the bank employees over and instructed her to take the four soldiers off to a coffee room to get warmed up. He then re-joined Jim, plus Ivan, who had also come over to watch the unloading. With the gold safely stored in the massive vault, Jim and Ivan took their leave having first collected the others. They drove back up the ramp to the street where Jim asked Ivan to stop the truck. He jumped down and went across to the police officers to thank them for their help and to release them back to their normal duties.

  Jim climbed back into the cab of the truck and sat looking through the windscreen as the two police cars drove away. He leaned back in his seat and tossed his beret on to the narrow dashboard. Ivan paused before he restarted the engine.

  “I know that look, boss. What’s biting you?”

  “Ivan, how the hell did Sir Richard know we were in Tilshead and how did he know we had been attacked? And another thing, the first one of the thieves over the tailgate knew I was a major before he had chance to see my rank badges. He had been briefed.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t mention where we were to Sir Richard when you told him we were coming in?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Then we seem to have a little mystery to solve. Where to?”

  “Let’s drop the truck at Chelsea Barracks. The Guards can take it back to Westdown Camp tomorrow and I think we could all do with a night’s sleep in their transit accommodation.”

  Ivan started the engine and pulled the heavy vehicle out onto the street. Rush hour was long over and the streets of the capital were quiet. Ivan drove in silence for a while until he turned into Birdcage Walk, to reach the barracks.

  “Boss, you don’t really think the Governor of the Bank of England could be the one who set us up for those scumbags do you?”

  “I don’t know. Four tons of gold is an awful lot of money even for Sir Richard. So I don’t know, I just don’t know.”

  Chapter 54

  The next morning the three team members took a brisk walk back up Birdcage Walk to Parliament Square and into 100 Parliament Street where they had their office. The first order of business was to get themselves a rather good English breakfast in the staff restaurant. They filled their trays and sat at a table remote enough to allow them to speak freely.

  Jim swallowed the last of his Lincolnshire sausage and said, “Ivan, I need you to follow up on the last part of that daft verse we picked up in Morecambe. Some nonsense about a cave. Trawl the Internet and anything else you need to find us any possible locations.”

  “Will do. What are you going to be doing?”

  “Geordie and I are going to West Sussex to watch a demonstration of hypnosis on Helen’s granddad.”

  “What the devil for?”

  “Apparently it can delve into the unconscious mind and help him remember things he has forgotten or repressed. We’re going to see if he can recall where the rest of the gold went that night.”

  “Good luck with that kind of mumbo jumbo. I’m betting I’ll have more luck finding a cave.”

  They parted at the lifts. Ivan headed up to the fifth floor to start his research and the other two set off to catch the train to Horsham. From there they grabbed a taxi to take them into Henfield where they hoped Helen would be waiting with the hypnosis expert as she had promised. They paid off the taxi outside the neat bungalow and walked towards the gate to the garden path as the daylight faded into evening.

  “We’re being watched, boss.”

  “I’d be surprised if we weren’t,
a Geordie down here is rarer than a singing rocking horse. They are probably trying to identify what species you are.”

  The door opened. Helen stood there waiting for them, looking as lovely as ever. She kissed Jim lightly on the cheek and smiled at Geordie as they walked into the hallway.

  “Come on through,” she said, showing them into the lounge. “This is Katie; she’s a friend from the psychology department, she’s studying for her doctorate in neurology, and she’s a qualified hypnotherapist. Granddad will be through in a minute.”

  The stocky woman with kind eyes stood up and shook their hands. “Do we have to do the whole barking dogs and clucking chicken routine or do you know the difference between hypnotherapy and stage hypnotism?”

  “Helen put me straight on that when she suggested getting your help and I briefed Geordie on the way down here, so we are just here to see if you can help Mr Greenly to remember a special night in 1940.”

  “What happened back then?”

  “I’m really sorry to be difficult, but I can’t tell you that and you really must not ask him. All we need to know is, was there a fifth truck there being loaded, or was the cargo they were loading taken away somehow?”

  “It sounds important?”

  “It is. But it would be damaging if too much was known about it. I promise you it’s nothing illegal.”

  Katie looked over Jim’s shoulder as Mr Greenly shuffled in. He seemed unsteady on his feet and looked tired. Jim looked at Helen who smiled and nodded. “He’ll be fine. In fact, Katie tells me he will sleep peacefully afterwards and wake up feeling a lot better.”

  The old man moved slowly to his chair next to the fireplace and sat down with a groan. He did not seem to have noticed there was anyone else in the room.

  Katie nodded to Helen who stood up and closed the curtains and the door. Katie waited until Helen had resumed her seat and there were no more distractions. The two men had been warned to sit still and keep quiet during the session. She moved the dining chair she was sitting on alongside Harold’s armchair and started to speak to him. Her voice was low and comforting. She did not use any equipment, but just allowed her words to wash over him.

  Jim watched, fascinated. This bore no relation to the stage hypnosis he had once seen. The warm voice continued, always soft and always reassuring. He could see the old man sink into the chair as he relaxed and his head fell slowly backwards. Jim thought he must be asleep. Now the voice changed slightly as Katie steered Harold’s mind back in time to the night when he had loaded trucks during an air raid. The old man’s body did not move but his head swung slowly left and right as he visualized.

  Katie spoke again, “So tell me Harold, how many trucks are you loading?”

  “Four. All removal vans from all over the country. Strange they are being driven by men in uniform.”

  “Harold, have another look. Are you sure there are only four?”

  “Yes, I’m sure just the four. No wait. There’s another one. It’s not a removal van. It’s a cargo lorry with a canvas back on it.”

  “Tell me about the lorry. What color is it? Does it have an owner’s name on it?”

  “It’s difficult to tell the color in the dark. It might be black; no its dark green, I just saw it when the searchlight swung by overhead. There are letters on the side, quite big ones.”

  “What are the letters Harold?”

  “It’s a G then a V then an R. No, the second letter is W. There was a rope hanging over it. GWR, that’s it.”

  “Is there anything else you can tell me about that lorry, Harold.”

  “The soldier driving it has an accent. It’s difficult to understand him, he slurs his words together and when he says an R it sort of rolls.”

  “Can you read the number plate or any other writing on the lorry?”

  “No, that’s all there is. It’s too dark to see the plate.”

  Jim leaned forward and whispered to Katie. She nodded and turned back to the old man.

  “Harold, one of the vans has a painting on it. A horse and cart, I think. Is there anything else you could tell me about that one?”

  “Horse and cart on the van side, yes. The cart has a flower on its side. It’s white, a white rose.”

  Katie turned and looked at Jim, who nodded. She turned back to the old man in the chair and still in her soft mellifluous voice brought his mind back to the present. She assured him he had done well and suggested he might like to go for a lie down, to sleep for a while. His eyes opened and he looked dazedly around the room before pushing himself out of his chair with a groan and shuffling to the door. He left the room and they all waited until they heard his bedroom door close before they spoke.

  “That was remarkable, Katie,” said Jim, “thank you so much for that. Now we just need to work out what GWR means.”

  “God’s Wonderful Railway,” said Geordie.

  “What?”

  “It’s the old Nickname for the Great Western Railway. All the old steam train drivers used to call it that. It used to run from London down to the West Country.”

  “How on earth did you know that?” said Helen.

  “I’m a Geordie and steam trains are in the DNA. The first commercial passenger railway in the world was the Stockton to Darlington line up in Geordie Land. My old granddad drove locomotives for the LNER right up to the day he died. Had a heart attack on the footplate right in the station. He was dead before they could lift him down.”

  “Well, you learn something every day. I thought the first real railways were in London.”

  “No, George Stephenson was a Geordie boy like me. In fact, it’s down to him that people from the North East are called Geordie’s in the first place.”

  Helen smiled. “Go on then, tell us the tale.”

  “It came from the coal mines. George Stephenson developed a safety lamp for miners and then Davey developed what he said was a better one. All the mines changed over to the Davey Lamp except up in the North East where they stayed with the lamp they called the Geordie Lamp and so the Geordies got their name.”

  “Is that true or just one of your tall tales?”

  “As true as the fact that me and Katie here are going to the pub for a pie and a pint while you two talk about how wonderful I am. Come on Katie, you can tell me how you got into this black magic skill of yours.”

  As they stood Helen said, “Thanks, Geordie, we’ll join you shortly.”

  “No problem, Helen, but don’t call me shorty.”

  Geordie and Katie were still giggling about the childish joke as they closed the front door. Jim and Helen watched them go and sat down on the sofa holding hands like a couple of besotted teenagers.

  “Can you stay at all?” she said.

  “Sorry, I can’t. But this session with your Granddad gives us a new lead and if that pays off I’d like to take you away somewhere without anybody we know around.”

  “That sounds good. Do you have anywhere in mind?”

  “Not yet, I’ll work on it. Oh and by the way, you’d better let me have that gold bar now unless the beer in the pub has become very, very expensive?”

  They kissed and he held her close. She sighed and said, “We’d better get over to the pub or they’ll think we’re up to something.”

  “Will your Granddad be OK on his own?”

  “He’ll be fine. A glass of warm milk at this time of night and he always sleeps like a baby through till breakfast time.”

  Chapter 55

  Back in London, Jim and Geordie met up with Ivan to compare notes about the progress they had made. Jim described the hypnotherapy and the way the old man had gone back in time, to visualize the scene in the street outside the bank.

  “All good, but where does it take us? The GWR doesn’t exist anymore and they must have used a lot of trucks, when they were operating, how do we trace that one? They were operating the railways throughout Devon, Dorset, Cornwall and heaven knows how many other counties. Their trucks could have been going all over
the place.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. This was wartime with strict rationing in place. Fuel was very limited for non-military use. Trucks of that time could not have made it up from the West Country to London and back again on one tank of fuel. They must have authorized it to collect fuel in London or issued spare cans. Either way, somebody might have signed off on it. If there are records from that time we might drop lucky.”

  “Worth a go.”

  “Plus, we have Geordie here who is something of a steam train fan. He could be our wild card when going through the records. He can probably chat up the record keeper by talking about ancient trains.”

  “No need to take the mickey, boss.”

  “I’m not. I’m deadly serious. These records have probably been archived and the sort of people who look after ancient records are commonly interested in whatever was going on at the time. You make friends with them and it could be damned useful.”

  “I’d better read up a bit more about the GWR so I can convince them, eh, boss?”

  “Go ahead, buy a couple of books if you think that will help. Now, Ivan, what did your search reveal?”

  “Well it was going nowhere very fast until you called about the white rose on the side of the van. That narrowed it down to Yorkshire, the white rose county. Still it’s the biggest county of them all so there was plenty to look for.”

  “And what did you find?”

  “There are a number of caves in the Dales but nothing in them suggests the rich people that get mentioned in that crap verse, so I kept on looking. Then I found that there are two villages near Hull that are called North Cave and South Cave.”

  “Sounds promising. Did it lead anywhere?”

  “I think it may have. In South Cave there is a manor house called Cave Castle, built back in 1780 something, that has now been converted into a Hotel, Spa and Golf Complex. Looks quite a nice place, judging by the website.”

  “That would fit. So did you book us in there?”