Royal Heist Part 22

"No, thanks. I've got to get back. Erm, I didn't get your name before, and it's kind of company policy and-"

"I've gone over all the data you gave me, and I wanted to ask you if it would be possible to arrange a private showing of the D'Ancona installation. It's state of the art, isn't it?" De Jersey reached into his pocket and withdrew his wallet. "Here's my card."

"Thank you," said Gridley. "Unfortunately, I can't give you details of the D'Ancona facility; no one is allowed to view our clients' locations after the contract has been completed and the security measures installed. In fact, D'Ancona hired its own contractors to install the equipment."

De Jersey signaled to the barman.

Gridley swore under his breath. "Oh, Christ!"

A portly man in a navy pin-striped suit was striding toward them. He sat down next to Gridley. De Jersey moved off. The man spoke sternly to Gridley, pointed at the half-drunk beer. Then Gridley got up, his face tight with anger. "It was one drink, for G.o.d's sake!" he said, walking away.

"One too many, Malcolm. I warned you-Malcolm?"

The portly man took off after Gridley. De Jersey earmarked young Gridley as possibly useful to him.

Driscoll sat in an Italian restaurant waiting for de Jersey. After half an hour, he had eaten one roll and was half inclined to take the other when de Jersey walked in. They ordered their food with a bottle of house wine. "How are we doing?" de Jersey asked.

"There are these agencies that represent look-alikes, and I rang round until I found her. They said she was booked up, so I gave a lot of bull about needing to speak to her about a personal appearance. Anyway, I got her home address and phone number. She lives in Esher."

"Family?"

"She's married, husband's retired. No children. She makes a fortune doing special appearances. It's freaky. She's the Queen's absolute double."

"Have you checked out her home?"

"Not yet."

Their minestrone arrived, and they ate in silence.

"I had a few words with Jimmy," de Jersey said.

"How was he?"

"On good form. He a.s.sured me he wasn't using anymore. The vehicles look in great shape. We need to find a London base soon so he can do the final adjustments."

Driscoll nodded. "Is he in or out?"

"In."

"I see. Well, I expected he would be."

"What about you? Are you up for it?"

Driscoll licked his lips. "Course I am. I'm in. G.o.d help me."

"I couldn't go without you. It'll be the three of us again, right?"

"We must be out of our b.l.o.o.d.y minds."

"I'm working on the safe house location. Dulay is flying in, and so is a D'Ancona representative. We have to follow him to wherever they have the goods. Then I've got to work out how to get past the security system. It's very high tech, and they installed it themselves."

"How do you know?"

"Trust me. I've checked out the company that did the security. It sounds like a b.l.o.o.d.y big walk-in vault with lasers and panic b.u.t.tons like you wouldn't believe."

Driscoll dribbled soup down his chin.

"But these vault doors are going to be open for our Queen," de Jersey a.s.sured him.

"You'll be keeping your eye on Wilc.o.x, then?" Driscoll asked. "Maybe he is clean, but he was shoving a lot of snow up his nose not too long ago. He's got to be monitored. He's not the same, you know."

"None of us are, Tony. We're all a lot older now. That's why I am taking it slowly. We can't afford any mistakes, and if it's too risky we pull out, simple as that. But we'll keep an eye on him."

Driscoll changed the subject. "What about the Hewitt woman?"

"She's sorted. We may have to bung her a few thousand, but not until we've done the job."

Driscoll wiped his mouth. It made him uneasy that de Jersey was keeping the plans so close to his chest. It was not the way they had worked in the past. "I need to know our progress, Eddy."

"You will, as soon as I've moved on to the next stage." De Jersey sounded annoyed. "You've got to trust me, Tony, like in the past. Now, give me the photographs of our lady and the contact address. I'll get Wilc.o.x to check it out."

Driscoll pa.s.sed him a manila envelope.

"Maybe in three weeks' time I'll be ready for preliminary talks. You have your instructions until then." He handed him an envelope.

Driscoll put it into his inside pocket.

De Jersey had never used women in the past, but a lady-in-waiting would surely accompany the Queen to the safe house. He sighed. She would have to be right in on the action, perhaps even armed.

Tomorrow would be another busy day. He was to meet Dulay, and they would identify the D'Ancona representative and follow him to the safe house. If all went well.

CHAPTER 16.

Dulay was wearing a navy cashmere coat and an Armani suit. He held a small carry-on bag and a briefcase. De Jersey had waited for him at the arrivals barrier in Terminal Four. They had an hour before the flight from Antwerp was due. Dulay agreed to identify the man, though he declined to follow him. He and de Jersey agreed to meet later that day at Dulay's hotel, the Grosvenor House Hotel on Park Lane.

When the Antwerp flight landed, de Jersey was waiting in the car park. Dulay called him on his cell phone as soon as he had picked out the target. De Jersey drove into position outside Arrivals. Dulay called again to say the flight had coincided with two others. The Antwerp pa.s.sengers had gone through customs and were coming onto the concourse, but now the departure lanes were full of trolleys and pa.s.sengers, making it difficult to spot the D'Ancona representative. Then Dulay suddenly said, "I've got him. He's carrying a brown leather briefcase, raincoat, and yes! A tall blond man is right at his heels. That's his guard. I can just see the chain on the guy's briefcase-it's handcuffed to him."

"Describe him," de Jersey snapped.

Dulay spoke rapidly. "He's moving fast, heading for the middle exit. He's balding, wearing rimless gla.s.ses, a navy suit, white s.h.i.+rt, and tie, about five ten, slim build, and he's on a cell phone. He's heading out now!"

De Jersey couldn't see the man. A black Range Rover pa.s.sed him with a uniformed driver at the wheel. Then de Jersey spotted the D'Ancona man. He and his bodyguard came out together. The driver was quickly out of the Range Rover and opened the pa.s.senger and rear doors. Both men got into the vehicle and closed the doors. They moved off quickly. De Jersey followed, right on their tail.

He had the Range Rover within easy viewing distance thanks to the heavy traffic. It was still backed up, even when they hit the A4. Twice when the traffic thinned out he almost lost them, but roadworks saved him and he was able to watch their progress four cars ahead. The distance lengthened as they drove into Cromwell Road, heading for Knightsbridge, then traffic was heavy again. Suddenly they headed toward Earl's Court, and he followed as they crossed the Fulham Road, then King's Road. The Range Rover continued toward the Victoria Embankment. Then it was driving toward Blackfriars Bridge, to Newgate Street, where they pa.s.sed St. Paul's. De Jersey sensed they were taking a very roundabout route. They were just pa.s.sing Montague Place when the Range Rover took a sharp left. It was impossible for de Jersey to stay close at their heels without being spotted, so he drove on, making the next left. He drove into Smithfield, but there was no sign of them. He had lost them! Frustrated, he circled the roundabout in West Smithfield and branched off down a narrow side street leading into Bartholomew Close, which came out at King Horn Street. The Range Rover was parked on the corner of Newbury Street. He was just in time to see the two men from D'Ancona enter a building together. A moment later, the Range Rover drove off.

De Jersey parked in a side street and walked back. The safe house was on the corner. A narrow road ran alongside the four-story building. Rubbish bins had been placed on the pavement. The place was unimpressive, painted black, and gave no indication of its function. There was no plaque outside, no bell, no letter box, and the double door leading into the property was made of reinforced steel. Although the upper windows looked innocent, they were not windows at all. The cas.e.m.e.nts were built over shuttered protectors with tinted black gla.s.s. De Jersey could not risk spending any more time in the area and walked on.

Less than a hundred yards away, the road curved to the right and led into Aldersgate Street. He walked a little further, then stopped outside a large, two-story, flat-roofed warehouse for lease. Perfect, de Jersey thought, for their purposes. It appeared to back onto the street where the safe house was. By the time he reached his car, he had called the estate agents and arranged to view the property the following morning. Then he drove back to the West End to meet Dulay at his hotel.

Dulay had a pleasant room overlooking Hyde Park. De Jersey and he sat at a small table by the window.

"Pigeon went home to roost. It's a building in the Barbican, small back street, not far from Smithfield market, and it's smack on a corner," de Jersey said, drawing the safe house on a square of paper from his notebook. "Getting into it won't be the problem. It's knowing what we'll be confronted with once we're inside." He pa.s.sed the drawing to Dulay, who glanced at it, then jabbed with his stubby finger.

"D'Ancona will have it secured like Fort Knox. They'll have cameras on the outside. How the h.e.l.l do you think you're gonna get in without being seen, especially on a corner?"

De Jersey repeated that that was not the problem. It was the layout inside the house that he needed to know. "What would you say I'm up against?"

"Well, there are usually two reinforced doors as an external entry system, then another door leading into the foyer. I've been to a couple of their locations, and there were always several inches of bulletproof gla.s.s. They will have a sophisticated phone system to link the safes and selection rooms and even the fitting rooms. There may also be another set of doors, maybe three or four, to get into the inner sanctum. They have panic b.u.t.tons dotted around like M&M's. I doubt they'll have a walk-in safe in a safe house, but I could be wrong."

De Jersey ripped up the drawing. "I take it you're in."

Dulay nodded. "Yeah, I'm in."

"Okay, what about your j.a.panese buyer?"

"I've contacted him. All I said was that I might get my hands on one of the most famous and largest diamonds in existence. I said I'd be looking for around a million a carat."

De Jersey smiled. The Koh-i-noor was 105.6 carats.

"He said he'd be in the market for something of that price, and any other stones. I could get the Koh-i-noor cut by my lapidary, but if we sell to my j.a.panese buyer, he'd want it uncut. Buyers like him are interested in the stone's size and history."

"Maybe we don't touch the Koh-i-noor, but we're going to have other stones of immense size and value. Can you trust the lapidary?"

"I'd trust him with my life. We've worked together for twenty years. Even so, to move the stuff fast means he'll be working day and night altering the stones and putting them into new settings so they'll be untraceable. I need a nice cash incentive for him."

"How much are we looking at?"

"Maybe a quarter of a million. If we do end up cutting the Koh-i-noor, he's the right man for the job. It would take weeks to do, and we'd have to pay him extra to disguise it without dropping its value. We can transform it from an oval into a pear shape by tapering it at the back. I've listed gem dealers worldwide where we can spread the other stones. I've got contacts in New York, Antwerp, and India."

Occasionally the Frenchman would run his finger round the collar of his s.h.i.+rt. De Jersey listened, aware that Dulay was leading up to the subject of his cut.

"How honest are the D'Ancona employees?" de Jersey asked. "I think we might need an insider and wondered if it was a possibility."

"Well, I was one." Dulay shrugged. "I'd say the top bra.s.s would be unbribable-you only get to the top at D'Ancona by being above suspicion. But there are always the underlings. It's all in the choosing. You get the wrong type and they'll blab."

"Could anyone in the safe house be skimming?" asked de Jersey.

Dulay looked doubtful. "If they're dealing with such top-quality gear, there's no way. These guys are working by appointment to the Queen. That rep you followed had to be carrying in some heavy-duty stones, with his briefcase chained to his wrist."

This wasn't what de Jersey wanted to hear, so he changed the subject. "How's the boat?"

"The f.u.c.king money pit?" Dulay said angrily. "That's partly why I'm here. It's costing me a fortune."

"If I needed to use it, would you be up for it?"

"If the price is right."

"Not for charter, for the pickup."

Dulay sucked in his breath. "Woooooh! This is drawing me in closer than I want to be."

"Not if it's, say, chartered to a company. We can use your crew. Can you trust them?"

"Sure, but it depends what they have to do-and they'll cost."

"They won't know what they're doing. You and I will."

Dulay tapped the table with his knuckle. "When would this company charter the floating palace?"

"I'll need it ready for the first week in May."

Dulay crossed to the minifridge. Suddenly he was not quite so confident. "So it's May, is it?"

"I haven't got the exact dates, nor have I worked out how I want to use the boat, but make sure it's crewed up and ready."

Dulay scooped a handful of ice into his vodka, then returned to the table. "I want a heavy slice, Philip. If I'm going in this deep, I want to be paid big bucks. I've brought you the buyer and now you want me to get the boat ready. So how do we work the payoff?"

"You'll get a split. Not a payoff, a split. We can't do it without you. How does that sound?"

Dulay drank thirstily. "Good, but I need cash up front to start getting the shop prepared for the work we'll have to do. Extra furnaces, a smelting kiln for the gold. It all costs."

De Jersey agreed to pay him ten thousand. "I'll also need some a.s.surance from the buyer. All I have is your word that he's interested. Don't take this the wrong way, because I do trust you."

"That's big of you, considering how far I've gone already."

"Calm down. It makes sense, though, doesn't it? We need our buyer to put himself on the line with us. If he wants the Koh-i-noor, we want a cash incentive from him to know he's trustworthy."

"We can trust him. He's worth billions, and I'm vouching for him, for Chrissakes."

"Not good enough. We want a million per carat, and we want a million in cash up front as a down payment or we might sell to someone else."

"He's not gonna go for it." Dulay drained his gla.s.s.

"If he wants it, he's rich enough to make sure he gets it."

Dulay was pulling at his thinning hair. "Okay, I'll put it to him, but you can't mess him around. Like I told you before, I don't wanna turn up as chopped liver."

"Put it to him, or if you don't want to, I will."

Dulay hesitated. "Okay, let's see what he says."

"Is he still in Paris?"