Stealth

by Stan Mason

  ‘You’re all going away for a long time and it’ll be my pleasure to arrange for it to happen.’

  Trenchard opened a few more wrappers and then went over to him holding the small blocks of newspaper cuttings taken from the bank plastic wrappers. He touched the arm of the senior police officer gently but he took no notice of his subordinate. ’And as for you, Mr. Wilson,’ continued Marley in full flow, ‘you’re going away for the rest of your life. ‘I’ll see to that personally.’

  ‘Sir,’ cut in Trenchard trying to gain his attention.

  ‘Don’t spoil my moment, Trenchard!’ he shouted in the middle of his tirade, He turned to Ginger with his tongue in his cheek and smiled at him evilly. ‘You seem a bright young man. I could arrange for them to go lightly on you if you co-operate.’

  Trenchard became more desperate. ‘Sir!’ he repeated in a louder voice. ‘You must see this!’

  The senior police officer denied him again, turning to Fred Wilson menacingly. ‘I’ll have you breaking up rocks from morning to night, Wilson’’ he threatened, You’ll regret the day you were ever born!’ he snarled.

  ‘Sir!’ persisted the junior police officer becoming more desperate to gain the other man’s attention before he went any further.

  ‘What is it, Trenchard!’ growled Marley, angry at being constantly interrupted. The junior police officer held out the first block of newspaper cuttings in front of him so that he could see it. Marley glanced down at it, reading the headline aloud. ‘The European Union...’ he stopped short as he realised what was happening. He looked at the top newspaper cutting closer reading the headline again and stopped in his tracks, ‘What is this?‘ he demanded tersely before going over to the rest of the large plastic boxes. He tossed the top one on to the floor, opened the second one, and tore open some of the bank wrappers to find that they were all filled with newspaper cuttings. ‘What the hell’s going on?’ he demanded furiously. ’There’s no money here!. What’s happened to all the bloody money from the bank?’ Suddenly his case against Fred Wilson started to vanish swiftly into thin air and worst still, there arose another mystery as to what had happened to the money. The case was beginning to mushroom into something far bigger than Fred Wilson who seemingly, at the moment, was in the clear.

  Brad suddenly realised what was happening and he rose to occasion. ‘We keep getting people dumping newspapers in this place and I want to make a complaint about this fly-tipping to the police. It’s criminal ... against the law! Just as well you’re here to witness it.’

  Marley didn’t hear a word he said. He was too engrossed in self-torture, huffing and puffing at the twist in the tail and, frantically, he began to open all the boxes only to find all the bank wrappers filled with newspaper cuttings.

  ‘Did you think we robbed a bank and brought the money back here?’ submitted Wilson with tongue in cheek.

  ‘I know you robbed the bank!’ shouted Marley angrily, ‘but where’s the bloody money?’

  ‘We were simply taking away the bank’s rubbish,’ continued Brad, realising that they had got away with the crime, albeit they were bereft of the money they believed they had acquired.

  Marley realised that he couldn’t arrest the gang for stealing newspaper cuttings as all the Court would do would be to caution them and possibly put them on probation. That was not what the senior police officer desired. However his case for bank theft would never hold up because it was now apparent clear that no money had been taken by the gang.

  ‘Where’s the bloody money?’ he repeated almost inaudibly, feeling tears smarting his eyes. He had them in the palm of his hands and they had slipped through his fingers.

  All the members of the gang shook their heads as though they were totally innocent of the charge which indeed, in some ways, happened to be the case. Ultimately, after Marley had stormed out of the warehouse nursing his disappointment being unable to arrest his bete-noire, the police took the boxes away for fingerprinting and then left with their tails between their legs. After they had gone, Wilson jumped in the air with glee. He had got away with a bank robbery but his euphoria was soon badly dented when his colleague b brought him down to earth.

  ‘Well they can’t hang anything on us for the robbery,’ exclaimed Brad seriously, ‘but, at the same time, we didn’t get any money. I knew this thing was fishy from the start. I knew it!’

  Ginger put on the kettle to make them all a cup of tea. It was the third failure of the gang to obtain money by means of a bank raid and this time they were almost caught red-handed It was a case of facing up to reality and returning to their old style of making a living through theft and burglary. It suited Brad and it would soon suit them all!

  Chapter Fifteen

  Paula and Waverley waited at the railway station for the train to arrive to take them to Manchester.

  ‘How are you feeling now?’ she asked him with an element of concern in her voice.

  ‘Not too bad,‘ he responded. ‘I think it was just the shock of being hit over the head. It does pain me at the moment but it’ll go away in due course. Hopefully, by the time we get to the airport, I should be all right.’

  ‘We’ve got another twenty minutes before the train gets in. Let’s have a cup of coffee,’ she suggested. ‘In any case I want to buy some magazines for the journey.’

  They went to the small café adjoining the station and ordered some coffee and then Paula went to buy some magazines. Waverley sat alone nursing the pain in his head until suddenly a voice called out his name.

  ‘Neil,’ the word echoed across the café. ‘What are you doing here?’

  He looked up to see one of the actors from The Carlton Amateur Theatre Group and shuddered at the thought of being discovered leaving London.

  ‘Hi, Colin,’ he said, as the man approached the table. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’m seeing off a relative. My aunt stayed with my wife and myself last week. She’s going back to Salford tonight.

  ‘I see. Has anything much happened at rehearsal?’

  ‘Now that I recall.’ the man went on. ‘I haven’t seen you at rehearsals over the last couple of weeks. Where have you been? The Director’s really mad at you.’

  ‘I’ve been pretty busy lately,’ responded the banker lamely. ‘I’m just taking a short weekend break.’

  ‘On your own?’

  ‘No... my wife’s over there.’ He suddenly reflected what he had just said surprising himself at the comment. How could he have uttered such a falsehood and how did he connect Paula to such a relationship? Perhaps his sub-conscious knew more than his conscious mind was willing to admit.

  ‘Must go!’ said the man urgently. ‘The train will be in shortly and my aunt always insists on a seat with her back to the engine. See you at rehearsal next week.’

  He rushed off and Waverley sipped his coffee. ’No chance!’ he muttered to himself as Paula returned with a host of magazines under her arm.

  ‘Was that Colin Hardwood from rehearsal?’ she asked with surprise.

  ‘His aunt stayed with him for a week and he’s seeing her off.’ Waverley informed her. ‘He didn’t see you.’

  ‘It hardly matters,’ came the response. ‘Not any more.’

  There was a loud hoot as the train pulled into the station and they picked up their luggage and found themselves seats in one of the carriages. The journey was fairly long and the painkillers taken by the banker caused him to feel drowsy and fall asleep.

  When they arrived in Manchester, they hailed a taxi which took them to the airport. Paula went up to one of the travel desks and smiled at the attendant serving there.

  ‘I believe you’re holding two tickets in the name of Mr. and Mrs. de Vries,’ she advanced.

  Waverley’s body suddenly went rigid. He had a passport with the name of de Vries but what about Paula? As far
as he knew, all that she had was one in the name of Vivienne Splendour. However no one challenged her identity, and she was handed the flight tickets without question. After that, they went directly to the check-in counter, and placed their cases on the ramp which carried their luggage for loading onto the plane.

  ’Passports and tickets!’ demanded the check-in assistant. The woman took the documents and Waverley closed his eyes for ultimate rejection but Paula had not let him down. She had clearly arranged to have a passport in the name of Mrs. de Vries. ‘Here are your Boarding passes,’ stated the woman, pushing the documents towards them together with their passports. ‘You’re in seats Sixteen A and B. They’ll be boarding in half an hour at Gate Seven. Enjoy your flight.’

  They moved off and Waverley took hold of Paula’s hand. As far as he was concerned, she was a remarkable woman and he was very lucky to have her. Even better was the fact that she was in love with him.

  ‘Let’s have a cup of coffee while we wait,’ she suggested.

  ‘We’re off to the Argentine,’ he joked, ‘but there’s an awful lot of coffee in Brazil!’

  Paula burst into laughter. She truly loved the man and now she had him all to herself. The future really looked bright for them. When Gate Seven opened and they went through to the tarmac, Waverley turned and waved his arm vacantly.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked somewhat perplexed by his action.

  ‘I’m waving goodbye to my country,’ he told her sadly. ‘I don’t suppose I’ll ever come back again.’

  ‘Maybe you will. You can never tell.’

  He nodded slowly. ‘Yes... maybe!’

  They climbed the steps into the aircraft and made their way to their seats, placing their hand luggage in the locker above them.

  ‘Farewell England. Goodbye Prescot Bank.’ He paused for a second to stare at her. ‘You know you must be a witch. A good one, I would add. I can hardly believe all this is happening.’

  ‘Believe me,’ she returned. ‘It’s happening. You’re not suffering a delusional bump on the head. It’s definitely happening!’

  They strapped themselves into the seats as the engines of the aircraft increased to a roaring sound and the plane taxied along the runway before taking off and then rising high into the distance.

  Waverley began to relax for the first time in a week. He had been on edge, failing to sleep properly at night, worrying about his role in the robbery So many things could have gone wrong but, other than the knock on the head, everything had gone exactly to plan. He thought of the robbers in their hideout opening the bank wrappers with the newspaper cuttings and laughed internally. The bank inspectors would have no knowledge that he, Neil Waverley, had stolen all the money therefore no one would be searching for him with regard to the theft. He was absolutely in the clear. Paula stared at him as he shifted awkwardly in his seat and she sought to reduce the tension.

  ’You don’t have to worry any more, Neil,’ she told him. ’This is the last element of the plan. Let me tell you a joke. A passenger on a flight made his way to the pilot’s cabin and produced a gun which he pointed directly at the pilot. ’Take this plane to Paris!’ he ordered. ’But we’re going to Paris,’ replied the pilot somewhat perplexed. ’I know,’ said the passenger but the last time I took this trip it was hi-jacked to Cuba!’

  Waverley burst into laughter and then screwed up his face in pain and put his hand on the bandage covering his head. ’Please, Paula,’ he complained bitterly. ‘Don’t make jokes! It really hurts when I laugh! You know you fooled me with regard to our destination. I though we were going to the Caribbean Why didn’t you tell me about Argentina before?’

  I did so for good reason,’ came the answer. ‘You probably gave the bank your wife as your next of kin in case of emergency but you may also have given your mother’s name and address. When you go missing, the bank will call the police and they could track down your mother. If you told her you were going to Argentina it would narrow their search. And you know what your mother’s like. She’ll always tell it as it is. She’ll never lie. By not telling you, the police have absolutely nothing to go on. When things have settled down, say after six months, you can invite her to come and stay with us.’

  He nodded at her wisdom. She had actually thought and planed everything precisely. ‘What if something had gone wrong with the plan?‘ he forwarded weakly. ‘I could have been put away for life.’

  ‘As judge, jury and executioner,’ she told him, ‘that’s exactly the sentence you’ve just receiver. You’re mind for life. I’m not letting you get away. Not in a million years So, the truth is, that I‘m employed as your Guardian Angel permanently.! ’

  He nodded his head slowly as though accepting the fact. He recdgnised that he was a dull banker with his feet firmly on the ground, but Paula would help him o lighten up and get into the groove in their new life ahead. ‘I wonder how the Director will get on with the French Revolution without us,’ he said with a grin on his face, referring to The Carlton Amateur Theatre Group in their latest production.

  ‘Who cares!’ she returned sharply. ‘We’ll find another amateur theatre group and perform Evita!

  He laughed again having to hold his head with the pain. He stared at her having the desire to kiss her long and hard. Suddenly he saw her in a different light... beautiful, clever, someone who was in love with him. Despite the pain in his head, he was looking forward to their new life together, facing whatever the future had in store for them.

  ***

  A taxi pulled up outside the house in Charnley Wood that Waverley had just sold and Elizabeth Waverley alighted, asking the cabbie to wait. She stared at the facade for a few moments determined to try to use her wiles on her husband in order to get him back. It was the weekend and she knew that he would be at home. She had rehearsed the dialogue practically all night to persuade him to allow her to stay with him and she had devised a plan to encroach on his good will to get back into his bed even though she didn’t love him. It was simply a way to get him to look after her once more and to get her out of the financial mess in which she found herself. She knew that her husband always had a soft sport for her, and he was probably still in love with her which made her determined to play on his weakness for her life.

  She walked slowly up to the front door and, after a moment of hesitation, rang the doorbell hoping he was alone so that they could talk at length. To her surprise a strange woman opened the door.

  ‘Can I help you?’ asked the woman pleasantly.

  ‘I’ve come to see Mr. Waverley,’ returned Elizabeth, believing that it was her husband’s new cleaning lady. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Mrs. Hogan,’ came the reply.

  ‘I’d like to speak with Neil... Mr. Waverley.’

  ‘I’m afraid he’s not here any longer. Responded Mrs. Hoogan. He sold this house to my husband,’ the woman informed her. ‘We moved in this morning.’

  The news stunned Elizabeth who stepped back a pace with astonishment. ‘Sold it!’ she repeated pointlessly. ‘Do you know where he’s gone?’

  The woman shrugged her shoulders aimlessly. ‘I can‘t help you there.’ came the reply. ‘I understand he moved abroad with his wife,’

  ‘With his wife?’ countered Elizabeth stunned at the comment. ‘That’s not possible, I’m his wife.’

  The woman stared at her sadly, not wishing to become involved in a domestic affair which sounded very complicated.

  ‘Well as far as I understand, he’s gone abroad with another woman,’ concluxsx the woman unsympathetically. ‘Sorry I can’t help you. I must go. There’s so much furniture to arrange.’

  Without hesitation, she closed the door and Elizabeth stood there for some time on the doorstep before moving away to return in turmoil to the taxi. Her husband had taken another woman and had gone to live abroad leaving her homeless and penniless.
What was she to do in this situation. The future looked very dire. She was truly shocked by the fact that one major decision, which should have brought her the most pleasure in life, had turned out to be so destructive in such a short time. She knew that she had only herself to blame to come between Cole and his family but the situation didn’t end there. It prove to her that a person had to be very careful with regard to new relationships especially if they were involve din nefarious and criminal activities.

  ‘Where to missus?’ asked the cabbie staring at her in the rear mirror.

  There was silence from the back seat as her mind went blank. Indeed, had Waverley been there, he would have truly enjoyed that moment of schadenfreud. She had treated him very shabbily and he would have been delighted to learn that, in the end, by the hand of Destiny, he had his revenge. Elizabeth, selfish as she was, deserved everything that she had coming to her. However, as far as Waverley was concerned, she had made her bed and now she had to lay in it... without him... definitely without him!

  THE END

  Also Available