Page 37 of The Hallmarked Man (Cormoran Strike #8)

You were informed in the Royal Arch degree, that King Solomon builded a secret vault, the approach to which was through eight other vaults or apartments in succession, all under ground, and to which a long and narrow passage led…

Albert Pike The Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite of Freemasonry

The Silver Vaults’ entrance was a discreet wooden door with a small glass awning.

Robin was admitted after pressing a buzzer and found herself facing a uniformed security man, who asked to search her bag.

She then had to sign in at the desk, and was instructed to descend three flights of stairs, and take no photographs outside the individual shops.

Intrigued, Robin proceeded down broad, bare stone stairs, her footsteps echoing, and found herself in a space unlike any she’d seen before.

A long, low-ceilinged, arched underground passageway stretched away from her, the walls on both sides lined with heavy steel vault doors.

She set off along the corridor, noticing the regularly spaced cameras watching her from the ceiling, and looking left and right through the open doors at Aladdin’s Caves of dazzling, gleaming silver.

The bright light in both passage and shops almost hurt her eyes, especially when reflected from thousands of brightly polished silver surfaces.

Robin turned a corner and saw that the subterranean labyrinth extended far beyond the first corridor.

Bullen & Co lay in the second passage she entered.

It was one of the larger shops, carpeted in bright blue, and a veritable sea of silver met her eyes: shelves of platters, trays, boxes, urns, jugs and shields and, on sturdy mahogany tables, gigantic pieces including candelabra, centrepieces covered in cherubs and a huge nef representing a galleon in full sail.

A woman Robin recognised instantly as Pamela Bullen-Driscoll, because of her boxy back view, was speaking rapidly into the phone on a desk.

‘Ay’ve already told you, Geoffrey. Ay’ve told you – Ay simply don’t care !’

Pamela seemed to sense someone behind her, because she turned, said, ‘Ay’ve got to go!’ and slammed down the receiver.

Pamela had seen no need to change her style because fashions had moved on around her.

From her stiffly lacquered hair to her large gold earrings and necklace, her double-breasted, shoulder-padded black blazer to her frosted pink lipstick, Pamela had never left the eighties, even though succeeding decades had deepened lines around her mouth and across her forehead.

While not overweight, she was square and short-waisted.

A pair of gold reading glasses hung on a crystal-studded chain around her neck.

‘Can Ay help you?’

‘I hope so,’ said Robin, drawing a business card out of her bag. ‘My name’s Robin Ellacott and I’m from the Strike and Ellacott Detective Agenc—’

‘Ay’ve got nothing to say!’ said Pamela loudly.

Recoiling, she bumped into a table laden with silver objects, and a fragile-looking horn cup in an elaborate silver casing fell to the ground. Pamela stood on it accidentally, and the horn shattered. She burst into tears.

Robin rushed to assist Pamela, who was groping for the pieces in a manner that suggested drunkenness, taking multiple attempts to place her hand on each piece.

‘Please leave!’ sobbed Pamela. ‘And close the door behaynd you! Ay have nothing to say to you!’

Robin turned, walked back to the shop entrance and did indeed close the door, but remained inside the fantastical silver storehouse, returning to Pamela to help her pick up all the bits of horn in silence.

The shop owner seemed too distressed to care that Robin hadn’t followed her orders.

She stumbled to a small desk, grabbed a handful of tissues from a silver box, dropped into her chair and cried.

Robin laid the shards of horn on the desk, feeling guilty and trying to project sympathy. After almost a minute’s weeping, Pamela said,

‘It’s may eyes! Ay had that laser eye surgery… and Ay can’t see properly… blurry… double vision… awful headaches… Ay need may eyes! ’ said Pamela hysterically. ‘And may husband…’

She didn’t finish the sentence, but continued to weep, the already dark grey tissues becoming darker with specks of mascara.

‘Could I – is there anywhere I could make you a tea, or a coffee?’ asked Robin.

Pamela didn’t answer, so Robin decided to explore for herself.

There was a small kiosk-like structure in the corner of the shop that contained a coffee machine and mugs.

Robin made two coffees, added a lot of sweetener to Pamela’s, then returned to the desk and sat down opposite her.

Pamela sobbed for another minute until she came to a hiccoughing halt and reached for her mug.

It took her two attempts to grasp the handle.

She sipped the sweetened coffee, then whispered,

‘Thank you.’

‘Can’t they do anything, for your eyes?’ Robin asked, in genuine concern.

‘Ay’m traying to find someone… they said it would clear up and it hasn’t…’

‘When was the operation?’ asked Robin, surreptitiously turning her mobile to record, in her bag.

‘January… the headaches… but Ay can’t stop work. It’s may own business!’

‘It’s an amazing shop,’ said Robin. ‘Bullen & Co’s a very old firm, isn’t it?’

‘F-four generations,’ hiccoughed Pamela. ‘May great-grandfather started it… but there are no Bullens left now. Ay couldn’t have children, and may – may nephew…’ She let out another sob. ‘Oh, we’ve all been through a dreadful tayme…’

Robin left a tactful pause before saying,

‘Mrs Bullen-Driscoll, we really do need an expert opinion. We know nothing about silver, you see.’

‘You want to t-talk about silver?’

‘Yes, if you wouldn’t mind. It would help to understand why the Murdoch silver was so significant and why someone would go to such lengths to steal it. Mr Ramsay says—’

‘Kenneth’s a fool!’ said Pamela, with sudden anger.

‘An idiot ! Ay had no idea what he’d done!

Ay’d have stopped him, but he didn’t tell me, didn’t tell may sister – he re-mortgaged their house, borrowed some exorbitant sum at a ludicrous rate of interest, cashed in all their shares – may sister knew nothing, nothing until it was too late.

Insanity! Ay could have told him his stupid scheme wouldn’t work! ’

‘What sch—?’

‘He paid much more than the Murdoch silver was worth – lunacy ! He thought John Auclair – he’s a well-known collector – would come trotting along to his grotty little shop and give him half a million for it!

Nobody in their rayte maynd would have paid that much for the stuff! Kenneth’s a fool , an absolute fool !’

‘You didn’t think he’d make a profit on the collection, then?’ asked Robin.

‘Of course not!’ said Pamela impatiently. The Murdoch collection’s really only of interest to a narrow subset of people.’

‘You mean masons?’ asked Robin.

‘Yes. Well, not necessarily only masons…’ The chance to talk about her specialist subject seemed to be soothing Pamela slightly.

‘A. H. Murdoch was quate a romantic figure, Ay suppose. One of those Victorian explorer taypes. Some of the pieces he collected had artistic merit on their own terms, but most of it – Skene’s dagger, and the Oriental Centrepiece, which quayte frankly is a monstrosity—’

‘That’s the piece that was delivered here, by mistake, isn’t it?’ said Robin.

‘Yes. Enormous, ugly thing, covered in masonic symbols, over three feet tall. Ay can’t imagine who’d want it, frankly.

Ay told Rachel two years ago when they bought the shop, “you’re making a mistake!

”’ said Pamela, with a resurgence of anger.

‘ Everything , from start to finish, was misgayded, but she wouldn’t listen!

“ Kenneth thinks it’ll do very well”, “ Kenneth knows the market”, “ Kenneth knows people who’ll queue up to buy” – and of course, they’ve been making a loss ever since they opened!

The location’s dreadful, and there simply isn’t a demand for that kind of specialist shop…

if they’d been content to sell onlayne… but Rachel’s always been silly about business.

Nayther of them had the first idea what they were doing.

She was miffed our father put me in charge here, and Kenneth hates his day job and thought he was going to be able to give it up and talk masonic silver all day.

And nayther of them have a clue about proper security.

You’d think, with Rachel being a Bullen’ – Pamela said this rather as someone might have done on declaring their sister a Mountbatten-Windsor – ‘she’d realise what’s needed .

This ,’ said Pamela, gesturing around at the Silver Vaults, ‘is the fourth most secure building in the world . There’s never been a theft from the London Silver Vaults, ever .

Stupid , baying that rundown place, thinking they could do everything on a shoestring.

Ay tried to tell them! And then look what happened! ’

‘It was very kind of you to go and help them out,’ said Robin.

‘Well, Ay had to. After may nephew…’ Tears welled in Pamela’s eyes again, ‘… and then m’sister had her stroke… of course Ay trayed to do what Ay could. Nayther of them wanted to let the shop go. “It’s all we’ve got now.” Naturally , Ay said Ay’d help.’

‘John Auclair did come in to view the collection at Ramsay Silver, didn’t he?’

‘Yes,’ snorted Pamela, ‘but one doesn’t get to be as rich as John Auclair is bay being a fool .

Ay know John, Ay’ve sold him a few pieces over the years.

He knew perfectly well Kenneth paid way over the real value of the silver.

Ay knew John was coming in on the Monday to decide what he was going to take once Kenneth got desperate to claw something back.

But of course, he never saw any of it, because… ’

‘Awful, losing it all like that,’ said Robin, who didn’t want to introduce the subject of the body too early.