‘Alright, bruv. Just me,’ said Charlie. ‘Wake the rest of ‘em will you. I’ll stick the kettle on’. Eddie did as he was told, then made his way to Roger’s office, using the smell of fresh toast as a navigational aid.
‘Get that down yer,’ said Charlie as he entered the room, holding up a mug of coffee. The others arrived, equally weary.
‘Eat up quick. We leave in fifteen,’ Charlie commanded.
‘What day is it?’ asked Mike, sounding anxious.
‘Wednesday. Innit?’ said an unsure Kenny, yawning.
‘It’s Wednesday, yeah,’ Bill said, his mouth full of half-chewed toast.
‘Shit,’ Mike cursed. ‘I’m sorry, Charlie. I forgot’.
‘Forgot what?’
‘I’m supposed to report in at the cop shop, ain’t I?’
‘What are you talking about?’ said Kenny.
‘For fuck's sake,’ Charlie cursed. ‘That’s today? What time?’
‘Ten,’ Mike replied.
Charlie buried his head in his hands.
‘Is someone gonna tell me what you’re talkin’ about?’ said Eddie, yet again feeling distinctly under-informed.
‘Mikey has to show his face at the police station every week,’ said Charlie.
‘Part of the bail conditions, weren’t it,’ said Mike. ‘Don’t worry, Charlie. I’ll fuck it off’.
Charlie shook his head. ‘You can’t. This…what we’re doing here is exactly what they’re on the lookout for. If you don’t show your ugly mug, they’ll come looking for us, too. Fucking hell’.
‘Do we have time to wait for him?’ asked Bill.
‘Only if that truck of yours does a hundred and twenty,’ said Eddie.
‘So, what then?’ asked Roger.
‘It don’t change nothing,’ said Eddie. ‘Bill, you and Roger go in the truck as planned. We’ll be in radio contact. Me and Kenny will take the car. We’ll be about five miles ahead, scouting for trouble’.
Mike sighed. ‘You sure you don’t need me?’ he asked.
Eddie gulped down a mouthful of coffee and glanced at his watch. ‘It’s probably for the best. You can keep an eye on the girls while we’re gone’.
‘If nuffin else goes sodding wrong,’ said Roger, frustrated by the enforced change of plan.
‘We’ll be fine. There’s plenty of time to get up to the rendezvous for eleven tonight as planned. The exchange won’t take ten minutes, but we’ll need a few hours kip before we head back south. I reckon we can be back at around eight tomorrow evening’.
‘Best we get moving,’ said Bill. The crew guzzled the last of the coffee and gathered their kit.
‘I’ll clear up here,’ Mike offered as they bid him farewell. He cut a forlorn figure, thought Eddie as he stepped outside.
Charlie, Roger and Bill clambered up into the truck’s cabin and signalled at Kenny in the driver’s side of a red Lancia HF Turbo, one of Roger’s few remaining cars.
The radio in the car squawked into life. ‘Testing, testing one, two, three,’ Roger’s voice said from the black box. ‘This is Fat Boy, are you picking this up, Jack Rabbit, over?’
Kenny snorted. ‘Ha, Mike would’ve loved that one’. He twisted the key in the ignition and the tuned engine burst into life.
Eddie grabbed the mic and responded. ‘Getting you loud and clear…Fat Boy. See you at the first stop. Out’.
He hung the plastic device back on the radio.
‘Right, let’s get this show on the road’. Eddie peered up at Charlie, who was sitting in the right-most passenger seat in the truck cabin, and gave his brother a thumb’s up. Charlie seemed not to notice. ‘Lost in thought,’ Eddie decided.
Kenny pulled the Lancia away and out onto the road. ‘Not too fast,’ said Eddie. ‘Radio range is ten miles, tops. Less when we’re up in the hills’. He looked in the wing mirror as the green and red truck pulled onto the road behind them.
‘Did you know Mikey had to go to the cop shop?’ asked Kenny. ‘Nobody told me’. His tone had a distinctly deliberate note. He peered at Eddie, waiting for a response.
Eddie just shrugged. ‘It is what it is’.
‘I suppose so,’ said Kenny. he did not sound convinced. He was fishing for something, Eddie could tell. ‘Just a bit of a surprise though, innit? Him not remembering till this morning’.
‘He’s tired. We’re all are, Eddie replied. He pointed at a road sign to indicate they were approaching the turning that will take them onto the coastal road towards Malaga. ‘We’re coming off here’.
‘I just hope it don’t go pear-shaped. Us being a man down now, coz of that dozy sod,’ said Kenny.
‘We’ll be fine’. Eddie lit a cigarette and wound down the window.
The sky was clear, save for a few wisps of cloud around the upper reaches of the dark peaks on the horizon. He looked at his watch. It was 7.20am. They would pull over and make the first radio check-in at eight o’clock, while waiting for the truck behind to come into sight, then moving off ahead of it again. That would be the pattern for the entire day - drive, pull over, wait for Charlie, Bill and Roger to come teasingly close in the truck, then drive away once again - a perpetual game of vehicular kiss chase.
‘Stick some music on,’ Kenny said. He reached across and opened the glove box to reveal a heap of cassette tapes. ‘I grabbed them from Roger’s shop,’ he said. ‘Don’t know what’s there’.
Eddie spied a Thompson Twins album, pushed it into the car stereo and pressed play. “Doctor Doctor” played through the door speakers.
‘What the bleedin’ hell’s this crap?’ said Kenny.
Eddie just smiled, his arm resting on the open door window, and took a long drag on the cigarette. He could feel the lack of sleep already.
This will be a long day.
Fat Boy, the truck, and Jack Rabbit, the nippy hatchback, carving their way northwards through the Spanish countryside, their occupants taking it in turns behind their respective wheels and stopping only to refuel and to grab supplies of water, snacks and confectionery.
They reached the outskirts of San Sebastian ten minutes after nine o’clock and stopped at a Repsol garage close to the French border. They parked up at the edge of the expansive, gravel lorry park, away from other cars and commercial vehicles.
‘I need a piss,’ said Kenny, pushing the passenger door open. Eddie got out, his boots crunching in the gravel, and stretched his back, clicking it in several places.
‘You sound worse than me,’ said Bill who had climbed down from the truck, its hot engine ticking away’.
‘All good?’ Eddie asked while reaching down to touch his toes.
‘Apart from Roger polluting the air as usual,’ said Bill.
‘I told you. I can’t help it,’ Roger complained. ‘Doc said it was congenial’.
‘Pretty sure he meant “congenital”, mate,’ Eddie said.
Charlie appeared from around the far side of the truck. His eyes were darting from side to side, surveying the space around them as he stuffed a fresh cigarette into his mouth. ‘You alright, bruv?’ said Eddie.
‘Yeah, no worries,’ said Charlie, without making eye contact. ‘Keep an eye out. I’m gonna check on the kit’. He moved to the toolbox behind the cabin, opened it, then pulled out an object wrapped in an oily rag. He unravelled it to reveal a Sten gun and several magazines.
‘Let’s hope we don’t need that,’ said Eddie, as Charlie pulled back the weapon’s bolt then dry fired it.
‘I ain’t taking no chances,’ he said, before wrapping the gun back in the rag. ‘Right, we all clear what we’re doing?’ The others assembled around him. ‘You wanna go through it one more time, bruv?’
‘Sure,’ said Eddie, before clearing his throat. ‘The rendezvous point is about eight miles over there,’ he said, pointing towards the border with France.
It was almost night now, and they could see the lights of several boats out on the sea to their north.
‘We’re meeting in a
car park on the western side of a small harbour,’ Eddie continued. ‘It’s all industrial stuff around there, so it should be empty but Ken and I will go in first, check things out then radio for you boys to come and join us’. He looked at Kenny. ‘You sure know what this Dutch fucker looks like?’
‘I know him,’ he replied, nodding.
‘Good. Assuming they are here in good faith and ain’t gonna try nothing, then we get this done as fast as we can, take the dough and get the fuck out of there as fast as possible. Bill, you’re driving the truck. When you drive in, swing it around and stop with the back facing the sea. They can pull up next to us. That will stop prying eyes from seeing what we’re unloading’.
‘What if they want to try it on?’ said Roger. ‘I mean, we ain’t had too much luck with being able to trust people of late, have we?’
‘It’ll be fine,’ grumbled Charlie.
The men traded glances, each of them sharing the same familiar pre-event jitters. The coastal air was surprisingly chilly for the group who were dressed for the Costa del Sol, not the Bay of Biscay.
‘Everyone checked their weapons?’ asked Eddie.
‘About a dozen times already,’ said Kenny.
‘C’mon,’ said Bill. ‘Let’s get this over with’. He climbed up into the truck cabin and started the engine. Eddie started walking towards the red hatchback.
‘Hold on,’ Charlie called out. He shuffled towards Eddie, hands stuffed into his jeans pockets.
‘What is it?’ Eddie said. Charlie peered at him. He seemed to be struggling to summon the right words. ‘Charlie. You’re scaring me, mate. What is it?’
‘I just…I just wanna -’. He paused.
‘Yeah?’ said Eddie. Charlie gazed out towards the dark horizon and to the intermittent, sparkling lights on the water far away.
‘You coming up here with us. Doing what you’ve done already. Doing what you did the other night. Helping me…us, helping us to sort out this…this fuckin’ mess with them East End bastards -’.
‘It’s okay, Charlie’.
‘No. No, it’s not. I mean, I got you involved in this whole shitty business. If it weren’t for me, you’d be -’.
‘Gettin’ my arse shot off in Timbuctoo?’ said Eddie.
Charlie forced a laugh. ‘Whatever happens after this. No matter what goes down, I want you to know I’m sorry. Sorry for not keeping you out of it. Okay?’
Charlie’s demeanour was worrying Eddie. Was his brother worried about meeting the Dutchman and his men? Was he scared? Or was it something else?
‘Everything will be fine. One last hurdle and we’re all in the clear again,’ Eddie said.
Charlie nodded, his eyes still failing to hold Eddie’s stare. He put his arm around Eddie’s shoulder and hugged him. ‘I know, but if it don’t. If something goes wrong tomorrow, promise me you’ll get the fuck out of this country. Get on the first train, plane or ferry you can and get away. Far away. And don’t come back’.
‘Charlie, are you sure you’re okay?’
‘I said promise me,’ Charlie reiterated.
Eddie nodded. ‘I promise’.
‘Good’. Charlie released him and straightened up. His eyes were watering. ‘I made mistakes, but I always did what I had to do’. With that, he turned back to the truck.
‘Hurry the fuck up, will yer?’ said Kenny, who was sitting in the passenger seat of the Lancia.
‘I’m coming,’ said Eddie, watching Charlie head back towards the truck. Something that his brother had just said was troubling him. What had he meant by, “If something goes wrong tomorrow”? His brother had meant tonight, hadn’t he?
‘Come on!’ Kenny shouted.
Eddie walked to the red hatchback and sat down behind the wheel, then started the engine. Kenny sat next to him, his silver revolver between his legs. Bill was in the back, holding a sawn-off shotgun.
‘Everything okay?’ said Bill.
‘Yeah, mate,’ Eddie replied. He pulled the Browning from his waist and pulled the slide back to chamber a round. ‘Let’s fucking do this!’
Passing through the Spanish border into France had been easy. While there was still an official border between Spain and France, the former country’s impending entry into the Common Market had led to a relaxing of the manning of the border crossings. Eddie had seen two Spanish policemen in a car at the checkpoint, but they had shown zero interest in the passing traffic.
The Lancia pulled up at the entrance to the car park at the French port at Hendaye. It was a sizeable area with the land side enclosed by a tall masonry wall about ten feet high. The interior was empty save for a few commercial vehicles, their drivers no doubt tucked up in a hotel bed close by.
Eddie killed the engine and lights, opened the driver’s door and climbed out to scout the area. There was a cargo ship moored up at the far side, its powerful diesel engines throbbing away. Other than that, there was little sign of activity.
Eddie checked his watch. It was only ten-thirty. They were half an hour early. Charlie and Roger had parked the truck up at the side of the road a mile back, and would wait for the call on the radio from Eddie to bring it to the port.
‘See anything?’ said Bill.
‘I don’t think so,’ Eddie replied, only then spotting figures moving in the shadows on the far side of the car park.
‘What is it?’ said Kenny.
‘There’s somebody there,’ said Eddie. The dull yellow glow of a nearby sodium street light was hampering his night vision. ‘Stay here,’ he said, and took several steps forward, through the brick entrance.
‘You’re early, English,’ a male voice said.
Eddie pointed the Browning in its direction, but his eyes had still not adjusted.
‘Show yourself,’ Eddie ordered. He heard Kenny getting out of the Lancia behind him, then saw the burning ember of a cigarette. ‘I said, show yourself. Now!’
A man emerged from the shadows, hands up by his head, and stepped forward. He showed no fear of the weapon being directed at his midriff.
‘No need for the weapon, my friend. We’re only here to do business’. Eddie realised that the man was speaking in a Dutch accent. ‘I am Jens,’ said the man, holding out a hand. Eddie kept the pistol pointed at the approaching man.
‘It’s alright, Eddie,’ said Kenny. ‘That’s our guy’. Kenny walked up to the man and shook the Dutchman’s hand. Eddie lowered the pistol and moved back to the car. ‘Good to see you again, Jens,’ he heard Kenny say.
‘And you, Kenny. It’s been too long, yes?’ He gestured behind him. ‘Matthijs and Basti are here with me, in our van’. He looked back towards the red hatchback, an eyebrow raised. ‘I am thinking you don’t have my hash in that, no?’
‘Nah, Charlie and Rog have it. They’re in a truck parked up the road’. The Dutchman peered out of the entrance back up the street.
‘Don’t you guys trust me any more, Ken?’
‘Course we trust you, mate. Can’t be driving a truckload of dope in here without checking for the cops first though, can we?’ Kenny turned back to face Eddie who was standing behind the car door. ‘Give your bruv the all-clear, son’.
Eddie turned to face Bill, who was still sitting on the back seat. ‘What the fuck’s he playing at? There could be half a dozen blokes over there waiting to ambush us for all we know. What happened to scoping the place out first?’
Bill shrugged. ‘Ken knows the geezer, they go back years. It’ll be fine’.
‘I hope you both know what you’re doing,’ said Eddie, he started up the Lancia and pulled it inside the vehicle park, behind the wall then reached for the radio’s mic. ‘Fat Boy, this is Jack Rabbit over’.
There was no answer, just a low-level white noise. Kenny and the Dutchman approached the car.
‘Problem?’ said the Dutchman, a fresh cigarette in hand.
Eddie ignored them and tried the radio again.‘Fat Boy, this is Jack Rabbit, come in please’.
To Eddie’s relief,
Charlie’s voice came back over the two-way. Kenny grinned and lit a cigarette for himself. He was far too relaxed for Eddie’s liking.
‘Jack Rabbit, this is Fat Boy. Are we good to proceed to the party, over?’ Eddie looked over his shoulder at Kenny and the Dutchman, who could have been two friends catching up in the pub on a Friday night.
‘It seems so,’ said Eddie. ‘We’re with the host, over’.
‘Copy that, Jack Rabbit. We'll be with you in two minutes, over and out’.
Eddie placed the mic back. ‘Now what?’ he said.
The Dutchman seemed amused. ‘Now, you give me a shit load of drugs, and I give you a big bag of money. Come this way’. He turned and started strolling across the dimly lit car park, Kenny at his side.
‘I don’t fucking like this,’ said Eddie. He started up the engine and flicked on the sidelights - just enough to give a better field of vision but not too bright to attract attention. The Dutchman pointed towards the white van where his two colleagues stood, arms crossed. Eddie felt for the reassuring bulk of the Browning in his belt as the Lanica crawled behind the walking Dutchman and Kenny.
The headlights of the lorry appeared in the rearview mirror, as it passed through the entrance into the port. ‘Might as well announce our presence to the whole fucking world,’ Eddie mumbled. He pulled up several spaces from the van, positioning the car for a speedy getaway and remained in his seat with the engine running. The truck pulled up next to the Dutch vehicle, and the two groups of men got to work.
The fifty bales of hash transferred from truck to van in under five minutes, then Jens handed Charlie a black duffel bag. Eddie watched as his brother peered inside to examine the contents. Satisfied, he shook the Dutchman’s hand and signalled to the other Brits to depart.
‘You let me know if you can get another shipment, okay?’ said Jens as Charlie walked away.
Kenny climbed back into the passenger seat of the Lancia after letting Bill in the back. ‘See. Nothing to worry about,’ he said, as Eddie pulled away.
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