Craig glanced at Jason, then shook his head. They’d done their homework on the jeweller’s in Morton Street, knew what each piece was worth. A lot of time and effort had gone into the job too. They’d watched the shop for the past week, knew exactly what time the postman arrived and when to strike. Craig knew Marianna St Clair’s father had passed away and she’d be at the shop alone, but he’d held that particular bit of information away from his partner in crime. Jason was no man’s fool, but he could be a bit of a soft touch at times. ‘You’re taking the fucking piss, Mick. We knew what we were robbing, mate. Well over a million an’ a half, the marked-up price. The watches are worth four hundred grand alone. We ain’t gonna be ripped off with it.’
The son of a prize-fighting gypsy, Mick the Gold was a stocky man with a bright red face and bulbous nose. His love for whisky had taken its toll over the years and clearly showed in his features. ‘Times have changed, Craig. Hot property isn’t as easy to get rid of any more, even abroad. This robbery was mentioned on the radio earlier today. A pal of mine heard it on LBC.’
‘For fuck’s sake,’ Jason mumbled. One of their previous robberies when they’d held up a lorry load of electrical goods had ended up on bloody Crimewatch and he didn’t need that shit again.
‘I’ll up my offer to three-fifty. But that’s it, lads. I can’t go to no more,’ Mick said.
‘I need a minute to talk to Jase alone,’ Craig replied.
When Mick the Gold left the room, Jason rolled his eyes in dismay. ‘Seven hundred grand at least you said we’d get for this lot. We’re nowhere fucking near that,’ he said to Craig.
‘I know and I’m sorry. But he ain’t gonna want this haul to slip through his fingers, trust me. Will you settle for four hundred if I can get him to that?’
Jason shrugged. ‘Case of having to, I suppose. But let me tell you something, Craig. No way am I doing another daredevil robbery in Central London that ends up in the fucking news. You ain’t got kids, I have. And I intend to see ’em bastard-well grow up.’
‘There you are! I was starting to get worried. Everything OK?’ Melissa asked, when her husband finally arrived home at nearly midnight.
‘So-so. There you go,’ Jason replied, handing his wife a sports bag full of cash.
‘How much is in there?’
‘Fifty grand. Take out whatever you need and put the rest in the safe.’ Jason had already hidden the bulk of the money at his nan’s house in Dagenham. She had a big cupboard under her stairs and he’d spent ages creating a false back to it. Any cash or valuables he didn’t want to keep at home were stashed in tins there, and he very much doubted the Old Bill would find anything were they ever to raid his nan’s house. He even stuck a bit of fresh wallpaper over the back of the cupboard each time he used it.
‘Well, I need a new car. And I thought I might book us a cruise. Be nice for us to do something special for the Millennium, won’t it? And it’s been eighteen months since we last had a holiday.’
‘Why do you need a new car? There’s sod-all wrong with the one you’ve got.’
‘It’s five years old, Jason. Kieron has just bought Tracey a brand-new Mercedes. Why can’t I have something new for once?’
Kieron Jessop was Tracey Thompson’s new bloke and Jason rued the day Tracey had met him. He was a City boy, a high-flyer, and extravagant was his middle name. ‘You know full well why you can’t be seen swanning about in flashy new motors. Until I find myself a decent accountant and have a legitimate set of books showing I’m earning a bigger wage, we can’t be seen to be flashing the cash.’
‘But you sell the cars you get from the auctions,’ Melissa argued.
Jason’s cover for his life of crime was buying cars and selling them on for a profit. He declared most to the taxman, therefore could legally show certain assets and pay his bills. But what he couldn’t do was show more than what he was earning. ‘I don’t earn enough in the taxman’s eyes to be splashing out on brand-new fucking motors, Mel. Told you that before, a thousand times over. Never satisfied, you. Fifty grand I’ve just given ya and you still want more.’
‘I didn’t say I wanted more. I just said I wanted to buy a new car and book us a bloody holiday out of it. Those are things that normal couples do, Jason.’
Jason stared at the woman he’d married. She was much prettier now she’d slimmed down a bit and her hair was longer. He walked over to her, put his arms around her waist and pulled her towards him. ‘Look, I don’t want to argue with you. You just need to play ball for the time being at least. Perhaps I’ll look at setting up a new business, one that legally pays more? Leave it with me and I’ll have a think.’
Melissa stroked Jason’s cheek. He was still a very handsome man. These days his blond hair was swept back and held in place with wax, a far more sophisticated look than the curtains he’d had when she’d first met him. Whenever they were out, Melissa would see other women looking admiringly at Jason and she knew in her heart she was lucky to have him. ‘I’m sorry. I came on earlier today.’
The tears came then, so Jason comforted her, reassuring her that one day they would have the baby she seemed to crave so much.
‘Do you honestly think so?’ Melissa wept.
Jason sighed. He’d had a long stressful day, could really do without this tonight. ‘Yeah, course I do. But you got to stop stressing about it, Mel. The doctor has already told us there is no reason why we can’t have a baby. We just got to let nature take its course, OK?’
Feeling slightly better, Melissa nodded and smiled. ‘OK.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Jason slammed the Evening Standard down on the table in front of Craig. The article was on page seven, and clearly stated what they’d stolen was in fact worth over two million quid. It also said the shop owner had died the previous week and his bereft daughter had been looking after the business. There was a photo of the deceased owner, an identical motorbike to the one they’d used and their false registration plate.
‘What’s up?’ Craig asked, glancing at the paper.
‘Did you know the old boy who run the shop had died and the daughter would be there alone?’ Jason barked.
‘Well, yeah. But don’t dig me out for it. If she hadn’t been there alone, it would’ve been too risky to rob it.’
‘You didn’t clump her, did ya?’
‘Course not! Whaddya think I am? The press always exaggerate.’
‘Says that the haul was worth over two mill. He proper striped us up, Mick the Gold did,’ Jason complained. Three hundred and eighty grand they’d walked away with. A hundred and ninety each – and for the risks involved, Jason thought that was paltry.
Craig shrugged. ‘No point whingeing now. Still not bad for a morning’s work. I think you’re right though. We should avoid built-up areas in future. I’ll have a scout around Essex, see what I can sniff out.’
Jason plonked himself on the chair opposite. He rarely visited Craig at his home in Langdon Hills and Craig never came to his. They’d sometimes go out for a drink together, but Jason preferred to keep their friendship quiet. Nobody knew that they worked together, and the robberies they’d pulled off were all very different. Even the police didn’t seem to have an inkling that any were linked. ‘How did you know the old boy had croaked it and his daughter would be there alone? You’ve not been talking to outsiders, have you?’
‘Don’t be so daft. Geezer who comes into my car lot let it slip. I just asked a couple of casual questions, then checked it out for meself.’ Craig also had a registered business to cover his tracks with the authorities. He owned a second-hand car lot in Basildon. Jason had sold a few motors to him in the past and that explained them being acquaintances if anyone should come sniffing around. ‘Look, I know you’re pissed off we didn’t get as much as we should have, but Mick the Gold has a point. Hot property isn’t as easy to shift these days. He’s taking a risk getting it out of the country an’ all, and at least we know if he did get caught with it, he’d ne
ver grass us up.’
‘We don’t know that though, do we? He’s yet to be caught with anything we’ve sold him. He might sing like a fucking canary for all we know.’
Craig walked over to the kitchen counter and poured two large brandies. He handed one to Jason. ‘Get that down your hatch and chill,’ he ordered. ‘Fancy a night up Stringfellows? We should celebrate properly.’
‘Nah, I can’t tonight. Mel’s invited Tracey Thompson and her latest bloke round for a meal. Be bored to death, I will. Weddings will be the topic of conversation. The silly bastard proposed to Tracey recently. Hired a plane to fly over with the words “Will you marry me my darling, Tracey?” on some big fuck-off banner. She said yes, of course. He’s loaded.’
‘Do I know him? Sounds a right plum.’
‘Kieron Jessop, his name is. Proper City boy, I doubt you know him. He’s OK in small doses. Must have a screw loose to want to marry Tracey though. She’s high-maintenance, her.’
‘Is that the bird we bumped into at the Epping Forest Country Club? Blonde, big tits. Looks like a glamour model.’
‘Yeah, that’s her. She watched us like a hawk and that’s why we left early. Always been jealous of mine and Mel’s marriage, she has. Got a habit of sticking her oar in when it ain’t needed. Perhaps she’ll mellow a bit now she’s met the one. I dread to think what the wedding’ll be like, mind. I can picture her and him sat on thrones like the Beckhams.’
Craig laughed. ‘Well, she was certainly a sort. I’d have given her one, had she asked nicely.’
Jason stood up. ‘You’d give anything one. I better make a move now, mate. I promised I’d pick me sister and brothers up from school and take ’em out for something to eat. Have fun tonight and I’ll bell ya tomorrow.’
‘Sweet. Laters, pal.’
‘I’ve not seen you around here before. Are you new to the area?’ Melissa asked the woman she was chatting to in the hairdresser’s. Mel was a regular at the salon, knew most of the locals.
‘Yes. My husband and I moved here last month.’
‘Where did you live before?’ Melissa enquired. The woman had a posh accent and oozed class.
‘Twickenham. We had to move because of our careers. The commuting would have been too much. We’ve bought a house on the old Claybury Hospital land. Do you know it?’
Melissa’s eyes opened wide. She most certainly did know it. Repton Park was an extremely sought after area and it cost an arm and a leg to buy even a flat there. ‘Yes. It’s lovely on Repton Park, isn’t it? My husband and I are hoping to move there soon,’ Melissa lied. ‘We are currently in Chigwell Row, but I feel we’re outgrowing the property a little now.’
‘I’m Eleanor, by the way,’ the lady said warmly. She was very attractive. Her hair was long, a chestnut colour, and Mel guessed she was mid to late thirties.
‘I’m Melissa. Melissa Rampling.’
‘Oops. Your baby has woken up,’ said Sonia, one of the stylists.
Melissa was amazed when Eleanor stood up, walked over to the corner of the salon and lifted a stunning little girl out of her pram. ‘Wow! Is she your daughter? I didn’t even see her as I came in.’
‘Yes. This is Ruby, the whole reason our lives have been turned upside down,’ Eleanor replied, walking over to Melissa with the child in her arms.
‘She is truly beautiful. Aren’t you, sweetheart,’ Melissa smiled, tickling the child’s chin. She had that terrible pang of envy she always felt when seeing a pretty baby. It was so unfair God hadn’t blessed herself and Jason with a child of their own.
Eleanor stroked Ruby’s face and the little girl gurgled happily. ‘She has made our lives complete. My husband and I tried years for a baby with no success and then we tried IVF. My husband is a doctor and he booked an appointment with a friend of his, a specialist in Harley Street. Dr Kazim is a miracle worker.’
‘That’s amazing! I am so pleased for you.’
Melissa watched in the mirror as Eleanor fed her child, gently winded her then laid her back in the pram. Her brain was whirling with all the questions she wanted to ask.
‘Do you have children?’ Eleanor asked, as she sat down next to Melissa.
‘Yes, two. But my husband and I would love another.’ Melissa lowered her tone. ‘We have been trying for ages.’
‘Oh, it’s so frustrating, isn’t it? I used to cry to my husband at that trying time of the month, without fail.’
‘Me too.’
‘I’m a counsellor now. That’s the main reason we moved from Twickenham. I’m opening my own practice in Buckhurst Hill.’
‘That’s great! What an amazing woman you are,’ Melissa gushed, truly meaning it. ‘Please don’t think I’m being forward, but would you like to go for lunch one day? I could talk to you for hours.’
‘That would be lovely. But I get very little spare time, so please be patient with me.’ Eleanor delved into her handbag. ‘That’s my card and the other is Dr Kazim’s. You should visit him in Harley Street. He’s a very busy man though, so you might have to wait a couple of weeks for an appointment.’
Melissa was bemused. ‘But do I need IVF if I’ve already had a baby?’
‘Dr Kazim doesn’t just do IVF. He’s an expert in all areas of fertility. Be warned, he isn’t cheap. But he is brilliant and I am sure he will be able to help you.’
Melissa clutched the cards close to her chest. This was fate, it had to be.
‘Hmmm, so who’s got room left for dessert, I wonder?’ Jason grinned.
‘I have!’ three voices said in unison, just like he knew they would. Once a week Jason would pick his brothers and sister up and take them out for a meal. The Harvester was their current favourite, but sometimes they’d ask to go for a pizza instead.
‘Can I have a Rocky Horror?’ Barbara asked, licking her lips.
‘I’ll have that too,’ Elton said.
‘And me,’ Kyle added.
Jason chuckled. He’d had sod-all to do with his mother since his wedding. She’d rung him a few times, on his earhole for dosh, but he’d told her where to go and every time she got hold of his new phone number, he’d change it again. He loved his brothers and sister though, found it hard to believe at times they’d come out of his mother’s stinking body. Unlike her, they had a heart. ‘I suppose I can stretch to three. You better eat ’em all up though,’ Jason winked.
‘Why are you not having one?’ Barbara asked her big brother. She weighed over fourteen stone now. But she loved her food and could not understand why anyone would turn a Rocky Horror down.
‘Mel’s cooking later. We’ve got friends coming over for dinner,’ Jason replied.
‘When are we coming over again, Jase?’ asked thirteenyear-old Elton.
Jason sighed. When his brothers were younger he’d had them and Babs stay with him and Mel every other weekend. All three had loved it. It had been something for them to look forward to in their shitty lives.
It wasn’t Babs who’d brought that particular arrangement to an end. Bar eating them out of house and home, she’d been as good as gold. It was the boys Melissa had got fed up with. She felt they were leading Donte astray, making him insolent. They’d broken things as well. Mirrors, garden ornaments, and Donte’s toys. But it was Kyle who’d put the final nail in the coffin. Melissa kept a treasured glass jewellery box in their bedroom that had belonged to her mother, and Kyle had somehow smashed it to pieces. ‘That’s it, Jason!’ Melissa had screamed at him. ‘Your brothers and sister are your fucking problem, not mine. I don’t care how often you see them or what money you give them, but I will not put up with ’em wrecking my beautiful home any more. And that is my final word on the matter.’ Jason could understand where she was coming from. Elton and Kyle were typical rough council estate boys, but they couldn’t help it. Not with a mother like theirs. Jason often wondered how he’d ended up so sane and cool. It had to be his father’s genes. There was no other explanation.
‘Yeah, why don’t we come to yours
any more, Jase? Is it ’cause I smashed that thing that time? ’Cause it was an accident ya know. I never meant to break it.’
Jason stroked his youngest brother’s cropped hair. ‘I know you didn’t, and that isn’t the reason you don’t stay over any more.’
‘What is the reason then?’ Kyle enquired.
Jason looked into Kyle’s sorrowful brown eyes and felt sad. Melissa had no right to ban his siblings from their home and it was about time he stood his ground. ‘You are coming over, at Christmas. It was meant to be a surprise.’
‘Really?’ Babs asked, clapping her hands with glee. Last Christmas had been awful. Her mum had gone to the pub at lunchtime, had come home drunk and she’d had to try and cook the dinner herself. The turkey had been raw in the middle and she and her brothers had a bout of food poisoning the following day. Kyle was the worst. He’d been admitted to hospital for two days.
‘Yeah, really,’ Jason laughed. The look of excitement on all three faces was worth an argument with Mel. Christmas was all about family and if his wife didn’t like this particular arrangement, then she could lump it.
‘This is wonderful prawn curry, Mel. You must give me the recipe so I can cook it for my husband-to-be,’ Tracey Thompson grinned, looking adoringly at Kieron Jessop.
Kieron raised his eyebrows. It was a standing joke between himself and Tracey that she couldn’t cook. She’d struggle with the simplest of tasks such as preparing beans on toast or boiling an egg. ‘Only if you promise not to poison me.’
Giggling, Tracey stroked her fiancé’s thigh. She had almost given up on finding Mr Right until that fateful evening she’d literally bumped into Kieron in Faces nightclub and dropped her drink all down his shirt. He’d been with a couple of footballers who played for West Ham and the girls were all over him and his pals like a rash. But Kieron only had eyes for her and had taken her out for a wonderful candlelit meal in a restaurant in Soho the following evening. They’d been a couple ever since and Tracey could scarcely believe her luck. Not only was Kieron blond, handsome, funny and charming, he was also incredibly wealthy and generous. For years Tracey had thought Melissa was the lucky one for snaring Jason, but not any more. Good things come to those who wait and Kieron was living proof of that. He had far more going for him than Jason bloody Rampling and Tracey could not wait to become Mrs Jessop.
Life of Crime Page 12