“Th-three thousand, six hundred and fifty-three tons of gold…?” He stammered eventually.
“Almost three thousand, six hundred and fifty-four tons, if you take note of the actual decimal point,” Rupert replied with a nonchalance that belied the incredulity he’d experienced over the very same revelation just two weeks earlier. “Approximate current value just a little more than one billion in Sterling. As we speak, the gold is being loaded onto HMS Repulse for transport to the United States. Departure should be within the next day or so, and upon arrival it’ll be secured at the US Federal Reserve Bank in New York for safekeeping. The only question that remains is exactly who it will legally belong to when it arrives…”
“Conditions… conditions…” Thorne muttered, mostly to himself, as he desperately lifted the other sheet of paper and studied it carefully. “Fine… fine… fine… fine…” he continued to murmur under his breath, running through each requirement in turn and finding no problem with any. The last, although still on the face of it acceptable, did cause him to raise an eyebrow. “It says here you’ll be working for me as a personal assistant if I choose to accept all this? What need do I have for a PA?”
“Whatever need as may arise,” Rupert answered deftly. “I’ve a degree from Cambridge and a wealth — no pun intended — of experience that I’ve gained while working for my previous employer. You may have no use for me now, but you’ll almost certainly have a use for me eventually.”
“And you’ll be reporting to your ‘previous employer’ as a matter of course as well…? What if our work involves matters that need to be kept confidential?” The intent in Thorne’s words was clear, and the question was a legitimate one in any case. Rupert decided it best to answer honestly.
“I’ve been told there’ll be times when I may be contacted by my former employer, but these times will be rare and never in person. I would also say that I don’t intend to serve two masters: if I’m to work for you, then your directions and privacy would take first priority over all other matters. I’ve already been paid enough to last me a lifetime and am now incredibly wealthy in my own right… as such, there’d be no danger of my being tempted by offers of money or any other kind of riches by those who’d seek to harm you or your operations.”
“You’re a very bloody direct bugger… I’ll hand you that,” Thorne conceded with a faint smile. “You may be of some use, I’ll warrant… and I could really use the money. I suspect you’ve made us an offer we can’t refuse.”
“It would be foolish to disagree,” Rupert replied with a half-smile of his own, deciding that perhaps he liked this man that was about to become his new boss.
“One thing I do want to know, though,” Thorne added, the good humour vanishing from his face and tone once more. “Every time you’ve mentioned this boss of yours, you’ve referred to him as ‘my employer’. You’ve used the same term every time. Who are we actually talking about? I don’t see any clause in this list regarding non-disclosure of the source of this gold: I want to know the name of the person we owe all this to.”
Rupert thought long and hard about answering that question. The name ‘James Brandis’ was barely known to anyone, and even fewer would recognise it as belonging to a man of any wealth or power. He knew that Brandis actively sought to remain anonymous, and he was reluctant to reveal the man’s identity as a result. He’d also meant what he’d said to Thorne, however, about where his loyalties would lay should the man accept the deal being offered, and he needed to back that up with real action if Thorne was to consider him a man who could be trusted. Brandis himself had suggested the name wasn’t the first identity he’d used in his life anyway: who was to say tat the information would have even the slightest impact on Thorne.
“The man’s name is James Brandis, and I’ve worked for him since leaving Cambridge ten years ago. I’ll answer whatever questions you have about him as best I can, but as strange as it may seem, after a decade in his employ I actually know surprisingly little about the man save for the business dealings I’ve been involved with.” Rupert shrugged with vague resignation. “I myself was completely unaware of the existence of this gold until just over two weeks ago, and I can assure you I was as astounded by the revelation as you both are.” Thorne stared long and hard at the young man, carefully thinking over what he’d just said, and saw nothing but open frankness in the returned gaze.
“Well, I guess I need to welcome you aboard then,” he said eventually, rising from his seat to lean across the table and extend a hand as if that made everything official. “There’ll be bugger-all use for you at Scapa Flow, and things are probably going to get nasty up there all too soon, so I’d suggest to that you get yourself onto that battlecruiser begin with and keep an eye on all this gold that now appears to be mine.”
“Based on what little information I already had, and what extra the Prime Minister has been kind enough to furnish, I’d already made the assumption that there’d be no requirement for my presence at your base. I’ve made arrangements for accommodation upon my arrival in the United States, and will make sure your communications officer — Brigadier Alpert, I believe? — is made aware of how to contact me as soon as I have full details myself. You’ll have an office waiting for you in New York by the end of next month.”
“How long will it take you to have one established in Australia as well?” Thorne asked with a grin, already impressed by the man’s professionalism and confidence.
“End of October,” Rupert replied without a moment’s hesitation. “Would you prefer Sydney, Melbourne or Canberra?” Thorne almost managed a chuckle as he turned in Eileen’s direction.
“I think this bloke is going to come in handy!”
“Do you buy that kid’s story about not knowing much about his old boss?” Eileen asked over the intercom three hours later as the F-35E cruised north back toward Scapa Flow. “How could you not know about three thousand tonnes of gold?”
“Actually, I kinda do believe him,” Thorne replied after a moment of silent thought. “His story’s just crazy enough to have the ring of truth to it, and besides: even if he’s telling the truth, there’s no guarantee this Brandis bloke is being straight up to him!”
“Might be helpful to find out some more about this James Brandis,” Eileen mused. “I’ve never heard of him, but I think I’ll try searching through our databases for his name and see what they throw up.”
“Don’t bother,” Thorne shook his head in response. “You won’t find his name in any records we have.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“When I was in high school, I did a project on John D. Rockefeller, the oil magnate. He’s generally considered to be the richest man in history, and was the first man on Earth ever to reach a net worth of one billion US dollars. That was in 1916, and by the time he died in 1937, his estimated wealth was around one-point-four billion.” Thorne shook his head in appreciation of the immensity of it all as he remembered the details from his secondary school days. “Roughly translated into 21st Century money, that equates to somewhere between $400 to $600 billion, give or take… kinda pisses all over the amassed wealth of modern billionaires of our time when you put it into those terms. He ended up heavily into philanthropy at the end of his career too, just like Buffett and Gates are… were…” Thorne realised he was digressing.