Blitz Bullion Busters E-Book

Daryl Joyce

• Herausgeber: Clink Street Publishing
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 206

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

During the Blitz in World War II, £5 million pounds in gold bullion was loaded onto a secret, secure train in London. When the train arrived at its destination the gold had vanished. Eighty years later, three teenagers stumble across the mystery and set out to find the truth. What starts as an enjoyable search soon turns into a mysterious, dangerous and thrilling hunt under and through the streets of London, and a fight for their lives.

Leseprobe

Blitz Bullion Busters

Daryl Joyce

To the real Mrs Poppet, wherever you are.

Contents

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1

Wade Carter had made it all the way past the police van without being seen. He crouched down and could see the small dog rapidly making its way towards a ring of white posts with ‘Police – do not enter’ tape around the perimeter. If they saw him, he’d be hung, drawn and quartered.

Keeping low, he reached the edge of the large hole by some piles of earth, trying to entice the dog to him. The little dog was running around the other side of the hole, some three metres away, begging for more of the chasing game. Wade investigated the hole. What he saw though was terrifying – the policeman had not been lying. Around a metre down was a long, rust-encrusted dark object. For some reason, he half expected to see the word Bomb written on its side and hear a loud ticking. Is that really a bomb? thought Wade. The rounded end and tailfin gave no doubt as to what it was. He backed away very slowly, caught up in the moment.

The dog yapped and ran around him and back to the other side, clearly enjoying this new freedom. Wade thought for a second, before putting his hand in his pocket and pulling out his lunch. He threw the meat paste sandwich over the hole at the dog, who briefly sniffed it before gobbling it. The dog ran to Wade and begged for more. Wade put his last sandwich in the dog’s mouth, then grabbed him and ran as fast as he could back to the police van. The dog struggled but continued to be more interested in chewing than escaping. Fifty metres away he could see the elderly woman and the policeman still talking. He was glad that the policeman was facing the other way, as he silently arrived back at the barrier. Suddenly the policeman turned to his left to see Wade standing there, both he and the dog chewing.

‘What the hell are you doing there?’ said Constable Mirabelle loudly and suspiciously.

‘Me, sir? Nothing, sir.’ He put the dog into the old woman’s arms. ‘The dog just ran back to me as I stood here doing nothing, so I gave it my lunch.’ Constable Mirabelle looked back along the path towards the van and park, then back to Wade. He was about to speak, when his thoughts were disturbed by another police van driving towards them, silent but with blue lights flashing.

‘Right, well move along all of you please,’ Constable Mirabelle said as he shepherded them further back, ‘and take your little doggie with you.’ The old lady smiled and stroked her dog vigorously.

‘Oh, you’re a wonderful little man. You rescued my little Oro Fluffikins!’ She looked at Wade with glassy eyes and shook his hand as ferociously as she could for someone over eighty years old. Wade smiled back at her, shrugging his shoulders in an ‘ah it’s nothing’ type of way. Oro Fluffikins?! Poor dog he thought. He was also wishing that he had not given all his lunch to that yappy little dog. He looked at his watch; he was already late for school.

Wade squeezed through the small gap in the school fence and bolted across the senior playground. He looked through the grimy windows of his classroom and saw his teacher talking to the rest of the class. They were all sitting down with coats on and bags on desks, ready to leave for their trip to the War Museum. Breathing a sigh of relief, he covertly slipped into the classroom and sat down next to his best friend – a relieved-looking Jack.

‘Thought you weren’t coming, Wadey,’ whispered Jack.

‘Try and stop me!’ he panted. ‘You won’t believe what happened to me this morning – in the park was this World War Two UXB –’

‘Mr Carter,’ came the commanding voice of Mrs Poppet over the top of the class, ‘you’re already late. Don’t make it worse by forgetting your manners.’

‘No, Miss, it wasn’t my fault, there was a bomb in the park and –’ he stopped as the class gave an audible groan.

‘Really, Wade, another tall story? Honestly, you come in here every day with amazing tall tales of your incredible life! I recommend, for your own well-being, that you’re quiet for at least the next ten minutes.’ Wade was about to speak, but he felt Jack’s hand on his coat sleeve. He closed his mouth mid-word and turned to face Jack, who gave a weak smile.

Mrs Poppet checked to make sure everyone knew the routines and asked if there were any more questions. After a few seconds, one boy put his hand up.

‘Miss, do you think they will let us fire guns and fly a Spitfire?’ There was another groan from the rest of the class.

‘Justin,’ began Mrs Poppet, ‘Justin… go to the front of the line. Everyone else line up behind him.’

2

‘No, really – I rescued a dog from a UXB!’ Wade exclaimed to a slightly disbelieving Jack once they were on the bus.

‘Well, there were a lot of bombs that fell here during the war I suppose,’ chipped in Jack. Wade harrumphed, as Jack continued; ‘There could be dozens still undiscovered. In the Blitz, they reckon over 30,000 of them fell on London in the first three months!’

‘Yes and I almost got blown up by one of them,’ insisted Wade. ‘How come you know so much about it?’

Jack smiled. ‘It’s my great-great-grandad Albert – he knows way more than me about the war and he’s got all these souvenirs and stories! He once told me this time when he was a fireman in the Blitz and a building blew up next to him. He was blown across the street and as he lay there half alive, he saw a horse and cart driven by a ghost!’

‘A ghost? On a horse?’ asked Wade, amazed.

‘Yeah, my great-great-grandad thought he was dead,’ replied Jack, ‘but the ghost rider and his horse just rode slowly by and disappeared.’

‘Huh, we didn’t need to go to the museum, we could have just got you and your great great-grandad to talk about it all!’ Wade said nudging his friend. Jack stopped for a moment and nodded sagely.

‘Jack, will you put away that aeroplane and you and Wade join the rest of the group.’ Mrs Poppet peered over the top of her glasses and gave the boys that look – one of many that teachers master at teacher training. Jack quickly put the die-cast Spitfire back in his bag as he and Wade sheepishly joined the rest of their class. Their aged guide in this part of the museum was very enthusiastic. He continued.

‘One of the strangest mysteries at the start of the war involved the theft of five hundred sixteen-ounce bars of gold from the Bank of England. At the time that was over £200,000 which may not sound much, but these days it would be almost seven million pounds!’ There was an audible gasp from the assembled class. ‘Yes, I thought that would get your attention, but maybe Colonel Bob can explain it better.’ He paused and nodded at an unseen assistant. Behind him a film started.

Colonel Bob, a cartoon figure in the shape of a tank, explained that in September 1940 the government decided to move some of the country’s gold to a more rural stronghold, away from the expected invasion. They secretly loaded it onto a guarded train at Bank to travel to London Bridge, where it would be taken by ‘battle train’ to an undisclosed location in the south of England. With the word Reconstruction in the corner, the film showed grainy black and white footage of trains, gold and soldiers.

‘When it got to London Bridge, the gold was missing. No-one knew what had happened. Everyone was questioned – interrogated – but there were no answers. A crack team from New Scotland Yard was allocated to finding it, but no trace of it or how it disappeared was ever found. The man in charge was Inspector William Corner and he was still hunting for any trace of the gold on the day he was encouraged to retire in 1948.’ The film juddered and on screen appeared the image of a weary police inspector. He was sitting on a seat in the middle of a large gloomy room with three men on chairs facing him. He spoke in clipped tones.

‘Although my time on the case is ending, I have high hopes that we are close to a breakthrough and I know one day we will retrieve the gold.’ The cartoon tank continued:

‘The case was closed, unsolved, the day after Corner retired. No trace of the gold or who did it was ever found. There were all kinds of weird and wacky theories, from invisible Nazis to ghosts!’

Jack and Wade stared at each other wide-eyed for a moment. The cartoon character faded away and the aged curator continued;

‘Fascinating mystery, eh? Does anyone have any questions?’ He looked around and saw one child at the back frantically waving his hand. He signalled to him.

‘Hello, I’m Wade Carter. My friend here – Jack Roble –’ Jack looked at the ground, as Wade continued ‘– was wondering, why did they move the gold by train rather than the road?’

The curator widened his eyes and nodded. ‘A good question, Wade, or Jack. Well, they wanted to make sure it was kept out of public view and public reach. Not panicking people was very important. It was simply much safer to transport it by Underground, rather than risk it being blown up or stolen. Gold is, and was, so very valuable. Desperate times led to desperate people led to desperate actions.’ He nodded again sadly and saw the boy still had his hand up. ‘Yes?’

‘Hello, sir,’ he began, ‘I’m still Wade Carter and my question is – well, I was wondering how much that gold weighed?’

‘Wow, two good questions from one class – excellent!’ The old man was clearly overjoyed now. ‘Well one of the bars weighed sixteen ounces – I think you young people call it half of a kilogram in new money – so that would have been nearly two hundred and fifty kilograms. Very heavy indeed. As heavy as three teachers – just.’ Wade looked impressed, although Mrs Poppet seemed less so.

‘Don’t forget we have a monthly competition. The prize is a trip to the RAF museum in Cosford and a ride in a genuine Spitfire!’ There were a few gasps and hushed murmurs. Few heard him add the word ‘simulator’. The curator continued; ‘All you have to do is write how you think the gold disappeared and where it went to. The more imaginative and creative, the better! But remember, you’ve got to be original and true to life! Your teacher has the details. Get writing!’

‘Thank you, sir. Now, are there any more questions?’ said Mrs Poppet. Another hand shot up.

‘Sir, I’m Justin – why didn’t they just use the Internet to geotag it and locate it?’ There was a loud groan from the rest of the class and Mrs Poppet pointed at Justin, then pointed to an empty floor space next to her. He walked over and sat down frowning. Seeing there were no more questions, the curator left and the teacher of 8P reminded them that they had thirty minutes to look around before they had to head back.

‘Ah, I love all this stuff!’ said Jack as he sped over to the ‘Nazi’s stole our gold’ display. Wade sighed as he got up – he much preferred jumping over the tanks and guns on display in the main hall, although for some reason that was frowned upon.

3

As the 159 bus took them back to school, Wade had a faraway look in his eyes.

‘Wonder where it went… Imagine what you’d do with a million quid of gold!’

Jack got the leaflet out and studied it. ‘Says here that the train left Bank at 11:29 and arrived at London Bridge at 11:44, guarded by twenty soldiers. The gold had vanished from the carriage and no-one, not even the driver, could explain it. It had just vanished! Fascinating!’

‘Oh, I bet you’ve worked it out – so who did it? That old man at the museum?’ Wade laughed. Jack screwed up his eyes at the leaflet.

‘What do you think that writing on that piece of paper means?’ asked Jack. Wade took Jack’s leaflet and looked at the small picture of the paper. It said ‘SbnlBkSVBS24’. Underneath it to the right were a few faint zig zag lines.

‘Sabinnel-back-veebs-two-four?’ Wade said slowly. ‘Sounds like someone speaking backwards.’ He grinned. ‘Ah it’s just all nonsense. Didn’t they catch anyone to do with the gold going missing?’

‘No, but it says here that the head of that department at the Bank of England – a bloke called Sir Horatio Plum – was arrested, but there was no evidence. Then he died weirdly a few days later in the Blitz.’

‘What’s weird about that? I thought loads of people were killed with falling bombs and buildings falling down,’ replied Wade, a little more interested now.

‘Yeah, but he wasn’t in his office, he was crossing a bridge in the middle of the night in an air raid!’

‘Hmm, wonder why.’ He screwed up his face. ‘Oh well, rest in pieces!’ They laughed most of the way back to school.

Once back in class, the teacher reminded them they could spend the final half-hour researching. With a grin, Wade and Jack wasted no time in heading to the Computer Suite. By the time they left an hour later, they felt like they had researched the whole Second World War and were carrying most of that research with them.

‘Come back to mine and we’ll work out what we’ve got!’ Wade enthused as they left school.

The downside of Wade’s life, he believed, was that he and his dad’s world had been invaded by his new stepsister and her mum. They all had to live in a flat that you could barely swing a hamster in. Not that he owned a hamster, the council wouldn’t allow it. He liked his new ‘mum’, but her teenage daughter – Faiza – just seemed to have it in for him. He used to have the second bedroom, but now she had to have that room. He was forced to have the ‘cosy room’. That was another way of disguising the fact it was a broom cupboard. It was slightly larger than that, but he could only fit a small chest of drawers with a mirror and a bookcase around his single bed. It just didn’t seem fair, Wade thought.

An hour later and Wade’s room resembled the aftermath of a large explosion in a small paper warehouse. There were sheets of paper several deep on the bed, the bookcase and the drawers. No carpet was visible and both Wade and Jack looked a little forlorn. There were a few grey pictures and wordy descriptions of gold and other details of times and dates. They heard the telephone ring in the other room, followed by familiar footfalls. A few moments later, the door barged open and there stood Faiza.

‘What’s up, losers?’ She walked in and flicked through Wade’s grammar book. ‘Need any help with your homework?’ she added, as though she was talking to a five-year old.

‘Get out Faiza, we’re busy. Have you ever heard of privacy?’

‘Yeah, I’ve heard of it,’ said Faiza, ‘and at least I can spell it.’ She did one of those fake smiles. ‘I was just watching the local news – they say they found a UXB not far from here in the park. Shame you didn’t try and dig the door up!’

‘Actually, I was there and I helped an old lady and her Oro Fluffikins –’ said Wade proudly.

‘Oh do shut up. Another tall story?’ she sneered. ‘Anyway, that was mum on the phone. She says she’ll be back late tonight doing another shift and you’ll have to do the kitchen.’

‘Why can’t you do it? I’ve got homework,’ protested Wade.

‘Yeah – you really look like you’re working hard. Year Eight is so hard, right, especially if you’re not very bright,’ she said sarcastically. ‘What happened here?’ she snorted. ‘Did your friend explode?’

Wade frowned as Faiza looked over at Jack with her head tilted. ‘You know, I’m still not sure your friend actually speaks. Is he real?’ Faiza walked over to the drawers and picked up Jack’s leaflet. ‘Hey, the mystery of the gold that vanished – we did that when I was in Year Eight. My friend Janet said she thought that the gold was actually just painted ice and it melted and –’

‘You know we really don’t care. Just leave us alone.’ Wade cut her off. She made that disinterested face.

‘Well, don’t forget the kitchen later, Squib. Just trying to help my little brother,’ said Faiza, gently kicking his laundry basket.

‘I’m not your little brother!’ Wade shouted back. ‘And I want my room back! Just get out!’ He stood up. Jack just sat there, trying to be interested in the chest of drawers.

‘You know what?’ Faiza shouted, walking towards the door.

‘What?’ replied Wade, also with increasing volume. Faiza looked like she was going to shout something, but instead she paused and quietly said;

‘One day, you’ll realise I’m not the enemy.’ She left the room, closing it quietly. Wade stood there for a few seconds with his fists clenched.

4

‘I hate her; she’s always trying to bring me down,’ he muttered.

‘You know, maybe she was just trying to be friendly,’ Jack said quietly. ‘She seems alright to me… bit scary maybe.’

‘Scary? HA… no, she was after something. I know. She’s big and scary and I have to give up everything so she can live here.’

‘Well, that’s not her fault,’ Jack said quietly, ‘and maybe she just wants to –’

‘I know what she wants, but my dad has said that I must try. How come she gets all the good stuff and my room? And look – this is what I end up with.’ He indicated the rest of his small room. ‘She moved in here all big and smug and took my room and everything else!’ Wade rounded on Jack. ‘Why don’t you let her move in with you?’

Wade sat down on the end of his bed kicking his laundry basket. Jack just stared at his friend for a few seconds, before pretending to be interested in his own feet. They stayed in silence for what seemed like hours. A minute later, Wade spoke quietly;

‘Sorry.’ He picked at an imaginary loose thread on his t-shirt. ‘But sometimes it gets a bit…’ He left the sentence unfinished.

‘It’s ok, bud,’ Jack said, nodding slowly.

‘Well, before you do move in with her, let’s get this done. Right, I need the start sheet!’ said Wade, trying to organise the paper into piles.

Jack produced a copy of the string of ten letters and two numbers that had been found in the tunnel by Bank Station.

‘There it is!’ said Wade snatching the paper from Jack. The paper seemed to be taunting them like it had countless others over for eighty years. ‘SbnlBkSVBS24’. ‘So what does that two and odd-looking four mean then?’ Wade asked.

‘Well, interestingly, no-one knows for sure. Could be hours in a day or a unit of measurement?’ Jack shrugged his shoulders.

‘Yeah, I guess.’ Wade repeated the string of letters several times. ‘SbnlBk…?’ It seemed familiar somehow. ‘Anyway, based on all this information, just what have we worked out, Inspector?’ asked Wade.

‘OK here we go, Chief. One, the gold WAS on the train. It must have been on the train as no-one could have lifted all that gold away at Bank without someone seeing.’

‘OK. Right, and?’

‘Two – however the gold disappeared, it couldn’t have just gone without people being in on it. Three – no trace of the gold was ever found, so it must still exist somewhere. And four,’ Jack continued, ‘Plum was arrested but never charged, and died a few days later on the bridge at midnight.’

‘OK. What about other witnesses? There were plenty of people involved in moving the gold.’ Wade grabbed some paper from a pile to his left and read from it. It was a statement from the driver, a man called Jeff, and even had a picture of him. He appeared like a 1940s train driver should be dressed; dungarees, cap, slightly dirty face and hands.

‘He said that nothing happened on the fifteen-minute journey, and he didn’t witness anything out of the ordinary,’ said Jack.

‘Oh well. So, no-one saw anything and no-one heard anything?’ Wade asked, sighing.

‘Well, we got rid of most of our first theories – the gold was not painted ice, the gold was not wax made into candles and it was not painted cake that the guards ate!’ Both Jack and Wade laughed. ‘And they didn’t quickly make another carriage out of the gold!’

‘What can we come up with that sounds like it could be true, Inspector?’ Wade said impatiently.

‘Our only working theory, Chief, is that Plum hid someone in the money carriage who threw the gold out the window for other people to catch. Then went back and got it before anyone went in the tunnel.’

‘Come on, we’ll never win with that one. How would they have got away with it?’ Wade slumped down, suddenly feeling lost. Jack stared at the code thoughtfully.

‘Let’s start at the beginning – what were the two stations again?’ asked Jack enthusiastically. Wade got out two bits of paper with the Underground on and they looked at them.

‘Look – there’s Bank station near the middle and there’s London Bridge south of the Thames.’

‘So, they put the gold on here at Bank and went south to London Bridge,’ agreed Jack.

Something clicked in his mind. ‘Wait a minute. South? Like southbound? Like Southbound from Bank to London Bridge?!’ Jack looked at Wade who looked puzzled for a moment before he too shook his head.

‘No, can’t be. Where’s that code? Where is it?!’ They both excitedly scrabbled through the sheets of paper, looking briefly at each one. Eventually Jack picked up what they were looking for – the picture of a scribble and the code found in the empty money van. He held out the paper and looked at the scribble. ‘SbnlBkSVBS24’.

‘That could be… could mean Southbound something Bank?’

‘Ah yeah, it must do! But what about the other letters and numbers?’ replied Wade excitedly. It went quiet, as both realised that they had no idea.

5

The door creaked open and in strode Faiza with a bemused look on her face. Wade seemed to be immediately on the defensive again.

‘What do you want this time?’ Wade dropped any pretence of friendship from his voice. ‘We’re doing something really important here, so if you don’t mind…’

‘Oh right, you’re still working on the gold mystery thing… yeah, I heard you mention the southbound line from Bank,’ she replied, picking up the piece of paper with the code on. ‘Did you work out what the other squiggles were? My friend Janet thought they were a previous code scribbled out.’ Wade looked at her, and then the piece of paper.

‘Well, good for Janet. We thought that, obviously, but then we came up with a better idea,’ Wade said eventually.

‘And…?’