Darke Mission (24 page)

“Yes, Sir, there's plenty of water, the desalination plant on board means we have as much fresh-ish water as we need.” Gary Whitton was glad he had at least one positive to tell O'Neill.

“Thanks, Gary,” said ONeill, not wanting to show any emotion to the medic. “Good job on Joe. Now go and check that the rest of the men are hydrated and do not need any medical attention.” Even though he showed no sign of it, he was a little worried.

As every SEALs team would do on a mission they had packed emergency food supplies, unappetising as they all were. For this mission they had only two full days' supplies in tow. As this was sinking in, Barry Minchkin came up to him.

“Mark, you've received an encrypted message from John Adams.” Barry Minchkin handed Mark O'Neill his tablet. Modern sub technology meant that you could get a signal and receive electronic communications even 400ft below sea level.

Mark O'Neill remembered CIA Associate Director for Military Support Adams from the Langley meeting that had kicked all this off. He seemed solid and sharp. Once decoded the communication stated:
Well done on target acquisition. Proceed with due haste to latitude 56° 04
ˈ
12
ˈˈ
N, longitude 04° 45
ˈ
49
ˈˈ
W. Good luck.
The message wasn't long but O'Neill was still looking at it. He was familiar with latitude and longitude coordinates but did not recognise this exact location. “Barry, where's latitude 56° 04ˈ 12ˈˈ North, longitude 04° 45ˈ 49ˈˈ West?”

Barry tapped the coordinates into his tablet. “Scotland, Sir, specifically Faslane on the River Clyde.”

They both looked at each other. Why the holy moly would they be taking the sub to Scotland? Of more immediate concern to Mark O'Neill was the distance. Scotland had to be over 5,000 miles away. The Borei could travel at 25 knots all day and night long without a break if the system was operating efficiently. That still meant a near seven day journey.

“Jesus believe us!” O'Neill muttered under his breath, thinking about the food supplies. We'll all be auditioning for the Broadway version of
Bridge on the River Kwai
by the time we reach bonnie old Scotland.

* * *

Harold and Herbert Systems had come up trumps. With the offer of double time for their engineers and a bonus on completion they had built in record time the conveyor system sketched by Cyrus. There were six individual conveyor systems in total, each one looked like a big ‘Toblerone' with embedded wheels and rubber treads attached. They could be used individually or, thanks to an ingenious design by one of Herbert's engineers, interlocked in up to a six times larger configuration.

JJ had asked Gil to go to McLaren Technology Centre to check them out and to ensure that the installation of the ‘sunbeds' into the Volvo/FAW trucks was proceeding on track. The clock was ticking and JJ needed to delegate even though he really did want to eyeball the finished trucks before they were flown to South Korea. Harold had assured JJ, who had in turn been assured by the Managing Director of Herbert's that the ‘Toblerone' conveyors would leave Wisbech that morning and be in Woking by lunchtime.

JJ had lent Gil his Porsche for the trip. He wouldn't normally do that, he was a bit particular as to who drove his car, but she hadn't crashed or dinged it at their last foray up the A3 so he was OK with it. In addition, he needed to be very nice and sensitive towards Gil. JJ had told her that she was not going on the field trip to Korea. Initially, she was livid and made the case for her inclusion with aplomb. JJ had eventually convinced her that he needed someone trustworthy here in London, someone he could rely upon to protect Cyrus. If they both went to Korea and it ended badly, Cyrus would have no one within 400 miles to take care of him. JJ couldn't have that and worrying about Cyrus would prove a distraction on a mission where distractions would be punished harshly. Gil understood. Once she was convinced that her exclusion was not because of her gammy leg, she realised JJ was right. In any case, she enjoyed being with Cyrus and she vowed to whip him into shape in his dad's absence. If Cyrus had been aware of this oath, he'd surely have gone into deep cover hiding.

As JJ was musing over Gil and Cyrus, his cab pulled up outside the police station in Saville Row. Ginger had organised a meeting with the safe cracker but as he was presently a guest of HM Prison Belmarsh in Greenwich, the meeting had to take place under police supervision. Belmarsh was a Category A prison and some folk, overly concerned with the human rights of total wasters, said it was Britain's equivalent to Guantanamo Bay. Its infamous collection of inmates ranged from Abu Hamza the terrorist loving so called cleric to Ronnie Biggs, one of the Great Train Robbers. As JJ entered the same meeting room that he last saw Ginger in, he was hoping that the safe cracker was more of the latter's mind set than the former's. JJ greeted Ethel Rogers with a hug and they both sat down opposite a very young looking man.

“JJ Darke, meet Victor Pagari,” said Ethel. It was kind of difficult to greet the young man in the traditional way as he was handcuffed. JJ gestured to Ethel and she undid the cuffs. If Ethel and JJ couldn't handle the kid, they shouldn't be doing what they were about to do.

“Thank you, Officer,” Victor said very politely to Ethel, with the definite hint of an Italian accent. Victor was around 5ft 10in, slim and wiry, with a somewhat pointed but not unpleasant face. His nose was quite long but slim, le nez aquilin it would have been termed in France. He had short dark hair, no doubt cut by the prison barber who was no Nicky Clarke, thick eyebrows and deep brown eyes.

“Victor,” began JJ. “Do you know why you are here for this meeting?”

“I have some knowledge, but not full information,” he said as he took a sip of water. At least he had the good sense not to ask for a coffee. “Officer Rogers tells me that you have an offer that I should not refuse,” said Victor calmly. “I have found previously that these types of offers I really should have refused,” he added with a degree of humour. Obviously prison had not beaten him down too much.

Ethel interjected. “Look, we're on a meter here Victor. Why don't I fill Mr Darke in and you interrupt me if I get anything wrong. OK?”

“OK,” said Victor.

“Victor is the grandson of Albert Spaggiari, he changed his surname slightly so as not to be labelled immediately by police forces all over the continent.” Victor smiled and JJ was, as yet, none the wiser as to who the young man's grandfather was. Ethel resumed. “Albert Spaggiari was a career French criminal and one with a sharp brain. He is credited with one of the most audacious bank robberies in French history. He formed a gang and, in 1976, robbed the Société Générale bank in Nice, relieving them of over 60 million French Francs worth of cash, securities and other valuables. He did eventually stand trial, but duped the judge and leapt out of the courtroom window onto a waiting motorcycle. Albert was never caught, nor was the swag from the heist. He died from throat cancer, aged fifty-two. When the French gendarmerie investigated the robbed bank vault it had a message on one of the walls,
sans armes, ni maine, ni violence.
This translates as
no arms, nor hatred, nor violence.
”

JJ thought this was a fine story, but not sure what it had to do with Victor. He was already 1-0 down to his granddad, as he was caught, and was a Belmarsh HSU inmate.

“Fine, but has Victor here inherited his grandfather's skillset or what?” JJ asked impatiently, keen to get to the punch line if ever there was going to be one.

Ethel responded. “Despite his youth, he's only nineteen, Victor is the best undercover CI that this police force has ever had. He's presently doing time in Belmarsh as part of that cover. Do you remember the London Silver Vaults robbery last year?”

“Yes, it was all over the news. The gang had broken into the vaults but were caught on their way out. They nearly got away with £100 million worth of silver and jewellery.”

“Nearly £300 million,” corrected Victor.

“Well,” continued Ethel, “Victor was the safe cracker on that job. He's a friggin' computer genius. Disabled the outer locks with a very small explosive and used a smartphone and two laptops to break the security codes of the back-up doors. Don't ask me for the technical details. He told me once but it may as well have been in Ancient Egyptian. Once all the gang were inside the vaults Victor sent a signal and that's how they were caught. The real crooks had no idea that he sent it, his computer magic was such that those Neanderthals had no clue about what was happening. We had to lock him up for a while to keep his cover intact.”

JJ took this all in. He remembered the silver vaults robbery. The vaults there were meant to be in the top ten of impenetrable vaults in the world. If he recalled correctly, the same type of vault was used as part of a 1957 US nuclear test in Nevada. The 30-odd kiloton nuke tore away the vault's steel reinforcements and some trim, but the core of the vault remained intact. Here they were with a 19 year old kid who undid it with a phone and a couple of laptops. JJ was warming to Victor.

“How come you've got an Italian accent?” asked JJ directly.

“My maternal grandmother was Italian and I stayed with her for a lot of my early life.”

JJ didn't really have anything additional to ask Victor. His credentials were his results and Ethel's recommendation. Ethel had recruited Victor as her lead CI on financial crime and he had never let her down.

JJ proceeded to outline the North Korean mission to Victor. He was free to choose whether to participate or not, but if it was not then he'd need to spend the next few weeks in solitary, just in case. If he said yes then Ethel would provide a cover story for Belmarsh, officials and selected inmates alike. Victor listened intently to JJ's tale of adventure. For indeed, it was a tale of adventure to him. He was nineteen and full of the vim and vigour normally found in a French/Italian teenager. He understood why he had to be incarcerated in Belmarsh, but it was rubbish. He felt claustrophobic and surrounded all the time by seriously odd and dangerous scumbags. He was to be paid handsomely for his participation in North Korea and Ethel promised he'd be given a new identity on return and would not need to see the inside of Belmarsh ever again. Of course he was in.

The meeting ended with three happy participants. JJ added a few more essential details and he shook Victor's hand with enthusiasm.

“Mr Darke,” said Victor. “One final thing. Do you know what type of vaults are in the DPRK's central bank?”

“No, Victor, I haven't a Scooby-Doo. That's a piece of research you could get cracking on, if you'll forgive the pun,” said JJ jovially. The three of them laughed. Victor was especially happy that he could ditch his prison issue maroon jogging bottoms and faded anonymous T-shirt. Not the threads that a cool dude safe cracker should be seen in. Bring on the adventure.

* * *

JJ, Ethel and Victor were all on the morning BA flight from Heathrow to Seoul. It was an eleven hour flight so plenty of time for them to contemplate the universe. There would be no chatter regarding the mission. Walls have ears and so do planes. The disguised Volvo trucks were also en route via a DHL cargo plane, courtesy of Harold McFarlane and his team. Harold had also loaned JJ two HGV drivers, at a price, to ensure that the trucks got safely off the plane and out of Seoul Incheon International airport. There was no thought or discussion regarding any further participation by these drivers. The ‘Toblerone' conveyors were with the trucks, housed in a dark blue Mercedes Sprinter van, significantly tweaked and enhanced by Harold's engineers and described as ‘the fastest van in the West' by his friend. The Mercedes logos and badges had been removed. Harold may not have known exactly what JJ was up to, but he was wily enough to realise that disguise and anonymity were the order of the day.

As JJ was dozing in between half watching movies he had already seen, the three things he was worrying about were Cyrus, the precise details of the heist and the needed truck drivers, in that order. He thought Cyrus and Gil would be fine. He had told Cyrus he was on a business trip and that he would be home within a week. Cyrus was OK with that. JJ just hoped that it turned out as advertised. The drivers were still an issue. He hoped that Jim Bradbury, the KLO and his American friend, would have an idea or two. It would not be easy keeping Jim out of the loop. The ex-fill cover story was adequate but if he asked Jim about truck drivers and, given that the two helpful Koreans from his office would at least see them, he was going to need to feed Jim a few more information morsels.

The night before, JJ, Ethel and Victor had been discussing the break in. JJ had already acquired diagrams and detailed schematics of the DPRK central bank in Pyongyang. He had a good idea of the layout now. He and Ethel would scope out the visible security the day before the heist and hope it was not markedly different at night. Victor had done his research and discovered that the secure room leading to central bank's gold hoard was most likely protected by a UL Class II vault. This was meant to be the second most difficult vault to penetrate, taking at least sixty minutes, according to the performance standards set by Underwriters Laboratories, the major underwriter and overseer of the world's best bank vaults.

Victor had obtained images of vaults likely to be similar to that in the target central bank. It probably would be a dual custody lock which protected it rather than a time lock he concluded. That would be relatively good news, but it would still require two people to dial the different combinations at exactly the same time. Victor was still working on the details. JJ was hoping that one of those details was how to reduce the breach time well below sixty minutes.

There was very little else that JJ could think about just now. He'd more or less shoved to the back of his mind that he was in this position because of Neil Robson's blackmail and desperate need for government monies. He knew he could not trust him but he also knew that there was little he could do about that right now. Right now, he'd better put together a significantly more comprehensive plan than the one that was currently on offer. His own life, that of Ethel, Victor, Jim and the two, as yet unmet, Koreans were at stake. If they were caught in the act they'd be executed or dumped in a North Korean prison camp that would make Belmarsh seem like Butlins. He would never see Cyrus again. That was JJ's prize. No matter the obstacles, curve balls, negative random surprises that this mission threw up, being a dad to Cyrus, his mentor, his friend, was his true incentive to overcome everything that North Korea and cancer could throw at him. He needed to stay alive. With that thought, JJ slowly fell into a deep slumber.