Widows

by Lynda La Plante

  Two men unloading crates of fruit didn’t pay any attention to her, and another man she passed said, “Morning, mate.” So, he thought she was a fella. Perfect.

  Taking the tarpaulin off the laundry van, Dolly chucked it into the back. She then felt for the key beneath the right wheel arch, but couldn’t immediately find it. Had Linda forgotten to leave it there? She got down on her knees and looked under the arch, but still couldn’t find it. The two men looked over. Dolly tried to control her panic as she felt all round the wheel. Then a glint of metal on the ground under the wheel axle caught her eye. She breathed a sigh of relief and picked up the key.

  Dolly got into the laundry van and, taking deep breaths to calm herself, checked the hockey bag containing the shotgun and sledgehammer was still there. She opened the bag, placed the sledgehammer on top a pile of laundry near the rear doors and placed the shotgun under the driver’s seat. Next, she climbed into the seat and pulled the harness over her shoulders, buckling it up and pulling the straps as tight as she could. She rocked back and forth to make certain she was secure.

  Placing the key in the ignition, she turned it and the engine cranked over but didn’t start. She tried two more times without success. “Come on, come on . . .” Dolly whispered. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the two market traders looking over in her direction, but she didn’t dare look at them in case they came over to help her. Dolly dipped her head to regain composure. Oh, Linda . . . I’m gonna kill you if this doesn’t start. Dolly had tested the van, she was familiar with it; why wasn’t it working now?

  “Pull the bloody choke out and pump the accelerator, mate!” one of the market men shouted. Dolly remembered what Linda had told her.

  The engine started instantly and, once ticking over, it sounded good. Dolly raised her hand in thanks. Crunching into first gear, Dolly let her foot off the clutch too quickly, sending the van lurching forward. She could hear the men laughing at her. “Fucking idiot!” one of them shouted. She ignored them. She just wanted to get out of there.

  Back in the lock-up, Bella lifted up the chainsaw to test it out one more time. She’d padded up her shoulders so much she looked like a weightlifter on steroids. As she pulled the cord to start the saw, it slipped out of her hand. She’d never tried to start the saw wearing elbow length rubber gloves before and her hands were sweating profusely inside them. After a couple more attempts, she got the hang of it. She noticed Linda looking over at her hands.

  “You’re obsessed, woman! I got gloves on for Chrissakes. I got ’em on, all right?” Bella said as she put the chainsaw in the rear of the van.

  Linda looked over at Shirley. It wasn’t the fact she hadn’t put on her gloves on yet that angered her. “You got eye make-up on! You’ve bloody got eye make-up on!”

  “No, I ain’t!” Shirley shouted. “It’s no sleep and puking makes me look like this.”

  As Bella passed Linda she whispered, “Lay off her, all right? It’ll only take a couple of seconds to wipe it off.”

  “It ain’t make-up!” Shirley repeated, moving toward Linda so she could see her close up. “Leave me alone—just leave me alone! I’m not stupid.”

  Bella stepped between them, “Pack it in! You ain’t mad with each other, you’re stressed. But keep a lid on it, yeah?” Linda put a gentle hand on Shirley’s shoulder; no more words were needed.

  Linda opened the driver’s door of the van, climbed in and tucked her shotgun under the passenger seat.

  Bella put her arm around Shirley’s shoulders. “It’s time for us to go. Dolly will be on her way to her start position. This is it, ladies . . . you good and ready?”

  Shirley nodded, as did Linda. “Let’s do it!”

  Bella and Shirley heaved open the garage doors for Linda to drive out, then closed and locked them before jumping in the back of the van. None of them noticed that the garage doors where the Alsatian lived were open, nor saw the dark-haired man in the BMW watching them.

  Eight months ago to the day, Terry Miller, Joe Pirelli and Jimmy Nunn had driven a van from this very same lock-up to do the very same robbery.

  “Let’s go!” Terry shouted, and a thumbs-up from Jimmy told him that they were all set. While Jimmy’s hand was in the air, Terry clocked Harry’s watch on his wrist. “Bleedin’ ’ell! Nice watch!”

  Jimmy turned and smiled. “He said he was trading it in for the latest model as soon as this is all over. Suits me, don’t it?” Jimmy turned his wrist to let the light catch the diamond-encrusted face.

  Terry looked at Joe and they both smirked. “That’s not the only model Harry’s trading in after this job.” Terry snickered, nodding toward an oblivious Jimmy. “His missus is a right little raver and Jim can’t keep up with her. But Harry can . . .”

  Joe laughed as Jimmy pulled out of the lock-up. “A watch in exchange for his bird. Seems like a good deal to me.”

  Chapter 30

  It didn’t take Dolly long to get from the market traders’ underground car park to her start point, about two minutes away from the security firm’s depot in Battersea. She was now parked up in a side street with the engine running. She could see the depot entrance from where she was and, as the heavy iron gates opened, she knew the security wagon would come out, turn right and then right again at the end of the road toward her. The sky was clear, the roads were clear—conditions were perfect. The rush hour traffic was just getting out of bed and London had no idea what was about to happen.

  Timing was imperative, as the gap between the security wagon and the car in front of it widened—this was where Dolly’s laundry van had to end up. There could be nothing in between them.

  The security wagon was forty yards away, then thirty. At twenty yards, Dolly calmly pulled out into the road. She had timed it perfectly. The security wagon didn’t even have to brake to let her out.

  As they traveled along York Road toward Waterloo Bridge roundabout, Dolly realized how important it had been to get the route plan. It would only be a matter of minutes now before they turned left at the roundabout and northward over Waterloo Bridge toward the Strand underpass. Dolly hoped to God the girls had left the lock-up and were in position.

  As they headed toward the Strand underpass, Dolly moved out slightly to get a better view in her nearside mirror. Linda was in position, behind the security wagon. Dolly moved back into lane and slowed to twenty miles per hour to allow the vehicles in front to pull away from her. Then she pressed her foot hard down on the accelerator and watched the speedometer.

  The laundry van picked up speed quicker than she expected—thirty, thirty-five, forty, as they entered the underpass. Dolly glanced in the wing mirror; the security wagon was right behind her, right on her tail. Dolly pressed the accelerator further; as the speedometer reached fifty, she saw the glimmer of light at the end of the underpass and pulled her balaclava down over her face. She glanced in the wing mirror again and, judging that the gap between her and the security wagon was just right, she slammed on the brakes. The security wagon smashed into the back of the laundry van, the front of the wagon totally crumpling as it was brought to an instant halt. Dolly was thrown forward, but the harness protected her from the full force of the impact.

  Grinding the van’s gear into first, she moved sharply forward a few feet and then hard into reverse, slamming the laundry van’s rear bumper into the crippled wagon. Dolly could hear the crunch of metal, the shattering of glass and then the sound of hissing steam coming from the wagon’s radiator. She thanked God for the harness—she’d been jerked about so hard she thought her chest would crack open. Undoing the buckle, she grabbed the gas mask from the gear stick and dived into the back of the van. She stood at the rear door, gas mask on, shotgun hanging by her side from the makeshift belt, sledgehammer in hand. Then she kicked the back doors of the van wide open and threw the sledgehammer right at the center of the security wagon’s windscreen. The reinforced glass didn’t even crack. Dolly swung her shotgun up into position, chest high, and poin
ted it directly at the two stunned, panic-stricken security guards.

  “DON’T MOVE!” she screamed. Her voice sounding deep, distorted and frightening.

  The security guards lifted their hands above their heads. One shouted to the guard in the back: “They’re armed!”

  At exactly the same time, Shirley flung open the back doors of their follow van and hurled two smoke canisters at the cars behind them. Instantly, the smoke began to billow and hiss, clouding visibility. She then clambered on top of the security wagon and, removing wire cutters from her pocket, cut the radio aerial.

  Grabbing the sawed-off from under the passenger seat, Linda took up position at the rear of the follow van. A man was getting out of his Fiat, but when Linda raised the gun and waved it at him, he quickly got back in and locked the doors, just as another car slammed into the back of him. The second driver put her car into reverse, but it stalled. Linda ran over and smashed the windscreen with the butt of the shotgun. The terrified woman screamed and covered her face, giving Linda plenty of time to grab the ignition keys and throw them away. Then she stepped back to her initial position and stood, legs apart, with the shotgun raised.

  Bella leapt from the follow van behind Shirley, ran to the nearside of the security wagon and started up the chainsaw. Hot sparks flew around the side of the van as the saw cut through the metal like butter.

  Inside the back of the van, the sound was deafening and the guard trembled in fear as he watched the blade emerge through the metal. He had no idea what was on the other side, no idea what or who was coming through at him, no idea if he was going to live or die.

  It took less than thirty seconds for Bella to make a cut big enough to peel the metal back. Shirley handed Bella her shotgun and she stuck it through the hole she’d cut. She waved the barrel of the gun toward the rear doors and the guard opened up.

  As Bella stepped into the back of the security wagon, the terrified guard unlocked the money cabinet. She then forced him out of the van. Linda pointed her shotgun at him and indicated that he should lie on the ground. Shaking with fear, the guard did exactly as he was told.

  Shirley climbed into the back of the security wagon and started to cut through the interior wire cage with her cutters. This was the slowest part of the process and, after a few seconds, Bella nudged Shirley out of the way, fired up the chainsaw again and, with one swipe, cut enough of the wire cage away to access the money bags. Shirley then began stuffing them into the open rucksack on Bella’s back and, as soon as it was full, she slapped Bella on the shoulder.

  Terrified members of the public watched from the safety of their cars as Bella took over from Linda. Holding the shotgun up to keep the public and the guards at bay, Linda ran to the wagon so Shirley could fill her rucksack. Linda’s breath heaved, and her wet ski-mask dragged in and out of her mouth. As Shirley filled her rucksack, Linda could feel it getting heavier. Once it was full, she stuffed the rest of the money into Shirley’s rucksack.

  As Linda and Shirley jumped out of the security wagon, Shirley caught her rucksack on the door latch and dangled there like a rag doll. Linda was already sprinting toward the exit of the underpass on the Strand side, but Bella was quickly at Shirley’s side. Once she was unhooked, they both followed Linda as fast as their legs could carry them under the cumbersome weight of a third of a million pounds each.

  Dolly still stood in position in the rear of the laundry van, her heart beating like mad as first Linda and then Bella ran past her. She looked out of the van and saw two men running quickly behind Shirley. One of them dived forward and rugby-tackled her to the ground with a heavy thud. Her padding cushioned her fall, but she twisted her ankle.

  Quick as a flash, Dolly leapt from the back of the laundry van and fired a shot into the air. Both have-a-go heroes hurled themselves flat on their stomachs with their hands covering their heads as shattered ceiling tiles from the underpass showered down on them. A shard of tile lodged itself into the neck of one of them and he started screaming that he’d been shot.

  Shirley clambered to her feet and ran precariously toward the exit of the underpass. She only managed a few steps before she was in trouble and started to hobble from the pain and instant swelling in her ankle. But she carried on and didn’t look back.

  Dolly looked at the carnage they were leaving behind and thanked God that they’d not seriously hurt anyone. She’d never been so scared in her entire life. Members of the public were lying down across the front seats of their cars; the guard from the back of the security wagon was face down on the ground, as were the have-a-go heroes. The power was exhilarating—but she had to get the hell out of there.

  She glanced up the underpass to see how far Shirley had got. It wasn’t far and she was now dragging her injured leg behind her, while Linda and Bella were nowhere to be seen. Behind Dolly, the guards in the front of the security wagon were opening their doors to get out. She still had one live cartridge left in the double-barreled shotgun and as she leapt into the back of the laundry van she fired it above the roof of the security wagon. The two guards ducked and ran back down the underpass toward the end they’d entered.

  Linda and Bella had made it to the parked getaway van with the fake GLC logos on the side, but there was still no sign of Shirley coming out of the underpass. They threw their rucksacks in the back of the van and Bella climbed in after them while Linda jumped in the driver’s seat and started the engine. At first Bella thought Linda was driving off without Shirley, but then she shouted: “Hold on tight!” and screeched across the front of the oncoming traffic. Cars swerved, mounted pavements and hit each other as Linda bounced over the central reservation and headed back toward the underpass. As Shirley hobbled out into the daylight, Linda pulled the handbrake on hard and the van skidded into a 180-degree turn so that the back was now facing Shirley. Bella flung open the rear door and, with her arms outstretched, grabbed hold of Shirley and hauled her in. Linda, with gears grinding and tires spinning, burning rubber, accelerated away.

  Dolly had been right on Shirley’s heels in the laundry van and had been about to pick her up when she saw her leap into Bella’s arms . . . they were safe! Dolly floored the van and drove off in the same direction as Linda, swerving onto the pavement to avoid the chaos Linda had left behind.

  In the distance, Dolly could hear the sound of police sirens and knew she could be in trouble. The speed of her getaway had been curtailed because of Shirley. It was now or never. Slowing as she reached a side alley, Dolly grabbed her small holdall, slid open the van door and jumped, already running in the air before her feet hit the ground.

  The laundry van swerved across the pavement and hurtled straight into a shop window. The glass shattered inward and two women shoppers ran for their lives. Dolly ran down the side alley, ripping off her gas mask and gloves and throwing them into a bin. As she neared the end of the alley, she slowed to a walk in the hope that she’d have got her breath back by the time she emerged and mingled with the commuters. She rolled her balaclava back up so it looked like a woolly hat again, stepped out into the crowds and headed toward the Victorian underground toilets near the Transport Museum in Covent Garden.

  Linda had driven up Kingsway and then taken a left into the back streets off the Strand, toward the multi-story car park. She pulled up in Floral Street near Covent Garden market, where it was reasonably quiet. Linda and Shirley handed Bella their balaclavas and she put them in a black bin bag along with hers. Bella jumped out of the back of the van and, checking no one was watching, Bella ripped the magnetic GLC signs from the Escort van and snapped them in half before putting them in the bin bag as well. Next, she removed the two false plates, exposing the real number plates underneath. The false plates were the final things to go into the bin bag, before Bella tied it up and threw it onto a pile of rubbish awaiting collection. There were only a few people about, and none of them seemed to take any notice. Thank God you’re all engrossed in your own lives, Bella thought to herself as she jumped back in t
he passenger seat next to Linda.

  Shirley was lying in the back of the van surrounded by the rucksacks, sobbing her heart out. Bella turned in her seat and, reaching over, took hold of Shirley’s hand and squeezed it tight. “We did it Shirley, we did it. We did it!”

  Dolly was gasping for breath by the time she reached the toilets. She gripped the metal safety rail for support as she hurried down the steps, straight into a cubicle and sat down on the toilet seat. She was sweating like mad and felt as if she was about to have a heart attack. As her breathing calmed, she felt so dizzy that she had to brace her hands against the cubicle wall to stop herself from fainting. Dolly closed her eyes and focused on breathing normally. As her body started to calm, her mind was screaming: I did it! Dear God, Harry. HARRY, I DID IT!

  Dolly took a number of deep breaths, exhaling slowly and, when her pulse rate had subsided enough, she stood up and removed her balaclava, overalls and plimsolls. She already had on a dark sweater and trousers under the overalls and, opening the holdall, she removed some shoes, a thin waist-length jacket and a scarf. When she had put everything on, she took out her handbag and put it over her shoulder. Checking her watch, she hoped and prayed that the others had made it safely to the multi-story car park. She was tempted to go straight there as it was so near, but she had to stick to the plan.

  Linda drove the van into the three-story car park, nervously wondering if Dolly had managed to make a safe getaway. Bella saw the look of concern on her face.

  “Don’t you waste time worrying about Dolly. She’s a tough old cow.”

  Linda smiled. Bella was a real smart-arse mind-reader at times.

  Dropping Shirley by her Mini Estate on level one, Linda parked near Dolly’s Mercedes on the upper level and she and Bella loaded the rucksacks full of money into the boot before going over to Linda’s Ford Capri. Both women took one last look at their money, all piled up in the boot of Dolly’s Merc.