Golden Eights

by Nigel Seed

  “Formally, I am the Reverend Thomas Roundhay, vicar of this parish. But I prefer to be just Tom when I am not in the pulpit. Who are your two companions?”

  “The dark skinned one down the hole who made the first explosive safe is Sergeant Geordie Peters and the large gentleman you wrestled with is Sergeant Major Ivan Thomas.”

  “All serving soldiers then? So how did you get this job?”

  “We are all Royal Engineers and the Prime Minister asked us to do this. We completed another job a while ago and he seems to have been impressed by that.”

  After making a thorough inspection of the passageway, Geordie started to move slowly forward. Ivan dropped in behind him and bobbed down to watch his progress.

  “I’ve come to a corner here,” said the muffled voice of Geordie, “just having a look for nasty surprises before I go round it. It’s a bit tight in here.”

  Ivan leaned forward and tapped Geordie on the back. “Take it slow. Don´t ignore anything and remember your training.”

  Geordie didn´t answer but shuffled slowly forward, checking carefully for any wires of anything that looked as though it did not belong. He made it around the corner and followed the passageway until the ground dropped away to the floor of a larger room. As he shone the light around he could see four bunks mounted on the walls, a gun rack with weapons still standing in it, rusty tinned food on the shelves and ammunition boxes below the lower bunks. At the end of the room there was a further doorway. He stepped carefully in and continued to check for booby traps. Finding nothing, he called Ivan forward.

  Ivan slid along the tunnel and entered the bunkroom. They checked again for any explosive traps without moving anything. Geordie stepped into the doorway at the end of the room. He shone the flashlight into the next chamber and looked back over his shoulder at Ivan.

  “Better call the Major down here,” he said, “he’s going to want to see this. Tell him he might want to bring the vicar too.”

  Ivan returned to the tunnel and called back to Jim “Boss, Geordie has found something he thinks you both want to see.”

  “OK, on our way.”

  “Can I go too?” said Tom. “That’s very kind of you.”

  Jim helped the old man climb down into the hole and watched as he slowly crawled out of sight along the passageway. Jim followed him slowly through the narrow gap. The other three were standing waiting for him.

  “Ready boss?” said Geordie.

  “Go ahead.”

  “I think the Reverend will want to see this first. Come on Padre, come and see what you have been guarding all these years.”

  Geordie moved back to allow the old man to walk into the doorway. As he saw what the flashlight was pointing at his jaw dropped.

  “I never imagined anything like that.”

  He stared at the ornate, but dusty golden crucifix standing on top of a large pile of small wooden crates. It was filthy, but the gorgeous craftsmanship was immediately obvious. This had been made with considerable care and skill by a master craftsman.

  “This is wonderful. Where did it come from and why is it here?”

  From the doorway Jim said, “It’s quite a story. We’ll tell you all about it over a brew of tea after we’ve had a further look round.”

  Tom smiled. “I guess that is a subtle hint that you would like me out of your way?”

  “Afraid so, sir,” said Ivan, “let me help you back into the barn.”

  Ivan and Tom left as Jim and Geordie started to look carefully at the second room. Two walls were stacked high with the small wooden crates. A shelf had been created with these boxes for the crucifix to stand on. Along the third wall were larger boxes held closed with rusty padlocks.

  Geordie tried the weight of one of the small crates and then one of the larger ones. “Hell´s teeth, these are heavy for their size. It’s going to be hard labor getting this lot out through that passage.”

  “When I went down to Coleshill House they told me that these hides were always made with an entrance and an exit so they could make an escape, if one was found. If there is a second way in it might be easier.”

  Geordie looked around “If there is a second way out then it can only be behind this lot. I´ll heave a few out of the way and see what I can find. In this small space it’s probably better if you let me do it on my own, boss.”

  “OK. Mind your back when you are heaving. I´ll go and see if Tom knows about another way in.”

  As Jim left the chamber and headed through the bunkroom to the passage he could hear Geordie grunting as he started to shift the heavy boxes. Once through the passage he reached the entranceway and stood up. Tom and Ivan were sitting on the trailer arm of a plow talking quietly.

  “Tom, did your Dad ever tell you about another entrance to this place? It probably comes out somewhere that can’t be seen from the barn.”

  The old vicar thought for a moment, his faced creased in concentration. He shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so. But we could ask one of the other Guardians.”

  “Other Guardians?”

  “Yes boss,” said Ivan “the Padre here has been telling me about the people who have been looking after this place. They call themselves ‘The Guardians’.”

  “Go on.”

  “Originally there were four members of this special auxiliary unit. They were people who had an excuse for being out at odd times so they would not arouse the Germans’ suspicions if the invasion had ever happened. There was the vicar you know about, a vet, the farmer whose land it was and the local postman. As they got too old to carry on, they passed the task on to their children as some kind of sacred trust. Did I get that right, Tom?”

  The old man nodded “Pretty well, yes. My father passed it on to me and helped me join this parish as the vicar. Dan, the farmer, passed it on to his boy who was supposed to pass it on to his son, but had a heart attack and died before he could. The boy moved to Spain some years ago.”

  Jim did not mention that they knew about the grandson living in Spain. “And the other two?”

  “David the vet never had children and did not have any other people he trusted enough before he died. But Patrick the postman passed it on to his boy who is as old as me now. He runs a village shop and his boy in turn is in on the secret.”

  “So there are just three people in this area who know about this?”

  “That’s right and unless my eyes deceive me, if you look through the gaps in the barn wall behind you I think you are about to meet the other two.”

  Chapter 20

  The barn door creaked open as the two newcomers entered. The older of the two leant heavily on his walking stick and eyed Ivan and Jim.

  “Everything OK, Tom?” he said without looking at him. The younger man held back and was clearly nervous or ready to act.

  “Everything is fine, Pat. These men and another one down there are from the Prime Minister himself. I think you had better show him your letter, Major.”

  Jim retrieved the letter from his pocket and stepped forward.

  “That’s far enough,” said the younger man at the door.

  Jim saw he had produced another heavy duty Webley revolver and was ready to use it. He stopped and slowly held the letter out towards the older man.

  “I’m just going to drop this and move back,” he said, “no need for that hand cannon today.”

  The letter fluttered to the floor of the barn and the old man learned down painfully to pick it up. He groaned slightly as he stood back up, then walked across to sit down on an old box as he opened the envelope. He read slowly and looked up at Jim.

  “You sure about this, Tom?” he said.

  The vicar nodded. “Yes. They had plenty of time to kill me and get at the stuff in the hide after that big one disarmed me,” he said, indicating Ivan.

  Ivan smiled and said a little too loudly, “And that daft lad in the doorway can put his gun down too unless he wants me to take it away from him.”

  The younger man stiffe
ned and stared hard at Ivan. He didn´t notice Geordie step in behind him and grab the barrel of the pistol with one hand while gripping the pressure point in his neck with the other.

  “I think I’ll have that. Thank you kindly,” said Geordie as he removed the pistol from the man’s slackened grip. He released the neck hold and the younger man sagged to the ground. “Don´t worry, the neck pinch wears off in a few minutes. Just sit quietly till it does.”

  “Coming from that direction I take it you found the other exit?” said Jim, retrieving the letter from the old man’s trembling fingers. “Nothing to worry about, sir. We’re serving soldiers, here on the orders of the Prime Minister. We aren’t stealing the material down there.”

  “How do we know that?”

  “Simple really. You lot have waved guns at us twice and tried to shoot us at least once, but we have not harmed you.” He looked at the younger man in the doorway. “At least not permanently. If we were thieves do you really think you would still be alive now with what is at stake here?”

  The old man looked at him with watery eyes, then looked across at the Tom who nodded encouragement. “I suppose not,” he said, “but you could have just used the code word.”

  “You didn’t give me much chance to do that before the gun started swinging around.”

  “Yes. Oh, well, sorry about that. Martin, stop moaning and come over here.”

  Martin rose from the doorway and came to sit down next to his father on the box. “What happens now?” he said.

  Jim looked down at the two of them. “Tom didn´t know what you were the Guardians of. Do you know?”

  They both shook their heads. “We were never told,” said Patrick, “all we knew was that it was important and had to be guarded.”

  “Ivan, will you take our two friends down and show them what this is all about please. Geordie, would you like to show Tom and me the new way in?”

  “Certainly would, boss. Right this way, Padre”

  He led the way out of the barn and out of the open gate in the safety fence. He walked slowly to allow Tom to keep up and led the way across the field, behind the barn and towards the sea.

  “Mind the cow dung,” he said, “whatever these animals were eating had way too much fiber in it by the look of this field. Not far now, just where the ground dips down towards the railway line by that hedge boundary.”

  They walked to the point where the land started to drop away and looked down the slope. Below them, they could now see another hatch that opened almost under the hedge line. The soil and grass on top of it showed how it had been hidden all these years.

  “This entrance leads to a better passage than the other one. It will be a lot easier to shift the boxes out this way and we can get a truck down here, right to the doorway. The inner entrance was right behind the stack of bigger boxes. Oh! And hold your hand out, boss.”

  Jim extended his hand as Geordie fumbled in his pocket, held his closed fist over Jim´s hand and then dropped something into it. As Geordie´s hand moved away Jim saw the gold coin laying there.

  “Number eighteen, eh? And the rest of those are in one of the boxes inside. That should cheer somebody up next time we see him.”

  Tom stared at the coin. “Who will it cheer up?”

  “The Governor of the Bank of England. All this material in your hide is his responsibility and he really wants it back.”

  They walked down the slope and entered the hidden doorway. The passageway inside was concrete lined, but higher than the first one they had found. As they went inside Geordie pointed out the hand grenade mounted in a recess in the wall. The safety pin was now in place, but it had been linked to the door to catch the unwary, or the hurried. They moved in until they came to the storage room. Patrick and his son were already there, with Ivan, staring in open-mouthed wonder at the gold in the boxes that had been opened. None of them could guess the value of this small room below a rotting barn.

  Ivan looked across at Jim. “Well boss, what the hell do we do with this now we have found it?”

  “Good question,” said Jim contemplating the size and weight of the material they needed to move. “If we try and move this ourselves we are going to be here for days and we are going to get noticed. Then we have the problem of how to move it. Army trucks would be good, but they will need armed guards. We need to increase the level of security here to start with.”

  He turned to the three Guardians. “No offense gents. You and your families have done a superb job for many years, but that relied heavily on secrecy and that is going to be lost very shortly. We have to get some help to back you up.”

  “Who are you thinking of, boss?” said Geordie.

  “If we want covert observation I think we want the Hereford Hooligans. Start making a list of everything we have found and I’ll make the call. I warned the Downing Street people to put them on standby before we came up here in case we needed some muscle.”

  Tom looked at Jim quizzically. “Hooligans?”

  “Not to worry, Tom, it’s just the nickname for Special Forces. Rather useful people for a job like this.”

  As Jim slipped his mobile phone out of his pocket it started to ring and he pressed the answer button. “Jim Wilson.”

  “Hello Jim, it’s Helen. I know its short notice but I’m just catching the train to London and wondered if the lunch invitation was still open?”

  “Helen, nice to hear from you. Of course the invitation is open and I would love to see you but I´m afraid the timing is a little difficult. I’m in the North of England at the moment in the middle of a job. I hope you don’t mind. Maybe I can come down to your neck of the woods when I get back?”

  “That would be nice. My train is here. Call me when you can.”

  Jim smiled to himself and then dialled the number he had stored in there.

  Chapter 21

  Jim came back into the hide to find that the Guardians had left and his two men had listed all the boxes they had found, but had not opened any more. The wooden case with the brass corner plates that contained the special pieces of eight was sitting on one of the bunks next to Ivan as he thumbed through a yellowed notebook with a cracked leather cover. Geordie was sitting on the opposite bunk examining the Thompson submachine gun across his lap. They looked up as Jim came in.

  “Made the call,” he said, “the people in Downing Street are quite efficient. It took them about ten minutes to get me through to the Operations Officer at the SAS HQ and they had already briefed him to give us whatever we asked for. It took a while to explain things without saying anything understandable across an open phone line, but he got the message.”

  “So how long before they get here?” said Ivan. “I don´t know about you but I’m getting hungry.”

  “Good thought,” said Jim. “The Hooligans will be airborne in about twenty minutes, they have a team on standby at all times it seems. They should be here a little before dark. I’ve told them to land a couple of fields over. So we have time for something to eat while we wait. I saw a Fish and Chip shop in the village we passed through. I’ll stay here if you two want a break to go and get some.”

  They both stood. “OK, boss. You want anything special?”

  “No. just fish and chips, plus a tub of mushy peas if they have them.”

  Geordie smiled. “It’s Lancashire, boss, of course they’ll have them. See you shortly.”

  “See you later then. Oh and Geordie.”

  “Yes boss?”

  “Don’t call me shorty.” He had been waiting for ages to use that old joke on Geordie, ever since he had been caught by it during their voyage across the Atlantic in that old submarine.

  As Ivan turned to follow Geordie he passed Jim the notebook. “That was under a jacket on one of the bunks, seems like someone was making notes about things that went on. He describes the night they picked up the gold in London and he also tried his hand at some bloody awful poetry. Other than that, some interesting stuff.”

  Jim sat down
on the bunk and started to read. The pages were old and yellow and the ink had faded to brown, but the handwriting was clear and legible. He read about the night of the collection. The air raid had made quite an impression on the writer. A big raid like that would have seemed quite something to someone from this quiet part of Northern England. The other trucks in the collection party were described and were just as Harold Greenly had described them in Henfield. But the description of the black van was different. There was a horse and cart, as Harold had said, but on the side of the painting of the cart was a flower. That really might have been interesting if the writer had said what kind.

  He carried on turning the pages until he came to the attempt at poetry. Ivan was right, it was awful. His old English teacher would probably have called it doggerel. He was just about to turn the page when the words struck him as odd. He looked again.

  In a Barn by the Bonniest Bay

  We hide our treasure away

  Near the deepest Hole

  We live by the Bowl

  By the Standing Stones

  Where there are no Bones

  Another Cave, no?

  Where the rich folk go

  He thought back to the metal advertising signs he had seen on the barn wall. One of them was a railway company poster picture of an overly jolly fisherman dancing across the sand. The wording had struck him as odd. It said “Morecambe – Britain’s Bonniest Bay.” Could these be clues to the locations of the four special hides? Surely it couldn’t be that much of a gift? He slipped the notebook into his jacket pocket as his two men came back carrying their paper wrapped meal.

  They sat on the two lower bunks eating the fish and chips with their fingers and using the plastic spoons to eat the mushy peas from the plastic tubs. The banquet over, they wrapped up the paper and Jim took it out to the barn while the other two carried on looking around the hide. As he returned he could not help but notice the musty smell had been overtaken by that of chips and vinegar. His team was examining the weapons. Ivan looked up.