by Peter Bates
“There is another way,” smiled Jed, “but it would be extremely tricky, and possibly a big waste of time.”
“What’s that, boss?” asked Ted.
“Well, maybe we take the stuff off them when they come out with it.”
Ted looked doubtful. “Layton’s quite a busy place, boss. Plus, we don’t know when they plan to come out with it, and we’d have to hang about for hours on end. We would have to be unseen as well.”
“Well, I get your point Ted, but I’m just thinking aloud here. I’m certain that they won’t leave the stuff in the flat for very long. They’ll be wanting to unload all the bags as quickly as possible. It’ll be probably within twenty-four hours of it going into the building. If it wasn’t already, the stuff would also need bagging up in small packs for distribution, and if they needed to do that, it would take some time. I reckon it’ll be going out today or tomorrow at the latest.”
“What if it did come out today?”
“If it did, we’d need to be there. We could take a chance here — it’s up to you lads.”
“What’s the idea then, boss?” asked Paul.
“OK, what if we park up in the area and stay in the cars, waiting for an hour or two as close by as we can. Put on a hat or cap and half cover your faces with a scarf. We’ll take our shooters and silencers with us. Wear a jacket with big pockets so you can point the shooters from inside a pocket, without them being seen. The moment that they come out of the door with the bags, confront them. They’ll soon know it’s a shooter in your pocket when they see the bulge and they’ll know for certain when you tell them exactly what it is. Just tell ’em as well that we’ll definitely use them if they argue. We would all need to get very close and face to face with them so that no one else in the street can see what’s going on.”
“It’s a decent plan,” admitted Ted, “but Harrison would certainly know that it was us, and if you add that to the ‘kids’ thing, all hell would break loose, that’s for certain. I just wish that we could pull this off without him knowing it was us that did it.”
“You’re right,” admitted Jed, “but I really don’t know how else we could do it. If we could just break in and nick the stuff, they would never know for certain who’d done it, but breaking inside the building and then getting at the bag doesn’t seem possible, from what Patrick said. We haven’t much time by the look of it, so whatever we do, we have to do it quickly. Has anyone got any different ideas?”
“Maybe we could scale the whole thing down, and do things differently,” offered Ted.
“How do you mean?”
“Well, for example. We think that they’ll have to distribute the bagged powder quickly, and they’ll all probably be doing just that very soon. What if we split up and take a couple of our cars out on the road, and follow two of them separately to wherever they go. Watch where they travel to, and spot the deal wherever it might be. They won’t be doing it openly in the middle of town, after all, so they’ll be going where there are no obvious witnesses. After they’ve left the buyer and gone from the scene, we collar the buyer, threaten him, nick the bag, and disappear. We get the powder bags, make some easy cash, and Harrison’s mob get a reputation that it’s not a good idea to deal with them. Harrison wouldn’t have a clue as to who’d done it, and their punter wouldn’t know who we were anyway, especially if we got ourselves covered up.”
“Bloody hell, Ted. That doesn’t sound like a bad plan to me.” yelled Jed. “It would be a damn sight easier than anything else we’ve come up with, and they would never know for certain who’d actually done it. Especially as you say if we dressed ourselves up a bit, half covered our faces, stuck on the odd false moustache, and took the mobile phones from the dealers so there’s no chance at all of any sneaky photographs. As I said, the dealers or Harrison would never know for sure who it was, and I suspect that the dealers might even think it was a member of Harrison’s own gang pulling a fast one. Come on, lads, let’s get going before it’s too late.”
CHAPTER 17
The Cock and Hen had been reasonably quiet when Reg Carlisle walked in unusually early through its grand entrance doors. He wasn’t even sure why he had really gone in today, other than for a quick pint and some quiet thinking time. He was well aware that sometimes the old instincts just kicked in and an idea could appear in his mind from nowhere whilst he was relaxing. Sometimes though, progress was just down to good luck, and being in the right place at the right time.
On this occasion it was certainly the latter. He had only been a few sips into his first pint, and nicely relaxing, when Mel Harrison and his four-man crew swaggered in and sat at a nearby table. Reg immediately looked away, pulled out his tablet, switched it on, and clicked up a soundless, simple word game that showed clearly on the screen. He placed the tablet on the table’s surface in full view of any watchers, and immediately focussed his eyes on the puzzle, occasionally pressing the odd button and artificially smiling gently to himself as he did so. He wished very much that he could make a call right now to Frank, Terry and Roy, but this was one call that would certainly have to wait a little while longer.
Although he couldn’t hear every word, Reg could hear most of what was being said. He had done nothing to disguise his face, but many years had passed by since he had dealt with any of them, and he was now much older. Luckily, neither had he bothered to shave today, providing him with an even coating of grey facial stubble. His clothing certainly didn’t stand out in any way. It was most unlikely that they would ever recognise him now. The fact that he was already in the pub, ahead of them, was another big plus, and a massively lucky bonus for him.
He quickly gathered from snippets of conversation that they would very soon be on the move, and if ‘powder’ was what Reg thought it was, it seemed that they were about to unload a large pile of drugs onto a dealer, sometime later that day. Several times he heard the words ‘one hundred and twenty grand’ excitedly mentioned by at least two of the five men. Apparently, the drop would take place in the car park at the Rivington ‘services’ on the M61 motorway, and the two bags of powder would be carried and shared between two separate cars. Each car would contain the driver and one passenger in case any back up was needed. Reg almost shook his head in amazement as he registered the information. If he hadn’t known of the gang or the circumstances, the conversation would have sounded totally innocent.
Reg finally decided that he had heard enough, and time would now be running short if he was to gain any advantage from the information that he now had. Leaving his glass almost half full, he slipped his tablet back into a jacket pocket, rose unhurriedly to his feet, and walked very casually out of the pub. Back in the car, he sat quietly for a minute, locking the information that he now had into his mind. Then he made three very quick calls before driving away quickly to a petrol station close to the M55 en route to the M61access road, where he would meet with Frank, Terry and Roy.
At the petrol station, all three friends arrived separately within minutes, and quickly walked to Reg’s open window. Reg waited until all three could hear him clearly without having to raise his voice.
“I’m hoping that we’re ahead of them, lads. If not, we can’t be very far behind them, so we definitely need to get a move on. Have you all got cameras on you?”
Three quick nods followed his question.
“When we get there, we’ll have to play it a little by ear. Maybe it’s a decent thought for us to park around the four sides of the car park. It depends on the layout and where they are. You’ve all got a good idea of what Harrison’s lot look like, so that shouldn’t be a problem and you can stay in your cars and easily snap off a few photos of them and their buyer. We’ll wait until it’s all over and they and the dealer have well gone before we leave the services. What do you think?”
“It sounds good,” nodded Terry. “Whatever you do though, lads, don’t let them spot you. We won’t be making any moves until they have all left the scene. We could even meet up afterward
s for a brew before we leave the service station. We won’t go anywhere though, until we get a definite signal from Reg. Don’t forget that this could be extremely dangerous, and we don’t have anything like the back-up that we used to have. Come on lads, we need to get going now, or we could end up missing it all.”
*
Reg felt good. It had been a long time since he had last been on the road and feeling this way. Somehow the purpose had surged back into his life, and here he was, seemingly achieving something once again. The temptation was to put his foot down to the boards, but getting a ticket right now would be nothing short of crazy, and he was sure that Harrison’s crew would also be keeping well within the limits. He didn’t know how many cars the gang would be using but his educated guess was that it would be no more than two. With two, there was always one car in hand for back up, and two were a lot less obvious and noticeable than three or four. He kept his speed to seventy-four — not a lot more than Harrison would be doing, and not enough to get him and the other lads in trouble — but it should be enough to get there in time for the proposed exchange. Missing that now would simply be stupid. His mirrors showed that all three of his three pals were right on his tail. On several occasions he had questioned his own thinking regarding the necessity of taking a car each, rather than just one, but they needed to blend in at the services, and also to be in several different places in order to achieve various angles of view. The cars themselves would provide natural cover, and without them, he and the lads could all stand out like a sore thumb. He just hoped that they’d got the timing right, and that by the time that they arrived, the exchange hadn’t already taken place.
The services entrance sign quickly loomed up, and with a quick glance in his mirror, Reg signalled and turned his car into the slip road and then into the main car park. He parked on the furthest side, backing into a spot so that he was looking at the centre of the services area, and silently watched as the other three cars all took up positions facing into the car park on the other remaining sides.
“Well done, lads,” Reg quietly spoke into his phone. “Whoever spots anything first, give the others a quick buzz.”
After taking up a position between two empty cars and facing the middle of the car park, Frank turned off the engine, and as he had done many times before, picked up the daily newspaper from the passenger seat, where he had deliberately left it. He then held it up so that he could just see above its top edge, and checked again that his camera was switched on, before laying it gently on the centre console. He then took out a very small pair of binoculars and placed them alongside the phone. Reg’s, Terry’s, and Roy’s cars were all in view, and all lined up in different positions, all of which faced towards the middle of the car park. He hoped to God that he and his friends had all arrived in time. It would be a long, wasted afternoon if the mob had already been there and made the exchange. It would be very likely that Harrison wouldn’t want to arrive too early though. With what he had in mind, the man certainly wouldn’t want to be hanging around in this place for any longer than he needed to.
A black Range Rover pulled into the car park and settled in a central position; it was closely followed by a blue 5 series BMW that parked alongside it. Reg dipped his head and quickly buzzed the other lads.
“We got the timing absolutely right. Harrison’s here now, fellas. The Range Rover must be carrying, and probably has the gear in its boot. I’m sure that the BMW will just be their backup car. Get your cameras out and on, but shield them and watch out for reflective light, whatever you do. Also, stay in your cars, whatever happens. Keep your phones on, and don’t move an inch after the deal’s done until I give the go-ahead.”
Both the Range Rover’s and the BMW’s driver’s doors opened simultaneously, and the two drivers stepped out onto the car park’s tarmac surface, before slowly moving together. Harrison was dressed plainly, no flash clothes on for him today. He looked warily round the whole car park, his eyes finally settling on a very plain, grey Ford Transit van parked on its own in one corner. He raised his right arm and hand towards it slightly, before moving forward, his eyes quickly flashing around the car park area again. Seemingly satisfied, Harrison quickly nodded to Bob, his tall companion, and casually continued his stroll towards the Transit van. He stopped ten feet short of it, whilst his partner immediately headed directly back to the Range Rover, opened its rear door, and began to lift a large sack from its boot floor, which he quickly hoisted onto his shoulder. As Bob began the short walk towards his leader, the Transit van’s front door opened slowly, a head covered in a dark cloth cap appeared in the widening gap, and then a very well-built man stepped out and briefly waved an arm in Harrison’s direction. The man was just short of six feet tall, and heavily bearded. His clothing was aged and worn, and apart from his reasonably good height, he would not have stood out in any crowd. Cradled tightly under his left arm was a large parcel.
“Good to see you again, Mr Harrison.”
“You too, Jake. My mate Bob’s got the powder. All bagged up and dead on the weight.”
“Good. Your cash is in this bag. Exactly what we agreed.”
“It’s also good that we don’t need to check both of them after all this time, Jake.”
“It is, Mr Harrison. It’s very good,” he smiled.
“Well, if you don’t mind, Jake. We’re off now. We’ve got places to go and people to see.”
The two men exchanged bags, shook hands briefly, and turned back towards their own vehicles.
Now having a smaller bag full of cash, rather than the extremely large powder bag, it was far easier to carry, and Harrison reached the BMW quickly. With a big grin on his face, he tossed it into the passenger well, and then nodded in his mirror to Bob in the Range Rover before starting up the engine. He raised a hand briefly to Jake as he and then Bob drove past the still opened rear door of the old transit, both vehicles setting off speedily out of the car park.
“Did you get the pics?” Reg whispered into his phone; his eyes still glued to the rear of the departing vehicles.
From their various positions around the car park, Terry, Frank and Roy all responded immediately, and were all positive.
“OK, lads. We can leave in a few seconds. Don’t move just yet, we’ll wait until the transit has gone too. There’s no need for us to rush right now, and we certainly don’t want to attract any attention.”
Reg was about to click off the call when he spotted another Range Rover, this one metallic grey, moving rapidly from a standing position on the far side of the car park. The vehicle pulled up sharply to a halt at an angle across the back of the Transit van, and two men jumped out of the two front doors. Both men were slightly disguised in old tattered clothing, but Reg immediately knew who they were.
“Stay where you are, lads,” whispered Reg, urgently. “We’d better just see what this is all about.”
“Hell’s bells.” whispered Frank, sliding out his binoculars from his pocket as he spoke quietly into his mobile. He would be barely visible from any part of the car park in his position between two trucks, but he had a narrow line of vision on the two men.
“They are well covered up,” he added, “but that’s definitely Jed Thomas and one of his gang, Patrick O’Leary.”
The two gang members moved quickly and halted next to the Transit, O’Leary standing close by the rear doors, whilst Thomas grabbed the handle and sharply pulled open the driver’s front door. Frank’s binoculars focussed closely on Jed Thomas. The man’s outstretched right forearm was covered by a folded pale green towel, and Frank could see an inch of shiny black revolver barrel protruding from under its edge. Frank allowed himself a brief smile. The exposure of the end of the barrel would certainly be intentional. He couldn’t hear Jed Thomas’ words, but he could clearly see the absolute terror on the Transit driver’s face. Frank edged a few inches further behind the end of the truck that covered his position, and re-focussed the binoculars. He was hoping that the lads had clicked off a fe
w photos. It wasn’t something that he could do right now whilst using the binoculars, but he didn’t want to miss any detail of what could happen any time in the next few seconds.
Jed Thomas backed off two feet from the driver’s door and the driver slowly swung out his long legs and stepped onto the tarmac surface. Thomas was still talking to him as he stood to his feet, and nudged him with the green towel towards the locked rear doors of the Transit and alongside Patrick O’Leary. Without any hesitation the driver slid a key into the lock, opened one of the two big doors, reached inside for the large bag of powder, and dragged it to the very edge of the van’s floor. Thomas stared at the bag for a few moments, then turned and nodded to O’Leary. The young man reached across and down, quickly swung the bag over his left shoulder, and walked directly to the grey Range Rover before dumping it inside one of the rear passenger doors.
Thomas moved close to, and then pointed his left-hand index finger towards and just inches from the driver’s face. He spoke to the man briefly and then shifted and aimed the same finger at the green towel, still slung loosely over his other hand, the end of the gun barrel still faintly in sight. From his position, Frank couldn’t hear the words that Thomas spoke, but could easily guess what they might be.
.
CHAPTER 18
“What do you reckon, Reg?”
Reg scratched his chin for a few seconds then looked vaguely into space before responding to Terry’s question.
“I reckon we’ve got a few bad buggers on our patch again.” laughed Reg. “If we’d still been in the force, we could have taken both of them off the streets today without any doubt.”
“That’s true,” echoed Roy, reaching across the table for his newly poured glass of beer. “We’re not in a bad position though. Any sort of official operation today would have been extremely difficult. Don’t forget that even if they had caught a glance at any one of us, we definitely do have the advantage of looking old, knackered, and probably no threat at all to anyone. Uniform couldn’t have done what we did today without being detected, and those poor buggers don’t even have the resources, the numbers, or the time available that we have. Most of ’em these days are busy on traffic, and trying their best to keep it moving.”
