“Any film stars, sir?”
“Yes, Cole. Someone told me that Leslie Howard had one of…” Merlin paused and looked up. “Hear that?”
An eerie whistling sound directly above heralded the imminent arrival of a bomb. Merlin turned and pushed Johnson and the young constable in the direction of Bond Street. “Run! For Christ’s sake, run!”
*
Tarkowski could hear explosions in the distance and there was a misty glow in the sky at the end of his street. The telephone rang and he turned away from the study window and returned to his desk. The room was lit only by the small lamp on a table behind him. He hurriedly swallowed a couple of painkillers with a glass of water, then picked up the receiver.
“I am so glad you phoned. Are you alright? Good. Look, I need your help. I want to move the rest of the gold. It’s best all round, I think, to get it into the safety of the bank.” A flash of light outside briefly illuminated the room. “Do you think you can get away tomorrow? With luck, yes? Let’s hope then. I need to speak to the bank, but I am trying to get transport organised for the afternoon. There are a few good men at the legation who I trust. If you could bring another reliable body that would be good. Trouble? It’s possible. Anyway, call me in the morning to confirm.”
Tarkowski put the phone down and closed his eyes. There was a noise at the door and his wife entered. She was wearing an old dressing gown and her face was plastered with beauty cream, but she was still the most beautiful woman alive to him.
“You are moving it tomorrow then?”
Tarkowski nodded.
“And he’s coming to help.”
Tarkowski nodded again.
“May God be with us.”
*
The bomb landed at the north end of Burlington Arcade. Stewart, Evans and three other firemen were swiftly on the scene, having left the rest of the team dowsing the burning embers of the bombed building on Savile Row. The explosion had set off several of the alarms in the Arcade. Jack Stewart arrived with a couple of his men. Stewart wiped some grime from his face. “Not as bad as I first thought, Evans.” Gentle flames were licking away at the roof of a building next to the Arcade and fallen masonry almost blocked its entrance. Stewart climbed over the rubble and tentatively edged into the Arcade. Glass was everywhere. In one shop to their right, the antique watches on display were splattered with debris. There was some movement behind him. “Hey. Who’s that? Frank, is that you? Are you alright?”
Merlin rose awkwardly to his feet, coughing dust. He was covered in plaster and glass, as were his two colleagues. “Just about, Jack. Are you alive, you two?”
Johnson and Cole grunted in the affirmative.
Stewart shone his torch into the Arcade. “Looks like nearly all the shops have had their windows blown out. There’s a lot of valuable stuff here. I think…” Another bomb exploded not so far away and the men were rocked on their feet. “Christ, that was close. The noble Lord Tennyson comes to mind, eh, Frank? ‘Into the Valley of Death…’”
“Yes, Jack, but we are not quite six hundred.”
“Fair point, my friend. I reckon we should stay put here for a moment. Now where’s Evans gone?”
Merlin pointed. “Someone’s just gone down to the other end of the Arcade. Is that him?”
Stewart shouted Evans’ name with no response save the echo of his own voice from the Arcade walls. A moment later, the Arcade walls echoed again, this time with the sound of running footsteps and an out of breath Evans appeared.