‘Yeah, it’s not a brain teaser, and to be honest the way he is tonight he’d be a liability up on the car-park roof. He can hardly sit up, let alone stand. He’s that fucking sick you’d hear him coughing a mile away.’
John put his arm around his father and hugged him tightly.
‘Well, he is, and always was, a liability. I gotta be honest, I’m glad you’re looking after our backs. So eat up and we’ll get moving in half an hour.’
The doorbell rang and both men froze, wondering who it was. It rang again and they heard Renee saying she was coming followed by the sound of the front door opening.
John inched the kitchen door open and saw Renee ushering in the local GP. He turned to his dad with gritted teeth.
‘Jesus Christ, she’s only got the fuckin’ doctor in,’ he whispered, and closed the door before continuing. ‘I’m tellin’ you, Dad, she’s a bigger liability than bloody David. I done a drawing, workin’ out how deep and at what angle we hadda dig the tunnel and slung it in me bedroom bin when I’d finished with it. She must have taken it out to have a look as I found it on the kitchen table.’
‘Don’t worry, son. She’s that thick she won’t have a clue what your drawing means.’
Clifford then opened the door and went to David’s room.
‘Is he all right, Doc?’ he asked.
John could hear the doctor saying that it wasn’t pneumonia, but a severe bronchial infection, and David should stay in bed for a couple of days. He wrote out a prescription for some antibiotics and Renee thanked him for coming, before showing him out.
‘I’m going out to get David’s prescription,’ she said, taking her coat down from the hall stand. Clifford shrugged, indifferent, as she picked up her purse.
‘Do you want me to get somethin’ in for your tea?’
‘No, we’ve had ours. And we’re goin’ out to a club,’ Clifford said.
‘But David’s in no fit state to go drinking. You heard what the doc said, didn’t ya?’
‘I meant me and John, you dozy mare. So don’t wait up.’
Renee buttoned up her coat and stared at him accusingly before leaving.
David lay in bed feeling as if his body was on fire. His chest was hurting, as well as his leg and his back, and the headache he had was unbearable. He was annoyed that he wasn’t taking any further part in the robbery for at least two days. But the reality was he knew he was too ill to sit in the cold car park for another night.
John walked in and took the walkie-talkie from David’s bedside drawer. He looked at the profusely sweating face of his brother.
‘We’re off now. You get plenty of rest and take them antibiotics when Mum’s back. We told her we’re off to a club, OK?’
‘I’m sorry, John, but will I lose any of my cut because I can’t go wiv ya?’
‘Course not, you stupid bugger. Family always share, right?’
It was six thirty when Clifford and John left the flat and headed out of the estate to get the van from the lock-up, unaware that their movements were being monitored, and a fleet of surveillance vehicles would be on their tail.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Everything was going smoothly as the surveillance vehicles followed at a distance behind John and Clifford Bentley, who were now in the ‘rung’ van travelling in the direction of Great Eastern Street. Undercover officers were on the number 55 bus tailing Danny Mitcham, who, like the Bentleys, clearly hadn’t got a clue what was going on around him. Bradfield’s hunch about the bell man had been spot on.
Op Three at the shoe shop relayed in code that John and Clifford had just pulled up at the rear of the café and Silas had come out to open the gates, which he had unlocked earlier in anticipation of their arrival.
Five minutes later Danny Mitcham was seen by officers from Op Four, which was the flat belonging to the elderly woman in the derelict building opposite. Mitcham was strolling casually down Great Eastern Street and, stopping in front of the café, he had a quick look around before knocking on the door. As soon as Silas opened it he slipped inside.
Bradfield was still in his office catching up on paperwork, but finding it hard to concentrate as the anticipation of the night ahead ran through his body like adrenalin. He was able to monitor the situation by listening to one of the surveillance radios he had with him, and DS Gibbs was keeping in contact from Op Three by telephone. It was his intention to go to one of the observation points in Great Eastern Street later in the evening.
Gibbs was concerned that the multistorey car park might not be the lookout point for the gang, as John Bentley hadn’t driven in to drop anyone off. Nor had they seen anyone enter with a vehicle to drive up to the top floor, or for that matter even go up on foot. He was about to phone DCI Bradfield when Clifford Bentley was seen exiting the café from the rear. He walked up the alley, across the main road and towards the car park.
‘Fuck off, you stinking bastard,’ Clifford said as he kicked the legs of the drunken tramp lying on some cardboard boxes by the stairwell to the upper floors.
Groaning, the tramp watched Clifford climb up the stairs out of sight before putting his mittened left hand up to his mouth and pressing the transmit button concealed on his wrist, which operated the hidden radio sewn into his coat.
All units from Foxtrot One, Target Two on foot travelling up Charlie Papa with comms device.
OK, received by Silver, DS Gibbs replied, as he watched from the front window of the shoe shop. He could see Clifford climbing up the stairwell, and looking through the binoculars that he was carrying a walkie-talkie. A couple of minutes later Clifford had reached the top floor and was surveying the area.
Gibbs breathed a sigh of relief. He rang Bradfield from the secure line they’d installed in the shoe shop, and updated him.
‘Good job, Spence – I heard it on the surveillance radio but didn’t have a code book in front of me so was having to guess some of what was said. What’s it like in the shoe shop?’
‘Bit of a shithole compared to the old lady’s flat, but of course that’s where you decided you’d like to watch from for some reason,’ Spence said cynically.
‘My rank comes with privileges, Spence, so I get first pickings. Any sounds coming from the café basement yet?’
‘No. An officer’s down there with a listening device, well, a big stethoscope really, so if and when there is any sound we should pick it up. What’s happening about the bank manager? You still gonna speak with him at his home tonight?’
‘No, he might become overanxious and start shooting his mouth off to the staff, or worse, make an appearance at the bank late at night to check it over. How’s your brother-in-law getting on?’
‘I put Frank in the old lady’s place, so he’ll be with you. He’s got the CB and everything else set up.’
‘Still twiddling with his knob, is he?’ Bradfield asked, and laughed.
‘He made out he was like the radio genius Marconi to me at a family get-together. Be handy if he did pick up some chatter between the Bentleys, but either way we’ve got everything in hand down here. Backup vehicles with armed officers are parked up well away to cut off every possible escape route, and someone at each op is carrying a revolver as well. Strange that David Bentley isn’t with them though.’
‘I think I might have cracked that one. Tennison’s report said Renee bought aspirin and cough mixture, then there was the doctor visiting the flat earlier, and it must be bloody cold up on that roof all night. I reckon David’s on a sickie and had to drop out, so the old man has stepped in – which is great for us. He’ll never see the light of day again as his sentence will ensure he dies in prison.’
‘You’re a heartless soul at times, Len.’
‘Thank you, Spence. I’ll be down there a bit later hopefully, but I need to catch up on this paperwork so that I won’t be too snowed under when we nick ’em all.’
Jane had finished the indexing and was sitting alone in the office. She was unsure how long she was supposed
to work for, or even if someone was going to relieve her so she could at least get some refreshments. Having listened to all the radio interaction between the surveillance officers she was really upset that she was cooped up inside. Even being in a tatty, stinking obo van would be more exciting than this.
She heard someone enter the room.
‘Are you here to relieve me?’ she asked. As she turned round she realized it was Bradfield.
‘Why? You bored?’ he asked, dropping a bunch of files on her desk. ‘This lot needs indexing as well,’ he said bluntly.
‘I thought you might have been Kath, I haven’t had a meal break all day.’
‘Go on then, take half an hour. I’ve got a radio in my office as well so I’ll keep a listening ear on things. I’ll ring Gibbs and tell him to send an officer back to relieve you for the night at ten.’
Jane thanked him, and as she left the room he asked her to bring him a coffee and a ham sandwich when she’d finished her refs break.
When she returned he was sitting at his desk with his feet up and his raincoat bundled up to act as a cushion for his head. She placed the mug down on his desk and said that she was more than willing to stay on if he felt she would be useful. He lowered his legs and twisted his head from side to side.
‘To be honest I think they’re at least two nights short of getting into the vault. But the good thing is we’re all in position and up and rolling. Tomorrow night will be more interesting, but right now we need to play the waiting game. If you think it’ll be an experience then by all means stay on. If not, I’d go and get some shut-eye so you’re fresh for tomorrow.’
She nodded, and then hesitated. ‘So you think they’ll go into the bank tomorrow, or the next night?’
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. ‘Well, only because it’s the weekend and with the TSB closed they can work both day and night. The overtime bill for this operation is astronomical, so the sooner they break in and we get them nicked, the easier it will be on the Commissioner’s pocket.’
He grabbed the mug of coffee and grinned, raising it up as a thank-you. Jane hesitated.
‘My mother – remember you met her when you came to my parents’ flat? She wondered if one Sunday you might like to come over for lunch.’
He cocked his head to one side.
‘Well, that’s very kind of her, and maybe at some time that could be on the cards. Right now it’s a bit difficult but pass on my thanks for the invitation.’
She nodded, feeling foolish. ‘Well, I’ll stay on for a while, and if you need another cup of coffee or anything just shout.’
He sipped his coffee and she hovered for a moment.
‘Jane, about what happened between us – you still all right about it?’
She blushed and nodded.
He held out his hand. ‘Come here, come on.’
His desk phone began to ring, but he ignored it. Jane took his hand and he drew her closer. Her heart pounded as he reached up and touched her face and she leaned close for him to kiss her.
Gold from Silver, pick up phone, urgent, Gibbs said over the radio.
Bradfield released her, grabbed the phone and with a look of dread on his face gestured for her to leave as he took the call from the shoe shop.
‘Don’t tell me they’re into the vault already, Spence?’
‘No, it’s still all quiet. But there is a slight problem. Hebe Ide, the woman who owns the shoe shop, has turned up and is filling up her van in the yard with shoes.’
‘Well, let her get on with it. In fact help her if need be, so you can get rid of her quicker.’
‘We can see Silas in his yard looking up and down the alleyway. He must have heard something and be wondering what’s going on. Thing is Kath Morgan asked her if we could use the shoe shop to watch the car park for a team nicking classy motors.’
‘Sort it, Spence, and quick. If Silas speaks to her then it could be game and career over for us. I’m on my way down there now. I’ll use the back-street entrance and go to Op Four at the old lady’s’.
Hebe tottered back and forth into the shop, carrying out shoeboxes and piling them into the back of her green Morris Marina van. She was wearing a gold lamé miniskirt, high wedge sandals and a lacy blouse showing off her cleavage. She had gone in through the front door and then unlocked the back to load the van. Gibbs went down to speak with her in the hall.
‘I’m sorry about this, love, but I got a last-minute offer for a Sunday market stall in Kensal Green. Normally I do Petticoat Lane, but there’s more money to be made at Kensal Green. It’s an early start in the morning so I thought I’d just pack up the van and drive it home tonight.’
To get rid of her as fast as possible Gibbs told Hudson who was working alongside him to stack the boxes by the back door for her to load them, but not to go into the yard in case Silas saw him. Surprisingly, Hebe was quite professional, checking the sizes before piling them in a neat and orderly way into the back of the van.
Silas had by now gone upstairs to his flat and was looking out of the back-bedroom window. He could see Hebe loading her van, and thinking that John and Danny were about to start work with the electric drill, he rushed down to the cellar and told them to stay quiet and not move. John said his dad had already been on the walkie-talkie and told them there was a woman entering the shoe shop.
‘Is that bloodies Hebe woman. She owns it and thinks she’s a Yana lookalike – always singing her song “Climb Up The Wall”. She makes me go up the wall sometimes. Anyway I just check out what she doing.’
Silas peered round the shoe-shop rear gate, which Hebe had already unlocked because she’d be leaving, once she had loaded the shoes. She was bending into the van, her skirt riding up her bottom and revealing her lacy knickers. DC Hudson was about to put some more boxes by the back door when he heard Silas’s voice and ducked out of sight.
‘Hello there, Hebe darlin’, how you keepin’? I hear sound in your yard so thought it best I check it out as there been some break-ins lately.’
‘Hey, Silas love, long time no see. The shop’s OK, I’m just loading up for market day tomorrow, and then I’ve got a hot date at a club with a nice young man.’
‘You no change, Hebe. How’s business? Mine not so good.’
‘Same for me, darling – to be honest I’ll be glad to see the back end of this shithole, and some of these shoes I’m gonna be sellin’ at less than cost. Eh, you don’t need a nice pair of loafers, do you? They’re real suede and nice stitching.’
‘No ta – you need any help packing?’
Gibbs was upstairs and could hear everything. His heart was pounding as he prayed that she didn’t say she already had some help.
‘Na, I’m virtually done and these cork-soled sandals don’t weigh nothin’. Thanks for askin’, though.’
‘OK, you have good night, Hebe.’
She lit a cigarette, laughed and said she was intending to do just that as Silas returned to his café.
Gibbs watched from upstairs as Silas closed his yard gates and went inside. It had been a narrow escape. He went downstairs and told Hudson it was all clear.
‘Excuse me,’ she whispered to Gibbs as she stepped inside the shop. ‘You wanna tell me who you’re really watching out for, a gang of car thieves or the fat Greek?’
‘What makes you ask that?’
‘It’s just I noticed you got people at the front and back of the upstairs, and Silas was being nosy, not friendly. That’s why I didn’t say someone was already helping me load the van.’
Gibbs told her she was right, but he couldn’t go into details and asked her to keep it to herself. She said that she was the soul of discretion, and besides she hated the fat leery Greek.
Gibbs went upstairs. It was a further ten minutes before Hebe finished her cigarette and loaded the rest of the shoes into the van, assisted by Hudson who was still stacking them by the door.
‘I’m goin’ now,’ she said, and gave him a come-hither glance.
‘I’m always very busy,’ Hudson said nervously.
‘What size shoes are you?’ she asked, looking down.
He gulped, unsure what she was actually looking at. ‘I got big feet.’
She ran her hand through her bleached blonde hair, gave him a sensual smile and looked down again.
‘So I see, well, you know what they say, big feet, big—’
‘Hands,’ he replied quickly, knowing what she actually meant.
‘Big hands are useful as well, sweetheart. Anyway, best I get off. You go and help yourself to a pair of shoes in the basement as a thanks for helping me load up the van.’
It was a relief when she left and he was able to go back upstairs.
‘Sounded and looked like the blonde bombshell had the hots for you,’ Gibbs said, taking the mickey.
‘She scared me, Sarge. I wouldn’t know how to handle a woman like her.’
‘She’d eat you up and spit you out, son, but you’d learn a lesson or two at the same time.’
One of the officers who had been listening in the shoe-shop cellar suddenly came running upstairs.
‘Sounds like they’ve started drilling – you can hear it through the walls, even without the listening device.’
As Gibbs reached the shop floor he could hear a dull rumbling sound, which increased in intensity and volume as he ran down the basement stairs. The drilling noise echoed around the room as bits of sand and stones on the floor bounced up and down like ping-pong balls under the heavy vibration. Gibbs felt something landing in his hair and looking up saw that loose plaster was crumbling off the ceiling. The officer with the listening device looked anxiously at DS Gibbs.
‘I hope this place doesn’t collapse on my bloody head!’
‘Course it won’t, son, but if it does be sure and let me know.’
Gibbs hot-footed it back upstairs.
Renee had given David a large dose of medicine and he was feeling a little better. His temperature had gone down, and he managed to eat a slice of toast and some chicken soup. She had left him to sleep while she watched Coronation Street then checked again to see how he was. Edging quietly into the room Renee stood by his bed and looked down at his handsome face. She felt such overwhelming love for her youngest son, and she couldn’t bear the thought of ever being parted from him. She fetched a hard-backed chair and placed it beside the bed. He had lovely soft hands with slender fingers and she wanted to reach out and hold them like she’d done when he was a little boy afraid of the dark. He opened his eyes and blinked.
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