Chapter 16
In Tony's world it was growing close to the time when Jimmy Costard's entourage were preparing for the bullion job and the young getaway driver was nowhere to be found. Jimmy had asked John Mason to try and locate him but all the trails he followed led to a big fat dead end.
"I'm sorry, Jimmy but Wilcox has gone to ground. Looks like he's done a runner, left his job and his home, there's no trace of his whereabouts. It looks to me as if he's bottled it and run off somewhere far away until the job's over. If we had the time I could probably track him down eventually, but what's the point Jimmy we don't have the time to waste on him. Even if we did get to him, Wilcox would be an unwilling participant anyway. Maybe we should just forget him."
"That little shit could stuff us up completely, I was relying on him for the getaway and we're too short of time to find anyone else. Fuck... I invested time and money in that loser John. What really hurts is that I thought he was one of the team, a bit reluctant maybe at first but I thought he'd come round to our way of thinking. He could have done well out of this."
"He was never one of the team Jimmy, he was just scared for his safety."
"Maybe... but John no way am I going to forget that snivelling bastard. When this is over he's going to pay, mark my words John." Jimmy let fly with an expletive and looked at Mason with a knowing expression.
Mason nodded with an acknowledgement that the retribution Costard wanted to fall on Tony Wilcox would be another job for him. Mason did not dislike Tony but a job was a job... it was what he did.
"This bullion heist is just too sweet to let it slip away, what with all the planing that's gone into it and everything. Tell me honestly John, do you think Kevin would be up to the driving?"
"If you want my honest opinion, I'd have to say no... I'd volunteer myself but I'm going to be busy playing tunes on my shotgun."
"Yeah... I know, there's no way I can spare you from the main action, I need you in the shop with me. What about Darren then?"
"Of the two I think he's more likely to keep his nerve, but I don't have a clue what his high speed driving skill is like. Why not give him a dummy run?"
"Yeah that makes sense, thing is time's not on our side... all that dummy run stuff was supposed to be sorted by now." Costard banged his fist on the table and sent a full ash tray skidding across the floor. "OK we'll give Darren a run, I only hope he's up to this, or we'll be royally screwed. Christ I wish I could get my hands on that Wilcox, I'd fucking wring his neck myself... save you a job."
"Time to move on Jimmy, forget the lad, he's not worth the trouble."
"I'll move on John but this is not forgotten, not by a long fucking way."
Darren was only slightly more willing to be the getaway driver than Tony but he had a lot more to gain from a successful outcome and agreed to try the dummy run. In the event he completed the run about thirty seconds slower than Tony had done but he did not crash and was almost convincing as a fast driver. Jimmy decided that he would go with Darren, his logic was that although Darren was not in the same league as Tony, the escape route had been so well thought out and in any case they should have a good head start. It was still going to be a piece of piss. There was general agreement among the team that the job should go ahead as planned. Basically the Bullion Exchange job looked too much like low hanging fruit to all of them. It would be almost criminal not to take advantage of the opportunity they saw just within their grasp.
On the day of the job Tony, who had managed to pick up some casual work flipping burgers, felt nervous as if he expected Jimmy or John Mason to burst in on him and drag him off. He was suffering from some understandable withdrawal paranoia now that his medicinal supplies had dried up. To say that he was twitchy was an understatement of massive proportions. At least he was making enough to keep a roof over his head now and clutched on to the hope that he would not be discovered. His future was uncertain and for the moment Tony Wilcox was living one day at a time and not trying to think too deeply about anything.
Back where the action was, the players were all fuelled on adrenaline. John was probably the best prepared of the team. He dressed in his urban survival outfit. This consisted of a reversible field jacket; a dark charcoal colour on one side and light green when turned inside out. Ideal for surveillance... or avoiding it. It was equipped with a lot of large secure pockets and there was a hood which, when needed, could equally well deflect rain or watching eyes. John placed a cloth cap in one of the pockets and some spare cash. Its pockets also contained a universal tool, a small torch, a lighter and some electrical ties which were useful as emergency handcuffs. The other part of his survival kit was strapped to his right leg, just above the ankle. It was a sheath knife, slender bladed and razor sharp which he had made good use of in the past.
Of the others only Annabel had taken any special care to dress for the part and concealed herself under a dark wig and more make up than she normally wore. As the time for her performance arrived Annabel took a last nervous drag from her cigarette, double checked her make-up and wig and walked into the Bullion Exchange as if she was an experienced gold investor. Annabel soon had the manager under her spell.
"So you would have no difficulty in supplying say a quarter of a million pounds worth by the end of business today Mr McKenzie." Mr McKenzie tried not to appear too eager, he held his burgeoning grin in check.
"It's a large transaction Madam but it's well within our capacity. We have serviced larger orders in the past."
"Excellent, I take it you can arrange secure delivery... My husband has had a substantial strong room constructed in our cellar, behind the rack of Montrechet... do you enjoy a nice wine Mr McKenzie?"
"I must confess to being a man of the grain rather than the grape."
"Ah, each to his own."
The manager smiled, the commission on a transaction of this scale would be most welcome. He lifted his eyes as he saw two men entering and felt a trace of disquiet about their appearance, maybe it was the balaclava masks that had been pulled down over their faces. Or maybe the disquiet lay more in the sawn off shotguns.
Costard dropped two aluminium cases on the top of the glass display with an alarming clatter. The display, under a soft but sparkling light, held not only, samples of gold and silver bars, but South African Krugerrands, Turkish Republic gold coins, Canadian maple leaf coins, Chinese gold pandas, American Eagle and Australian kangaroo gold coins. There was also jewellery and gold chains offered for sale to the discriminating and wealthy purchaser.
"Fill these with gold and no one need get hurt... bars and coins will do nicely." Costard said through the muffling of his balaclava.
"I simply can not do that." The manager said as he edged closer to the alarm switch.
"Keep your hands where I can see them, we don't want no alarm bells going off to disturb the peace do we?"
Annabel butted into the conversation.
"This is an absolute disgrace... Just who do you think you are you pathetic little man."
"Show the lady who we think we are Tiger." Costard said to Mason. "If you think I'm frightened of your..."
Mason pulled both triggers and the resulting shock wave would probably have been enough to convince the manager to be more cooperative. The spray of blood from Annabel's coat was the icing on the cake as she fell backwards and crumpled in a heap on the polished marble floor.
"Christ almighty, OK OK.... give me a moment, I'll need to open the safe in the back." The man was was pale and shaking, Thoughts of his wife and daughter flashed before his eyes. His immediate survival was the only thing that motivated his actions.
Alarmed by the noise, another face appeared at the rear doorway.
"Come and join the party Sonny." Costard said emphasising his words with a menacing thrust of his gun.
"Do as he says James." Alistair McKenzie said to his assistant."It will be fine if we just cooperate."
As they left the Bullion Exchange, Jimmy Costard and John Mason carrie
d two very heavy aluminium attaché cases and Annabel who had made a sudden and unexpected recovery was close on their heels. Jimmy allowed himself a brief smile as he contemplated being a good step closer to his retirement goals with enough spare to keep his lads bathing in champagne for the foreseeable future. It was now all down to Darren, all they had to do was make a clean getaway and they would be in clover.
As luck would have it a police patrol car was parked just over the rise from the Bullion Exchange. The two officers had been on a routine enquiry and had stopped outside the sandwich bar to grab some refreshments. A practise not strictly allowed but it was a quiet day and anyway, everyone did it. Gavin Williams was the driver, eight years in the job; he mostly tried to keep his head down. His young partner Peter Coles walked back to the car with a couple of cans of drink and a fistful of cling-filmed sandwiches. Peter was new to the job, three weeks new, and had the bright eyed keenness of all recent recruits. His Mum had sent him off that morning with a warning to be careful as she brushed lint from his uniform. Peter told her that he was fully trained and well able to take care of himself. Gavin knew that his partner's keenness would soon be chipped away to leave, if he was lucky, a resigned acceptance that a policeman's lot was not necessarily a happy one.
Darren's blood pressure was through the roof as he waited for the off. He could feel his heart ponding in his chest, the veins in his neck resonating to the same rapid rhythm while his face was blotched scarlet. As he watched Annabel, now drenched in fake blood, get in the front seat beside him, Jimmy's words sang in his ears with an unnecessary urgency.
"Go, go, go."
He floored the throttle and the BMW surged off in a cloud of rubber smoke, the wheels bouncing on the tarmac as the tyres scrabbled for grip.
"Take it easy Darren..." Jimmy called from the back seat. "You've got this... No need to panic."
The sound of alarms were already wailing their call for help as Darren headed for safety at full speed. The wait had been interminable and he was at breaking point as the BMW squirmed down the High street.
The first bites from the policemen's sandwiches had just been taken when they heard the alarm and simultaneously received a message on the radio. It was Peter's first chase and he almost choked on his cheese and pickle with the excitement as the siren and flashing lights heralded the high speed chase. Cresting the rise they could see a metallic grey BMW slithering around the corner in the distance, a shroud of tyre smoke indicating their determination to get away. Gavin was equally determined that they would not get away and accelerated hard.
"The driver's an amateur." Gavin said as he gave chase. "Look he's completely out of control, we'll soon have them."
To Darren's dismay, after having travelled only the length of the High Street, there was already a police car on their tail. This definitely did not fit in with what he had expected. Darren was an adequate driver when he was under no pressure but with the flashing lights gaining on him Jimmy's calming words were lost to him. He took the first turn far too fast and the car slipped sideways and bounced off a parked plumber's van before he was able to wrestle it back under control.
Darren could hear Jimmy's voice cajoling him from the back seat.
"Christ Darren, be careful... Here turn here... Shit... slow down, you're going to miss... shit!"
Darren wound on too much lock, he had already overshot the apex and there was no chance he could make the turn. The BMW slewed completely edge on to the road and Darren was no longer in control of the progress. As the tyres found some lateral grip, a gentle bump in the road was enough to start the roll. The car rolled sideways once, twice, three times spinning in the air and throwing the passengers around like a load of washing in a front loader. As the car lost its inertia it slid along on the road on its side with sparks flying like a firework display.
The container truck had just negotiated the corner at the top of the hill and had accelerated down the slope to a whisker over the posted speed limit. By the time the driver saw the BMW sliding towards him, the closing speed was just too much for him to avoid the collision. He put all his weight on the brake pedal and his tyres locked with a screech of protest. The rear of the articulated truck looked as if it was going to come round on him but the driver managed to keep his rig straight. However, the outcome was inevitable, the car and the truck became one. The front of the BMW ending under the engine of the truck after a violent ripping of metal and smashing of glass. The container truck was carrying a lot of energy and it dragged the BMW with it for twenty metres before finally there was quiet. Only the hiss of steam escaping from the burst radiators and the distant howl of sirens filled the sudden stillness.
John Mason was conscious but his knee had been smashed. He looked at the front passengers. Both Darren and Annabel were clearly dead; no one could suffer that level of damage and still be alive. The sudden realization came to him that he was on top of Jimmy. As he released his seat belt, Mason's weight dropped onto the gang leader and he heard him groan.
"Come on Jimmy we need to get out of here fast, let me help you..."
"No John... I'm fuckin' done for this time; my leg's trapped under the seat I can't move." He looked ghostly pale and his eyes were starting to roll up behind his lids. There was bright scarlet blood on the corners of his mouth. John made one last effort to free Jimmy but he could see it was useless. All the time the sound of the siren was getting closer, Mason could now see the flashing lights reflecting in the blood splattered interior. He heard Jimmy speaking in a whispered wheezing voice:
"This is down to that Wilcox bastard; make sure he gets what's coming to him... Take the gold John as payment for one last contract... I want that snivelling fucker dead."
"OK Jimmy if that's what you want; one last contract; I won't let you down."
Jimmy was fading fast.
"I know I can trust you John." Costard coughed and a spray of blood left his crushed lungs; go on now get out of here; save yourself."
The blood was starting to flow from his mouth and his eyes turned glassy. There was a last gurgling sound from the man as Mason kicked at the door which opened above his head. He climbed out and looked around. The street was quiet apart from the police car which was now almost upon them. The truck driver looked to be OK but was sitting stunned, in deep shock still in his cab. Mason dipped his hand back into the car and withdrew one of the attaché cases.
"I'll keep your share safe Jimmy, best of luck." But there was no reply from big Jimmy Costard.
Mason jumped down from the car and winced with the pain from his knee. He rolled on the road and then recovered his feet and picked up the attaché case. The weight was almost too much for him. They had never intended having to carry it far. Behind him he saw that the police car had stopped but he could hear more sirens in the distance. There were two officers; one was already securing the scene with traffic cones. The other officer was running at top speed towards him. He assessed the situation; the policeman was young, fast; naive. With his damaged knee, John knew he could not outrun his pursuer. He made it to a nearby alleyway and stood, his back against the wall, just past the alley entrance. His hand went down to his ankle and he felt for the knife. Mason could hear the running footsteps getting closer. He could tell the young cop was running blindly without thinking ahead. As the young cop turned the corner, holding onto the edge of the wall to help him swing though his turn, Mason heaved the case to chest height and swung it at the hapless youngster. The full force of an aluminium case filled with gold, smashed into his chest. He stopped, winded, surprised. Mason swiftly stepped behind him, pushed his foot into the back of the policeman's knee and the officer sank down. Mason held the young man's chin from behind with his left hand and pulled upwards exposing the soft flesh of his throat. Flashing the polished blade of his knife in front of the policeman's eyes he then drew it across the young man's neck. Peter felt the sharp sting of the razor edged knife and then the warm flow of blood tricking down his neck and soaking into his newl
y laundered shirt. Adopting a practised Scots accent as an extra smokescreen Mason issued a warning to the young man:
"That cut should be enough to get you a commendation laddie, don't give me any more trouble and it won't have to be awarded posthumously... Now give us that wee pair of handcuffs."
The young officer did as he was told and felt his ankles being cuffed together. John picked up his case and walked to the next corner. The cut to the young copper's neck was superficial, done simply for impact. Even so the lad felt his vision turning black as he fainted and fell against the cold pavement. John reversed his jacket to show the pale green colour, put on the cap low over his eyes and walked to the next corner, his arm dragging with the weight of the gold. He was now back to a busier part of town and he saw with satisfaction that a bus had stopped and was picking up passengers. Despite his painful knee and the heavy case, John increased his pace and managed to lift himself onto the bus just before the doors closed. Someone had left a newspaper on one of the seats. He picked it up as he made his way to the back of the bus. Taking a seat, he placed the attaché case next to him, opened the newspaper and became invisible behind the financial news. Mason noticed with satisfaction that the price of gold was up five percentage points today.
As the bus continued on its journey the sound of sirens slowly dissolved into the distance until they were barely distinguishable above the general traffic noise. Now that his levels of adrenaline were falling, his knee was starting to throb painfully and as he adjusted his position on his seat he noticed that the scruffy looking teenager who had followed him to the back of the bus was nervously eyeing Mason's case. He knew what the kid was thinking. A nice case like that must have something inside worth nicking. If only the kid knew. Mason was tempted to toss him a Krugerrand for his cheek, but that was never going to happen; the fewer people who knew about the contents of his attaché case the better. Mason raised the bottom hem of his trousers just enough to show the kid a glimpse of his knife.
"Don't even think about it Sonny..." He growled through his assumed accent which had now become Irish.
The young man got off at the next stop and Mason followed him. As they left the bus the teenager took to his heels and ran off down the street.
Mason hailed a taxi and was gone. He knew there would be no more work for him in this town; it really was time he moved on anyway. But there was one last contract that he needed to undertake. There was no anger involved in it for John Mason. It was a matter of professional pride, a matter of honour to the memory of a lost comrade.
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