The Crusade for Vengeance

Chapter 2

Rex arrived at the Tower promptly at seven-thirty. If you have to be somewhere, he thought, better to be early than late. More opportunities to scope the place out and better odds of being able to leave early.

He stepped out of the black cab and strode toward the Tower, swinging his cane freely by his side. He didn't actually need the cane anymore, it was a holdover from his time in the war that he had been loath to part with. On his last mission, to liberate a Titian one of the Nazi generals had stolen, he got a little too confident in his skills and neglectful of his safety. A bullet to the knee had cured him of that. Three months in an Army hospital and then a sizable limp for the next four years had cemented the cane as a fixture of his life. He walked fine now, but still liked to carry the cane. It was more of a good luck charm than anything else now. Plus, he had commissioned a three-foot blade to be hidden inside it, accessible with a quick turn of the silver handle. The cane had gotten him out of a number of tight spots. It didn't hurt to appear weak to your enemies. Especially when they regarded the weapon you carried as a disability.

It was a typical London night, gloomy with an omnipresent fog. Rex pulled his ticket from inside his coat pocket and handed it to one of the Yeoman Warders, also known as Beefeaters, at the front gate. The guard reviewed the ticket and then eyed Rex up and down. With a quick glance at the cane, he motioned Rex inside. "This way, guv. Enjoy your night," he remarked and moved on to the next in line. Rex entered the courtyard and headed for the Jewel House.

Entering, Rex was surprised by the number of guests that had already arrived. The unveiling of the Jewels was to be a cathartic experience for the British and no one wanted to miss it. Several dozen attendees were already milling about, eating hors d'oeuvres and sipping champagne. Rex saw Willoughby from across the room, engaged in conversation with a handful of ancient dowagers. When the tall Englishman noticed Rex staring at him, he brightened and headed towards the entrance.

"Rex, old chap. How are you? So glad Ruby gave you the invitation. You haven't seen her yet, have you?" He craned his neck and looked around the room.

Rex hid a smile and shook his head. The poor bloke was so desperate it was almost funny. "No, Edmund. We came separately. You know how Ruby is, fashionably late as always. Quite a turnout tonight. I'm impressed."

Willoughby gave Rex a patronizing smile and rubbed his hands together. "Yes yes. It should be a splendid evening. Many distinguished guests have graced us with their presence. We have a few MPs over there," he indicated toward a group of dour-faced men talking in hushed tones, as Members of Parliament usually did, "the Chancellors of Oxford and Cambridge have come down for this," he pointed at two old men standing next to each other but doing their best efforts not to acknowledge each other, "and of course Her Royal Highness, Princess Margaret."

Rex turned and saw the vivacious young Princess. Only twenty-four years old, she was dressed in a stunning lace embroidered blue chiffon dress with long white gloves. She was surrounded by several men, all eager to engage her in conversation. Queen Elizabeth II had only been on the throne a few years and the whole country was still excited about this new and much younger generation of Royals. Rex could tell that Willoughby was ecstatic to show off his fancy guests and Rex decided to let him have his victory.

"Well done, Edmund. A visit from the Royal Family? I'm sure that will thrill Ruby. Ah, here she comes." He and Willoughby turned to watch Ruby enter, exactly at eight o'clock as it turned out. She was wearing a floor-length emerald dress with capped sleeves. It accentuated her statuesque figure without being too loud. Initially heading towards Rex and Willoughby, she immediately changed directions upon seeing Princess Margaret. Walking right up to the Princess, Ruby dropped a deep curtsey and bowed her head. "Your majesty," she said in a reverent tone, "what an honor to make your acquaintance. I do hope we can converse later." She rose and came to where Rex and Willoughby were standing in shock.

"Hello boys," she said with a kiss to Edmund's cheek. "Edmund dear, I'm parched. Could you be ever so sweet and get me a refreshment?" He lit up and immediately headed off to the nearest bar. Rex turned to Ruby and gave her a mock disapproving look.

"Piss off," she said with a laugh. "Edmund likes to feel useful. Why not let him?" They chatted for a bit and compared notes on what they knew about the guests that had arrived. Edmund returned with Ruby's drink, but had to make apologies as his hosting duties needed to take precedence.

He cleared his throat and said in a loud, but still refined voice, "Ladies and gentlemen, Your Royal Highness, thank you for joining us on this momentous occasion. I am pleased to announce that after several years in secret and secure locations for their safety, the Crown Jewels have been returned to the Tower of London." He paused to let the polite applause die down and then continued. "Tonight we welcome them back with open arms and to their rightful place. All of the Jewels have been cleaned by our diligent curators and now sparkle as much as the monarchy. If you'll please follow me, we will now go into the next room for the unveiling. This way please."

They slowly made their way into the specially designed room that would house the Jewels. Rex saw that there were guards posted at the entrance and exit of this room. More Beefeaters in their distinctive uniforms of flat-topped black hats and garishly red and gold coats. The guards all looked dour and serious, no doubt not picked as guards for their cheery demeanor.

The new room for the Jewels had a lower ceiling, no furniture, and only a large box in the middle. A box big enough to fit a medium-sized car inside. There was a large curtain covering the box and a velvet rope with stanchions providing a barrier between the guests and the box. Rex could see a braided, golden rope tied to the top of the curtain.

Willoughby ushered all the guests in and they filed around the box and immediately started murmuring with excitement. He stepped inside the stanchions and grasped the gold rope. "Without further ado," he said facing the crowd, "I give you the Crown Jewels."

With a heavy tug, he pulled on the rope which caused the curtain to fall. There was an audible gasp from the audience, initially pleasing Willoughby. But it was followed by a high pitch scream and the breaking of glass as someone dropped their champagne. Confused, Willoughby turned to look behind him and saw to his horror what had caused the unrest.

Where the Crown Jewels should have been was instead just an empty box. An almost empty box, in fact. On a pedestal that should have held St. Edward's Crown, the crown that was placed on the monarch during coronation, rested a skull, its mouth open in a mocking grin. A large black dagger was held between its teeth. Below the pedestal were two gray canisters with a sign propped against them. Willoughby leaned forward to read the sign.

FOR YOUR SINS

The letters were written in scraggly red letters with the ink still running, dripping down to the floor. Willoughby felt himself go faint as he realized what the ink was. Blood. That's when the cylinders started hissing and both exit doors slammed shut. He looked around, but there were no signs of the guards that were posted next to the doors moments ago.

Willoughby fell to his knees in shock and tried to take deep breaths to calm himself. Unwittingly, all he succeeded in doing was taking in the poison emanating from the canisters even faster.