Chapter 30 Gold Rush
As Grey and Turner strolled along the winding path of the palace gardens, the distant figures of McBride and Ox grew clearer, their silhouettes outlined against the lit backdrop of the helipad.
Three helicopters in a distanced triangular formation had winded down the rotors, in what looked like the starting phase of an evacuation.
It also became clear that the royal security team had been compromised. Laid out dead, from the ends of Ox's and his fighting men's fists.
In addition to that. Mcbride's men had the three pilots under their control along with a cache of royal staff.
Grey and Turner sidled up to McBride. Paintings, jewelry, and other valuable heirlooms were in the hands of the hundred or so men.
The main factions of the mob still ransacked the palace hallways. No doubt lost in a maze full of boiled-up anarchy.
“Nice that yer could join us,” said McBride in a thick Northern Irish brogue.
“We thought ye'd lost yer stomach for the fight, aye?”
“The fight is the only thing I have left to live for,” Grey said
McBride's, piercing eyes looked down at the bodies of the security team on the tarmac.
“They ain't saying nothin' now. Ox saw to that. But that ain't no help to us.”
Despite their close bond, forged during their prison terms, McBride grew frustrated by Ox's lack of restraint, especially when good hostages were killed off before their uses.
McBride tore the stolen royal guard's rifle from his shoulders and stuck the barrel onto the Adam's apple of the nearest royal staff member, his eyes blazing with fury.
“Where are they?” he demanded in a low growl.
The terrified staff member sputtered and gasped, unable to speak with the cold steel pressed against his throat.
“Answer me, damn it!”
McBride shoved the barrel harder, his grip tightening around the trigger. The staff member's bloodshot eyes widened in anxiety, and he finally managed to croak out a response.
“They're off-limits to me,” the staff member wheezed.
“I don't know where they are.”
McBride stared at him for a long moment, trying to read the truth in his eyes.
He knew that people tended to tell the truth when faced with the barrel of a gun, but he also knew that people could be trained to lie convincingly.
Finally, McBride decided to believe him. He nodded and released the staff member, who collapsed to the floor, coughing and sputtering.
“Thank you for your cooperation,” McBride said sarcastically.
He turned to the other staff members.
“Anyone else want to play games?” he asked.
“When I get pissed off. Bullets start going off.”
Ox had listened to about as much as he wanted to hear, his massive arms were folded across his chest. A spark of irritation streamed across his face.
"Grey, Turner. You've been around this manor before. Where's the loot at?"
Turner rolled his eyes. "Ox, you're acting like we've had a week to explore this place.
We've been here for two hours tops, and even then we tried to get out of here as fast as possible. We don't know anything."
Ox's gruffed in frustration. He took a step towards McBride, his fists clenching at his sides.
"I don't know about you, Paddy," he said, his voice low and dangerous.
"But I'm not leaving here empty-handed, and nor are my lads."
McBride hesitated for a moment. Feeling eyes of tension fixated on him.
The foot soldiers shifted restlessly, a hunger for payment simmering beneath their hardened expressions, like hungry wolves awaiting their long-awaited feast.
“Ox, we can both get what we want, but I need the king's head removed. I have my destiny. And so do my men.”
“Listen, you little Paddy. I don't give a toss about your IRA ties. I'm here to make money, and that's all I care about.
So let's get this show on the road and start plundering this bloody palace.”
“Yer talking a little out of turn to yer superior, Ox. Think about the favors I have done for you over the years?”
“Superior my arse,” Ox sneered.
“You're nothing but a glorified thug, just like the rest of us.”
“Fine,” McBride said.
“But you'd better be careful. I'm not afraid to put a bullet in that big noggin of yers'.”
Ox grinned wickedly. “That's the spirit, Paddy.”
Something had caught Grey's eye, causing him to rack his brain. Memories began to resurface, like fragments of a forgotten puzzle.
He couldn't help but wonder why one of the staff members seemed so familiar to him.
It was dark after all, and his memory had become hazy.
But he distinctly remembered catching glimpses of this very staff member scurrying about, attending to the needs of the king at his OBE ceremony.
“McBride!”
“What yer want yer, old bastard?”
“I might have something. Come with me.”
“Where are you off to, Guv?” Turner asked noseily.
“Come with me, Turner. I want you to help me identify something?”
Grey and Turner with McBride stepped onto the helipad amongst the tied-up staff members facedown on the tarmac. Grey knelt beside one of them.
Ox and his crew closed in. McBride's men circled. The neo-Nazis on the outer fringes wondered what Grey was up to.
Grey rolled the man onto his back. A pale face looked back at him with concern.
“Don't kill me, I can get you all the riches this palace has to offer.”
McBride's metallic barrel pressed against the man's nostrils.
“You had a shut trap didn't yer earlier, that you did?”
“Guv, that's the bloke who announced your OBE, ain't it?” Turner said, looking the man up and down.
Grey nodded to McBride, who reluctantly lowered his gun.
“What's your name and rank?” Grey asked.
“My name is Robinson,” the man said.
“I'm the Royal Chief of Staff. I've been tasked with evacuating the royal family to safety, given your successful breach of the palace.”
Ox regarded this Robinson as nothing more than a tool, someone who could help him achieve his greed. He could already sense the pound signs dancing in his head.
Grey stood up with a calculated poise, dusting off the now clarifying memory of the encounter he had with the diminutive Robinson.
Well aware he had taken the night's proceedings in a favorable direction.
Dressed in a navy blue suit with a double-breasted jacket and a red tie, Robinson projected the bearing of a man with years of experience dealing with Royal protocol.
“Very well then. Your job is to evacuate the royal family,” Grey said, his voice devoid of emotion.
“I'm Grey. And this is my associate, Mr. McBride. I would advise you to answer his questions honestly.”
McBride took over, giving Robinson the ultimatum: have his wrists slit or have them untied.
Robinson described the evacuation routes, rendezvous points, and security measures to McBride. Grey and Turner listened carefully, committing every detail to memory.
He also described the layout of the valuables and collectibles room to Ox at length, highlighting its specific location.
It had also come to light that the Royal Family were hiding, waiting for Robinsion's return for their imminent evacuation.
McBride bent down and sliced the rope binding Robinson's hands. Robinson rubbed his chafed palms and stood, stretching his arms and legs to work out the kinks.
Stolen story; please report.
Robinson looked at Grey in recollection, his eyes lingering on the scars and tattoo.
"If it means anything to you, you are just one of many people to be affected by the royal tyrants,"
Robinson spoke with a pang of sadness.
Grey's expression remained unchanged. "Be that as it may," he said.
"You are a representative of the institution that we want to destroy. Whether you live or die is of no concern to me. I stopped caring about anything months ago."
McBride had developed a begrudging admiration for Grey. He certainly had come a long way from a sworn enemy to a useful ally.
It was a shame that he planned to kill him and Turner later.
“Enough small talk, both of yer, This ain't no mothers meeting!” McBride said assessing the situation.
“Alright, listen up. You're gonna start the evacuation procedure now. We'll be following you close behind.”
McBride turned to Spike. “I want yer to stay here, with a couple of yer. Guard the hostages. The rest of you, come with me.”
“Come on McBride. I want to come in the palace and break stuff with you lot?”
“I will make a wager with yer Spike. If we don't come out within the next couple of hours. Feck it you can have these paintings right here, I will even throw in the jewels for yer?”
“You still owe me a pouch of baccy you greedy paddy, but alright. I will take that.”
“Don't be so hasty, McBride,” Ox butted in.
“Spike if you touch, the blue diamond set. I am going to open you up. You dirty little thief. You anit takin nothin.”
“Can everyone stop acting like a bunch of fookin little fairies? Why don't yer,” said McBride.
“Robinson, take us in. Yer might still be livin' by the night's out if yer deliver what your promise.”
“Consider me your Royal tour guide.”
McBride and Grey followed Robinson to a large horticultural greenhouse segregated away in the palace gardens, leaving Spike with a couple of neo-Nazis to secure the helipad.
Robinson led everyone inside down a cobbled central walkway.
Sterile high-intensity discharge lighting hung from the sea through panels, shining over lush foliage and colorful flowers.
Robinson explained how the king liked to talk to the fruit trees. McBride was immediately struck by the overwhelming scent of jasmine and frangipani. Liverpool prison didn't have a garden.
Exotic African birds roosted on the branches, their vibrant feathers contrasting with the emerald green leaves. It was like stepping into a botanical aviary.
There was a fountain in a clearing with a majestic statue of Zeus in the center, water cascading from his outstretched arms. A few wooden benches were scattered around.
"I think you will be impressed by what I am about to show you," Robinson said, facing everyone front and center.
"I had the Royal engineers carry things out to my specifications."
Robinson, applied pressure to Zeus's chiseled arm as if engaged in a fierce arm wrestling contest.
What followed was the sound of creaking stone and the shift of shifting gears.
In an instant, the tranquil fountain transformed into a spectacle of astonishment. A sudden whoosh, of swirling and gurgling water spiraled downward into a plug.
Zeus began his descent into the depths of the earth as if the very essence of the god himself was being swallowed by the void.
Nothing remained, but a large hole in the ground - leading onto concrete stairs.
Ox cautiously came over, walking around, not sure what to make of the unfamiliar entrance.
McBride was on high alert, gripping his rifle, shoving into Robinson's lower back.
"There better not be any guards waiting at the bottom of those stairs, Robinson?"
"Please gentleman," Robinson had his hands in the air.
"You must learn to trust me. I am something of a disgruntled employee myself. As far as I'm concerned your visit is most welcome."
"Yer a bit of a groveling little weasel aint yer?" McBride laughed.
“It is clever, ain't it guv?” Turner said, peering over the gaping hole. Grey nodded equally impressed.
Robinson took the first step. Talking over his shoulder.
“I'm glad you like it.”
The eyes of Zeus stared back at them, compartmentalized on a mechanical hoist of cables and levers, at the bottom of the stairs.
Robinson took them down a long, wide, and well-lit evacuation corridor.
Its semicircular ceiling, like that of a London Underground tunnel, contrasted starkly with the hunting trophies that adorned the walls: lion heads, illegal ivory tusks, and African skull heads.
The bizarre juxtaposition spoke volumes about the king's twisted psyche.
"These are just a few mementos from the king's recent hunting trips," Robinson said casually as if he were talking about the weather.
Grey and Turner's vigilant eyes darted between the motion sensors and security cameras, wary of the danger that still lurked ahead, despite their progress.
Since McBride and Ox had shown their ruthless nature, Grey and Turner dared not relax.
“This is the evacuation corridor,” Robinson said guiding them along.
“It leads to a series of underground tunnels that connect to different parts of the palace.”
“This is all well and good,” Ox said impatiently.
“I would be more interested if you could give me a guided tour of the treasure room. If you be so kind?”
McBride's knuckles whitened around his rifle as he suspiciously watched Robinson, suspecting a trap.
“Where are the Royals at?” McBride demanded, his voice low and threatening.
Ox intervened, stepping between McBride and Robinson.
“Easy, McBride. Don't shoot the messenger. I told you I'm not leaving here empty-handed.”
Outnumbered but fiercely loyal to McBride and their cause, McBride's men drew their weapons around Robinson and Ox.
Robinson coolly put his arms up in a defensive position, with Grey and Turner acting as a field of protection.
“Guys use your brains here why don't you,” Grey reasoned.
“You have worked so hard to get here,” Turner said.
"Look, the valuables are just ahead," Robinson said, impatience creeping into his tone.
"And the royals are tucked safely nearby as discussed. We need fast access routes in an emergency, as I'm sure you understand.
I'm not bullshitting you guys!"
After a long, uneasy moment, McBride gave the order. "Stand down lads, but keep on your guard."
McBride's men slowly lowered their guns but continued gripping them tight, eyes locked on Ox and Robinson in distrust. Not everyone was on good terms with Ox in prison.
“Ox, take yer hand off me, it's good,” McBride said.
Ox removed his meaty hand from McBride's shoulder.
“No guns pointed until we need it. Ok, Paddy?”
“Yea Ox. We're good for now.”
Ox commanded his men to stand down, their fighting postures easing as the tension in the air slowly dissipated.
Amidst this fragile calm, the neo-Nazi anti-royalists lurked, fueled by their insatiable desire for gold and anarchy, their allegiance tethered to chaos rather than any particular cause.
“So what do you want first the royal family or the loot?” Robinson asked trying to keep his composure.
“They will not leave until I start the evacuation protocol.”
“This is how we're gonna play it,” said McBride.
“Take me and Ox to where the valuables are. If it is legit. Tell them the choppers won't be ready for a wee hour,” Mcbride was looking in Ox's direction.
“So we are clear,” Robinson laid out.
“You want me to take you into the values and antiquities hold? And If you're satisfied you want me to stonewall the family for an hour?”
“That sounds about right,” McBride confirmed.
McBride and Ox instructed the others to stay behind, but remain on high alert, just in case any royal guards remained hiding in the tunnels.
“Grey, Turner, you'll come with us. Your level heads have proved useful so far,” said McBride.
“Don't get me wrong Ox, yer know I like money as much as the next fella.
One hour is your marking point. After that, I'd say sod yer.”
“I can live with that paddy. Fair play,” Ox replied flatly.
“See just a little talking, and everyone becomes mates again,” Turner said dryly.
As they ventured further down the corridor, overhead lights dimmed, pigments of darkness encroached.
At the end, a massive sphere-shaped vault door stood, constructed entirely of reinforced steel plates.
Thick bolts the size of skyscraper buttresses secured it, their massive heads piercing the steel like rivets.
There were no visible handles or seams, giving the door the appearance of an Indomitable barrier.
Ox, fueled by his eagerness, quickened his pace with a determined stride.
"Now this is what I'm talking about. Show me the money."
"Hold on a minute," said Robinson. "You're going to set off the security alarms."
Robinson fumbled in his breast pocket for a moment, then retrieved a sleek, silver pointer pen. He pointed it at the vault ahead.
Before them, a security laser grid crisscrossed horizontally from one side of the wall to the other, shimmering like a celestial waterfall in the glow of its heavenly white beams.
“The movies would have you believe that red laser beams protect secure facilities,”
Robinson said, giving a light show demonstration as he moved the pointer pen's torch back and forth across the grid.
“But as you can see, an extra layer of security works best when you cannot see it.”
“How does it work?” Turner asked.
“The infrared sensors are triggered by movement.”
“If anyone tries to enter the corridor without authorization, the alarm will go off.”
“And the cameras?” McBride asked.
“The cameras in this section of the palace are monitored by the security response team,” Robinson said.
“You mean the dead Security Response Team Robinson?” Ox said mockingly to McBride.
“How fortunate,” McBride deadpaned.
Robinson produced a black key card and inserted it into the reader with a satisfying click. Then he pushed the door open.
They stepped inside and found themselves in a large room. The room was filled with electronic equipment, including computers, monitors, and communication systems.
“This is the security control room,” Robinson said.
A monitor on the wall was streaming a live feed from the fountain in the greenhouse. McBride could see Zeus's statue lodged back into the floor.
“How many royal family members are presently here?” Grey asked Robinson.
"See for yourself."
Robinson applied a high-resolution sweep through to an evacuation chamber. Pointing directly to the royal family, and the king himself.
“Oh, this gets just better and better.” Grey smiled.
“You couldn't make it up guv.”
McBride's eyes widened and his lips curled into a grin as he looked at the royal family.
“Roger Blackwell, and the Prime Minister herself?” Grey relished.
“Now,” Robinson said. “Let's get to your first request on the list.”
Robinsion, coded into the keypad, triggering clanking mechanisms. Slowly, ponderously, all watched on screen as the bolts began withdrawing.
When the massive slabs parted with a pressurized breath, Ox let out a low whistle at the treasure awaiting inside.
"Now that's more like it," Ox grinned, stroking his chin hungrily.
"Show us the good stuff, mate."