“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.”
De Jersey stared at the screen with no idea of what his next move should be. As Marsh had so succinctly put it, entering the D’Ancona safe house without a floor plan would be like walking into a minefield.
18
As the meeting grew closer, de Jersey had still not overcome the heist’s major problem. Then he received a small padded envelope in the mail, postmarked Birmingham. He did not recognize the handwriting. He opened it and caught his breath. It contained a single CD and a typewritten note from Malcolm Gridley:
Dear Mr. Simmons,
We recently had an electronic security alert, and all our computer files had to be checked as it was first presumed to be some kind of virus that would corrupt all the data. As I was working in the office, part of my duties was to assist the IT department to verify whether any of the data had been corrupted. I therefore had access to the enclosed. I am leaving for Australia to join my girlfriend, but if you do decide to use Interlace and perhaps see your way to paying me the bonus we spoke of, my address will be Apartment 4B West Street, North Sydney, NSW 2060. If, however, you decide otherwise, perhaps you would destroy the CD. Thank you for lunch.
Yours sincerely,
Malcolm Gridley
De Jersey could not believe his luck. He kept staring at the CD and rereading the letter. At his computer his jaw dropped. Then he started to laugh. He now had everything he could have hoped for-and all for the price of a cheap lunch.
The Interlace CD contained an interactive floor plan of every section of the D’Ancona safe house. It indicated where Interlace had recommended the panic buttons be placed. It also showed the security cameras, the grilles and electronic pulses required for each door, and the costing for the equipment. One incredibly useful feature was a virtual tour of the entire safe house, and de Jersey was able to visualize the route from the front door down to the basement, where the vast vault was located. If one panic button was pressed, the alarm receiving center would alert the police almost immediately, and a team would be dispatched with an estimated response time of two minutes. Once the alert was given, all access to the building would be secured.
De Jersey was aware that D’Ancona might have made changes from what was on the CD, but even so he now felt prepared for the meeting with his key team members.
In a pin-striped suit, brown brogues, and a blue shirt, de Jersey sat at the back of the Surrey barn. Wilcox had sectioned off the area with screens, and four calor-gas heaters were blasting out warmth. There were a few folding chairs, a folding picnic table, and an old armchair he’d found in the rubbish. A camping stove stood in the makeshift kitchen to brew tea and coffee.
The team had been instructed to leave their cars in the yard at the back of the barn, which was protected from view by the overgrown hedge. As soon as de Jersey heard the first car arrive, he stood at the door with a box of surgical gloves and handed a pair to each team member as they entered. A large drawing board had been set up, and he had brought his laptop.
Driscoll was the first to arrive and snapped on the gloves without a word. He was closely followed by Pamela Kenworthy-Wright and Lord Westbrook. The bike riders would not be privy to these early meetings. As de Jersey bolted the door behind them, Pamela complained about the rubber gloves. “Wear them at all times,” de Jersey told her. “This box will be placed by the back door.”