Once Upon a Crime

by Jimmy Cryans

  Alison looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘Now you listen, James. I’m coming with you and I don’t care what you say, so don’t try to talk me out of it. I love you and I’m staying with you no matter what happens. I am not going home and if you leave me I will simply just get on a bus and leave here and I don’t care where to, but I am not going home, OK?’

  I could see that she meant every word and said, ‘If you come with me, Alison, there will be no going back, at least not for a long while. You realise that, don’t you? And it won’t be easy. We will be on the run with the law looking for us, no contact with any family or friends – is that really what you want to do?’

  She did not hesitate for a second: ‘Yes, James, that is what I want to do. I’m not leaving you, so we had better get a move on.’ I phoned for a taxi, returned to Christine’s with James and briefly explained the situation to her. My heart was breaking inside because I knew it would be a while before I saw my beautiful wee boy again, so I gave him a big hug and told him I loved him. I am not ashamed to admit that as I left there were tears running down my face.

  John and I returned to his house and I threw a few things into a bag, along with the money I had put away. When Alison arrived we left immediately for Windsor where I had some family. John told me that he would keep on top of things at his end and would update me by telephone on any developments, and with that we threw our arms around each other and said our goodbyes. It would be another four years before we saw each other again.

  Myself and Alison arrived at my uncle Willie’s house on the outskirts of Windsor and stayed overnight. The next morning we booked into a hotel on Windsor High Street. As we sat in the bar that evening an old friend of mine walked in and we had a nice get-together. His name was Graham Pierce and he was a native of Windsor and had been a friend of the family for more than 20 years. He was also a working thief and a robber and he was keen to go to work with me. Graham and me arranged to talk about any turns and he said he would be up for anything that was on offer. He also said he would be able to provide any transport needed and that the vehicles would be untraceable. After discussing various targets it was agreed that on the coming Monday we would drive over to Reading to have a look at a jewellers.

  It was decided that we would hit the target just before closing time at 5.30pm as I knew this was when the safes would be opened to secure the merchandise that had been on display. Graham would supply the vehicles and I would supply boiler suits, balaclavas, gloves and coshes, which I had stored in a large holdall and kept in a cupboard under the stairs at Ma’s. The plan was to enter the jewellers just as they were about to close, herd the staff into the back of the premises and while Graham secured them I would clear out the safe. I stressed to Graham that violence would only be used if we were challenged by any have-a-go hero and even then a quick rap across the nut usually put an end to that kind of silliness. Speed, surprise and verbal aggression were the keys to this type of robbery and we would be out in under three minutes.

  On Wednesday evening we drove over to Reading and had a dry run so that we were able to gauge the traffic and to check if there were any roadworks. Everything went smoothly and we were all set for Friday, so I checked that everything was in place, sat back and relaxed. I would sleep as often as I could before a job.

  On the Friday we arrived on the plot at 5.25pm, parked up and entered the jewellers, pulling the balaclavas down over our faces. I vaulted over the counter, ignoring the jeweller, a man in his early fifties – it was Graham’s job to tackle him, take him through to the back of the shop and restrain him and any others. Before I had even a chance to enter the rear of the premises I was distracted by a loud scream which I recognised was Graham’s: ‘Right, you bastard, get the fucking safe open.’ This wasn’t part of the plan and I knew in an instant that this was not going to go well. Worse was to follow. As I glanced over I couldn’t believe what I was witnessing. Graham was coshing the guy over the head with the shaft of the pick he was armed with and there was blood spurting from the man’s head.

  ‘For fuck’s sake get him into the back and leave him alone,’ I shouted, but I was wasting my time. Graham had completely lost his cool and was now going berserk and had started to smash open the glass display cases. This was bad and the whole plan was now completely out of the window. I grabbed up a bank bag containing the day’s takings and was about to go through the safe when Graham pushed past me and was about to start coshing the jeweller’s wife who had been securing the trays of diamonds rings in the safe.

  I screamed, ‘What the fuck are you doing? Leave her and get out!’ I had to physically drag him away and out of the shop and I wasn’t a happy man. If I’d had a gun I truly think I would have shot him at the moment. I bundled him into the car and he was still screaming like a fucking lunatic. Getting behind the wheel I quickly drove away from the scene, all the while shouting at Graham. ‘You fucking maniac! You completely noised it up and I’m going to fucking do you!’

  He kept saying over and over, ‘But, Jim, the geezer was trying to have a pop at me. I had to sort him out.’

  I said, ‘Listen, you slag – once we are safe I am getting out of this motor and you can fuck off. I never want to see you again, so just disappear, OK?’

  ‘What about the money?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, you can have a share, but you’ll be lucky if you clear a monkey – there is less than a grand in this bag. You made a right mug of it. We should have cleared 25 grand our way and there was no fucking need for that level of violence. You’ve put it right on top.’

  We dumped the car and separated but as I walked away I had a bad feeling, not just about the way Graham had behaved but a sense of foreboding. I somehow knew that I hadn’t heard the last of either Graham or this day’s work. To say it had been a bad day at the office was an understatement – there had been no need to cosh the guy and I felt bad about that. I am not trying to paint myself lily white, because I would not hesitate to use violence when it was required, but violence just for the sake of it has always repulsed me. An incident like this was very unprofessional and I was sickened by the whole ordeal.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I had decided that me and Alison would head for Glasgow but a couple of days after the jewellery job we were sitting in our hotel room when there was a knock at the door. It was the hotel manager. ‘There are some gentlemen downstairs who would like to have a word with you, Mr Stewart.’ Stewart was the name I had used when booking in.

  ‘OK, tell them I will be right down. I’ll just put my shoes on.’ I knew straight away something wasn’t right. The manager had appeared very nervous and had avoided my eyes. I said to Alison, ‘Quick, throw our things into a bag and get your coat on. We may have to get out of here – I think the cops are downstairs.’ I left the room and crept quietly down the staircase. I stopped at the landing just above the reception area and peeked around the corner into the hotel foyer below. Standing there with their backs to me were three plain-clothed policemen. I had had too many dealings with the law to be in any doubt as to who they were.

  I quietly raced back up the stairs. Once I was back in our room I grabbed my jacket, checked that I had all the money we possessed and said, ‘Right, Alison, let’s go. It’s the cops downstairs and we only have a minute so just follow me.’

  I picked up the holdall with our few things and closed and locked the door. We entered a bathroom and I locked the door. I opened the window and looked down into the courtyard of the hotel 60 feet below us. I noticed there was a drainpipe about three feet to the left of the window which could be reached at a stretch. We were in luck but I knew that this would be no easy task for Alison.

  I turned and faced her and said, ‘Now, listen to me, Alison. The cops will be here any minute. I’ve bought us a wee bit of time by locking our bedroom door and they will take a bit of time before they try this door, so we have to move fast. There is a drainpipe outside this window which can be reached. I’ll go out first with th
e bag and I will guide you out and stay on the pipe until I have you secure. I will stay right below you all the way down and guide you. I know it won’t be easy but it is our only chance. Are you up for it, sweetheart?’

  ‘Yes, James. I’ll be shitting myself but we have no choice, do we?’

  I have to give Alison bundles of credit for courage because it wasn’t easy, not even for me, but she did not flinch and in a few moments we were standing in the courtyard. But we were not safe yet. The exit from the courtyard to the street was through an arch and standing on the pavement at the exit were three uniformed coppers. We retreated to the rear of the courtyard and encountered a six-foot high wooden fence.

  I threw the holdall over and then gave Alison a punt over and followed her in a second. We found ourselves in the rear of some commercial premises and I very quickly found a way onto the adjoining street. We moved through a series of back streets and came upon a quiet little pub. For the moment we had evaded the trap but I knew that we had to put some distance between ourselves and the law, and quickly. We had a quick drink – I think Alison was in need of one – and then I asked the governor of the boozer to phone us a taxi, saying that we wanted to go to Bracknell.

  The taxi arrived and once we were inside I told the driver to head for Maidenhead – the opposite direction to Bracknell. From there we got a train into London, getting off in Paddington. I managed to find us a quiet little hotel and we booked in for the night. The two of us were exhausted but the funny thing, and I had experienced this before, was that the two of us couldn’t wait to rip the clothes off each other and we made love in a frenzy. It was some of the best sex I have ever experienced. Whatever it was I had no complaints and when it was over we fell asleep naked in each other’s arms.

  The following morning we caught the first available train to Glasgow where my da Hughie had some bad news for us. The cops had been to his door that morning looking for us. They hadn’t mentioned the robbery in Reading but had said they were trying to trace Alison, whose mother had reported her as a missing person. Hughie told us that he would take us over to an empty house he had access to in another part of the east end. It was a two-room apartment and fully furnished. I was so grateful to Hughie – he always came through for me and he never asked too many questions.

  I had been out of the loop in Glasgow for a few years so my contacts were limited. It really became a case of fending for ourselves, which meant that I had to get out and look for some earners. For me, the best solution was to stick to what I knew and I went back to looking at bank jobs which kept our heads above water.

  Alison did not complain once and I know it must have been tough for her. And of course I was missing my own family, but for the time being we would have to stay put, at least until things had settled down, and to give me the chance to try to find out exactly why the law were looking for me. Was it because I had absconded from? Was it to do with Alison being on the missing list? Or, worst case scenario, was it to do with the robbery in Reading? The big question for me was: how did the cops know what hotel we had been in, and how did they know that I had registered under the name of Mr Stewart? Apart from Alison and myself, the only other person who knew was Graham Pierce. I had to find out if he had been arrested and if so then what for.

  My worst fears were confirmed by my uncle when he told me on the phone that Graham had been arrested and charged with the robbery of the jewellers in Reading. It wasn’t rocket science to work out that he had stuck me in. For the past couple of years the newspapers had been full about people turning informer and a new phrase had been coined to describe these lowlifes – this was now the age of the supergrass. It has to be remembered that this was in the days when you could be convicted solely on the verbal evidence of a fellow robber who had turned informant. When a police officer gave evidence in court juries found it very difficult to believe that it could be fabricated and it was always a very risky strategy to imply that the cop was being less than truthful. I knew that if Graham had traded me then I was on a very sticky wicket.

  After a couple of months I decided that both Alison and me should return south. I told my da that me and Alison were both missing our families and that I wanted to deal with the Graham situation. Hughie said it was a very risky strategy but he wished us well and told me to keep him in the picture and to let him know if there was anything we needed. As we said our goodbyes I watched him walk away and I somehow knew that I would never see him again, and I never did. A little over a year later he was dead at the age of 50. I still miss him.

  Alison wasn’t too keen on the idea of facing her mum and dad again, no matter how much she had been missing them, but I think she knew it was the right thing to do. I didn’t want her to get involved any deeper than she already was. We had fallen deeply in love and I knew that if only things had been different we would have spent the rest of our lives together. We just fitted each other so perfectly.

  So on a Monday morning we boarded the train for London at Glasgow Central and the next phase of our adventure began. Perhaps if I had known what lay in store for me I would never have gotten on board, but I had made my decision. I had no idea just how hard life was going to test me. It was as if it was almost saying to me, ‘Right, wee man, let’s see what you are really made of.’ And it would not be too long before I found myself having to answer that question.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The morning after our return from Glasgow, I phoned John Renaldi. He was so pleased to hear that I was safe, though he almost dropped the phone when I told him I was at Ma’s with Alison. ‘Fuck me, Jim,’ he said, ‘you like to sail close to the wind, don’t ya? You are red hot and the old bill have been turning everyone over looking for you. For fuck’s sake don’t show your face.’

  The phone I was using was in my sister’s house, which I entered using the back door as she was only a couple of houses away from Ma’s. As long as I was careful and made sure I wasn’t seen then the risk was negligible, but it was a risk that had to be taken as our options were very limited.

  On the Friday evening my sister Olive drove into Newbury to see Christine and to arrange that my boy James would come over to Ma’s on Saturday. It was just so good to see my James again as I had missed him really badly. The true price for choosing a life of crime is the loss of loved ones, particularly children. James found it a bit strange that we could not go outside to play but we had a great weekend and before we knew it, it was time for him to return home. This would be the last time I would spend with my James. As I write these words almost 34 years have passed and the pain never goes away. That is the price I pay for the life I choose to live.

  At nine o’clock on Monday morning I was awoken by the sound of loud banging on the front door of Ma’s house. I had heard that type of noise too many times before to be in any doubt over the callers. I wasn’t mistaken because a voice called out, ‘This is the police, Mrs Cryans. Open the door, we have a warrant.’

  I sprang out of bed and as I did so I became aware for the first time that Alison was nowhere to be seen. Standing slightly back from the window I looked into the garden and saw two cops with Alsatians standing a few feet apart and looking up while another two cops were standing near the front gate. I rushed through to the back bedroom and looked into the garden to see another two cops and another two dogs. I assumed there would be probably four at the front door so that made ten in all. I was well and truly caught. I simply returned to my bedroom to await my captors. Game over.

  Bursting through the bedroom door, two of them soon had guns pointed right at me. ‘Don’t fucking move, Jimmy boy, you’re nicked.’

  I think they were a wee bit taken aback by me lying casually on the bed and they certainly did not expect what I said to them in reply. ‘Hello, guys. Come in and take a seat. I’ve been expecting you’ and with that I was roughly thrown face down and my hands cuffed behind my back.

  On the way downstairs one of the cops asked ‘Where is Alison, Jim?’

  ‘Who?
’ I said.

  Ma was standing at the bottom of the stairs and heard this exchange. I gave her a quizzical expression to which she responded with the slightest shift of an eye towards the kitchen. Alison was almost an afterthought for the cops and they did not make a search of the house. Alison was actually in the bath when the cops started knocking on the front door and what she did next was very, very cute. Stepping from the bath she pulled open the door leaving the bathroom in full view but stood behind the door. It worked, as a cop did take a cursory glance and assumed it was empty.

  I managed to have a brief word with Ma and told her to phone my lawyer in Newbury, Mr Childs, and tell him I was being taken to Newbury nick. One of the coppers said, ‘I shouldn’t bother, Mrs Cryans – he won’t be there very long. We will be taking him to Reading nick to interview him.’

  I quickly assumed the position I always did when under arrest. I said nothing and refused to answer anything. Not that it made a lot of difference, because if they were going to verbal me then there was fuck all I could do about it, but at least I had a wee bit of consolation in knowing that cops do not like to get the silent treatment from a prisoner. It makes them have to work that bit harder.

  Once we arrived at Newbury police station I was uncuffed and a copper said something that I knew was meant to shake me up a bit: ‘Oh, and by the way, your pal Graham Pierce said to say “hello”.’

  As we were going out the front door a car pulled up and Alison got out in the company of my lawyer Mr Childs and her dad, Gordon, who shot me a look that was pure hate. I am sure he was very close to losing his cool and attacking me there and then, and who could blame him? I would have felt exactly the same in his position.