by A D Davies
The farther Jules proceeded through the catacombs, the more impressive they became. Lit only by the faintest of bulbs, this section was visibly curved, plastered smooth but cracked in places, the floor a skim of cement with a dark-red carpet a foot wide covering the middle to lend it an air of respectability. Not the medieval brickwork he expected.
Deathly quiet, security clearly believed they had covered the ingress and egress sufficiently.
The alcoves featured a variety of treasures: vases and headdresses, weapons and armor, all on display in this private museum. Occasionally he came across a relief of a noble person lying down as if the wall hid a coffin or the body of an interred royal. With the castle’s foundations sunk this low, Gothic architecture occasionally streaked the ceiling, the height varying between eight feet and fifteen, with foundation work melded into the walls. The precise locations of the support columns seemed fortunate.
The more he saw, the odder things looked: arteries burrowing deeper, the logical layout of the system, the fact the floor was level for the most part...
“I thought Toby said this was a natural cave system.”
“He did,” Dan said.
“Then why does it all seem so conveniently set up?”
“You’re a big fan of relevance, right?”
“Right,” Jules said.
“Then you can ask Toby questions later. Now focus. Get where you need to be.”
Jules acknowledged that Dan was correct, so he followed Toby’s map, matching it to the GPS unit on his wrist. If the manuscript describing the location of Thomas’s second bracelet—“the Mary bangle” as they’d taken to calling it—was in the vault as expected, he couldn’t waste time on trivial stuff.
He rounded the final deserted corner and stopped short. There was another reason there were no patrols down here.
He said, “Uh, I got a problem.”
Toby acted as naturally as he could. While he listened to the men outside returning the soup receptacle to Harpal without offering an apology, he tried to keep track of Jules too. An open channel always brought these issues. He hoped for a reassuring word from Dan or Charlie, the most experienced of them in these binds.
“The upgrades you mentioned,” Toby said. “How would you power something like that? You can’t embed cables in the structure, and using visible trunking would defeat the aesthetic.”
He hoped Jules was checking for wires, for a power source. Even if Colin clammed up, the message would reach the lad.
“To an old thief such as yourself,” Colin replied, “let’s just say we have our ways.”
Jules said, “No kidding they got their ways...”
The phone trilled yet again. Colin picked up the handset. “I’m sorry, but no one is that eager to represent me after an accident that never occurred. Would you excuse me?” He stepped away and answered. Listened. A long, drawn-out frown. Then he stared at his phone for a moment, the frown deepening, and held the handset toward Toby. “It’s for you. He sounds Italian.”
Set into a natural alcove, Jules stared at a security buffer using infrared lenses he’d selected from his bag. Before the vault door—which was a shade bigger than the average house door—a series of lasers shot horizontally from domes in the walls two feet in front of the steel slab. He recognized the make.
Fine tuning...
One camera roved side to side in a 180-degree arc, taking in the vault, the entrance to this vestibule, and a portion of the corridors beyond stretching both ways. When it aimed toward Jules, he had time to duck behind a natural limestone outcrop, timing the sweep until it switched directions.
“Motion detectors, battery powered,” he said. “One camera. Each dome is Wi-Fi enabled, so there must be a booster down here. Why didn’t you see this?”
No answer.
“Toby?”
No answer.
“Fine, I’ll do it the hard way.”
Dan spoke for the first time in what seemed to be an age. “I’ll hit up the control room through the kitchen.”
“Two are escorting Harpal out,” Charlie said. “Two heading back to their room. Bridget’s going with Harps for appearances’ sake. Security figured them for pranksters or troublemakers.”
“That leaves two in the control room.” Jules examined the domes on his left, careful not to break the beam, counting the seconds of the camera’s slow pivot. “That’s two people who could be a problem for you. Where are they?”
“Thirty, maybe forty seconds out.”
It sounded as if Dan was already moving. “They won’t be a problem.”
“It ain’t fair.” Jules hopped back to his hidey-hole as the camera edged back his way. “Knocking ’em out, however you do it. They’re innocent guys doing a job. Bit heavy-handed with Harpal, but—”
“They’ll get over it. Probably get worker-comp too.”
“No.” Jules assessed the gaps between the beams. “I do this my way.”
“They’re Wi-Fi enabled you say?” Charlie asked.
“Yeah. Battery powered, so it can’t be cut. And a remote camera too. View is up and down the passageway. I’ll need to get through the beams while it’s facing away, which...” He counted in his head, still out of range. “It’s possible I can slip through, but I gotta time that jump just right. Go flat, then... I’ll have thirty seconds to get in the safe.”
“Is thirty seconds long enough?”
Jules ran through it again. “No. It’s not. I can’t do it in that time. The goons back in their hole?”
“Yes, they’re inside. Stay away from the camera.”
“Abort?”
“No,” Charlie said. “I got this. Stand by.”
“You know who this is talking to you?” the person on Colin’s phone asked. Specifically a Sicilian accent, not Italian as Colin assumed.
“I can hazard a guess,” Toby replied. “How did you get Colin Waterston’s personal number? And why not call me directly?”
“It is more fun this way. Besides, you might not believe my access to certain things if I simply told you.”
“Clever, Alfonse. No electronic trail connecting me to you. And you know I’ll have to listen.”
Alfonse laughed heartily. “Always sharp in the mind, Toby. Always.”
“If that’s the case, what must I listen to?”
Colin stepped closer, leaned in to try and eavesdrop on the conversation’s other end too. Toby dared not leave the room or conceal himself completely, but he did pull away. Colin would not insist too forcefully.
More concerning was that Alfonse never called personally. Contact was always via a double-blind intermediary.
“Why so desperate to speak with me?” Toby asked. “I’m having tea with an old friend.”
“Yes, yes. And my apologies for the unusual means of communication, my friend. But I must have your full attention.”
“You have it. I assure you.”
“You are looking for a manuscript, yes? A very old one? From approximately 60 AD perhaps?”
“Perhaps,” Toby said slowly.
“It is not where you think it is.”
“What do you mean? How do you know?”
This time, Alfonse’s laugh was less genuine. “Because it has already been stolen. And I know who has it. Cancel your plans, Toby. Come out to the coast. We will chat more then.”
“I got this. Stand by.”
Charlie sat on a bench opposite the CCTV room, laptop open. The device was built into the shell of a MacBook but ran military-grade hardware procured by Dan, which she had adapted. She ran a series of scans, picking up eight Wi-Fi signals, one of which was an open public facility while six others were hackable through an automated program. That left one with added oomph, which she tore into under the assumption it was the only one capable of handling the security of an übersecret network.
She was correct. Like her laptop, it was military standard.
“I can spoof myself as an admin for three minutes,” she said, “bu
t more than that risks them finding me. I’ll fake a worm attack in a more important area so this section won’t be observed so much. And this distraction won’t get us kicked out of the grounds.”
“Yeah,” Bridget said over the network, “sorry about that. My dear boyfriend and I aren’t allowed back in. We’ll meet you in Windsor town center.”
“Copy that.”
Toby handed Colin his phone back. Both wore frowns; Colin’s one of suspicion, Toby’s confused. And a little bit frightened.
“Is this a trick?”
“A trick?” Colin said. “Why would I be tricking you? What could I possibly trick you about? I thought this was just a chance to catch up with my former boss.”
“Of course. Of course.” Toby racked his brains to pull something together. He paced. Looked out the window.
How did Alfonse know?
“I mean, if it was a trick,” Colin said, “you must have something to hide.”
Toby faced Colin. “Why carry on this conversation if... ?”
Colin grinned.
Jules watched the camera halt. The light did not blink out. It was still filming, but at the extreme apex of its swing, pointed away from the vault door, it froze in place. The laser domes darkened.
“Okay,” Charlie said, “let’s go.”
Toby stormed away from Colin. The man was a snake, reveling in Toby’s shock.
“Terminate this,” Toby said. “Immediately.”
“Oh dear.” Colin fast-walked to keep up with the older man. “Can your little band of cut-price burglars not penetrate the vault?”
Toby struggled to reply calmly, the words threatening to spill out in a torrent but slamming into each other in this throat. He coughed the blockage away. “I came here hoping for a professional courtesy. To borrow an item to help with my research. That phone call was a contact who claims someone has, shockingly, stolen the item I’m interested in.”
Colin’s mouth opened slightly, but he concealed his surprise with more bluster. “I believe it is you attempting a trick. And not a very sophisticated one.”
Toby halted. Again, he directed his comments at Colin but hoped Jules twigged it was aimed at him. “Young man, listen very carefully. There is no point in me sending anyone to steal something that isn’t there. And when you search your supposedly secret vault, you’ll find no trace of anyone. Understand?”
An analog safe needs an analog safecracker.
Jules spun the old-fashioned dial, his audio bud flat to the Mancunian-Warner 83 safe door, listening to the gaps in the locking barrel align. “If I’m reading you right, you got some sorta anonymous tip. I ain’t trusting anything that comes in anonymously.”
“Pull out,” Dan said. “That’s an order.”
“Confirmed,” Charlie added. “Changing of the Guard is nearly up. Move it, Jules.”
Jules hit the last of the numbers, heard the cylinders click together. “Why, exactly?”
“Because what we came for isn’t here.”
“We can’t be sure.”
“Everyone’s pulling out,” Dan said. “I’m not waiting for you.”
“That’s cool. I don’t need you people ordering me around anyway. I told you how I do things. I never assume. And I ain’t assuming Toby’s mystery phone call is on the money. I need to see for myself.”
“You’re being an idiot.” It sounded as if Charlie was walking fast.
It was one minute and fifty-five seconds since Charlie called three minutes.
“I got time.” Jules turned the handle.
“Time to leave,” Toby said forcefully, again addressing the group but presumably talking to the man in front of him. He added, “Unless you’d care to stop me.”
Jules pulled the door a crack. Air hissed out as the seal broke.
“You’re either part of this team or you’re not,” Dan said. “Now fall in.”
“I’m too close,” Jules insisted. “The answer could be right here.”
“Good for you. You’re on your own.”
Jules stepped into what resembled a warehouse hewn out of rock, so deep and wide it was a wonder the castle above didn’t crash down into it. Then he remembered the perfectly aligned foundations, meaning those who built it had used the strength of the bedrock that was already there.
The space sloped downward, a cave dropping in steady increments. Lined with modern shelving, it delved deep into the earth beyond the field of light cast by Jules’s headlamp. He thought he could see the other end, but it wasn’t clear. What was clear, though, despite the capacity of the place, was that the shelves were empty.
“Aw, damn.”
Aboveground, in the sealed-off bathroom, Dan dumped Jules’s bagged clothes at the back of the hole and replaced the toilet paper and other stock they removed from the closet earlier. He left the manhole cover unsealed and closed the door.
“You’re on your own, then.”
He stripped off his agency uniform and stuffed it into a bag. He was now dressed in a checkered shirt and loud shorts, camouflage allowing him to disappear among the many stereotypical American tourists outside. He slipped out of the bathroom, leaving the “Out of Order” sign in place, and scooted along the same corridors down which he had come.
Outside, he met Charlie in the precinct as the Changing of the Guard concluded with the new batch of troops marching to their posts. He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, and as the crowd broke up, it wasn’t difficult to mingle before sauntering to the exit.
Jules ran ten yards into the warehouselike vault, yet there was still nothing but plaques and flyers left.
It looked as if Toby’s informant was right, although judging by the amount of storage space that was now emptied, the word “burglary” didn’t cut it. Everything of interest was gone. The place even smelled like an old cardboard box.
He sprinted to the door and was met by two uniformed guards—one with a mustache, one bald.
Damn.
“Don’t move!” The bald one reached for the radio handset on his lapel.
Jules sidestepped, spun the guy’s elbow down, then pushed it toward his eye. With the man’s balance lost, Jules used the momentum to lever the guard over his hip, spin him the other way in midair, and thrust him into the other, who barely had time to pull his baton. Both landed in a heap.
It wouldn’t hurt them too bad, and it gave Jules the chance to sprint away.
Having memorized the route, and thankful the pair didn’t wield guns, he fled at full pelt, worried more about running headlong into more of them than about the pair of muscle bags catching up. He didn’t even hear footsteps by the time he reached his access point.
He threw his bag up, then pulled himself to the aperture and squeezed through faster than he had come down, ripping the shoulder of his bodysuit in the process and scratching his skin.
No biggie.
The coal void felt more cramped this time, and he was even more conscious of his footfalls, but the exit strategy was more frenetic than he was used to. Sure, he’d needed to improvise in the past, but this felt chaotic. He didn’t appreciate it.
That the vault was a complete bust also rankled. Toby had impressed him as a details person, albeit sometimes a bit too detailed, so Jules had assumed his recon would be as thorough as his own. Well, he’d been wrong before.
Not often. But no one’s perfect.
He reached the sewer access and crawled out into the stink, then back through the tunnel, and up into the public bathroom closet.
Dan had placed the goods on higher shelves, so Jules had the time and space to rip off his operational gear and dump the clothing in the sewer below. He was wearing only fitted boxers when he emerged to locate the bag containing his day clothes. Thirty seconds later, he was dressed.
He replaced the manhole cover, washed his hands and face, made sure he appeared to be a calm, collected student of history, then prepared to leave and join the crowds. He opened the bathroom door.
And came f
ace-to-face with four red-coated soldiers, the two in front with their rifle bayonets pointed his way.
“Oh man,” Jules said. “You guys are the real deal, huh?”
“Yes, mate,” said one of those behind the bayonets. “And you’re under arrest.”
Chapter Eleven
Maidenhead, Windsor West District
It was not the worst police station Jules had ever experienced; run by the ever-so-polite Thames Valley Police, it didn’t exactly fill him with dread as he was booked in under his real name. They called him “sir.”
Once he was locked in the ten-by-ten room with its PVC-covered mattress and seatless commode, they asked if he needed anything while they waited for the duty brief. Although Jules had never been arrested in Britain, he knew that “duty brief” essentially translated as “free but crappy lawyer.”
Despite the Royal Guard apprehending him, it had been armed antiterror police who showed up minutes later to read him his rights and whisk him away in a screaming van with blue lights flashing. They were already on alert due to Harpal’s ruse, so they assumed it was a genuine emergency and acted accordingly, scaring the pants off over a hundred visitors and thrilling hundreds more in the process.
After an hour of quiet meditation, he banged on the door and called for an officer. A smiling blonde woman in a black-and-white uniform attended, and he waived his right to a lawyer. She seemed happy to help and said she’d be right back, adding, “sir.”
Within half an hour, the smiling blonde constable escorted him to an interview room with a mirror spanning one wall opposite a plain desk where a man of about fifty commenced a recording and introduced himself as Detective Sergeant Murray. His shorter, stockier colleague confirmed his name as Detective Constable Deepay. Both wore cheap suits, and both appeared as serious as doctors about to deliver a fatal prognosis. Murray issued a time check—4:22 p.m.—and asked Jules to state his name.