by Mark Timlin
'She doesn't need to. You can do all that for yourself.'
'Thanks.' Although he knew it was true.
'So, what are we going to do?'
'That's up to you.'
'I find it very hard to like you these days, Mark, let alone love you.' But she was lying. She knew it, he knew it, even Daisy knew it, smiling a very cynical smile for someone so young. Or it could've been wind.
'I still love you,' said Mark.
'And what does loving me mean? Picking me up and dropping me whenever you feel like it. Taking me and my family away from everything we know and dragging us from one hiding place to another until we don't know who we are anymore. And what happens when Luke and Daisy grow up? What kind of people would they be? Expats. Strangers from their own country, not knowing who they are.'
'I can't make life perfect, Linda. I've tried that and it doesn't work.'
'When have you ever tried to make my life perfect?'
'There's no answer to that, if you don't know.'
'I don't, Mark. I've spent the last months since you went away again, trying to work it out, but I've come up empty.'
'Is there anyone else?'
'No. There's never been anyone else. I've told you that a hundred times. Even when I was married I still cared more for you than for my husband.'
'I'm sorry about that, Linda, I really am,' said Mark.
'I know,' she said. 'I know you are.' She looked at him sitting there, bearded, in his sunglasses, with his cropped hair streaked with grey, his face lined like a man years older than he really was, and her heart melted in her chest, just like in the romances she'd read as a girl. Just like it always had since that first day in the Wimpy bar in Croydon. 'So why don't we do it?' she asked.
'Do what?'
'Piss off out of here.'
'Are you serious?'
'Of course I am.'
'I don't understand. Me going, and Martine, and every bloody thing.'
'I love you.'
'I love you too.'
'So, let's do it. Let's go. Let's find this Shangri-La you're always telling me about.'
'You're kidding me.'
'I've never been more serious in my life.'
'And Luke and Daisy?'
'They'll come with us. It'll do them good to see something of the world.' 'But their schooling?'
'We'll find somewhere, Mark. Have you got cold feet all of a sudden?'
He thought about the weekend, and what was going to happen. 'No,' he said. 'Not at all. I just can't believe you'd change your mind like that.'
'A woman's prerogative, I believe.'
His brain was running full tilt. 'Oh, Linda, why are you doing this to me?'
'Because I can.'
'I know.'
'Well, let's go then.'
'When?'
'Today.'
'No, Linda, not today,' he said. 'You'll need to sort things out.'
'What things?'
'All sorts of things. The house, for instance.'
'Sean's living here. He can look after it. And put it on the market. It's worth a good half million now.'
'And what then?'
'We'll live on the money. I get an income too. If we're careful we can last for years on that and my investments. You'll never need to work again. If you can call what you do work. You'll be safe. I'll be safe. We'll all be safe.'
'It all sounds very nice…'
'I hear a "but" coming.'
'No,' he said. 'No buts. We'll do it. We'll leave on Monday.'
'Why so long?'
'I have things to organise too. Pack up over the weekend. We'll drive to the Continent. We'll take your truck. My one's a bit warm, if you know what I mean.'
'I think I do,' said Linda.
'OK. I do need a couple of days, I suppose.'
'Course you do.' There was an awkward silence until Linda said, 'I think it's time for Daisy to take a nap.' 'Do you?'
'Don't you? We've got hours until anyone comes back.'
'Do you mean what I think you mean?' asked Mark.
Linda nodded. 'I've never done it with anyone with a beard.'
'It's the best offer I've had all day.'
'I should hope so too. Come on, Daisy, time for a little lie down. For all of us,' she added. Mark smiled and followed them upstairs.
Afterwards, they lay together in Linda's bed, the door open so that she could hear Daisy in the next room. They needn't have worried, the child slept like the baby she was. 'That was good,' said Mark, feeling content for the first time in a long time. 'It's been a while.'
'How long?'
'Nosy.'
'No, how long?'
'Since the last time with you.'
'Liar.'
'I swear.'
'What about those Portuguese senoritas, or whatever you call them? Did none of them catch your eye?'
'Lots of them caught my eye, but most of them threw it back. What about you?'
'Same here. I'm an honorary virgin.'
'Not any more.'
'That's true. Can we really make it happen, Mark?'
'I hope so.' Suddenly, it all came flooding back. Hunter, Butler, Sean, the job, and he felt the same old heaviness descend upon him. 'Oh, Linda, I really hope so.'
They discussed the time and place to meet on Monday afternoon. They decided on the street where Linda's old school had been, opposite the park where they'd first met, at four o'clock.
'So what do we do about tickets and all that?' asked Linda.
'I'll worry about that. We can get tickets at the ferry. Just bring your passports.' 'It will be good to have someone else in charge, for a change. I'm tired. So tired. You won't let me down, will you?'
'No,' he said.
'Promise?'
'Promise.'
'Can I see you over the weekend?'
'I don't see why not. If you can get away. I've got one or two things to sort out, and I might have to go out of town for a bit. But otherwise, I'll be around. But not a word to Sean, mind.'
'Of course not.'
'You've got to carry on as normal.'
'That's the last thing I've been recently - normal. Come downstairs, I need a cigarette.'
'Still smoking?'
"Fraid so.'
'My fault.'
'If you like. Sean hates it.'
'I know,' he said, remembering her brother's look in the pub when he'd lit up.
'How do you know?'
'What?'
'That Sean hates smoking.'
He realised he'd made a blunder and hastily said: 'I dunno. You must've said something about it some time.'
'Yeah, I suppose I must.' She jumped out of bed and pulled on a silky dressing gown quickly, but not quickly enough that Mark didn't see the curves, angles and secret places of her body and begin to get aroused again. 'Christ, it has been a long time,' he said. 'I fancy another.'
'Down, boy, I've got to check on Daisy. And I really need a smoke. There'll be plenty of time for that later. Won't there?'
'You bet your life.'
Or mine, he thought. She left the room and Mark got out of bed and dressed, before going down to the kitchen where Linda was sitting at the table smoking. 'Want one?' she asked. He took a Silk Cut from her packet and lit it with her lighter.
'Listen, I'm going to go. Like I said, things to do. Can I call you?' 'Sure.'
'Same number?' 'Of course.' He nodded. 'Do you remember it?'
'That's one number I'll never forget. If I give you my mobile, can you remember that?' She nodded and he reeled off the number and she repeated it. 'Great,' he said. 'What are you going to tell the kids?'
'That we're going on holiday. Not that Daisy will know what I'm talking about. I'll tell Luke on Monday. It's a bank holiday and school's off, and I've let Greta have a few days off too, so we'll be on our own.' 'Great. I'd better go now, but I'll be in touch.' 'Make sure you are.'
He leant over and kissed her, smelling smoke and perfume and sex and
he smiled. 'Love you,' he said. 'I love you too.' Then he left.
Later that afternoon, he phoned Sean on his mobile.
'It's on,' said the policeman.
'So it should be.'
'You'd better be right about this.'
'How many more times?'
'OK, OK.'
'So the stones will be there?'
'That's right. I need to see you. I've got your way out.' 'Tell me on the phone.' 'No. Face to face.' 'When?'
'Tomorrow night. I'll pick you up in the same place as last time.' 'OK. But listen. No more tails. It makes me nervous.' 'All right. I'm sorry about that, but my guv'nor insisted. I told him I thought you were too fly to fall for it.'
'Nice work, Sean. Lull me into a false sense of security. But I mean it. I'm too old to be looking over my shoulder all the time.' 'You've got my word.' 'And your word is your bond.'
'Yes.' With a copper's word and half a quid I could get a packet of wine gums, thought Mark, but said nothing. 'What time?' 'Same as last time.' 'I'll be there.'
Later that evening, he was in his hotel room and his mobile rang.
It was Linda. 'Hello sweetheart,' he said.
'Hello yourself. How are you?'
'All the better for seeing you.'
'Just seeing me?'
'And the rest.'
'I've been singing to myself all day. Daisy's looking at me like I'm mad.'
'That's what a real man will do for you.' 'Still as conceited as ever.' 'And for good reason, wouldn't you say?' 'No comment.'
'I'll make you comment when I get hold of you again.'
'How about tomorrow night?'
'Tomorrow?'
'It's the only time I can get Greta to babysit. She's off on Sunday.'
'I can't. I've got to make a meet.'
'Can't you change it?'
'I don't know. I'll try.'
'Try your best.'
'Course I will.'
But Sean was adamant. It had to be Saturday evening. The rest of his weekend he was busy sorting out the operation. 'Sorry,' he said. 'Got a date?'
'Something like that.'
'Break it.'
'I'll get back to you.'
He phoned Linda and gave her the bad news, and he heard the same old disappointment in her voice when he did. 'Don't worry,' he said. 'Monday'll be here sooner than you think.'
'Just don't let me down,' she said.
'I'll be there. Four o'clock on the dot.'
'You'd better be.'
He phoned Sean back and simply said: 'It's me. I'll be there.'
And he was, and either Sean had kept his word or else the tail was much better. Even so, Mark made Sean drive him to Stockwell tube station, where they pushed through the barriers, ran down to the platform, caught the first train that came in, got off at Victoria, and took the first south bound train back. As far as Mark could see, no one followed them. 'You are careful,' said Sean when they got off at Pimlico and went into the nearest pub.
'It's kept me alive,' said Mark. 'You can get a cab back to your car.'
'And you?'
'I'll manage.'
'Still got a date?'
'No. You screwed that up good and proper.'
'Sorry. Now listen. There's a back door at the depository leading into a car park. The car park is walled, but there's another door leading on to some waste ground. That door will be open and I'll be waiting outside with a car. You take the car, drive away and dump it somewhere. I don't care where. That's your out. Clear?'
Mark smiled. 'Sounds good to me. But we could've done all this on the phone.'
'I wanted to see you again,' said Sean. 'You remind me of someone, but I can't think who. Are you sure we haven't met before?'
'Maybe in a previous life.'
'Maybe.' Sean shook his head. 'I just can't place it,' he said.
'Never mind,' said Mark, who'd gone cold at Sean's words. 'Perhaps it'll come to you.' But I hope not, he thought. 'Perhaps,' said Sean. 'So, see you Monday,' said Mark. 'I'll be there.'
'You'd better.' And with that, he left his drink and walked out of the pub. Arsehole, he thought. And for the last time - at least Mark hoped it was the last time - he ducked and dived a circuitous route back to his hotel.
The die was cast, and all he had to do was get out of it alive, meet up with Linda and everything would be fine.
The next morning, Sean Pierce went in to see his boss. 'I met him last night,' he said.
'And everything's going ahead,' said Mobray.
'That's right.'
'Good.'
'What about the people at the depository?' 'What about them?' 'Will they be ready?' 'For what?'
'For the operation. Will the armed guards be stood down?' 'How can they be? We know they've got someone on the inside.' 'Yes, but they're armed.' 'So are we.'
'And so are the gang. Surely they'll be told on Monday.' Mobray shook his head. 'We've spoken to the chairman of the board. He's prepared to let the raid go on.' 'But he won't be there.' 'Of course not.'
'You mean you're just going to let seven men armed with automatic weapons break in and not warn anyone inside?' 'If we do our job, no one will get hurt.' 'Sir. This was my operation.'
'My operation, Pierce? This is not a private war. It's our operation. In
fact it's a Serious Crimes operation out of our ground and you're lucky to still have anything to do with it.'
'But-'
'No buts. You go there on Monday and get your man away. Let Serious Crimes and S019 do the rest. Understood?'
'Understood, sir,' said Sean. But afterwards, standing in the corridor outside Mobray's office, he felt the cold hand of dread clasp at his gut.
Mark had only one more job to do before the robbery. He called Chas up and checked that he and Martine would be home on Sunday lunchtime. 'Yeah,' said Chas. 'But don't make it early. Her highness likes to sleep late. She'll be out clubbing 'til all hours Saturday night.'
'No problem. Mind if I drop by? I'd like to see you both.'
'No problem with me,' replied Chas. 'You're always welcome here as far as I'm concerned. I wouldn't be so sure about her, though.'
'I'll take my chances.'
Two o'clock Sunday afternoon, and the streets of Tulse Hill were deadly quiet as Mark parked the Explorer outside the gates of John Jenner's old house. He pressed the buzzer by the gate and looked up and down the familiar street as he waited for an answer. 'Yeah?' It was Chas. 'It's me,' he said, and with a grunt and groan the gates began to swing open. Chas opened the front door and the two men hugged. It was an embrace that encapsulated years. 'Is she up?' asked Mark.
'I heard some movement. Come into the kitchen, have a drink.'
'A beer would be good.' Mark followed Chas downstairs and through to the back.
He sat at the kitchen table and Chas pulled two bottles of Beck's from the chiller and popped the tops. He handed one to Mark and they touched the bottles together. 'Cheers,' said Chas.
'Cheers,' Mark echoed.
'What a cosy scene,' said Martine's voice from the doorway, and the two men looked around.
'Hello, Martine,' said Mark. 'Late one, was it?'
'What are you doing here?' she demanded. She was fresh from bed, wearing a silky housecoat and, for a moment, it could have been Hazel standing in the doorway. Except for the expression on her face. Hazel had never looked that sour in her life.
'Just come to say goodbye,' said Mark.
'Going away again?'
'Obviously.'
'You needn't have bothered. Why did you let him in, Chas?'
'This used to be his home.'
'Not any more. Not since Daddy died.'
'Still think it was my fault?' asked Mark.
'Yes.'
'I'm sorry about that. You know I loved the man.'
'For what he did for you, you mean.'
'No. Him. Him and Hazel. You and Chas. You were my family.'
'"Were" is right.'
'I'm sorry y
ou feel like that.'
'What other way is there to feel?'
'Do you want a cuppa, Martine?' Chas interrupted.
'Always a cuppa, eh, Chas?' she replied. 'The answer to all our problems.'
'Don't have a go at him, Martine,' said Mark. 'This was my idea.'
'Fine.' Martine flounced over to the sink and filled a glass with water from the tap. 'So where are you going?'
'Dunno,' replied Mark. 'Somewhere far away. Somewhere warm and safe.'
She fixed him with a gimlet gaze. 'All on your own?' Mark didn't reply. 'You're not taking that bitch with you, are you?' she said. Mark still remained silent. 'You are.'
'You still can't bear it, can you?' said Mark. 'That I'd choose her over you.'
The glass left her hand and smashed against the wall behind Mark's head. 'You bastard,' she said. 'And I thought I'd fixed you.'
'What?' said Mark.
'Nothing.' 'No. Not nothing. Fixed me, how?'
'Forget it.' And she made for the door.
'No,' said Chas, blocking her exit. 'I want to know too. Fixed him how?'
Martine said nothing.
Suddenly it dawned on Mark. 'It was you, wasn't it?' he said to Martine. 'It was you who told Old Bill.'
'I don't know what you mean.'
'That day down in Basingstoke when I nearly got captured. The cops knew I was going to be there. Then they came around here. Someone grassed us up. It was you.' Martine swallowed hard, but still said nothing. 'I can't believe it,' said Mark. 'You turned snout on your own father just to get at me. And you've blamed me all the time. But you put him in the frame. If it wasn't for you he'd never have been arrested that day and ended up in hospital.'
Martine started to sob quietly.
'Christ,' said Chas.
'Yes, I did it,' she shouted. 'You came back here like a conquering hero and Daddy fell for it like he always did.'
'He asked me back,' said Mark.
'So what are you going to do about it?' said Martine. 'Kill me?'
Mark shook his head and stood up. 'No,' he replied. 'Oh yeah, I could kill you, Martine, and maybe I should. Or ruin your face, but you look too much like Hazel. It would be like hurting her. No. I reckon doing nothing is best. Your punishment is living with yourself.' He turned to Chas. 'Sorry about all this, mate. I didn't have a clue, honest. I'd better go.'
The two men picked their way through the broken glass on the floor back upstairs to the front door. 'Shit,' said Chas. 'I had no idea. She more or less killed John.'