“Only the head of Palace security and Scotland Yard officials know these code words. And, of course, the IRA.”
“Wait a second. The code word comes from the IRA?”
“Yeah. The IRA gives Scotland Yard a code word that the IRA will use that day if they want to alert Scotland Yard to an impending terrorist attack.”
The bell rang, ending visiting time. De Jersey collected his papers and placed them in his briefcase. The door opened, and two prison officers walked in. “Thank you, Mr. Simmons. I appreciate you comin’ to see me. Good luck, then,” Jones said.
De Jersey shook Jones’s hand. The officers stood aside to allow him to pass, and he walked into the corridor, then left the prison.
Jones’s information had been invaluable. He had also provided answers to de Jersey’s questionnaire. De Jersey plotted his next step. While he needed Marsh, he was beginning to worry about the hacker’s involvement. Did he have the expertise to carry out the work required? He was a dabbler. In order to get the job done, de Jersey would have to divulge the entire plan.
15
As usual, Marsh arrived reeking of hair spray. His pointed boots tripped him as he headed up the narrow staircase. “Not got long. I’ve got another of my lectures tonight. Gotta make ends meet.”
“What if I offered you something that could make you a millionaire?” de Jersey asked softly.
“Would I have to go down on you?” Marsh gave a high-pitched laugh. “I would.”
“Let’s not get carried away.” De Jersey smiled. “What I’m suggesting would be illegal and dangerous.”
“Wanna tell me about it?”
“It would mean a long prison sentence if you were caught.”
“I have a job that feels like that!” Marsh wasn’t laughing, though. His eyes were steady, beady and direct. “I always figured you were up to something.”
“It’s a robbery.”
“Oh. Daylight, is it?”
“You could say that.”
Marsh pointed to the window and the satellite dish. “That got something to do with it?”
“Yes.”
“So I’m involved already, aren’t I?”
“You can walk away right now, no hard feelings.” De Jersey sat back. “There’d be no further involvement. You’ll not encounter the other players.”
“Apart from you,” Marsh said softly. He stood up, squeezing his hands into his tight leather trouser pockets. “Well?” he asked.
“Well what?” asked de Jersey.
“What do you need from me?”
“I need you to get me information on communications between the Royalty and Diplomatic Protection Department at Scotland Yard and Buckingham Palace. I need to know the line on which IRA threats come into Scotland Yard, and the code word they use, the one that will alert Scotland Yard to a possible terrorist attack, and in turn halt all movements by Royals from the Palace.”
Marsh considered. “That’ll be tough. The Protection Department is bound to have more than one line. I’d have to monitor them all. It’s risky, but I’m in the best position to do it.”
“I know,” de Jersey said.
“You’re not IRA, right?”
“Correct.”
“So why do you need this information?”
“I want to steal the Crown Jewels.”
Marsh’s reaction threw him. He collapsed on the floor and rolled around laughing. “The fuckin’ Crown Jewels?” Eventually he lay flat, arms outstretched. “Man, you’re something else!”
“You’ll get a thousand pounds cash every week. Once we make the hit, you’ll wait for the payoff. It could be weeks or months.”
“What sort of payoff?”
“We don’t know exactly, but it will be in the millions. In the end it’s about trust. You and I have to trust each other.”
“When’s the job?” Marsh asked, sitting up.
“May second. Plenty of time to monitor the calls.”
Marsh stretched out his hand to de Jersey. “You’re on, pal. I can start tomorrow.”
“Good, but tonight I need a little hacking job. There’s a flight from Antwerp, day after tomorrow. Can you get me the passenger list?”
“Is the Pope Catholic? Just gimme a flight number, time, and date.”
Before Marsh left, de Jersey had the passenger list of the flight taking in the D’Ancona representative. But out of the twenty-two names, who was their man? De Jersey decided that Dulay, due at the same airport shortly before the Antwerp flight, might be able to identify the man; he had once worked for the company. Also, on his arrival at Heathrow the representative was likely to be carrying gems, a briefcase chained to his wrist, and be accompanied by a security man. He should be fairly easy to identify.
Wherever it was, de Jersey still did not know what kind of security to expect inside the safe house, but he knew it had to be high tech. He needed information about modern security techniques, particularly those used by D’Ancona. He surfed the Net, looking for sites dealing with high-tech security. Eventually he came across a company called Interlace Security, which listed D’Ancona among its clients. De Jersey noted that Interlace would be attending a security trade fair in Birmingham the next day.
Early the next morning de Jersey set off for Birmingham in a hire car. He was used to luxurious cars, and this was a small, cheap vehicle. The seat hurt his back, the gears kept jumping, and the brakes were uncertain.
The vast hall was crowded. He was astonished to see so many gadgets on display. Electronic alarms for cars, houses, and businesses were predominant. Some stands were selling high-tech surveillance equipment. Security guard companies were also represented, and some gave martial arts and self-defense demonstrations. He wandered the aisles, sometimes stopping to look over the goods for sale and watch demonstrations. The section in which he was most interested displayed large safes and alarm systems. He checked out three stands before he spotted Interlace Security. He crossed the thick red carpet to pick up their brochure and was approached by a sales representative. “Can I be of assistance, sir?”
“I hope so. This is very impressive.”
“Thank you. We are one of the top security consultants in England-indeed, worldwide. We provide a complete range of services for business, and real, workable solutions for risk management. It is our job to relieve you of worry.”
“Do you concentrate specifically on large companies?”
“No, not at all. Did you have something in mind?”
“I had a jewelry store close to Harrods, and we had two robberies within months of each other. Now I’m opening another. It’ll be close to Theo Fennell’s shop in London, Fulham, actually. It’s a central location, three floors.”
The assistant handed de Jersey a steady stream of brochures, listing top clients like British Aerospace, the National Criminal Intelligence Service, Oracle, the Post Office, Railtrack, and of course…
“Good heavens, you do the D’Ancona security. What security do they have?”
“Well, sir, we provide a virtually impenetrable surround with active infrared beams and digital door-locking devices. Panic buttons and strips are placed at strategic positions around the location and link to an alarm receiving center, which is in direct contact with the police. We work closely with our customers to ensure one hundred percent security. The grilles on the vault act automatically if an infrared beam is broken or a panic button is pressed.”
“Expensive?” de Jersey mused.
“For D’Ancona we shipped in specially reinforced steel from Germany, which was fire- and bombproof. Since then, Asprey and Garrard’s have ordered similar materials.”
De Jersey, noting his cheap suit and tatty lace-up shoes, let the young man gabble through a few more sales pitches. “Would you oversee the installation?”