Royal Heist Part 10

At the entrance to the Ritz restaurant, de Jersey was chatting with the maitre d'. Then he returned to the lobby as if to leave the hotel. But instead of going toward the front door, he turned sharply and headed for the stairs.

"He's putting himself about a bit, isn't he?" Driscoll said softly.

"I reckon it's time we went. Split up as usual, okay?"

Wilc.o.x tapped on the door and entered. The s.p.a.cious suite was furnished with elegant, Regency-style furniture and thick gold curtains. A polished mahogany table displayed salmon, cheese, and a large bowl of fruit salad with cream. De Jersey was opening a bottle of champagne.

"Tony's coming up via the stairs," Wilc.o.x said, closing the door. "You look fit-all that riding, I suppose."

"You're in pretty good shape yourself," de Jersey said. "I'm sorry about all this."

"So am I."

De Jersey popped the cork and placed the bottle in the ice bucket. "Good to see you, Jimmy."

"Yeah, we go back a long way, you and me." Wilc.o.x crossed the room to hug him.

Driscoll came into the room as Wilc.o.x was accepting a gla.s.s of champagne.

"Christ, my knees. I tell you, I'm falling apart. I got to the second floor and thought I was having a heart attack." He shook hands with de Jersey. "Still holding up well. How do you think the years have treated me, then?" Of the three men, Driscoll showed his age the most.

De Jersey poured him a gla.s.s of champagne, then made a toast. "To meeting under better circ.u.mstances next time."

When de Jersey sat down, they followed suit, chatting relaxedly about their families, then enjoying their meal. Driscoll remembered to congratulate de Jersey on his win at Royal Ascot.

"It's the Derby next," de Jersey enthused. "He'll do it. He's the best colt I've ever had. Oh, I meant to ask. Did you ever know someone called Harry Smedley? He came up to me at the racetrack. Said we were at school together, but I can't for the life of me remember him."

Driscoll was wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Yeah, I remember him. He was at the comprehensive with us-well, with me. He'd have been in the cla.s.s below me. Little kid with a big head."

"I still don't remember him," de Jersey said.

"You might remember his mother, Margie, though. Gawd, she was a case. She'd go an' collect her social dosh in the morning and lose it by the afternoon. Ronnie tried to stop her gambling, but every day she'd be in the shop, soon as the doors opened, s.h.i.+lling each way. She was a tough old boiler." Driscoll waved his fork. "She was there when those heavies came in with the sledgehammer. Got herself under a table when it was all going down. All the while, the racing commentary was coming out over the Tannoy. As soon as they left the shop, up she pops and tells Ronnie he's got to pay out on the bet she was about to place. She says it was a pound on the nose, a twenty-to-one outsider called Danny Daly."

Wilc.o.x got up. "Which is the bathroom?"

De Jersey pointed to a door close by. "There's that one, or another one off the bedroom."

Wilc.o.x went into the bedroom and closed the door.

"What did my father say?"

"He says, 'Mrs. Smedley, you haven't put paper on a runner in here ever, but just for your bottle, I'll pay out,' and he did. He was some fella, your old man."

De Jersey still had no recollection of mother or son.

Wilc.o.x returned. "Has he finished, or is he just drawing breath?"

Driscoll gave him the finger.

De Jersey pa.s.sed the cheese board. Wilc.o.x poured more champagne and returned to his seat. They continued to chat about old times. Finally Driscoll pushed aside his plate. "Our luck ran out, though. This latest venture has done me over good."

De Jersey started to clear the dishes. "Let me explain how we lost our cash. You must know by now that the Internet crash has affected a lot of people even worse than us. Lots of companies have gone down. Ours was just one of many."

"I spoke to that bloke at Lyons's office, and he said that if we could contact this fella Alex Moreno he might be able to salvage something," said Driscoll.

"Not a hope in h.e.l.l," de Jersey replied. "Leadingleisurewear has been liquidated, and Alex Moreno, the managing director, has disappeared."

Driscoll banged the table with the flat of his hand. "I'd like to get him by his scrawny neck and throttle him."

"He's been trying to form another company."

"The little s.h.i.+t," Wilc.o.x blurted out while de Jersey opened another bottle of champagne.

"I've done what I could," de Jersey replied.

"You've been over there and seen this Moreno guy?" Wilc.o.x asked, surprised. De Jersey remained silent. "I'm not bleating, Colonel, but I'm only just keeping my head above water right now. I'm going to have to sell my homes, my cars . . . I've got six kids, four b.l.o.o.d.y ex-wives. I'd like some kind of retribution from this arrogant son of a b.i.t.c.h."

De Jersey blew a smoke ring above his head. "Moreno is taken care of. He had property in East Hampton. We should get at least twelve million for it, hopefully more, and he had a lease on an apartment worth a couple of million. I'll split it three ways as usual, but it can't be touched until we're sure it can't be traced, maybe in six to eight months' time. Moreno himself is not a factor anymore." De Jersey gave each man a cold-eyed stare. "He's out of the loop. I've taken care of him. Understand me?"

They knew then that Moreno was dead, and not to press for details. After a strange, depressed silence, de Jersey went to the bathroom to wash and comb his hair. He was leaving shortly to collect his in-laws from their shopping expedition at Harrods, but he needed at least another hour with Wilc.o.x and Driscoll.

He returned to his guests. "I've been thinking of something we could do. It's-"

Driscoll was the first to interrupt. "Eddy, listen, I don't want to hear. I'm too old. I've got responsibilities. I can't go back to what I was like in the old days. I almost didn't show up here this afternoon, because I reckoned you'd have arranged some kind of business to get us out of this mess-but nothing illegal, not for me. I can't, I'm sorry."

De Jersey reached out and touched his hand. "That's okay." Wilc.o.x was staring at the table. "What about you, Jimmy?"

"Same goes for me. I reckon I've lost my nerve. I just don't have the bottle for it anymore, and if, like you said, we're in line for a few mill from the sale of the Moreno property, that's . . . that's enough for me."

"I forget how old I am sometimes, and it was a crazy idea anyway," de Jersey said. "You're right. We'll leave our separate ways, see each other again when we're on walkers."

De Jersey started to count. He reckoned that when he got to ten Wilc.o.x would want to know more, but he was wrong: it was Driscoll.

"So come on, then. Just 'cause we're not players doesn't mean we're not curious. What caper were you gonna line up for us?"

De Jersey faced them. "No, you're right. Better if we just walk away now."

Wilc.o.x couldn't meet his eyes. De Jersey continued, "No hard feelings. Now or ever. They broke the mold when they made you two."

Driscoll said, "If we don't come in, will you go it alone, whatever it is?"

"Maybe, I don't know. But now I have to go collect my in-laws."

"It's not as if you can't trust us. Why don't you just run it by us?" Driscoll said stubbornly. "You know whatever you say to us won't go any further."

De Jersey put on his hat. "Not this time."

"Come on, you can't bulls.h.i.+t a bulls.h.i.+tter," Driscoll said, smiling.

"There's a first time for everything, Tony," de Jersey said.

Wilc.o.x glanced at Driscoll, and their eyes met. They both wanted to know what deal they had just turned down.

"You let us decide, Colonel, that's fair, isn't it?" Driscoll said.

After a long pause, de Jersey returned to the table. He took off his hat. "You forced my hand."

Both men waited, and de Jersey seemed to relish the moment. "I want to steal the Crown Jewels."

"Not the ones in the Tower of London?" Driscoll asked, incredulously.

"The very same."

"The f.u.c.king Crown Jewels!" Wilc.o.x let out a loud laugh.

"He's having us on." Driscoll grinned.

De Jersey twisted his hat around on his hand. "It'll take months of preparation. I've not formulated the details as yet, or picked out the people I'll need."

"You're gonna break into the Tower of London?" Wilc.o.x said.

De Jersey put on his hat and pulled the rim to the angle he liked. He walked to the door and unlocked it. "I can't say I'm not disappointed, considering our past connections. See you."

"Edward!" Wilc.o.x flew to the door. "Don't do this. I've been grateful to you more times than I can remember, but this . . . You can't expect us to take you seriously! This isn't a serious gig, is it?"

Driscoll joined them at the door. "Like James just said, I owe you for everything and I won't ever forget what you or your old man did for me, but no way am I going to feel guilty for turning this caper down. So come clean. Admit it's a big joke."

"No joke," de Jersey said. "When I get the money from Moreno's properties, you'll get your cut." He gave them a long, cold stare. They moved away from the door, and he opened it again.

"I have to go-I'm taking the in-laws for dinner at San Lorenzo. They'll be waiting for me outside Harrods." He closed the door silently behind him and walked down the thickly carpeted corridor. He pa.s.sed the elevator and headed down the stairs. He didn't feel let down, just foolish for believing that the three could pick up where they had left off. That was his mistake. Too many years had pa.s.sed.

Still in the hotel room, Wilc.o.x chopped a line on the table. He offered one to Driscoll.

"Not for me. Gives me a runny nose."

Wilc.o.x sniffed, then tapped the rolled banknote on the table.

"You feel as bad as me?" asked Driscoll.

"Yeah."

"But we agreed, right? I mean, no way. Not at our age."

"Yeah."

"You think he was serious?"

"The Crown Jewels-it's insanity."

They looked at each other.

De Jersey had arranged to meet Christina and her parents at Walton Street. The entrance to the streets was busy; Harrods was holding its January sale. The Rolls-Royce was waiting in line, his chauffeur was inside, and once he was seated in the car, de Jersey closed his eyes and tilted his hat over his face. Thirty minutes later Christina came out with her parents and they drove toward Beauchamp Place. He had booked a table for an early dinner, and he became the charming host, making polite conversation about their visit to the Tower of London. He had even purchased a video of the tour and bought many of the books on sale at the kiosk, maps, and numerous large color photographs of the crowns.

Wilc.o.x left the Ritz feeling depressed. He made his way to Bond Street, irritated that he could not get a taxi. He pa.s.sed Asprey & Garrard and paused to stare at the diamonds in the window. The cocaine was wearing off. It was raining and his suit was damp. His knees were a constant source of pain after so many skiing accidents. Did de Jersey still suffer from his knee injury? Memories flooded back. It had actually been Wilc.o.x's idea to rob the shops for de Jersey to take back what was rightly his. Wilc.o.x was all for using the same violent tactics the villains had, but de Jersey had refused and a few weeks later contacted him with a plan. Wilc.o.x pictured the three of them as young bloods, daring robbers. Those had been thrilling times. But even de Jersey couldn't steal the Crown Jewels. Could he?

Driscoll had parked his new Jaguar not far from Piccadilly Circus. His dismay changed to frustration as traffic inched along toward Haymarket. When he turned into the Mall, the magnificent sight of Buckingham Palace confronted him. He thought of de Jersey's insane suggestion of stealing the Crown Jewels. He drove past the Palace, remembering the crazy guy who had broken in. Despite all those guards on duty, alarms, and security devices, he had slipped into the Queen's bedroom and sat on her bed.

Liz was waiting outside Victoria Station, soaked to the skin. She shot into the road from the bus depot when she spotted the car. Driscoll loaded the bags filled with bargains into the trunk.

"Why are you so late? I said seven fifteen. I've been standing there for over three-quarters of an hour. Did you buy the golf clubs you wanted? I went to Harvey Nicks. . . ."

He never listened to her monologues, which didn't seem to require answers to the questions or views on her many purchases. He felt tired, old, and bored.

"You're very quiet," she said. "How's your stomach?"

"Fine."

"You take your antacid tablets?"

"Yeah." He sighed; ahead was another traffic jam at Vauxhall Bridge.

"If you'd gone over Chelsea Bridge it'd have been better, or you could have gone over Wandsworth Bridge."

"Shut it, Liz."

"What the h.e.l.l's the matter with you, Tony? All you do lately is moan. Half the holiday in Florida was ruined by your bad moods."

Tony didn't reply. How was he going to tell her that forty-five million pounds had gone missing in cybers.p.a.ce?

De Jersey felt drained when he got home, but he had to maintain his good humor for that evening, and the following morning, walking round the estate with his in-laws. However, his mind was only half there. He had decided to go ahead, even without Wilc.o.x and Driscoll. Their refusal to join him had not dampened his spirits; it had made him even more determined.

CHAPTER 8.

Christina and her parents had been delighted with the surprise gift of a trip on the Orient Express. Planning a robbery would be easier without marital commitments, he reasoned. He needed s.p.a.ce to work and to gather a new team. The following Wednesday, de Jersey's helicopter landed at the heliport beside Heathrow. The pilot's orders were to refuel and return to the estate within the hour.

Meanwhile, de Jersey traveled by bus to Kilburn; at almost twelve he arrived at the flat. He spent some time arranging the orange nightmare into what looked like a lived-in home, with newspapers and magazines on the coffee table, books on the shelf, and some clothes in the wardrobe.

Raymond Marsh had arranged a meeting for two thirty and arrived promptly to set up the computer. He had brought with him various antivirus programs and other systems to protect de Jersey's files. He also brought a satellite dish. This, he explained, would enable de Jersey to use the Internet by connecting through a satellite rather than a phone line. The beauty of the system, in hacking terms, was that it was much more difficult to trace, and the link could be broken in seconds. When he had finished, he accepted a cup of coffee and sat down on the orange settee. "Fire hazard these, you know," he said, tapping the cus.h.i.+on and slurping his coffee. "Against the law to sell them, catch light faster than a match. My missus won't have anything flammable around."

"It serves its purpose," de Jersey said, bringing out a thick wad of cash. He peeled off notes, and Marsh stashed them in a zip-up wallet, which he tucked into his overalls. He glanced at the remaining wad of money, which de Jersey had set on the arm of his chair. "Anything else you need from me?"

De Jersey nodded. "Show me how it all works."