“Are we expected to do some kind of cleaning?” Pamela inquired.
De Jersey showed her that he too was wearing them. “You know how they identified Ronnie Biggs? He put a dish of milk out for a cat. One thumbprint, that’s all it takes. When we move out of here to the second base, we must leave no record of any one of us ever having been here. Is that understood?”
The team all nodded in agreement, and Pamela made tea and coffee before taking her seat in the row of folding chairs facing the drawing board.
The team sat in awkward silence, avoiding each other’s eyes. De Jersey leaned against the table. “From now on you refer to me only as the Colonel, and you will refer to each other by Christian names only. First, Pamela.”
She raised her beaker.
“James. That’s Tony, and Henry.” He nodded to each as he said the name. “From now on we protect our identities. The less we know about each other the better. I have put my utmost trust in each of you.”
They remained silent as he picked up a black felt-tipped marker, crossed to the drawing board, and listed roles beside the names: the Colonel, main bodyguard; Henry, equerry; James, chauffeur; Her Majesty the Queen, not present; Pamela, lady-in-waiting; Tony, private secretary; two bike riders, not present.
Everyone listened as he gave the date and time they would be moving base to get ready for the hit. He detailed their jobs and explained how he and Marsh would stop the Royal convoy and how they would arrive at the safe house in place of the authentic party. By the time he told them how they would accomplish entry to the safe house, they were all ready for another round of tea and coffee. Everyone seemed tense; it was a lot to take in.
After the short break, de Jersey moved on to the last phase of the plan. “So far so good, but the most important element for all of us is getting away with it. I will use four helicopters to act as decoys. They will be ordered from various companies in the Southeast to pick up a passenger or package from various points in London. When they arrive and their assignment is not there, the helicopters will leave London to return to their bases, which will coincide with the time of the getaway. It will be mayhem after the hit, and the police will monitor the air traffic, so we want as much organized chaos and as many distractions as possible. We will split up and move across London separately. First, two boats will be taken from a mooring at Tower Bridge Marina and driven across the river by the two bike riders. They will both motor to Putney Bridge, put the boats in the boathouse, and take the Tube home.”
“That all seems very… well, not what I expected,” interrupted Westbrook.
“You expected fast cars, speedboats, and getaway drivers?”
Westbrook gave a shrug. “Well, I don’t know about boats. That big diamond heist that fell foul of the Dome, they were going to make their getaway by the river.”
De Jersey pinched his nose in irritation. The police, he pointed out, were already on to them, and they were not making their getaway via the river. “Anonymity is our best disguise. Just blend in with the commuters.”
De Jersey pointed to Pamela and Westbrook. “The City Thameslink Station is a five-minute walk from the safe house. You two will jump in a cab to the station. There’s always a stream of them near the Barbican. You’ll travel from there to Brighton. There’s a train at just gone eleven, which if all goes to plan, you will make easily. The next one is fifteen minutes later. From Brighton you are to separate. Pamela will go by train to Plymouth. Henry will return to his studio in Pimlico.” De Jersey knew that the only one of them that could possibly be recognized was Westbrook, but his life expectancy was so short, De Jersey didn’t feel the risk of his discovery would endanger any of them as long as Westbrook and Pamela separated.
De Jersey then pointed to Driscoll and Wilcox. “Tony, James, and I will work out the best way to get the jewels to my helicopter for the drop.” De Jersey flipped the pages on the board back to the beginning. “Any questions?”
No one said a word. Now de Jersey turned to an enlarged copy of the safe house layout. He gestured to the warehouse, which was to be their second base. “So, we move out from here and drive round the block. Now you all know the fundamentals, and I want us to begin to break it down into sections and allocate specific roles.” De Jersey nodded to Westbrook and gestured for him to come to his side.
“Henry here will detail the lineup of the Royal party, how they behave, protocol, et cetera.”
Westbrook opened a bottle of water and drank thirstily. His pale face shone with sweat. “The lady-in-waiting must, at all times, adhere to the Royal protocol. She will always be to the left side of the Queen, two or three paces behind, a small enough gap for Her Majesty to pass her her handbag or flowers without stretching. In the car, she must sit well back and not in any way hamper the view of Her Majesty. In public, she will speak only when spoken to.”
Pamela asked a few questions about her dress, her demeanor, and whether or not she should also carry a handbag. De Jersey held up his hand. “As we all have a lot of work to do, I suggest Henry work with Pamela, and we can get on with other things.”
Pamela and Westbrook disappeared into the main area of the barn. De Jersey took out a cigar and lit it. “So, what do you think?”
Wilcox glanced at Driscoll, then back to de Jersey. “What about the security measures in the safe house?” He pointed to the basic layout of the house. “This doesn’t give any information about what we’re going to be facing once we’re in there.”
De Jersey dismissed his concern. “We know there’ll be top-of-the-line security measures. I’d say we can handle it, though.”
“Yeah, well, saying and knowing are two different things. Christ only knows what could go wrong.”
De Jersey looked to each of them. “Trust me, the security will be taken care of.”
When Westbrook had finished with Pamela, he took Driscoll through his paces as the private secretary: where he would stand and how he would behave at each step of the way. By now, Wilcox was seated in the car acting as the chauffeur. The gray uniform was slightly too large, but this would not be noticed from his position behind the wheel. Westbrook instructed him to stare ahead, never look back at the passengers and never remove his cap.
De Jersey, playing a front-line role for the first time since the early raids on his father’s shops, was the bodyguard. Although the Queen usually had more than one, Westbrook agreed that, as this was not a public event, they would be fine with just de Jersey. The two bikers would pose as Special Branch police officers. De Jersey would be the first to leave the safe house, and it was imperative that he move fast.
The meeting went on for four hours, and by the end the strain showed in them all, apart from de Jersey, who remained energetic and alert. Westbrook looked gray, almost matching the chauffeur’s uniform. He took painkillers continually through the session. By the next meeting they should have done all the necessary shopping and any further research. He doled out cash to Pamela and Westbrook for their purchases. He agreed that Westbrook would assist Pamela in selecting the most suitable outfits for herself and for their Queen, including the correct type of handbag.
After the others had left, Wilcox, Driscoll, and de Jersey began a dissection of the meeting. Wilcox asked about the validity of their security information.
“For Christ’s sake, Jimmy, we have the safe house plans, and they’re authentic.”
“That’s not good enough, Eddy. I want to know how it’s going to be done. We’re risking a fucking lot out there.”
De Jersey lit another cigar. “We walk in through the front door, James. We’ve discussed this.”