Den of Snakes

by Damian Vargas

  ‘And what does this Angus want?’ said Bill.

  ‘Ten percent,’ said Roger.

  ‘That’s fair,’ said Mike.

  ‘I don’t like it, Rog. The police could connect this Angus with your cousin, Gary,’ said Charlie. Which means they could connect everything to you, and to us’.

  ‘We thought about that, Charlie. Gary won’t be on the team that goes into the depot either. He’ll help beforehand and stuff, but then make sure he’s seen somewhere else the day the job goes down’. Roger reached for a sheet of paper and started drawing the layout of the United Security depot. ‘There are roads on three sides. The other backs onto an old, disused factory. Gary’s been using it as an observation point’. He pointed to the drawing. ‘The main entrance is here, there’s another vehicular entrance on this side. There’s two doors on the outside and two more inside the yard. There’s four cameras covering the exterior and another three inside the loading area’.

  ‘That don’t sound like third-rate security,’ said Charlie. Roger pointed to the secondary vehicle entrance.

  ‘According to Gaz, we’d only need to keep to this path’. He drew a zigzag line across the inner yard area as he spoke. ‘We’d be in blind spots. None of the internal cameras will pick us up’. The bloke who watches the screens is distracted easily, Gaz says. We only need thirty seconds, and we’re at the back door’.

  ‘Then what?’ said Charlie.

  ‘Here’s the beauty. Almost all the guards smoke, but they aren’t allowed to light up inside the premises, so they go out into the yard for their fag breaks. The guy on the CCTV smokes like a trooper. We’d just need to wait for Angus to signal that the geezer is away from his desk, and we move in’.

  ‘What signal?’ asked Eddie.

  ‘Flash of a torch. They all carry ‘em,’ said Roger. ‘The bog’s next to the room with the screens. He can do it from there. It’s easy to see from outside, they’ve checked already’.

  ‘It can’t be that simple,’ said Charlie.

  ‘How many guards in the building?’ asked Eddie.

  ‘Seven, tops,’ said Roger. ‘Less if someone’s off sick or running an errand’.

  ‘How do you figure on overpowering seven guards?’ said Eddie.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Charlie.

  Eddie pulled the sheet of paper nearer and studied it. ‘I’ve done a lot of training for this stuff. If I were planning on taking this building, I’d want at least ten guys on my team. There’s only four of you’.

  ‘Mike’s got an idea about that,’ said Roger.

  ‘Oh, really?’ said Charlie.

  ‘I know another crew,’ said Mike. ‘They are Millwall-based. A mate of mine worked with them in the past. They ain’t the sharpest tools in the box, but they are right hard bastards’.

  ‘This ain’t a job for thugs. This needs finesse. It would have to go off with no trouble,’ said Charlie. ‘If a guard or passerby got hurt, we’d be in a world of shit’.

  ‘Doesn’t sound practical then, does it?’ said Eddie. ‘If you ain’t got the manpower, I mean’.

  Mike leaned forward. He was sitting opposite Eddie, a malevolent look in his eye. ‘You still off to Africa to go play soldier, tomorrow?’ Charlie raised an eyebrow. The question may have been innocuous, but something about the tone of Mike’s voice was suspect.

  ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ said Eddie.

  ‘Nothing. Just thought Charlie might have talked you out of it or something’.

  Eddie stared at Mike. He looks like he knows, he thought. ‘How could he?’

  ‘Coz if you weren’t, then I reckon you should tag along on this job,’ said Mike. ‘Make some serious dough. You know, so you could look after that kid of yours’.

  The group went silent. Mike kept his gaze trained on Eddie.

  ‘Let’s keep my brother out of this, boys,’ said Charlie.

  ‘He ain’t said no yet,’ said Roger, now also watching Eddie. ‘It ain’t a bad idea, you know’.

  Mike leaned back in his chair, a cocky look on his face. ‘So, how about it?’ he said.

  ‘One job, one big payoff,’ said Roger.

  It was tempting. The mercenary gig in Africa had been Eddie’s one chance to earn the money that he needed to look after his estranged daughter and make things right again with her mother. But that trip would have paid thirty thousand pounds. It was not lost on him that if he did this one job, his cut would be many times that.

  ‘You ain’t scared, are you? You, a big tough soldier ‘n all,’ said Mike.

  Charlie put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder. ‘Don’t let ’em wind you up, Ed. I’d be very happy if you stuck around to help out’. He shot Roger and Mike a stern look. ‘But only to help us build up the business. Not this’.

  ‘Nah, you’re right, bruv,’ said Eddie. ‘I’m just here to pass on Kenny’s vote. Which, by the way, was a no’.

  Charlie looked relieved. He gave his brother’s shoulder a friendly squeeze then sat back, a content look on his hands.

  ‘I am curious though,’ he asked. How did you plan on getting in and out of Blighty? You can’t jump on a plane to Gatwick, can you?’

  Roger smiled. ‘I’ve got a contact who works with this fishing trawler skipper up in Vigo. Normally, he does a bit of gun-running, but he would take us. For fifty grand. He goes up through the Channel every month on his way to the north sea fishing grounds. They would dock at Lowestoft for fuel and supplies. That’s where we’d get off. Then, a few days later, we’d get back on when they come back to refuel before returning to Spain. That would give us plenty of time to get the job done’.

  Charlie placed his bottle down and stood up. ‘I’ve got to give you credit, Rog. You and Gary have put a lot of thought into this, and it is impressive I have to admit’.

  ‘But?’ said Roger.

  ‘But it’s a plan for where we was five years ago, not where we are now. It ain’t a smart move, and as I keep on telling you lads, if we’re gonna make this work down here, we need to be seriously fuckin’ smart’.

  ‘Ten million quid sounds pretty fucking smart to me,’ said Mike.

  ‘We could use it to fund your property deal,’ said Roger. ‘Not just phase one, but the whole bloody thing. You can’t tell me that doesn’t sound appealing, Charlie?’

  ‘It’s too bleedin’ risky. There are a million things that can go wrong, any of which ends up with us all doing ten to fifteen in the Scrubs’.

  ‘I need this,’ said Mike. ‘I need the money’.

  ‘Coz you blew all yours on tarts,’ said Charlie.

  ‘Are you calling my Veronica a tart?’

  Eddie kept his eyes on the piece of paper in front of him.

  ‘No,’ said Charlie. ‘The others are tarts. Veronica’s something else entirely’.

  Eddie thought Mike would explode at Charlie, but Bill sought to defuse things.

  ‘C’mon lads, no need to get personal. Let’s focus on the matter at hand, yeah?’

  Charlie broke away from Mike’s angry gaze and looked at Bill. ‘Is there anything else you wanna tell us, Rog? Or can we get on with the vote?’ Roger shrugged. ‘Sorted. Let’s get this business over and done with’. Charlie pulled his bullet case out from his pocket and dropped into the glass that sat on the napkin marked “No” then signalled to his brother to do likewise. Eddie dropped Kenny’s bullet into the same glass. ‘That’s two for no’.

  Mike stood up and dropped his cartridge case in the other cup, then picked up a fresh beer bottle. Roger dropped his bullet case on top of Mike’s, then leaned back on his chair’s rear legs.

  Charlie looked at Bill, who was staring at the bullet case in his hand. ‘Remember what we talked about earlier, Bill,’ said Charlie in a calm tone. ‘We don’t need this, remember?’

  ‘Thing is, Bill’s got a question. Ain’t you, Bill?’ said Mike in a manner that suggested he had been waiting to drop a bombshell.

  ‘What question?’ said Charlie.

  Bill lo
oked nervous. He was fidgeting with the brass casing, seemingly uncertain whether to say something. Mike flipped his bottle cap at him. It caught Bill on the forehead, and he winced with surprise. ‘Leave it out, Mike’.

  ‘C’mon you nonce,’ said Mike. ‘Ask him what you said to me earlier. About Fallaci’.

  ‘What about him?’ said Charlie, now sounding a lot less confident.

  Bill swallowed and looked up at Charlie. ‘I need that money, Charlie. Did he really promise to pay me back?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Charlie unconvincingly. ‘I told you. Ed and I paid him a visit. It’s sorted’.

  ‘Is that what happened, Eddie?’ said Mike in an accusing tone.

  ‘Is it, Ed?’ said Bill.

  Eddie could sense his brother urging him to lie.

  One little lie. You don’t know these blokes. What does it matter? But then he pictured his adopted mother in the cramped kitchen in the house in which she had raised him. Eddie had been about six-years-old. One of the freshly baked chocolate cookies she had left cooling in the kitchen had gone missing. Mrs Lawson had made the cookies for her colleagues at the library, where she worked part time. Eddie had denied taking it, even though Mrs Lawson had already pointed out the brown crumbs on his school jersey. ‘The thing about liars, Eddie,’ she had told him. ‘Is that nobody believes them even when they tell the truth’. That guidance had remained with him to this day. He had done some awful things in his life, but there was no worse insult for Eddie than being called a liar. He looked at Bill and shook his head.

  ‘I fuckin’ knew it,’ said Mike. Bill put his head in his hands, his fingers massaging his head as if this sudden revelation had caused the onset of a massive migraine.

  ‘I always backed you, Charlie,’ said Bill. ‘Why d’you lie to me’.

  ‘It ain’t like that, mate,’ Charlie pleaded.

  ‘Did that wop fucker say he’d pay up or didn’t he?’ said Bill. Charlie did not answer. ‘I was going’ to borrow money against our fucking villa to raise some cash for your fantasy construction scheme. Carol flipped out, but I was going to do it still, coz I trusted you. Coz, I believed you were looking out for me. For all of us’.

  ‘Bill, I’m sorry,’ said Charlie. ‘I’ll make it up to you. I’ll get you that money, I promise, but -’.

  Bill dropped his bullet case in the “Yes” glass. ‘Not this time, Charlie. I need this,’ said Bill.

  Mike punched the air. Charlie sat staring at the two glasses, as if unable to comprehend what had just happened.

  ‘Get in. Right, we’re doing this,’ said Mike in an excited tone. ‘Debate over. We all know the code. We’ve voted. Decision made’. He picked up his car keys. ‘C’mon Rog, we’re out of here. We’ve got a job to prepare for’. He walked around the table to where Eddie still sat, looking at his brother. ‘If you want to help your brother, you join the crew and come on this job. We’d be better off with you onboard. Think about it, son,’ he said, then turned to follow Roger who was waiting at the door, holding it open.

  ‘Sorry, Charlie,’ said Bill. ‘But it had to be done’.

  Charlie pushed back on his chair, rose up and walked away to the side of the building.

  Bill nodded at Eddie. ‘I’ve never gone up against him before. Not in fifteen years. I’ve always followed him, done what he said. But not this time’.

  ‘I’m sure he’ll get you that money back from that Italian,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Maybe, but that’s not the point, Eddie. He tells us he’s looking out for all the crew with all these ideas and schemes, but it’s him what’s doing best. Ask him about that slimy sod, Lucian. Ask him what he keeps locked away in that cellar under his bar’. Eddie’s face must have betrayed his thoughts. ‘Ah, so you’ve seen it?’ said Bill. ‘All that audio and camera equipment. They blackmail local politicians and businessmen, and not just the Spanish. Lucian collects dirt on the other Brits here too. Villains, but also their friends and families. I’ve never said it before, but it’s like Charlie thinks he’s the Godfather or something, trying to control people like puppets’.

  ‘C’mon, Bill. I don’t think it’s quite like that’.

  ‘Mate, I’ve run with Charlie since the early seventies. I’d take a bullet for him, he knows that. But the rest of the crew are bleeding dry here, and he’s not seeing it. That’s why Roger and Mike voted to do this job. That’s why I supported them. That property deal, if it comes off, will be great, yeah. But the rest of us need cash now, not in a couple of years. That’s why we’re doing this job’. Bill looked over at Charlie, who stood with his back turned to them, staring out over Marbella below. ‘And I hope you tag along. It would improve the odds’.

  Eddie watched Bill leave through the door, then walked over to his brother.

  ‘You alright?’ he said. Charlie took a drag on the cigarette he had been smoking, then flicked the finished butt over the side.

  ‘Just another setback. Not the first’.

  ‘I gotta ask you something, Charlie’.

  ‘You wanna know about Lucian’. Eddie nodded. ‘The boys can’t see it, but it’s for all our benefit. For our protection. We can’t keep doing flipping bank jobs. Eventually, you get caught. Maybe not this time, maybe not the one after that. But you always get caught and then you lose everything. It’s a mug’s game’. He reached for another cigarette, but then decided against it. ‘I’ve done time and I ain’t never going back again. Never. We have to change. Smart people, the establishment, they make money from money. That’s what we need to do. But that takes influence and access to the kinds of people what don’t like to hang out with common old bank robbers’.

  Eddie put his hands on the guard rail and looked out at the sprawling town around them. ‘You really believe you can do that here?’

  ‘One hundred percent,’ said Charlie, but then paused. ‘Look, Ed. What you said before about this life not being for you. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you should walk away’.

  ‘And go where? Do what? With that merc gig gone, I’m bang out of options. I’ve got nuffin’. Bollocks to it. I’ve decided. Mum told me to look after you, big bro. Count me in’.

  Charlie looked surprised.‘What? You wanna join the crew? And do this job with us?’

  ‘Why the fuck not?’ He grinned at his brother. ‘I want to see what ten million quid’s worth of diamonds looks like. And besides, who’s gonna watch your back if I’m not there?’

  The brothers took the elevator back to the ground floor where the sounds of a pianist performing an eclectic version of “Mad World” by Tears For Fears greeted them. They listened for a moment, but a shout from outside caught their attention. Eddie looked and saw Mike being assailed upon by a TV crew.

  ‘Fuck,’ said Charlie, and darted to the door. Eddie ran after him through the open door, but they were too late. The reporter was blocking Mike from getting into his Ferrari and thrusting a microphone into his face. The cameraman was filming everything.

  ‘Michael John McNaughton, what do you say to the man you left crippled after your robbery at a Midland Bank branch in Shoreditch, in 1979?’

  ‘Get out of my way,’ said Mike in a calm but menacing tone.

  ‘You shot the man in the knee with a shotgun,’ said the reporter. ‘He’s crippled for life, now’. Mike stepped forward and knocked the microphone out of the reporter’s hands, thrust his keys into the red sports car’s lock and opened the door. Bill and Roger were already in their cars and heading towards the exit at speed.

  ‘You can’t run forever, McNaughton,’ shouted the reporter. Mike spun around. He was holding a baseball bat. He lunged forward towards the cameraman and knocked the expensive-looking equipment out of the man’s hands. It fell to the floor, several pieces breaking off as it landed on the road surface. Mike, however, was not yet satisfied. He waved the bat at the crew to force them back, then smashed the camera repeatedly. The videotape popped out. Mike smashed it several times with the bat, and reached down to collect the spool of black tap
e that had escaped from its plastic container. Crampton tried to make a grab for it too, but Mike punched him square in the face. The reporter collapsed backwards, holding his face. Mike returned to collect the bundle of black ribbon before getting into the car and starting the engine. He unwound the window and glared at the reporter who was now sitting on his backside on the floor.

  ‘You keep this up Crampton, and you’ll wake up one morning to find me standing over you with a gun pointed at your fuckin’ head’. He pulled away and sped off down the driveway and onto the public road. Eddie could hear the wailing engine as the car disappeared out of view.

  Charlie tugged on his arm. ‘Quick, this way,’ he said. They retreated into the hotel lobby and the doorman locked the door behind them. The hotel manager hurried over to them. ‘Our driver will take you in the limousine. It has blacked-out windows. They won’t see you,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you, Felix. I’ll send someone to get the Porsche later,’ said Charlie. He thrust some banknotes into the man’s hand.

  A few minutes later they pulled out of the hotel’s underground car park, sitting in the rear of a long, black Mercedes. Eddie saw the reporter, Jeremy Crampton, holding a handkerchief to his bleeding nose. Crampton lowered the red-stained cloth and put both hands on his hips. ‘That bastard ain’t gonna let up,’ said Charlie. ‘I need to do something about him’.

  Eddie sat back and let his head sink into the cream leather headrest. ‘There’s no going back now,’ he thought to himself. As mum always said, ‘you make your bed, you lie in it’.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tooling Up

  A few days later, Charlie and Eddie met up with the crew. Kenny was the only omission. They had booked, at the very last moment, an upstairs function room above a grubby pub in Cancelada, ten miles down the coast from Marbella. The proprietor, a small nervous-looking Welshman in his sixties, had been glad to accept the last-minute request for a private function room for a children’s birthday party, but equally confused when only five tough-looking men turned up.