“Sir, the charge card matches a name on the watch list, Caitlin Shannon. The IP address is linked to the British Museum on Great Russell Street.”
“They’re there?” It was a demand, not a question.
She quivered slightly at his aggressive tone, knowing his reputation, “I don’t know if all of them are, sir, but it was Caitlin Shannon’s card being used, for sure.”
Colin picked up his phone to convey the information to the person waiting patiently on hold, “Simon, after yesterday’s debacle, my people have done Five’s job for them. We’ve traced one of their computers to a location at the British Museum. I want your ready teams from Five to roll now. Details will be sent on route. You’ll be there before me. Don’t wait, and don’t screw this up. You know the drill; I’ll meet you there.”
The staffer raised her ears at what she heard; Five were working with them on this? A joint op? This was big.
Colin hung up the phone and saw the surveillance operator hovering in front of him. “Why are you still here?” he snapped.
“After I recognized her charge card, I hacked into her computer to see what she was doing. I thought it might be helpful for you to know what files the girl was accessing in the museum,” she explained.
“And?”
“They were on Jack the Ripper, sir.” She didn’t understand why it happened, but as she spoke those words, the blood drained from the hardened officer’s face.
Alex was lost in the books chronicling The Ripper’s killings. He diligently jotted down notes as additional information presented itself. While he worked, Cate took a moment to lean back and stretch after being hunched forward over her computer.
She flexed and glanced longingly at the inviting sunshine through the old windows. It was a beautiful late summer day in London and here she was, stuck indoors. But better this famed library than the dungeon in Wisconsin. Cate swung her gaze further down the long street and stiffened in horror.
Three armored vehicles roared onto Great Russell Street and slammed to a halt outside of the museum. The double doors at the rear of each transport flew open and armed assault teams leaped out, checking their heavy weaponry as they assembled in squads, awaiting their orders.
Stunned, Cate snapped her laptop shut and talked quickly as she stuffed it into her backpack, “Alex, we got to go. They’re outside. The same men as last night. They’ve found us here!”
It took one look out of the windows to confirm Cate’s words, “We have to get Eddie,” he said.
They jumped to their feet and hurried through the silent library.
The arrival of the armed tactical teams threw the huge lobby of the British Museum into confusion. Already two black-uniformed men with automatic weapons had taken their place on either side of the long staircase blocking access to the upper floors. Seeing their presence, and a dozen more armed men assembling in front of the main doors, caused a wave of panic to sweep through the throngs of tourists, many of whom pushed toward the exit, trying to leave.
Cate stared at the men guarding the stairs, “They’ve got the way up closed off. We can’t get to Eddie to warn him.”
As she spoke, a series of low thuds rang out, as bolts pushed down into the marble and locked the gigantic glass entry doors in place. Only the center two remained open, with the armed guards stretched in line in front of them to monitor everybody leaving.
“We’re trapped too,” said Cate.
Alex spun his gaze around the lobby, searching for a way out as the flood of worried visitors heading for the exit continued to increase. He saw four colorful flags moving through the air, marking the whereabouts of a large group of Japanese students who hurried to leave the museum.
“This is our chance,” Alex said to Cate, “Stick close to me.” He pushed across the tide of people in the lobby and forced his way into the middle of the students. As they matched their pace and flow toward the door, Alex raised his voice and commenced a lecture at the top of his lungs, “As we leave the building please look up at the columns at the front of the museum. They were built in the classic style of Ionic construction, and designed by the acclaimed architect Sir Robert Smirke, who had them installed in 1823.”
The group was now past the doors and crossing to the steps where another squad of military-outfitted personnel waited to do a secondary screening if needed. Alex continued in his most bombastic voice, “The initial origins of the British Museum lie in the will of Sir Hans Sloane.”
The children around him didn’t understand a word this strange man was saying and kept moving forward hoping to be rid of him soon. To the waiting guards it was yet another school group with their teachers, one of the hundreds coming every day to visit this national landmark. Definitely nothing for them to be concerned with.
Alex’s unrelenting lecture echoed across the smooth stone steps, “Sloane wanted his collection of 71,000 objects preserved. He bequeathed it to King George II. If refused, the collection, in its entirety, was to be offered abroad.”
Armed men raced by the large cluster of children and their boring professor, ignoring them as they headed inside.
Now they had reached the massive gates leading to Great Russell Street and past the cordon of guards. The waiting teacher heard Alex’s ongoing dissertation and marched angrily into the packed gathering of young students, “What do you think you are doing?” was her challenge.
Alex faked a smile, “Teaching the class about the museum.”
“You know they don’t speak English? Please leave now.”
“With pleasure.”
Alex and Cate ran across the wide street to safety, hunkering down behind the rows of parked cars to stay out of sight and wait for Eddie.
Cate stared over the road to the museum’s portico where a string of armed men now fully blocked the exits and only let the people through a few at a time, so each could be individually checked and vetted, “We just made it out.”
“But what will Eddie do? He’s trapped inside,” Alex’s tone reflected the boy’s hopeless position.
Two floors up, in the main exhibition hall, Eddie stood transfixed and drooled over a 1957 Vanwall race car painted British Green. A large walk-through display celebrating the career of the famed driver, Stirling Moss, surrounded the classic vehicle.
He pulled his eyes from the racer as he sensed a buzz going through the crowded room. The cause of the anxiety soon appeared, two uniformed assault officers, brandishing automatic rifles, were beginning to sweep the area.
“Shit,” Eddie whispered to himself, as he started away from the imminent threat. He pushed through the people and found himself at the back of the exhibit, his way blocked by a wall.
He stayed against the wall and followed it until he saw a narrow blue door marked Staff Only. He tried the handle and the door opened. Relieved, he slipped inside.
He clicked the light on and saw he was in an electrical room and cleaning closet. It was small and tight, with a bank of fuses and heavy-duty throw switches on one wall, and on the other side, mops, buckets, supplies, and uniforms packed the shelves.
Eddie took one of the dark blue, full-length janitor’s outfits and zipped it on, gladly discarding his torn and filthy prison jumpsuit, I Love London T-shirt and baseball cap. He grabbed a cloth hat which was more of a hairnet, and pulled it on, tucking his long hair up inside. He’d worn a similar head-covering once before, to keep his hair from the frying oil, when he needed money and worked the cooking line at a hamburger joint in Oakland. He’d hated the hairnet then, and he hated it now, but it was his only option.
He stepped back out from the closet, carrying with him a mop and bucket to complete his working appearance, and carefully maneuvered towards the exit. It was slow going through the mass of people, and soon he saw why. Only one of the four doors was open, and it was blocked by the guards who let the visitors leave one by one only after checking their identity against a photograph they held. He was convinced he knew whose picture they held, and that this little
disguise wouldn’t be enough.
Eddie pulled out of the line once again and this time headed to the windows. They gave him no hope. His was on the third floor and the old building had leaded glass designed to filter the direct sunlight and protect the irreplaceable exhibits. He might be able to break through one, but it would take too long and attract unwelcome attention. Everything this museum had in place to guard the precious displays; the heavy doors, the thick windows, the stone walls, acted as a prison to keep him in.
It was then he saw something they had installed to shield the building that actually might work to help him. Every seven yards along the wall, mounted at five feet above the floor, running in a perfectly straight line, were a series of small, glass enclosed fire alarms. He looked at the packed crowd of at least a thousand people already unnerved and pushing to get out of the hall and smiled. He knew what was about to happen.
Eddie edged his way to the nearest alarm, hit the glass hard with his elbow, and in seconds was rewarded with the sound of piercing sirens.
Instantly the mass of people froze, trying to understand this new threat. Did it affect them or was it someplace else in the vast museum? Eddie cleared up any doubt they had in their minds by yelling at the top of his lungs, “Fire! Fire! There’s flames!”
A group of women spun to his voice and in their eyes saw a uniformed employee calling out a terrifying warning for help. That was all it took. Eddie’s yells were picked up by hundreds of others who turned them into panicked screams and cries of fire.
Eddie hurried back into the janitor’s closet and threw the switches on the fuse panels. Immediately the overhead strips went off and small emergency lights powered on, the sudden lighting change unleashing more shrieks of terror from the trapped people.
Eddie jumped out and yelled again, letting panic rip through his words, “Run! Everything’s burning back here.”
Mob mentality seized control and the people rushed forward for the single exit, surging past the two armed guards who were helpless to stop this racing army of frightened souls.
Eddie allowed the momentum of the pack to carry him on, and in seconds he was through the doors and on the landing above the first flight of steps.
Two floors below him, the patient crowd waiting to be released through the museum’s doors saw the horde tumbling out onto the upper stairs and heard the piercing sound of the fire alarm. They looked back and forth in horror and shock, and as the fearful throng from the exhibition hall battled down the stairs, their screams of FIRE! filled the air.
The entire museum became a madhouse, with people running, sprinting, sobbing, and pushing their way to the main exit. Men elbowed past women and children to save themselves, and the sheer weight of their numbers bowled over the thin line of guards who vainly attempted to block the doors as the first of the tidal wave of panic-stricken people burst from the museum onto the huge portico outside.
From across the street, Alex and Cate watched the explosion of bodies pouring down the steps toward the road, and behind them heard the multiple sirens of approaching firetrucks ringing out, adding to the mayhem.
Alex pulled his eyes from the chaos and looked at Cate, “Eddie?”
She grinned, “Eddie.”
The culprit had now reached the massive lobby and the doors to safety were only yards from him when he saw an elderly lady knocked roughly to the ground. Boots and shoes pummeled her as people ran past, ignoring the helpless woman and her struggles to get up, but Eddie rushed over, used his body as a shield to block her from the terrified, pounding crowd and helped her back to her feet.
“I don’t want to die in the fire,” she sobbed. It was hard for her to catch enough breath to talk.
“You won’t die, I promise. I’ll get you out,” reassured Eddie.
“Bless you.”
Eddie looped his arm under the old woman’s shoulders and continued toward the enormous doors, but much slower now.
Outside, among the police cars and firetrucks continuing to arrive at the scene, a blue 850i BMW screeched to a halt by the main gates and Colin jumped from it. He was in his civilian suit, but wore an identifying laminate badge around his neck. Whatever was printed on the ID worked, and the police waved him through their security barrier without a challenge.
Colin took only a few paces onto the grounds before he realized the extent of the uncontrolled chaos. A sea of distressed tourists pushed past him in their desperate flight from the building and the blaze they thought was waiting to consume them. Knowing this pandemonium had probably ended any chance of his operation being a success, he threw his hands to his head in frustration, then pulled himself together and sprinted to the museum’s steps in a last-minute attempt to try and restore order.
Eddie was on the enclosed portico and moving toward the supporting colonnade when he saw Colin Brown approaching at a run. He turned slightly so the old lady he half carried was on his far side and protected, and lurched violently into Colin. He hit him hard with his shoulder, and threw him off balance. The running man reeled from the unexpected impact, and staggered backward, but Eddie reached out and caught him with his free arm, steadying him, and brushing him down.
“Sorry about that, mate. Me and me Granny didn’t see you,” Eddie used his best Dick Van Dyke English accent.
“Fucking idiot,” barked Colin, who pushed himself away and ignoring the clumsy janitor, blew past him and the old lady, disappearing inside the crazed museum.
At the bottom of the steps, Eddie gently let go of the pensioner. “Will you be all right now?” he checked.
“I will. You’re an angel.” She gave him a peck on the cheek and hobbled off.
Eddie started out of the gate and saw Alex and Cate waving to him from across the street. With a huge grin he raced over to them.
“Did you see their big-ass guns? So cool!” riffed the excited teen.
“Except they wanted to shoot us with their big-ass bullets,” answered Cate.
“We’ll talk later. Let’s get out of here before we’re spotted,” said Alex, taking over.
“Okay. But we’re driving.” Eddie dangled a set of car keys.
“Where did those come from?”
“A gift from my uncle. Along with this,” he waved a crocodile skin wallet at them.
“Did you get them from him the same way you got mine?” asked Alex.
“Pretty much. Now where’s his car?” Eddie saw the BMW logo on the key fob, “We’re looking for The Ultimate Driving Machine.” He hit the alarm and right across from them, the lights on a blue Beemer blinked twice.
“Good job. Let’s go.” Alex led them to the car and their ticket to freedom.
The immense museum and courtyard stood empty of tourists, and was occupied now by a hundred confused firefighters called out to answer the thankfully false alarm, along with thirty armed police, and Simon’s assault teams. Simon led Colin away from the others to a quiet alcove at the edge of the portico.
“I set it up exactly as you had instructed, closing down the exits and running a tight perimeter. It would have been easier if I didn’t have to rely solely on Five’s resources. If I could have called on the police department right at the beginning-”
“No.” Colin cut him off, “You know we can’t risk this getting out and that’s why we have to keep our dealings with the regular cops to a minimum. They’re not bound by any secrecy oath. The fewer people aware of this the better. Let them think they’re after armed criminals and terrorists. It has to remain that only you and I, and our American equivalents, have a grasp on the truth.”
Simon’s face showed his reluctant agreement with the rationale.
Colin continued, “We need to pull the museum’s security tapes and hard drives before anyone else gets to them. I’ll have them reworked, then release them along with a story to the press. I should be able to have it out within the next two hours.”
He walked with Simon down the steps towards the street, furious at his failure to end this, her
e and now, “How can it be so tough to find three Americans? They don’t even know the city for Christ’s sake!”
The entire block was in chaos. The thirty firetrucks that had raced across London from four different stations, summoned to save the treasured building, re-spooled their heavy hoses and locked back down their ladders. Police cars, which had responded after picking up on the news of the disturbance, were now needed elsewhere and pulled away, leaving behind only six vehicles and their officers positioned to safely disperse the remaining stragglers fleeing the three-centuries-old museum.
Adding to the tumultuous scene were hundreds of curious onlookers, along with camera crews from the BBC, ITV, Sky News and CNN who had arrived to film the fire.
Colin stopped to take in the mess stretching up and down Great Russell Street, and saw his hopes of keeping this a limited and quick operation, dashed, “This is a damn circus!” It was then a thought hit him, and he looked hard at the road right in front of the main gates, searching for something that should have been there. He turned to Simon, even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to answer his shouted question, “Where the fuck is my car?”
CHAPTER TEN
Legoland
The BMV drove fast through central London, too fast. But its excessive speed was not the reason so many people turned to stare at the racing vehicle. It was the fact the high-powered car was hurtling in the wrong direction down a one-way street.
Eddie wrenched the wheel hard to the left, fishtailing the sports sedan and barely avoiding yet another collision as a delivery truck swerved by, angrily sounding its horn.
“These Brits are crazy. They’re all on the wrong side,” stated Eddie.
“You’re on the wrong side. They drive on the left. You’re going to get us killed,” warned Cate.
“Slow down and pull over. We’re far enough away now. We have to decide our next move,” Alex was all business, knowing the huge problems facing them still had to be solved.
Birthright: Pray your past stays hidden (Alex Turner Book 1) Page 11
