Royal Heist (22 page)

“They’ve got serious panic buttons—fifty-two of them—all wired up individually to the phone system with a direct link to an alarm receiving center, which contacts the police. I suspect they’ll be set up so that if you deactivate one line the others will go off.”

De Jersey’s heart sank.

Marsh continued. “They’ll be dotted around all over the place. I tried to get more information using the Web, but there’s nothing on D’Ancona that we don’t already know, and besides, they ain’t gonna give details on the Web about their security. But it’s logic that they’ll have ’em on the walls and under the carpet so you won’t even be able to tell if one’s been set off until it’s too late. Step on one an’ you’ll trigger the rest.”

“So you got nothing on their security layout?”

Marsh shook his head. “The plans aren’t stored on any computer network that I’ve dipped into. They’re gonna protect themselves an’ gotta be wise to hackers. One more thing I did find out, though. There’s activity on those lines at precisely nine o’clock every morning. I assume that’s when they check their system, so if you deactivate the phone lines connected to the panic buttons, it’ll need to be done after that. But it’s not all bad news.”

“Go on.”

Marsh wiped his mouth on a paper napkin. “I hacked into the Royal diary page again. Been keeping my eye on it for you, especially since the Princess died. The fitting’s been confirmed. It’s Thursday the second of May, ten thirty.”

De Jersey stared at him. If the fitting was now confirmed, so was the date of the robbery.

“See? I said it wasn’t all bad news. The party they’ve got listed for the fitting includes Her Majesty, a lady-in-waiting—Lady Camilla Harvey, the equerry, plus a detective, two bike riders, the chauffeurs, and some security geezers.”

De Jersey gave Marsh a guarded smile and patted his arm. Then he got up and walked out. Marsh pocketed the fiver de Jersey had left for the waiter and substituted two pound coins.

Two steps forward and a bad one back. It was disappointing if not catastrophic not to know the layout of the security at the safe house. De Jersey knew how many people worked there, what time they came in and out. He knew how many telephones there were, but he did not know on which floor the main vault was and, most important, the locations of the panic buttons and security alarms.

He put up his umbrella and walked toward Victoria Station, where he caught a bus to Kilburn. He sat upstairs in a front seat, deep in thought, watching the rain pelting down. He calculated that, apart from the obvious, they were in good shape all round with more than eleven weeks to go. He stared out of the window at the traffic snarled up alongside Hyde Park. Just as the bus drew up by the Park Lane underground garage, he noticed the Eye Spy security company housed in an elegant corner shop across from the old Playboy Club. It was not the shop, however, that had caught de Jersey’s interest but the figure of a young man leaving it. It was the salesman from the security exhibition in Birmingham. The bus jolted forward, and de Jersey watched him walk down Park Lane toward the Dorchester Hotel.

De Jersey jumped off the bus as it idled and made it safely to the pavement, just a few yards up from the Grosvenor House Hotel. He put up his umbrella and walked back briskly in the direction of the Dorchester.

“I am so sorry,” he exclaimed, as he caught the young man with the edge of his umbrella.

“It’s okay.”

He was about to walk on when de Jersey said, “Wait a minute, we’ve met before, haven’t we?”

“I don’t think so.”

“No, I never forget a face. You were on the Interlace Security stand at the Birmingham exhibition.”

“You’re right.” But the puzzled expression on his face meant that he didn’t recall de Jersey.

“Philip Simmons,” he said.

“Oh, yes.” He obviously still had no recollection.

“Are you working in London now?”

“Erm, not as yet.”

He seemed eager to continue down Park Lane and was obviously uneasy as de Jersey walked alongside him.

“Is there an exhibition on? I still haven’t contracted a security company for my new business.”

“I’m just here for the day, going back on the four o’clock train.”

“I’m going to have a bite to eat at the Grosvenor House’s coffee shop. Do you have time to join me? We could perhaps continue our discussion.”

The young man hesitated and glanced at his wristwatch. “No, thank you. I should get to the station.”

“Nonsense. You have plenty of time. Join me, please. As I said, I really would like to continue our conversation.”

Gridley looked at de Jersey. “Are you picking me up or something? If you are you’ve got it wrong. Excuse me.”

“Dear God! I’ve never been accused of that before.” De Jersey laughed. “I assure you, I simply wish to talk to you about my business, and I’m certain you have plenty of time to catch your train. We could have a glass of wine or coffee, whichever you prefer.”

“Thank you,” Gridley said. “I’m sorry if I seem crass, but . . . Oh, why not? My train isn’t until four.”

They sat at a window table, and de Jersey took charge, ordering a bottle of Merlot. The young man seemed awkward in the elegant surroundings. They had both removed their wet coats, and the cloakroom attendant had taken de Jersey’s umbrella. Gridley was wearing the same cheap suit he’d had on the last time de Jersey met him.

“Mr. Simmons,” he said, “I think I had better tell you that I’m not going to be working for the company for much longer. My father retired last week. After he’d gone they gave me a month’s notice. I think they only kept me on because of him, so I came up here to look for work.”

“Any success?”

“Not as yet. At the end of this week, when my notice is up, I’ll come back and have a really good scout around.”

“Well, I wish you every success. We never did get to finish the conversation we started in the bar at the exhibition. That man who interrupted us, he seemed to be giving you a bit of a dressing-down.”

Gridley sipped his wine. “I don’t remember. They’ve been daily occurrences, the dressing-downs.” He drained his glass, and de Jersey refilled it. “Thank you. This is part of my problem,” he said, tapping the glass. “I have been a bit hungover a few times but . . .” He tailed off and stared into his glass.

De Jersey could feel the adrenaline pumping. He knew he had to take this opportunity very carefully. First he intended to lull Gridley into a false sense of security. He would then dangle a carrot the young man would be unable to refuse. He suggested they order lunch, his treat, and Gridley agreed.

They finished lunch, having discussed the progress of the building works on his fictional jewelery-shop premises. By this time Gridley had consumed most of the wine and de Jersey had ordered another bottle.

Then he went for it. “You know they had another robbery in Bond Street, and Gucci’s warehouse was also done over? Did you read about it?”

“Yes.” Gridley nodded. “They should have used Interlace. It would never have happened. I mean, although they’re making me redundant, I reckon they really are the best company. You don’t get contracts like we have for not being top of the ladder.”

“Exactly, which is why I am so pleased to bump into you this morning.”

“But I’ll be an official job seeker next week, so if you decide to go with our security system, I won’t get the salesman’s bonus.”

De Jersey topped up his own glass. “I don’t think that’s fair. You sold the company to me. I shall insist you get it. How’s that?”

“Well, I obviously appreciate it, but as I won’t be employed there I doubt if it could be arranged.”

“Well, then, I’ll do it on a personal basis. How about that?”

There ensued another fifteen minutes of discussion on how de Jersey could pay the bonus to Gridley directly. Then he went for the kill. “I would pay you more than the bonus if you could let me see how the D’Ancona security works. I don’t think that company has ever been robbed. I know they lost a diamond recently, but that was just one stone.”

“It was worth a couple of million, though.” Gridley glanced at his watch.

“But their safe houses have never been breached, and it would be a major plus for me to have an insight into how they have been so successful. And since your company, or your ex-company, drew up their plans . . .”

“That would be impossible,” Malcolm said.

“But not if they didn’t know. Just make me a copy. Could you do that?”

“I really couldn’t. Besides, they’d probably know it was me.”

“All I want is to be sure my business is as well protected as possible, and Interlace would get the work. I could pay you five thousand for your trouble. I’d also make sure you got the bonus. I don’t think they could possibly have any ill feelings toward you. On the contrary, they should offer you a better position instead of firing you.”

He still had not bitten and was now checking for his train ticket. He had consumed almost the entire second bottle of wine.

“I might even be able to help you get another position. Are you planning to continue working for—”

“Mr. Simmons, I have to be honest with you. The type of work I was doing bored the pants off me. I was only working there because of my father, and I have no idea what I want to do next. I’m sort of looking around but . . . I’ve recently split up with my girlfriend. She’s gone to live in Australia, and it’s really cut me up. And when I said to you before that I had been rather hungover occasionally, that was putting it mildly. A couple of times I was three sheets to the wind, so I can’t really blame them for firing me. I was probably a bit sozzled when you came to the exhibition.”

He looked morose and fished in his suit pocket for a packet of cigarettes. “Can we smoke in here?”

“Go ahead, unless you’d prefer a cigar.”

“I’ll stick to these.”

De Jersey ordered a brandy for himself, and Gridley flicked nervously at his cigarette ash. “I’ve had a series of job interviews. The old man has virtually given up on me, but I can’t seem to find anything that, you know, interests me, and with Francesca leaving . . .”

“Why not go out to Australia? Maybe that’s the place for you.”

“I only had just enough dosh for the ticket to London, but I have thought about it.”

“That bonus I spoke of would come at the right time, then, wouldn’t it? Why don’t I take you round my shop? I really do need some advice. We can be there in half an hour, and you could look over the premises.” He knew he was on safe ground inviting Gridley to his nonexistent shop as the young man had said he was catching the four o’clock train. It was already five past three.

“I’m afraid I can’t. I have to get to the station.”

De Jersey wasn’t sure his fish was on the line, but he had gone quiet, which was a good sign. De Jersey paid the bill, and they collected their coats and de Jersey his umbrella. Gridley remained silent as he watched de Jersey give the cloakroom attendant a heavy tip. They walked into Park Lane together. De Jersey was getting worried; perhaps he had overestimated his powers of persuasion. He wondered if he should have offered more money, but that would have made Gridley suspicious.

“I’m not a salesman anymore,” Gridley said suddenly. “They have me doing menial tasks around the office.” He hesitated. “It means I have access to the files, but while I would really like to help you out, and obviously the bonus you mentioned would come in handy, I don’t think . . .” He was flushing.

“Really? Well, that makes it even easier for you.” Relieved, de Jersey put up his umbrella, sheltering them both from the rain. “But I don’t want this to get you into any trouble. It would help me cut corners, but if it’s at all risky then I understand if you feel you can’t help me.”

Gridley looked relieved. “Thank you. And I’d like to help you out, but it’s impossible, and I’m afraid you’re rather out of touch.”

“I’m sorry?” de Jersey was stunned by the young man’s change of heart.

“I doubt that any reputable security company retains easily accessible blueprints of their customers’ premises. Everything is computerized, and it’s virtually impossible to gain access without permission. If you open up a file on the computer, you need the password, and the date and time will be recorded. So even if I attempted to do it, I’d be caught red-handed.” But thank you so much for lunch,” Gridley said. “It was really nice to meet you again. Now I should jump into a taxi or I’ll miss my train.”

De Jersey forced a smile. “Good luck. And here’s some advice,” he said, gritting his teeth. “You only live once. If you don’t go after what you want, you’ll watch it slip from your grasp.” Then he turned and walked away, his face taut with anger. He had certainly misjudged the young man. In fact, he would have liked to ram his umbrella down his throat.

The meeting at which all the team would get together for the first time was set for two thirty at the barn on the following Monday. It was imperative that de Jersey show 100 percent confidence in his plan. But it would be difficult; so much still depended on him being able to secure the layout of the safe house. Once again he contacted Marsh. To date he had only attempted to gain access to D’Ancona records, but what if he could tap into the Interlace computer files? Marsh promised to “give it a whirl,” but he warned de Jersey that they risked tipping off Interlace that someone was sniffing around.

“I need the layout,” de Jersey said stubbornly.

“Listen, mate, it’s not you that’s doing the dodgy stuff. I got to watch my back. Like I said to you, I’ll give it a go, but these top-notch companies have got all kinds of hidden traps, an’ I don’t want nothing zapping back to my gaff.”

“Will you do it?”

“I’ll see if I can break in tonight. All I’m saying is, it’s a risk.”

“Take it,” de Jersey snapped, then drew a deep breath. “It’s very important.”

“I know, pal. Without it, you’re walking into a minefield. Like I said, I’ll do what I can.”

De Jersey had a restless night waiting to hear back from Marsh. When he opened his e-mail the next morning it was not good news.

“Problems,” the message said. “Attempted to do as requested. Gained password, entered, and then all hell broke loose. Pulled out fast, but the company will have been tipped off. Sorry! Elvis.”