The group stood as Denby untied the cord from the bags and allowed his hand to enter. He felt the smoothness of the metal. Cold, clinical, beautiful. He pulled the first bar out.
“Just as I remember. Needs a gentle, clean mind you. I’m sure you can find someone to do that.”
“Jesus grandad. That must be a ten-ounce bar of gold. What are the markings?”
He turned it over and over in his hand. “I’ve no idea. South African? Could be anything. What matters is that melted down, like us, it’s all the same under the skin.”
Another nine appeared. Followed by twenty from the second bag, this time tarnished grey, which he rubbed with the corner of his jumper.
“Silver. My favourite. They call it poor man’s gold, but they forget, that when the chips are down, you can sell this stuff quickly, and if you are clever, you let it go up in value and buy the gold from the people that need to sell it in a hurry. Where was I?”
“I have no idea grandad, but that’s fine.” Red couldn’t help admire the old man, wishing she had served alongside him.
“So what’s in the last bag, Tom?” asked Cade, recalling the first time he had ever met the former sailor.
The old hand, marked with fresh bruising to the skin, deep red and purple, bleeding and sore, slid into the last bag and grabbed a handful of similar-sized beads.
“These? Want one?” he asked, the new whiskers on his face parting to reveal a broad smile.
“It’s true then?”
“Of course, Jack. The poor people gave up their lives and hopes and dreams to come here, to the land of plenty. And they brought with them stones like this one.” He swirled it around, watching the edges catch the sunlight and reflect colours of green and blue onto the wall behind him.
“And so how did they end up here?”
“If my memory serves me right, that room across there to the left of where my initials are was an operating theatre of sorts. One of my old crew was a doctor in his day – before the war. And for some reason, he stayed loyal to me. He could whip these out and sew the poor souls back up again before you could say anaesthetic.”
“You robbed from the poor to pay the rich?”
“No, lad I did not.” He was indignant, a little angry. “I borrowed from the poor to invest for their futures. The trouble was until a few weeks ago I couldn’t remember which bank I’d made a deposit into!”
“You always intended to give these back to the people?”
“Absolutely, what do you take me for? We swore an oath. Each member of my team took one gold ingot and hid them away for when we might need them. The rest is here and with a young man who I trust.”
The group was hooked on his every word.
“Remember when you booked me into that smashing hotel room?”
“How could we forget? You wrecked the bloody place, then did a runner without paying the bill!”
“I did, didn’t I?” He eagerly rubbed his hands together, partly in excitement, partly to fend off the deep cold – but laughing.
“You see, in that wall was that ingot – and a few extra for old time’s sake. Young Johnnie has got them, they are in his safe.”
“You knew all along that you needed to get back to that building, that specific room? I thought you were…”
“Forgetful? Senile perhaps? Guilty as charged.” He saluted. “But not mad. I left clues for myself everywhere. You can’t forget clues, just where you put them! My memory has been as sharp as a tack these last few weeks, I’ve had a ball tagging along with you. But I’m tired now. I need you to do me a favour. You Jack, not anyone else.”
‘Say the word.” Cade took Denby’s hand and shook it.
“Good lad. Get those items there valued. Sell them. They are rightfully mine so I can gift them – put it this way, unless you tell anyone otherwise, they’re mine. Once you’ve got good money for them, I need you to locate as many of the descendants of the twelve girls that came with me to this island, find them and let them have some good news.”
“Some will be older now, grandad,” said Reddington, holding his other hand.
“Some might be dead. Some will be older. But not as old as me. Jack?”
Cade looked at Roberts who nodded, then Daniel who shrugged his shoulders subtly.
“Would be rude not to. You have my word. But one thing I need to ask.”
“Go on.”
“When you were asked about diamonds and coins and gold bars, you said they had all gone.”
“They had. From over there, to over here. That’s not really a lie, is it?”
“No, I guess not. Crafty, but not really a lie.”
“Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to climb up onto the roof of this old place and watch the sun light up the channel and the sea.”
“Of course. Anything particular that you want to see?” Cade had a feeling, but could have been wrong.
“There is. You’re a clever boy, Jack. Come with me. We’ll sit together whilst this lot clear up the mess they’ve made. And Susan, guard those bags with your life. Come on young’un I’ll race you to the roof.”
As Daniel and Roberts carried a bag each towards India Nine Seven, Reddington and Briton watched as their elderly relative made his way carefully up a flight of steps to the circular roof top, on the opposite side to the glistening blue and yellow Eurocopter.
“He’ll be fine. Let him have a few minutes.” Daniel reassured Reddington. “He’s a tough one.”
Cade helped Denby over the rougher terrain, a perfectly circular scalloped-edged roof, covered in grasses and moss, slowly hiding the past.
“Steady now, sir.”
Denby walked around the edge, finding a stone structure, probably an old canon mounting, then parked himself onto it.
“Join me.”
The two men sat and stared out across the river, out towards the Isle of Grain on the left and the Isle of Sheppey on the right. The channel widened and met the North Sea head on as to their right specialist teams worked to gather evidence.
After a few moments of quietness, Denby cleared his throat.
“Did you know it’s exactly nine and a half miles to that buoy? As straight as a die. All the way from here to there.”
Cade looked out into the sea. “To where, exactly?”
“Those buoys, the three masts. Bloody hell lad, if I can see them you must be able to!”
Cade squinted and then watched as the masts began to appear.
“Got you. So why are they important?”
“That’s the Richard Montgomery. Sank in 1944. Broke her back. Twentieth of August to be precise. They call her the Doomsday ship now. She’s packed full of explosives.”
“Ah yes, I do know about her. I never realised you could see her from here. Weird coincidence.”
“Not at all, lad. I needed to be able to keep an eye on all my ill-gotten gains if I ended up living or dying on this bloody island.”
Cade looked again, then back at Denby.
“I’m not with you. I thought you said the bullion and diamonds were in that wall?”
“I did, and they were. You saw them.”
“OK, what’s out there then?”
“The rest.”
“The rest? I’m not with you.”
“What you saw down there in that wall was my investment for the kids. I knew I couldn’t take it all or I’d be hunted more than I was. I set up a network of old boys around Britain to act as bankers. There were two in the hospice I was in. Probably had a hand in killing off one of the government spies – hark at us, in our bloody nineties and still spying on one another.” He laughed before adding, “Do you mind if I lean against you Jack. I’m getting cold.”
“Not at all.” He let Denby get close to share bodily warmth and wrapped his jacket around him and over his legs.
“Tell me again, what’s out there on that ship?”
“I don’t recall exactly, possibly one or two.”
“One or two?”
“Tonnes.”
“Of?”
“Bullion.”
“But no one will ever get to it – it’s far too dangerous.”
“Exactly. That’s why each time we came back to the fort from Africa we dumped some more off. Whoever goes down there to retrieve it deserves it.”
“You cunning old bugger.”
“Hey less of the old.”
“Well sir, I salute you.”
“You’ll have a job with your arm around me. I’m freezing. Would you mind?”
Cade put his right arm around the old man and drew him close. They sat for ten minutes, watching a small freighter edge its way up the Medway towards the sea, gulls in its wake and its name glinting in the sunlight.
“You have to be a sailor to understand what it feels like to set off on a new voyage, Jack. I envy those young men on that ship, off out into the ocean, away from the trials of life. If you don’t mind, I’ve a few favours to ask of you.”
“Be my guest.”
“Look after Susan. She’s a tough cookie, but she’s lost a lot. I think you two would get along just fine, if you allowed yourself to, and she allowed you beneath that apparent crusty exterior.”
“Done. Next?”
“Watch over young Katie too. She likes working with you and that Jason. Watch him though, he’s got his eye on her.” He chortled.
“And last?”
“How do you know there were only three requests?”
“There’s only ever three.”
“Well, you’re wrong. Three, make sure John is exonerated of any blame. He was acting under orders. The Prime Minister herself knows that. You see her family were involved in an operation called Griffon, many, many years ago…”
“I know all about Griffon.”
“No, you don’t. And fourth. When you get back ashore speak to Johnnie Hewett. Tell him it’s time. He’ll understand.”
“I’m sure we can do all of this. Now young man, what are your plans?”
“For now, I’m happy just looking out to sea. If that’s OK?”
“Of course. You warm enough.”
“Toasty.”
He looked through the same eyes that had once swept the channel for danger, that had watched young children and their parents board his ships for a new life, the same eyes that had scanned for torpedoes in the Arctic and the Atlantic Ocean’s. They were blue eyes that had witnessed many things in their time.
Lieutenant Commander Thomas Denby had made his peace with the world. As the sun silhouetted the masts of the Richard Montgomery, he imagined what it must be like down there in the depths of the ocean. He watched a solitary gull flitting from shore to shore and saw the freighter bearing right for Europe, a land of freedom and good fortune, and beyond that Kamsar and the smiling, happy people of West Africa.
He closed his eyes, leant into Cade a little more, feeling his young hand on his shoulder he sighed.
His crews had called him sir.
The children had called him Mr. Tom, and he was just fine with that.
Chapter Sixty-One
Whitehall, London, two weeks later
“Come in.”
Cade, Roberts and Daniel entered Captain Susan Reddington’s office.
“Boys, it’s great to see you. You look a little cleaner than the last time we met. What can I do for you?”
“More a case of what we can do for you. Look, long story, but we’d like you to join our team. The PM has sanctioned it, you’d stay on the same pay scale, full pension and all that,” said Roberts, eager to have a woman with Reddington’s skills.
“I’m flattered. But no, I need to stay here, finish off a few things. And as I suspect you know by now, my small team are as effective as yours – but we have a few cobwebs to sweep from the corridors of this old place. Ridding the place of the dinosaurs and their descendants has started in earnest. Working as a spy within a building full of them is never easy. It all comes down to trust and true friendship. On that note, please call me if ever you need a friend in the military, I’d be honoured to come to your aid.”
The three men knew there was no altering her mind. Roberts nodded to Cade and Daniel. They left and waited outside the office.
“Sue, there’s one thing I need to ask you.”
“Can it wait? We’ll be late.”
“Fair call. You look amazing by the way.”
Red stood, checked the view in the full-length mirror, adjusted her cap, straightened her medals, the newly mounted clasps of bygone campaigns on her right breast.
“Those are impressive. I have no idea what they are, but they are impressive nonetheless. You OK for a lift?”
“I’m fine, Jason. I’ll see you there.”
The cars pulled into Highgate, one after another, eleven in total, followed by two BMWs containing Cade, O’Shea, McGee, Roberts, Francis and Daniel.
“Last time I was here I got involved in a bloody scrap with some right lunatics,” said Dave Francis to O’Shea.
“Hey think yourself lucky Dave,” said Cade. “Last time I was here I got dropped into a hole and left for dead by these two…”
“Well, that’s not entirely true, is it?” Daniel feigned a hurtful expression.
“He would have found it funny, I’m sure.” Roberts pointed to a team of Royal Navy officers who were lined up, resplendent in their number ones. The most senior members of the current admiralty team were there too, the Defence Minister and finally Sassy Lane herself, brushing the light rain from her coat as her protection officer offered an umbrella.
At the far end of the many mourners that had arrived to pay their respects were half a dozen women, dark brown skin, clear eyes and hopeful expressions. They were also standing in the rain, enjoying feeling it against their skin, looking around, speculating who all these people were and if the attractive woman with the umbrella was who they thought it was.
They’d been told to attend. Told that they would be safe, and it was important to be there.
The service lasted no more than an hour. The congregation looked on at the old sailor’s cap, white and black, with gold braid, laid across a simple white painted coffin, on top of which was draped a white ensign to the left and at the other side a red ensign and a solitary yellow rose.
Cade walked with Reddington and Briton for a short way before approaching a male in naval uniform and shaking his hand.
“Makes a bit more sense now. I’m glad you rang me.” Cade said.
“I am too Jack. Thank you. No amount of money can show how appreciative we are that you listened to the rambling story of an old man.”
“I’m actually really pleased I did. I learned a lot. And there’s now a rainbow after the showers. Quite literally.” He pointed up to the sky. “I suspect he’s there somewhere…watching over you and smiling. He’d certainly be pleased they made it.” He nodded to the small group of African women. “Perhaps you could break the good news to them?”
Digby Denby held Cade’s gaze for a few seconds. Both men smiled and nodded. It was a look that translated easily, if you knew what both men were thinking.
“I’m sure they will miss him. I’ve told them they’ll meet again one day. And Jack, you know that Susan appreciates everything you have done. She hates herself for only telling you half of the story.”
“Half?”
“Yes, you know, about Dad. She had to keep her connection to him quiet. Her fear was that if the old boys learned that Dad was alive, they’d stop at nothing to hunt him down. The closest members of that team knew he held the key to the whereabouts of that group of women.” He pointed, smiling at them. “And a reasonable stash of precious metals and gemstones.”
“His acting skills were sublime. He had us all fooled. Mind you, so did you. That moment at the hospice had me very much wondering what I had walked into. So all the stories he told about forgetting his memory were all false?”
“No, not at all. In his words, he had to draw out the pus from the wound, and th
e only way to do that was to put himself front and centre. Doto used to love him, but greed got the better of her.”
“No Digby, an axe got the better of her.”
“Indeed, it did amigo. Red did fill me in on the finer detail.”
“She’s a top flight operator. We’ve offered her a job. Weekends to herself, decent salary.”
“Let me guess, she turned you down? She’s got a few more skeletons to remove from the MOD closet before she moves on. But thank you.”
“Then I shall crack on. Good to meet you. And next time you drag me halfway around the world, I’ll take you to a bar in a very nice hotel. They’ve got an expensive scotch I’d let you buy me.”
“Deal.”
They shook hands firmly. Saying goodbye, Cade walked towards the Prime Minister who had discreetly caught his eye during the service.
“Do you have a moment, Jack? Something I need to ask you. We’ll be fine, Seb. I trust this man as much as I do you. Give us a minute, would you?”
They walked among the tarnished headstones and faded flowers, as in the distance London continued about its business.
Roberts took a chance to talk to Reddington, who was holding hands with Digby.
Roberts shook his hand. “DCI Jason Roberts and you must be?”
“Don’t answer him darling, these detectives want to know everything…” She teased Roberts.
“Hello mate. I’m Digby. And I hear I also owe you a debt of gratitude for what you did for Dad.”
“Hang on…so you two are married? I thought you said I wasn’t your type?”
Red smiled, beamed in fact, on a normally sombre day it made her laugh.
“Was that your important question? Yes, I did say that…”
“But?”
“But I meant what I said, DCI Roberts…”
“But…?”
“Again, you misread the signals.”
“No, you said…”
“I said nothing of the sort. I intimated. When my unit goes undercover, we go deep – Marianas Trench deep…not just a pair of old jeans, white training shoes and a dodgy earpiece like your boys might.”
The Angel of Whitehall Page 57
