Exposed

by Roberta Kray

  ‘Hello, Mrs Chase. It’s Michael Castor. I’ve got a message from Tom to pass on to you.’

  Eden’s heart skipped a beat and she drew in a breath. ‘Tell me.’ As she listened, her hand gripped the phone tightly and her face dropped. ‘But why? I don’t get it. I don’t understand.’ She listened to his reply before thanking him for the call and hanging up.

  ‘What is it?’ Caitlin asked as Eden slumped back down on the sofa.

  ‘That was Tom’s solicitor. He says Tom doesn’t want me in court tomorrow.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘That it would make it worse for him, my being there. Too hard. That he’d prefer that I stayed away.’ Eden rubbed her face with her hands. She reached for the glass of wine, downed what remained in one and topped up the glass from the bottle. ‘Jesus, what do I do now?’

  5

  Archie Rudd stared across the table at his solicitor. It was two weeks since he’d been nabbed, two weeks in which he’d had plenty of time to dwell on it all. The bugger was that he’d known it was going to be a disaster right from the moment he’d woken up on the day of the job. He’d had a queasy feeling in his guts, an itch on the back of his neck. Always trust your instincts – that’s what his old man had taught him – but he’d gone right ahead and done it anyway.

  ‘So what’s the option?’ Archie asked morosely.

  Ben Curran raised his eyebrows. ‘You’re not thinking of changing your mind, are you? If you do then… well, you know the score, Arch: twelve to fifteen depending what mood the judge is in. You’ll just have to hope he doesn’t have a row with his missus in the morning.’

  Archie, who had never been especially good at numbers, could still do the maths on this one. Even if he kept his head down and stayed out of trouble, even with a third taken off, he’d still be knocking on for sixty-five by the time he got out. ‘Christ,’ he groaned. ‘I’ll be drawing my bleedin’ pension. And Rose can’t handle me being inside again.’ The truth was he didn’t much care for the idea of it either; he’d done plenty of bird in the past, but he was getting too old for another long stretch. ‘No, I ain’t changed my mind. There’s no other way, is there? Unless you can conjure up some of that Curran magic.’

  ‘It’s not magic you need, it’s a miracle. You went in there all guns blazing and got caught red-handed. Not much I can do about that, Arch.’

  Archie gave a long sigh. ‘That’s what they don’t get. It’s safer, see, with shooters. One blast in the ceiling and it’s all over. There’s no one going to have a go, no one trying to play the hero. When you think about it, we’re doing everyone a favour.’

  ‘Well, it’s a point of view, if not one widely held within the ranks of the English judicial system.’

  Archie puffed on his fag, making the most of the free pack Curran had brought with him. The Shepperton bank job had been a big mistake. Why had he agreed to it? He wished he could turn back time four weeks and just say no. He hadn’t even known three of the blokes. Billy Drake had said they were sound, said he could vouch for them, but one of the bastards must have been mouthing off, saying something he shouldn’t. How else could Old Bill have known they’d be there?

  Curran leaned forward, placing his hands on the table. ‘One of them is talking, Arch. I’ve already told you. If you’re going to pull out of the deal then it leaves you exposed. The police will try and do you for the Epping robbery too.’

  Archie narrowed his eyes. Making a deal with the law went against the grain – he wasn’t a grass – but what choice did he have? He was shafted if he didn’t. Going down for the two jobs would mean he’d probably never see daylight again. ‘I’ve said, haven’t I? Said I’d do it. I ain’t gonna change my mind.’

  ‘Good,’ Curran said with a look of relief on his face.

  ‘Do you know which one of ’em opened his gob?’ Not Billy, he thought. Billy was old school, the sort who knew how to keep his mouth shut. ‘Was it that Lee Barker?’

  ‘I don’t have a name, not yet.’

  ‘I bet it was. Snivelling little toerag.’

  ‘But all the police have at the moment is hearsay – about the Epping robbery, I mean. You were the one who was there. Give them the information they want and you’ll be looking at a couple of years max. And not in some high-security dump either. A police station probably. Somewhere in London, somewhere Rose can visit without having to travel halfway across the country.’

  Archie sighed. The thing that really pissed him off was that he’d banged the nails into his own bloody coffin. He thought back to the night, a month ago, when he’d first met the gang at Billy Drake’s house. The three other blokes were young, in their mid-twenties, and he’d seen the look on their faces as Billy had introduced him: a combination of disappointment, scorn and derision. To them he was just some old geezer, a man past his prime, a possible liability on a big job like the one they had planned in Shepperton.

  Archie took a slurp of lukewarm tea while he went over the meeting in his mind, step by step. He examined the surface of the table, the old wood battered and scored. He ran a finger along one of the deeper indentations, wondering how many men had done the same before him. The truth was that he’d let his mouth run away with him that night, trying to impress, trying to prove that he wasn’t a has-been. The truth was he’d wanted to wipe the smirk off their faces. And now he was paying the price for his pride.

  It had been a gratifying moment when he’d told them about his part in the Epping raid sixteen years ago. Yeah, their ears had pricked up then. Over two million quid’s worth of jewellery and gems. And they’d got clean away – or at least most of them had. ‘Audacious’ was how the papers had described it, although it had been described in other ways too: ‘brutal’, ‘callous’ and ‘unforgivable’. Paddy Lynch’s lingering death had left a bad taste in everybody’s mouth.

  So he’d sat there in the armchair, swigging a can of beer and giving it the big I am. Pretending that he’d been the brains behind it all. Not thinking, not even for a second, that it was going to come back to haunt him. Stupid. And now one of the boys – yeah, he was sure it was that grinning Lee Barker – had grassed him up. He could have denied it, of course – what could the cops prove after all these years? – simply claimed that he’d made it up to impress them, but he was still looking at a long stretch. Years and years, eating away at what remained of his life.

  ‘Archie?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘They’re waiting outside. Are you ready?’

  Archie wondered how it had come to this. Ten years ago, even five, he wouldn’t have thought twice, but times had changed. The old ways were disappearing. Now villains were turning Queen’s evidence right, left and centre. Loyalty had gone right out of the window. It went against the grain, made him feel sick to his stomach, but that’s the way it was. And when push came to shove what did he owe Jack Minter anyway? The bastard had left Paddy to die, not even given the poor bugger a chance. Someone had to pay for that and he didn’t see why it should be him.

  6

  DI Vic Banner had been in the Flying Squad for six years, waiting for the break, for a result that would give him the promotion he deserved. At forty-seven he was running out of time. So when the phone call had come through from Ben Curran’s clerk, a call offering a deal on the Epping heist, he had seen his chance: a high-profile controversial case that had remained unsolved… until now. When it came to trial, it would be front-page news, the story on everyone’s lips – and he’d be right there, standing in the limelight with a bloody big smile on his face.

  ‘Hello, Archie,’ he said as he entered the room with the constable, pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘You know who I am and this is DC Steve Leigh. Good to see you again.’

  ‘It’s Mr Rudd to you.’

  Banner raised an eyebrow and gave a nod. ‘As you like.’ He knew he had to tread carefully, that Archie was on edge, still jumpy about what he was intending to do. It didn’t sit well with him and it was written all over his fac
e. ‘This is just a casual chat, yeah, another chance for us to talk things over, see where we stand.’

  Archie’s lip curled. ‘I ain’t happy about this, just so you understand.’

  ‘Loud and clear. But you know how it works, Mr Rudd: you help us and we’ll help you. Simple, really, when you think about it.’ Banner flipped open the file he had brought with him and pretended to examine the contents. He left a short silence before looking up again. ‘So what more can you tell us about Jack Minter?’

  Archie hesitated, glancing at Curran before looking at Banner again. ‘I’ve told you enough already. I ain’t saying no more until I get it in writing. I know what you lot are like. I want it down in black and white, a proper agreement.’

  ‘My client needs some guarantees,’ Curran said.

  Banner gave a patient smile. ‘Sure, we understand that. And you’ll get them, but not until we’ve covered the basics. There are just a few things we need to get clear first.’ He took out a photograph and pushed it across the desk. ‘Are you absolutely certain that this is the man who called himself Jack Minter?’

  Archie glared at him and then down at the photograph, at the picture of the tall blond man emerging from a doorway. ‘How many times? I’ve already told you.’

  ‘It was sixteen years ago. People change.’

  ‘He don’t look that different. A bit older, that’s all.’

  ‘And you’re positive that his real name was Tom Chase?’

  ‘Yeah, we checked him out, didn’t we? Me and Don. You don’t go into a job like that without taking some care over who you’re working with.’

  Banner gave a nod as if to acknowledge respect for Archie’s thoroughness. ‘You weren’t bothered by the fact he was using an alias?’

  ‘So he used a different name, so what? Wasn’t the first and he won’t be the last.’

  ‘Just trying to cover his tracks, right?’

  Archie shrugged.

  ‘And you found out he was living and working in Chigwell. A photographer, yes?’

  ‘Yeah, he worked for Albert Shiner’s: portraits and the like. It ain’t there no more. Closed down years back. And he had a flat behind Brook Parade; I don’t remember the exact address.’

  Banner kept his eyes on Archie, watching for any signs that he might be lying. Except he didn’t think he was. The guy was nervy, on edge, but that was only to be expected. Archie Rudd had form for armed robbery, lots of it, and the Epping job would have been right down his street. ‘And this Tom Chase/Jack Minter – whatever we’re going to call him – he first approached you in the Fox in Kellston?’

  Archie’s wily eyes narrowed into two thin slits. ‘Not me,’ he said. ‘It was Don. I’ve told you it was Don.’

  ‘Don West.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘The late Don West.’

  Archie gave a nod. ‘Cancer,’ he said. ‘Couple of years back.’

  Banner continued to watch him closely. Archie was a grizzled-looking man in his late fifties with grey wiry hair and skin like leather. Deep lines rippled across his forehead in waves. He was short but solid with a small round beer belly that swelled the front of his white T-shirt. ‘But Don told you all about it.’

  ‘Minter took him aside in the Fox, said he was looking to put a team together for something big, said he’d heard he was the best. Course Don didn’t take the geezer serious – didn’t know him from Adam, did he? Could have been one of you lot trying to stitch him up – so he told him to get lost, he wasn’t interested. But Minter wouldn’t give up. Kept going on at him, said at least hear him out… and eventually Don did.’

  ‘And liked what he heard.’

  ‘He reckoned the plan had legs. The geezer had done his homework, you know, planned it all out meticulous like. No loose ends. Everything neat and tidy.’

  ‘Did he have form? Had he done anything like this before?’

  ‘If he did, he weren’t bragging about it.’ Archie frowned, giving it some thought. ‘To be honest he didn’t talk about nothing much other than the job.’

  ‘Single-minded,’ DC Leigh said.

  Archie lit another fag, pulled in the smoke and exhaled in a long thin stream. ‘You could say that.’

  ‘So how many men did he want?’

  Archie gave a snort. ‘No details, not until we get things sorted. And no other names either.’

  ‘Well, we already know that Paddy Lynch was one of them.’

  Vic Banner sat back and casually folded his arms across his chest. ‘Yeah, shame about Paddy. That must have been a tough decision.’

  ‘There weren’t no bloody decision!’ Archie retorted, rising to the bait. His cheeks burned red and his eyes blazed with indignant rage. He pointed a finger at the inspector. ‘Don’t go trying to pin that on me, mate. The hospital – that’s where Minter said he was taking him. How were we to know any different? How were we to know that he was going to —’ He stopped abruptly, his chest heaving with emotion, and took a quick angry drag on the cigarette. ‘By the time we found out what he’d done it was too late. Paddy was dead and Minter had disappeared.’

  ‘Okay, I believe you.’ Banner waited a moment before reaching across the table, retrieving the photograph and holding it up. ‘But what I need to know, what I need to be absolutely sure of, is that you’re prepared to stand up in court and swear blind that this is the man who called himself Jack Minter, that he organised the Epping job and that he left Paddy Lynch to die like a dog in the back of a van.’

  Archie didn’t hesitate. ‘Bring it on,’ he said. ‘The sooner the better. It’ll be a bleedin’ pleasure.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘And you’re going to get me out of this dump?’

  Banner nodded. ‘Bear with us; it might take a week or so.’ He slipped the photo into the folder, snapped it shut and rose to his feet. ‘Right, that’s all for now. Thanks for your assistance, Mr Rudd. We’ll be back in touch soon.’

  Archie crushed the fag in the ashtray, put his elbow on the table and covered his mouth with his hand.

  Outside in the corridor, DC Leigh looked at his boss. ‘So what do you reckon, guv?’

  Vic Banner slapped the file against his thigh and grinned. ‘I reckon Tom Chase is well and truly fucked.’

  7

  On Friday morning, after a restless night, Eden was still in two minds as to whether she should go to court. It felt disloyal not to, even if it was what Tom wanted. But did he really know what he wanted? His head, like hers, must be all over the place. Maybe he regretted asking her to stay away – or maybe he didn’t. Although it hardly seemed possible, she dreaded the thought of making things worse.

  ‘I think you should do as he says,’ Caitlin advised. ‘Everyone has their own way of dealing with stuff; perhaps it’s easier for him to face it alone. He’ll just want to get it over and done with. And it’s not as though you’ll be able to speak.’

  ‘I know but… It feels wrong, him being there with no one to support him.’

  ‘He’s got his solicitor.’ Caitlin began to butter some toast. ‘And no offence, love, but you look like hell. I bet you didn’t get a wink of sleep. Do you want him to have to start worrying about you too? I don’t see how that’s going to help.’

  Eden’s head had a fog in it, partly down to a hangover – she had drunk too much wine last night – and partly down to sleep deprivation. For hours she had lain awake, overly aware of the space beside her, of the absence of Tom’s breathing, of the coldness of the bed. ‘I’ll be all right once I’ve had a shower.’

  ‘And something to eat,’ Caitlin said, pushing the plate across the table. ‘At least try and get some toast down you. And look, if you really want to go to court the offer’s still open. I’ll come along, it’s not a problem.’

  Eden gave a sigh. ‘No, you’re right. I shouldn’t go. It isn’t fair, not if he doesn’t want me there.’ Now that she had made the decision she felt a mixture of guilt and relief. ‘Castor said he’d call me as soon as it’s ov
er. I’ll wait here. I can start searching the flat, try and find something useful.’

  ‘Do you want a hand?’

  ‘No, you’ve done enough. I’ll be fine, honestly. I’ll give you a ring when I’ve got some news.’

  It was as she was leaving that Caitlin turned and asked, ‘Are you okay for money?’

  Eden was startled by the question. ‘Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?’

  ‘It’s just that… Well, it could be a while before Tom’s earning again. And you’re at college. With nothing coming in, things could get a bit tight. I mean, it could be ages before it goes to trial.’