by Alfie Robins
‘As it happens, Conway had already plans in place in case anything like this should come up.’
Warren was warming to Conway. His opinion of Conway was still one of a fat arrogant fucker, but one who knew the score and planned for it.
‘Well, I don’t think you should keep it to yourself, we don’t know how long we’ve got until an armed response team turns up hammering on the door.’
Warren followed Jimbo back into the main unit. ‘Give us a hand with these,’ he started to shift boxes away from the back wall. ‘Come on, cop a hold, careful. Mind you, don’t drop ’em, but I don’t suppose it’ll matter, the coppers will fill their boots with the stuff.’ He started to shift boxes and cartons away from the back corner. Both men were breathing heavy and caked with sweat, finally the exterior wall was clear. Jimbo looked to Warren and smiled, put both hands into readymade crevices, pulled and a full section of the interior skin came away.
‘Where does it lead to?’
‘The unit that backs onto us.’
‘Who’s it belong to?’
‘Fucked if I know, stop asking so many questions.’ Cheeky sod thought Warren. ‘The motors at the end of the block, I’ll go fetch it while you grab your mate and we can be away. Then they can hammer away on the door till they get fucking fed up.’
It didn’t seem right, Jimbo taking command of the situation, but Warren didn’t argue, just did as he was told.
‘Time to leave, Bob.’ He could hear Jimbo pulling at the chains of the roller door in the adjacent unit. Warren removed the tape from around his legs and grabbed him roughly from his perch on the boxes. Bob’s legs had cramped up and he struggled to keep his balance.
‘Got to help me out a bit here Bob, or I’ll just drag you by your feet,’ Warren told him as he tried to manoeuvre him between the boxes towards the hole in the wall. Bob’s legs were cramped, he could hardly move them. ‘Sorry Bob, but if you won’t help…’ he said, as he put a hand on Bob’s head and pushed him forward and through into the next unit.
Jimbo was as good as his word, two minutes later Warren heard a motor pull up. He left the engine running and came to Warren’s assistance. Bob was manhandled through the partially opened door. ‘Sorry about that,’ Warren said as Bob’s head clanged against the metal of the roller door. ‘This all you could get?’
Jimbo had found them an ancient rust and white Transit van.
‘Come on Greg, it was short notice, beggars can’t be choosers, it’s the only thing he had that would start.’ He opened the side sliding door. ‘Come on Bobby, shift yourself.’ Bob groaned, collecting even more bruises as he was manhandled into the back of the van and the door slammed shut.
‘Where to?’ Jimbo asked, as they took their seats in the front.
‘Don’t know yet, just drive, let’s get the hell away from here and what the hell is that smell?!’
‘Before it was sent for scrap it was used for wet-fish deliveries,’ Jimbo said with all seriousness, as he drove the non-descript van out through the industrial estate’s one-way system. Simultaneously, 200 metres down the road a convoy of police vehicles drove through the entrance of the estate.
‘Just in the nick of time,’ he said as he turned the van left down Hawthorn Avenue, towards Anlaby Road.
‘There is one place we could check out.’
‘And where’s that?’
‘Home. I’d almost forgotten about the place, seems a lifetime since I was last there.’
For almost half an hour they cruised up and down Delapole Avenue, checking Warren’s three-bedroomed, semi-detached house wasn’t under surveillance.
‘Pull up here Jimbo, I’ll take a walk around the back and make sure it’s all clear.’ Jimbo pulled the Transit into the kerb side some 200 metres from the house. Warren opened the door and dropped down to the pavement and swiftly disappeared down a ten-foot access alley between the houses that led around the back.
Jimbo cruised on.
Warren was sure that any surveillance that was on the place would have been withdrawn long ago. All things being equal, he hoped they were now employing their thin resources in other areas. Nevertheless, he took it slowly and carefully all the while trying not to look suspicious, which was not easy for a dirty looking six foot two bloke, in need of a bath and change of clothes.
Satisfied the coast was clear he scaled his own back fence, the tall timber door being bolted on the inside. Warren scrambled over the top and dropped down. Sanctuary, he hoped. Fortunately, against his initial instructions he’d kept a set of house keys with him, just in case. He put the key in the back door, unlocked it and stepped inside. He sighed; it felt good to be on familiar territory. A quick scrutiny confirmed his initial thoughts, the place had already been searched – professionally. Things were hardly out of place, just one or two giveaway tales. He closed the curtains as he went through the house. Satisfied, he called Jimbo on the mobile with instructions, then went out back and unlocked the double garden gates. Two or three minutes later he heard the rough engine of the Transit coming down the ten-foot, he opened the gates and Jimbo backed the rusty heap into the back garden parking area.
He opened the nearside door. ‘Give us a hand to get him inside.’ Warren slid open the sliding door, the stink of rotten fish seemed even worse. Bob was a mess, trussed up he had no control of his body and he’d rolled back and forth amongst the filth in the back of the van. Unceremoniously, Warren grabbed him by the shoulders and heaved him out of the van, causing more bruising that would likely bother him later. Jimbo shut the Transit doors.
‘On your feet Bobby, hope you can walk because I’m too tired to carry you.’ Between them they helped Bob stand upright and steadied him as they made their way along the path to the back door. Once inside, Warren pulled out a kitchen chair. ‘Park yourself on there,’ he said, as he forced Bob to sit.
The second thing Warren did was to switch on the boiler, he was looking forward to a refreshing hot shower.
‘Very nice,’ said Jimbo as he walked through the back door, and looked around the tidy kitchen. ‘Beats slumming it at my place.’ Tired, he pulled out a chair, sat next to Bob and pulled a grimacing face. ‘For a posh bloke you don’t half stink!’
‘You hungry?’ Warren asked as he searched the freezer, ‘there’s not much – fancy pizza?’
‘Sounds good to me, how about you Bobby?’ Jimbo asked the mummified hostage, who was now in such a state he could barely nod his head without pain.
‘Better get the oven on then.’
Chapter 34
‘Well this is almost civilised,’ Bob said as the three men sat around the kitchen table. The tape had been removed from around his head and mouth, also his left arm had been freed to allow him to feed himself. After all Warren was civilised. The three men ate pizza hungrily and washed it down with a bottle or two of beer.
‘Keep your eye on him Jimbo, while I have a quick shower.’ Warren left them still sitting around the table.
‘So Bobby, was you a copper before you became a spook?’ asked Jimbo
‘Military Intelligence and will you please stop calling me Bobby.’
‘You mean you were in the SAS?’
‘Goodness grief no, far too dangerous, I was a desk jockey evaluating intelligence reports and sending others to carry out the dangerous stuff.’
‘What about your oppo, whatcha call him… John, what did he do?’
‘Ahh well, you’ll have to ask him that yourself when you meet him. If you’re still alive when that happens.’
‘Thanks for that thought mate. Give me your arm.’ He pulled Bob to his feet and helped him shuffle through to the living room. He dropped Bob down on the sofa. ‘Might as well get comfortable.’ He put the Glock on the dining table on the opposite side of the room and dropped down on the sofa next to Bob.
Warren was glad of the reprieve, a few minutes alone. He set the shower going and stripped off the clothes he’d been wearing for goodness knows how many days and dropp
ed them in the washing basket. He opened the shower cubicle door and stepped into the steam. Standing under the hot spray he let the power shower do its stuff, his muscles eased as the hot water ran down his aching body. As he towelled himself dry he began to feel more like his old self, with his towel wrapped around his waist he padded barefoot to the bedroom and rummaged through his belongings for clean clothes.
All was quiet downstairs, something he was going to take advantage of. He lay on top of his bed and was asleep minutes after his head touched the pillow.
But not for long.
Chapter 35
Warren woke with a start, possibly some built-in survival instinct, he sat up straight and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. He swung his legs to the floor and walked over to the window, then gently teased the edge of the curtain free and looked out into the darkness – nothing. He’d had a similar feeling the night he’d been followed by the hillbilly, paranoia, he thought and shrugged it off. Another quick glance into the night and then he went downstairs to be greeted by the sound of both men snoring. He couldn’t help but laugh to himself at the sight of the two men who sat side by side on the sofa, Bob trussed up with parcel tape and Jimbo with his head resting on Bob’s shoulder – a strange display.
Warren went through to the kitchen and made three mugs of instant coffee before waking the sleeping pair. He ripped free the tape from Bob’s face. Bob yelped with shock and both men sat up straight immediately, Jimbo embarrassed. ‘Easy boy,’ said Bob ‘you can rest your head anytime.’
Warren was surprised how Bob had it in him to joke given his situation.
‘Fuck off, I was just resting my eyes and my head dropped that’s all,’ Jimbo protested.
Warren freed Bob’s left arm and passed over the steaming mug.
‘Now you’ve had a chance to think about things I’m going to ask a question, and if you really don’t want to end up like Staples I advise you to answer truthfully. Where are the diamonds?’
‘In a safe location.’
‘Do you have access to them?’
‘Ah, well…’
‘No not “ah well”, I think it’s about time we stopped this fucking about.’ He reached across and took the mug out of Bob’s hand. ‘If you know where they are I think you’d better tell me.’ He walked over to the dining table and picked up Jimbo’s newly-acquired Glock and attached the silencer.
Bob was visibly sweating. ‘Greg I really don’t think there’s any need for violence…’
‘Just answer the question Bob, do you know where the diamonds are?’
This was the second time since the assault on Staples that Bob looked really worried, his eyes fixed on the Glock. Once upon a time he would have sworn Warren wouldn’t use the weapon – now he wasn’t so sure. ‘You really should be having this conversation with John.’
‘Enough, I need a straight answer.’ Warren picked up the parcel tape and stuck a length over Bob’s mouth. Bob mumbled something unintelligible beneath the tape. He went back to the dining table and dragged a chair across the room and placed it directly in front of Bob. ‘I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this,’ he said as he sat down, ‘time to stop pissing about.’ Warren was sat so close to Bob he could smell the rotting fish radiating from his clothes. He took the safety catch off the Glock, pulled back the breach and pushed the barrel into Bob’s groin. Bob’s forehead glistened with sweat at the prospect of having his balls blown off. He was still mumbling. Fear set in the hostage’s eyes.
‘Greg, think about what you’re doing, you’ve already killed one man, you don’t want another death on your conscience.’ Warren looked Bob in the eye and withdrew the gun.
Bob sighed with relief beneath the tape. Then he pointed the Sig towards the floor and pulled the trigger. Phut – very quietly but messily a 9mm bullet tore through Bob’s once highly polished shoe and his right foot. Compared to taking out Staples this was easy, after all Bob still had another leg – for now.
Jimbo sat there not believing what had just happened, like Bob, he thought it was just a threat, a frightener. He couldn’t believe it when the trigger was pulled and Bob in a reflex action fell forward off the sofa groaning in agony beneath the tape. ‘Greg, for fuck’s sake what are you doing mate?’
‘We want the goods back don’t we?’ he snapped, reaching forward and ripping the tape from covering Bob’s mouth. ‘Well – talk or you’ll have a hole in the other foot,’ he said as he ripped the tape from Bob’s mouth.
He gasped and sobbed. ‘There was no need… I’ve had enough and was always going to tell you,’ he stuttered between breaths, ‘they’re in the office safe… they were there when you did your breaking and entering…’
Jimbo jumped to his feet. ‘Typical, fucking typical, why didn’t you think of that?’
Warren ignored him. Even if he’d wanted to, there would have been no way he would have been able to open the safe without the code and key.
‘So – we have to go back and do it again, only this time we can go in the front door. Can’t we Bob?’
Bob nodded, he was pale and going into shock.
‘Don’t you reckon we should get him to hospital?’
‘It’s like the burger Jimbo, once we’ve got everything back, he can have a burger while they’re repairing his foot.’
Warren went through to the kitchen and came back with a couple of tea towels.
‘Patch him up best you can so he doesn’t bleed to death in the meantime.’ Warren went through all of Bob’s pockets. He found his keys, including those that he hoped would open Gemmell Strategies. ‘Bob, you still hear me?’ Bob opened his eyes and blinked through the pain and gave a contemptuous look. ‘Is there a code for the safe?’ He shook his head. ‘You are telling me the truth?’ Warren pressed the barrel of the Glock into the top of his left shoe. Again Bob nodded, this time more vigorously. Warren went into the kitchen and returned with a pad of paper and a pen. ‘Write down the front door code,’ he gestured with the Glock. Bob didn’t need asking twice and wrote down the access code.
Jimbo came over with the sticky tape and stuck a length over Bob’s face. Then nodded towards the kitchen. Warren followed.
‘What’s on your mind?’ Warren asked.
‘Him, what the fuck we gonna do with him? We can hardly take him with us when we go back?’
‘To be honest with you Jimbo, I don’t give a toss if he croaks it.’
‘Well he’s hardly gonna do that is he? He’s only got a fuckin’ hole in his foot.’
The conversation didn’t get any further, Warren’s mobile vibrated in his pocket. He checked the screen – it was DI Grimes.
‘Thanks for the tip off by the way,’ Warren said on answering.
‘Glad to be of help. I take it you’re somewhere safe?’
‘For the time being.’ Warren was pleased to hear a friendly voice.
‘I heard you’ve had a bit of bother?’
‘You could say that. With a little luck this could soon be over.’
‘Well you know where I am if you need anything, if I hear anything I’ll be in contact.’
‘Cheers Bill, I appreciate the help.’
He hung up.
‘Who was that?’
‘The bloke who tipped us off back at the lock-up.’
‘Have you got another one of your brilliant plans?’ Jimbo asked, sarcastically.
‘Maybe, but I think we ought to try and do something to keep Bob from bleeding all over my carpet. There’s a first aid box in the top right hand side kitchen cupboard.’
Jimbo went through to the kitchen and Warren kneeled on the floor in front of Bob. ‘I could say I was sorry but I’d be lying,’ he said, ‘the two of you have been playing me for a fool and well – enough was enough,’ he said, as he carefully eased off Bob’s shoe and sock.
‘Hell Greg, take it easy,’ Bob said between clenched teeth.
‘Stop being such a wimp.’
‘If you hadn’t shot me in the first place
… shit,’ his foot throbbed in agony. ‘I thought you were being careful?’
‘You didn’t give me any other alternative, just shut up and let me see what I can do.’
Jimbo came back with the first aid kit and placed it on the floor beside Warren.
Warren checked the contents. ‘Afraid there’s not much in here for gunshot wounds.’
‘I would have been surprised if there had been.’ Bob was trying hard to keep it together, he wasn’t a brave man.
Warren set about cleaning the wound with an antiseptic wipe. ‘I think you’ll live,’ he said as he placed a pad of soft gauze over and beneath the wound and bound it tight with a crepe bandage.
‘So what’s the latest plan?’ asked Jimbo.
‘I’ve just said, we go back.’
‘And?’ he walked towards the kitchen and inclined his head towards Bob.
‘If we don’t take him with us, how do we know he isn’t taking the piss and giving us the wrong code? If that’s his idea we may as well hand ourselves in now. On the other hand, if we take him with us and he is stringing us along, he saw what happened to Staples and knows the consequences.’
‘Jesus, Greg, I’m not sure anymore.’
‘Look mate, if you want to bail out that’s fine, but with or without you I have to go back.’
‘Fuck – well I’m not going to carry him.’ Jimbo opened the fridge took out a bottle of beer. ‘When are we doing this?’
‘Tonight, I want this over with.’
They went back through to the lounge, where Bob lay groaning on the sofa. ‘Come on Bobby, give it a rest, you’ve only got a hole in your foot.’
Bob glared. If he’d been capable he would have jumped up and wrung Jimbo’s neck.
‘Ok matey I reckon you can take some of that tape off, I don’t think he will be going anywhere.’
Jimbo freed Bob from his bonds.
‘These might help,’ said Warren as he gave Bob a glass of water and a couple of painkillers.
‘And they’re going to do a lot of good,’ Bob said sarcastically through gritted his teeth as Jimbo helped him into the sitting position.