Golden Eights

by Nigel Seed

  They trudged on in silence until they found the spot indicated on the map where they should turn off. They stood in the lane and stared at the area where the track was supposed to be, but saw nothing. Geordie cast about looking at the wall and at the small ditch that ran alongside it with silvery rainwater trickling through the grass at the bottom. Ivan climbed over the wall and walked across the small field. The few sheep scattered as he passed. He stood under a tree and looked up the slope.

  He waved the others towards him. “Those JARIC people were right again. Once you get over here you can see the slightly flattened shape of the land alongside the hill.”

  They followed his pointing arm and saw the faint trace of where a track had once been.

  “Come on,” said Jim, “onward and upward.”

  This track was not as steep as the two they had climbed in the morning and seemed a little wider.

  “You know something, boss,” said Geordie, “I reckon I could get a truck up this pathway. Might be a bit tight, but it’s certainly possible.”

  Jim looked back the way they had come. Geordie was right. A four-wheel drive truck could make it up here with care. If it continued like this, it might well be the track they were looking for.

  They crested the hill and the village dropped out of sight behind them as they approached a stone hut. The roof was gone and the door was a gap in the sturdy stone wall, but it was certainly a hut, or at least it used to be. The depression in the earth left by the old excavations and framed by rock outcroppings was just visible as they stood and looked around.

  As usual, Geordie and Ivan started to check for evidence in and around the hut while Helen and Jim tracked across the bowl searching for any signs of activity. Jim looked up to see Ivan walking towards him holding something in his hand.

  “Little bit of interest for you here, boss.” He held his hand out and on his palm lay a brass cartridge case, blackened with age. “Unless I miss my guess that’s a .303, the caliber the Army was using back in the 1940s.”

  “Where did you find it?”

  “Just outside the hut doorway, sunk into the mud under a stone.”

  They walked towards the hut with Helen in the lead. There was a sharp crack as something struck the ground in front of them. Ivan and Jim broke into a run towards the stone walls of the hut. Ivan was the first to reach Helen. He grabbed her around the middle, lifted her off the ground and ran into the hut carrying her. He put her down, none too gently, in a corner and flopped beside her. Jim dropped to the ground inside the door next to Geordie.

  “Why, Mr Thomas, this is so sudden,” Helen said with a smile. “What was that about?”

  Ivan moved to get more comfortable and said, “Well, you see, despite what Hollywood would have you believe, a bullet doesn’t whistle as it travels. A high-powered round going past you makes a loud crack. We have just been shot at.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Oh yes and he wasn’t a bad shot either. He’s winged me.”

  Ivan moved his right hand from his left upper arm and examined the wound. The bullet had skimmed across his arm taking a deep gouge out of the flesh. Blood was flowing freely down his sleeve.

  “Damn, that’s a nice new jacket ruined. And this is going to really start stinging soon.”

  “Oh my Lord! And you carried me after that had hit you? I feel a bit of a fool for making a joke.”

  Helen moved to try and help Ivan, but he pushed her back.

  “Try to stay under cover. Whoever put that round down is still out there and believe me, it would ruin your day to get hit.”

  Jim looked across the hut at Helen and smiled to reassure her. “He’s right, just stay down. Ivan can patch that up for himself, at least on a temporary basis. Its messy and it’s going to hurt like hell, but it won’t kill him.”

  “Thanks for the sympathy, boss.”

  Jim smiled and pulled a small transmitter from his pocket. “Did either of you spot where he is firing from?”

  “Not exactly, but judging from the way the round clipped me I would guess he is along the ridgeline away from the village.”

  “Geordie?”

  “The sound was a bit distorted inside these stone walls, but I would guess Ivan is right. Trouble is, that means he has a clear field of fire and he has the doorway covered. Going out over the wall would mean being caught with your bum in the air too, so I think we are stuck till he gets bored.”

  “I think you‘re both right. So I’d better start earning my salt, then, eh?” Jim lifted the transmitter to his mouth and pressing the button on the side said, “Blue 2, Blue 2 this is Blue 1 Sunray. Target is somewhere along the ridge away from the village and about 200 meters eastward away from position 3.” He laid the transmitter on his thigh and they all waited until a tinny voice replied.

  “Blue 2 copies all. Wait out.”

  The two soldiers nodded and settled back against the stone walls. Ivan busied himself with dressing his wound and Geordie closed his eyes to rest.

  “I don’t understand, what is happening and why aren’t you doing something?”

  “It’s OK, Helen, we are doing something. Ivan is getting himself sorted out and Geordie is resting. It’s all in hand and you wouldn’t want me to spoil the surprise, would you?”

  Geordie opened one eye and said, “There’s an old Army saying ‘never stand when you can sit, never sit when you can lie and never stay awake when you can kip.’ There’s no telling how long this will go on and since I am the only sergeant around here I need to be rested and ready to sort it all out if something goes wrong.”

  Helen sank back against the wall, still looking worried. Time passed and nothing happened. The birds sang in the trees and ants wandered around them on the fallen stones. Nobody from the village seemed to have heard the shot and wondered about it.

  “How’s the arm, Ivan?”

  “Frankly, boss, it’s bloody painful. If we get the chance I’d like to have a quiet word with the shooter when we meet him.”

  Jim laughed. “I’ll see what I can do for you.”

  Chapter 31

  The small radio crackled to life and a tinny voice said, “Blue 1 this is Blue 2. All clear, moving to your location. Out”

  “OK, folks, we can go and meet our new friend now.” Jim stood and walked across to Helen, extending a hand to help her up.

  “That’s it? What just happened?”

  “I had a little insurance policy in place just in case something like this happened. At the last hide we were threatened with a gun, but luckily that one didn’t go off, so I had some friends here just in case.”

  They stepped out of the ruined hut and Helen looked along the ridge to see five men walking towards her. “Who are they?”

  “Four of them are people we have worked with before and I suspect number five is the person Ivan wants to speak to.”

  The group approached with one of them clearly dazed, walking unsteadily with his hand to a nose that was running blood. They reached the depression in the ground and the dazed one was instructed to sit by one of the escorts, who had the air of a person not to argue with. The team leader they had met at the barn on Morecambe Bay walked over to them and handed Jim a rifle.

  “Our friend here was ready to fire again as soon as one of you showed yourselves. He seems to have known his business; the weapon is in perfect condition despite its age.”

  Jim took the rifle and looked it over. “He’s a good shot, too. Managed to wing my Sergeant Major with his first round. Not bad at that distance.”

  Ivan walked across still holding his upper arm and failing to stop the bleeding. He looked down at the rifle in Jim’s hands, then at the shooter.

  “I don’t suppose one of your team is carrying field dressing?”

  “I can do better than that. John over there is a field medic and I have to say rather a good one.” He waved to one of the men sitting on his haunches at the edge of the bowl. “John! Customer for you.”

  Helen lo
oked at the rifle and said, “It doesn’t look much when you hold it like that.”

  “Don’t be fooled. This is the .303 Short Model Lee Enfield, arguably one of the finest bolt-action rifles in the world. The British Army used these for decades when we had an empire and they did a lot of damage. I think Ivan has used up a lot of luck today.”

  Jim walked over to the dejected man slumped on the ground.

  “How did he manage to acquire the nose bleed?”

  “That would be my fault,” said the fourth member of the team. “He was lying in a depression on the ridge and I saw he was ready to fire again when I came up behind him. So I tapped him on the back of the head and he head-butted poor old Mother Earth. I don’t think the Sergeant Major over there will give me a hard time about it.”

  “Probably not.” Jim turned to the prisoner. “I think I should explain. The code word is ‘Cromwell’. We are friends.”

  The man looked over the top of the bloodied hand he still held to his nose. “What bloody code word? What the hell is Cromwell? And you’re no friend of mine.”

  Jim knelt down and looked the man in the eye. “We know what this site is and we know you are one of the Guardians.”

  The man’s eyes widened. “How did you know that? The Guardians are a secret; my Dad told me all about it.”

  “Not quite all about it if you didn’t get told the code word. Let me show you something and then we can get properly introduced.” He decided against showing the Prime Minister’s letter and withdrew his military ID card from the inside pocket of his jacket and held it so the prisoner could read it. He waited until the man looked up and said, “Then can we speak to your Dad?”

  Helen said very quietly, “Why do you want to speak to his father?”

  “Take a look at his eyes. I don’t think he is very bright. I’m guessing his Dad didn’t mean him to do this. It’s all got out of hand. Plus, his Dad is the one who can probably tell us what we want to know.”

  Jim turned back to the rest of the team. He handed the rifle to Geordie and then spoke to the prisoner.

  “Come on, son. Up you get, we need to see your Dad.”

  He held out his hand and helped the young man to his feet.

  “Now then, you and I will lead the way and these rough types won’t hurt you as long as you are with me. OK?”

  The walk back down into the village was colder now that the fine rain had started again. By the time they reached the first of the grey stone houses their hair was soaked. Jim noticed that Helen paid no attention to it. He smiled to himself.

  Jim looked at the Guardian as they walked. “So, what’s your name? Have you lived here long and what do you do for a living when you aren’t shooting at people?”

  The man looked sideways at him and after a pause said, “I’m Peter Duckworth and I look after my Dad’s sheep. Have done for as long as I can remember.” They walked on for another hundred paces in silence, then the young man said “This is our place.”

  He pointed at a neat stone cottage with a small front garden surrounded by a waist high stone wall, like most of the other houses in the street. Jim opened the wooden gate and paused to let the prisoner go through first. As they approached the cottage door it swung open and Jim found himself being regarded by a pair of misty blue eyes set in a weather beaten and wrinkled face.

  “What’s this about? What’s he done this time?”

  “Oh, nothing serious,” said Jim, “just tried to kill my Sergeant Major and it seems he wanted to do the same to the rest of us. I think we need to talk. May we come in?”

  “Why should I let you in? I don’t know you.”

  “Cromwell.”

  The old man’s jaw dropped slightly, but he recovered quickly.

  “I have been waiting for someone to come here and say that for bloody years. What kept you?”

  He motioned them to enter. The small cottage would have been standing room only with the whole team inside so Jim sent their four saviors and the young man to find a doctor to have his broken nose reset. As they left, Jim called the team leader to one side. “Once you’ve got him cleaned up, go and buy him a sandwich in the pub. I’ll meet you there later and remember he is one of the good guys.”

  Jim re-entered the cottage with Geordie and Ivan close behind him. The old man returned to his chair next to the stone fireplace and motioned them to the other chairs. The old man turned his watery eyes to Jim and said, “You’re the one in charge, then?”

  “That’s me, Major Jim Wilson, Royal Engineers. This is my team and we are on a personal mission from the Prime Minister to recover the material you have been guarding all these years.”

  “Been a stone hanging round the neck of this family and others since 1940. The others all died off or moved away. Only me and my boy to look after it now and I don’t have long with the heart playing up the way it is. Not sure the boy could do it on his own; he’s good with the sheep and pure magic with the dogs, but not much else really.”

  “Is that why you didn’t tell him the code word?”

  “I’ve told him that bloody code word a thousand times. He forgets things. That’s why he’s going to lose the farm after I’m gone. Some bastard will cheat him and he’ll have nothing.” The old man’s chin sank to his chest as he slowly shook his head. “I love that boy, but I don’t think he can manage when I’m gone.”

  “How long has he been guarding the site up on the hill?”

  “Must be twenty-five years now. He takes it very seriously even though I don’t think he understands what it is he’s guarding. He’s up there checking the area day and night in all weathers.”

  “Sounds like he has served his country well.” Jim turned to Ivan. “Well Sergeant Major, what rank would you say the guard commander of this site warranted?”

  Ivan looked puzzled and then the penny dropped. He smiled. “If it was up to me I think I would give that job to a sergeant because of the value of the site being guarded. Is that what you were thinking?”

  “I was thinking corporal, but you have more experience of setting up guard details so I bow to your judgement.” Jim looked at the old man who still had his head sunk to his chest. “I think your boy deserves some reward for his years of service. Let me make a call and then, if that goes well, I may have solved some of your problems.”

  He walked out of the cottage, pulling his mobile phone from his pocket as he went.

  Helen was sitting on the wall outside waiting for him. “How’s it going?”

  “Not bad. I thought you had gone off to the pub with the others. I would have had you come in if I’d realized.”

  “No. I didn’t want to get in the way so I thought I would just wait here.”

  He looked at her, admiring her stillness and calm. “You really are a remarkable woman.”

  She smiled. “So why are you standing there holding the phone? Need to call your bookie?”

  “Not quite. I need to clear something with the Prime Minister.”

  He dialled the number. The conversation was brief. As he finished he saw Helen smiling at him.

  “You really are a kind person under all that military bearing, aren’t you?”

  “I try. Come on inside, it looks like the rain is about to start again.”

  They walked up the short path and as Jim opened the door he touched her fingers and squeezed just a little. They entered the small sitting room and Geordie stood to let Helen sit down. Jim resumed his seat opposite the old man.

  “I have a proposition for you,” he said, “if you agree I’m going to swear your son into the Army and back date his service for twenty-five years. He will be discharged back into civilian life as soon as the hide has been emptied and the material handed back to the Bank of England. He will leave with the rank of sergeant and will get an Army pension for the rest of his life. Army pensions are not over generous, but it should allow him to live here without much difficulty.”

  The old man raised his head. His eyes were brimming with tear
s. “You’d do that for my boy? Even after he shot at you? Are you allowed to do it?”

  “I wouldn’t normally be allowed to, but I have the Prime Minister’s permission and he is contacting the Ministry of Defense right now to set it up.”

  It was too much for the old man by the fireplace. The tears ran down his wrinkled cheeks. His shoulders shook, until Helen knelt in front of him and hugged him.

  Chapter 32

  Geordie and Ivan left the cottage and walked back to the pub in the village. The light drizzle had started again and the road between the cottages shone brightly. They turned into the pub through the old front door. The four Special Forces soldiers were sitting around a scarred oak table with their prisoner amongst them. The wreckage of a substantial country lunch lay before them. Ivan stopped and motioned them to follow him. The two engineers waited outside until the other five men had joined them then they all walked back to the cottage where Jim and Helen were standing in the small front garden. The old man was standing in his doorway, his hand on the doorjamb for support.

  “Peter. I told you that one day someone would come for the things we have been guarding.” The younger man nodded. “Well, that day has arrived. Take these people up the hill and show them how to open the room. And Peter, don’t forget about the trap. You remember what I told you about that?”

  His son nodded again slowly. “I remember.”

  He started back up the lane out of the village. The team walked with him.

  Jim and Helen stayed in the cottage garden for a few moments. Jim said, “This still has to stay a secret. You have done your country a great service, but nobody can know, at least not until we have found all of the gold.”

  “I’ve kept this secret so long that I think I can manage to keep doing it. Don’t you worry about that.”

  Helen kissed the old man’s cheek as they left the garden. They walked up the lane. Jim looked back to see the old man still standing in the doorway watching them. He raised his hand slightly in acknowledgement and went back into the cottage.

  Coming out of the village, they saw the rest of the group climbing slowly up the track ahead of them with Peter leading the way. As Jim and Helen arrived at the start of the track the others disappeared over the brow of the low ridge. They climbed up the incline and found the rest of them sitting around the depression in the ground, near the ruined cottage.