Chapter 5 - The Heist - Phantom

Upon exiting the cab Phantom eyes were drawn to the grand building that was the Imperial War Museum, London. The Impressive sight that used to be Bethlem Royal Hospital was crying out for Phantom to steal the whole building but he knew he would never dare such a dishonour to what he felt were the nation's most prized treasures, so he would simply acquire the pieces he wanted, as and when they revealed themselves. He motioned to harry to drive the Truck around to the back of the building and to start setting up the apparatus. Meanwhile Phantom double checked that everything else had gone to plan. He removed the jammer from his pocket and turned it on, placing it back in his pocket, no point advertising himself to any CCTV in the area, even if they could somehow prove it was him. He circled around the building, allowing himself a momentary smile as it was evident the first stage had been a success, all of the flood lamps that surrounded the Museum had been switched off and so had all the interior lights, plummeting the whole area in darkness. He then moved over to the main doors and picked the lock, he savoured this moment a little longer then he should of but he hadn't picked a lock it so long, it brought back memories of his childhood however this was no time to reminisce. The door swung back on its hinges, Phantom was silhouetted in the doorway ahead of him sat a large security desk, unmanned, so the second stage had been also been implemented. Phantom had learnt long ago that one of the weakest types of people in this world were security guards, so easily manipulated, intimidated, bribed or disposed of, most have few family, most are in debt, some just don't care. So they had at least an hour before the guards would be back to retake there posts. Phantom walked through the silence museum, his footsteps echoing menacingly, determination shown with every footfall. He moved into the large exhibits gallery of the museum, tanks, planes, even a German V2 rocket surrounded him. His eyes darted left and right in the darkness, taking in his environment, searching for his prize. There it was in the back corner, though in the shadows its brass fixtures still glinted, its battleship gray paintwork expertly restored. The BL 5.5", 50caliber, Mk1 Naval Gun sat there amongst all the other artefacts of war but for Phantom stood head and shoulders about all others. For this was a relic off of HMS Chester, the gun that Jack Cornwell (the youngest recipient of the Victoria Cross), during the battle of Jutland, manned, though mortally wounded, until he was relieved. This gun was a symbol of the courage and discipline of the British. A high pitch whine gradually reached Phantoms ears, his eyes darted to the wall behind the gun as a drill bit pierced through the masonry and was swiftly withdrawn. Phantom saw one of Harrys eyes peer through and he gave harry a nod. A much louder noise then met Phantom, one which is emanated from a rather large, industrial grinder. The blade soon punched through the brickwork and within twenty minutes had cut a suitable piece of the wall away. Phantom gave this section of the wall a kick and it toppled onto a waiting pallet. So much noise would normally attract allot of attention but for the fact Phantom had paid a building firm to perform road maintenance at odd times in the day to give them cover noise. Now there was a large gap in the wall Phantom could see Harry ripping off the lids of the first few crates, inside was packed a winch platform and various iron ropes and restrains. He removed them and built the frame, leaving Phantom to check the hydraulic pistons, making sure they hadn't leaked or seized during their storage. Once everything was checked they moved the machinery into the confines of the building. The straps were laid and fastened around the gun and the bed plate was positioned, waiting for the gun to be raised. All of a sudden Phantoms head pricked up, he had heard something, a sound that shouldn't be there, it reminded him of the sound a C5 made when an agent jumped from one place to another, but that was impossible, how would ACME know about this heist? He was too careful. He shook his head, he was getting far too paranoid these days, it was nothing; he had to focus on the task at hand. The support frame creaked into life as it bore the weight of the gun, its counter struts biting into the ground, the bed plate was quickly kicked in under the gun's mount and the strain was lessened, bringing the whole piece onto the reinforced trolley. Harry got behind it and with some effort began to push. The veins on his neck became to pulsate, as the blood rush to his head, his biceps threatened to rip the seams of his shirt but then the platform started to roll and soon was moving at roughly walking pace. As soon as it was in motion Harry stopped, panting and sweating profusely at such an exertion of energy, he tapped the controls of the winch which lifted the gun into the back of the truck, the suspension groaned threateningly but held the weight, the truck was now a good few inches closer to the ground. A shadowy figure crept from the upper walkway of the gallery, clinging to the corners of the building, waiting, using a night vision camera to take photographs for evidence. He thought to himself how odd it was that a clear picture could not be taken of the rough looking, old timer. But the stalker dare not approach the prey for a better shot, in fear of scaring them off without gathering enough evidence to hold a suitable case. And anyway the Chief had said this ‘Phantom' character would have seen him a mile away if he tried anything. So he waited for back up.