by Peter Bates
“Brilliant, Reg. Let’s get it developed and blown up in size. I’ve a feeling that the paper could be very useful. These guys don’t put down so much on paper, so when they do, it’s usually for a good reason.”
Roy nodded his head firmly, and then commented, “I’ll bet that they only use that place just every so often. It’s well away from home and also away from prying eyes and ears.”
“That’s what they thought before today,” laughed Frank.
“It was a great break, and I think that we made the most of it. The timing of everything was immaculate, and Harrison obviously felt completely safe, even with us old buggers nearby.”
Roy laughed loudly. “We don’t exactly look like a threat, lads, do we?”
“No Roy, but we do need to be careful in future, and maybe revert to a few small disguises. The last thing we would want is for Harrison to clock us as a threat. We’d be no match for him these days.”
“Another beer?” asked Frank.
“Go on then,” laughed Reg. “You’ve twisted our arms.”
“You’ve earned them,” grinned Frank. “And remember that at least these days we can enjoy a few beers without worrying about being suddenly called out on an urgent job.”
“So, what’s next?” asked Terry.
“First thing,” said Roy, “is we need to get Reg’s snaps developed, and try to make some sense of Harrison’s paper. If we needed it at some time in the future, I’m fairly certain that any information on the paper could well make top rate evidence. Even if we didn’t know it before, we now know for certain that Harrison is really desperate to take out Jed Thomas and his gang, and I’m sure that we can expect him to try and do that very soon.”
“I’m not even convinced that any of us lads would really want to stop him,” commented Reg. “He’d be doing everyone in the town a favour as well as himself.”
“I agree,” nodded Frank. “Let him get on with it.”
“It would be even better if they did get on with it, and then got themselves nailed for committing the crime. That would mean one set of absolute rubbish eliminated, and the other one well out of the picture for a very long time. They’d be old men like us guys before they ever came out.”
“Well,” said, Roy, “I think that result would suit everybody.”
“It would be good if we could nudge things along a bit,” smiled Reg, before adding, “Although, that could be dangerous and very dodgy, to say the least.”
“It’s certainly well worth keeping that thought in mind though,” agreed Frank again. “So long as we don’t get roped into it in any way, that solution would be fine.”
Terry had been quiet during the preceding conversation, taking on board the views of his friends. “All of this has been on my mind for quite a long period, but I’m not sure whether the time is right at the moment, and neither have we worked out a foolproof plan yet. Whatever we do, it’s got to look squeaky clean. We can’t be spending our remaining years in prison cells, so why don’t we get the photos developed first, and then we’ll try to decide what exactly is the very best thing to do.”
“Terry’s right,” nodded Norman. “There’s no immediate rush, and we may well have one gang less to deal with sometime in the next week or so.”
CHAPTER 32
Steve Rose had spent every one of the twenty-three years since his birth in the seaside town of Blackpool. Every summer, people from all over the country, particularly the northern mill towns and Scotland, travelled many miles to visit his home town for holidays and quick breaks. The famous illuminations, the Pleasure Beach, and the amazing massive metal structure of Blackpool Tower attracted many more of them at a time when other seasonal resorts were closing or already closed down for the winter break. It was great for the town, benefitting superstores, small shopkeepers, hoteliers, caterers and the whole industry that thrived on fast-food joints, takeaways, and entertainment to suit every age. Many famous bands, singers and artists regularly visited the town and performed or sang to huge audiences. The only downside to the place was that sometimes it also brought in people that he and the other locals could well do without. Wherever there was money being spent, and wherever there were countless pubs and clubs available, there would inevitably be crime, from pointless alcohol fuelled arguments and fights, to simple theft. On a summer’s night it could be anywhere, from the usually busy promenade to the many narrow back streets that zigzagged behind it, and usually well away from obvious and clear sight.
For most of his relatively few years, he had made a point of staying well away from the danger spots, but still knew that serious trouble could suddenly rise up in the most unlikely places. He could handle himself very well if he had to. He was six feet two inches tall now, and his regular three times a week gym visits ensured that he stayed in good shape. His physical stature also meant that he was able to work in the profession that he had set his eyes on when he left school six years ago. The security business had always fascinated him. When several of the young teenagers that he had known began small time pilfering and then joined local gangs, he made his mind up to go the opposite way. That decision was almost certainly due to his mum and dad’s influence on him as a youngster.
“Be straight, lad,” his dad used to say. “Always stay on the right side of the fences, and you’ll never look back. Go on the other side and you’ll never have peace.”
Steve had never forgotten the words. He’d also seen young friends taken away for long spells in borstal, and later in life to sit alone in a bleak prison cell. If he couldn’t afford the things he wanted, he would work overtime and long hours until he could. He’d done well, studied every detail of the business that he was in, and had already been promoted twice by the owners of the company, Wellsec. Within a year or two, his plan was to set up his very own company in Blackpool. There was certainly a market locally, and if it all went well, he would expand it to other towns in Lancashire. He had a plan which would include all the usual aspects of security for his customers, but would also include time spent on educational training for both their staff and management. He would show them how to stay safe, and how to also keep their work premises safe. In addition to that, he would like to develop courses that he could take to schools purely for the education of young children. The trick with kids was to tell them in their early lives about what was all right and what wasn’t. He knew full well that these days many of the kids would never be told what was right and what was wrong, even by their parents. But if something could be done to change that, some of them at least would stay out of trouble. Steve knew that if he could do that, he would have achieved something extremely worthwhile.
His work right now was varied. Today, he would be on a cash run, making sure that cash was collected safely from several large retailers and delivered to secure depots. It was relatively easy work, but then most work was until something went wrong.
“Not today, though,” he whispered to himself as he pulled on his new dark blue uniform.
*
Frank was glad that the lads had voted unanimously to next meet again at his bungalow. If they weren’t careful, they would easily become very noticeable. Drinking too regularly in the promenade pubs could well attract unwanted attention from gang members, and that would most certainly be extremely dodgy. He knew too, that some of the gangs would have spotters out on the street working for them, and it only needed one of those to put two and two together and they could be in bad trouble.
Seated in the garden area, he was carefully pouring his first glass of chilled Chardonnay when he heard several smart taps on his wooden side gate. Frank carefully lowered the glass and bottle to the table, and quickly made the short ten-foot walk to reach his locked garden side door.
“Who goes there?” he shouted loudly, grinning as he yelled.
“Trouble! We’ve come to pinch your beer!”
Frank laughed, slid back the iron bolt and pulled firmly on the old door’s steel handle.
“Come on i
n, lads. Make yourselves at home,” he chuckled, before stepping smartly to one side, and with an extravagant bow, beckoning his three friends into the garden area.
“Sit yourselves down, fellas. Do you want some beers, or do you fancy joining me with a nice cool glass of Chardonnay?”
“Mmm,” murmured Roy. “We’ve gone all posh, have we?”
“I just fancied one tonight.”
“Good idea,” agreed Reg, glancing at his companions with a big smile on his face. “Yes, Franky, a glass of fine Chardonnay would go down very well right now.”
“Right you are, lads. Take a seat each and I’ll bring out another bottle and an ice cooler.”
Still smiling, Frank was back with the chilled bottle and three glasses within thirty seconds.
“OK, Reg,” said Frank, finally sitting down. “Let’s have a look at the photos, shall we?”
Reg grinned and began to loosen the sealed flap of a large brown envelope that he had brought in from his car. He quickly slid his fingers inside, and pulled out two enlarged photographs. He stared at them for a few moments, and then placed them both carefully on the centre of the garden table, each one facing a different side.
“Well lads. If you look at these, you will see that they are simply a list of requirements and options for completing an undetectable crime. The crime in this case, I assume, is the complete removal of Jed Thomas and his gang. See what you think.”
“Bloody hell, Reg,” muttered Frank, after reading down one of the lists. “This is dynamite, mate, and it’s been definitely prepared for the removal of Jed Thomas.”
“No doubt whatsoever,” echoed Roy, staring closely at the handwriting. “It includes everything that would be needed for a perfect alibi. Pulling it off effectively is another thing entirely though. All of his requirements would be very difficult to achieve. Murder that is both undetectable and has no witnesses, as we all know from past experience, is virtually impossible.”
“It’s a damned good thing that it would be difficult for him,” commented Terry, “otherwise the whole place would turn into a cemetery with those blokes around.”
“It’s quite clear what the plan is though,” smiled Reg. “These photos could turn out to be dynamite in the right hands.”
“You’re right,” smiled Terry. “That photograph of his methods list is brilliant, Reg. We’d better put it under lock and key. You never know when it might come in useful. Apart from definitely learning his intentions, we’ve even got an inkling of how it could be done. Norman Pendleton would love to get his hands on this.”
“He would,” agreed Roy, “but he would never be able to use it like we can. We could sit on it and see what happens, and we can also wait and choose exactly how and when to use it. We may even end up burning it. I’m not very inclined to use it before anything does kick off. Why would we really try and save Jed Thomas?”
“One way or another, it’s dynamite. Well done, Reg. You’ve given us some great ammo now that we didn’t have before,” nodded Terry. “We don’t need to rush into any choices of how to use it, lads, but use it at some point we almost certainly will. You never know, lads. The best person to give it to might even be Jed Thomas. I still quite like the idea of the two gangs meeting up in the middle of nowhere, and wiping each other out.”
CHAPTER 33
Steve Rose was enjoying his day on the job. The weather was fine — a little cloudy, but no sign of rain — and the traffic in town was reasonably light. He and his other two work colleagues had already done four cash pick-ups in and around the town centre, and were heading for their fifth, a large and busy supermarket on one of the edge-of-town industrial estates. From the outside, the transit van that they used was the same as any other, but was actually far heavier than the standard version, being massively reinforced around its whole frame with a network of the toughest steel struts. Its locks were certainly not standard and would need considerable force to break. Knowing what he was carrying on a daily basis, Steve felt secure, once he and his driver had closed and locked the doors. His driver today was Paul Gerard, and Paul would never leave his seat under any circumstances until they returned back to the secure depot. Seated between Steve and Paul, was his relatively new friend, Jack Simpson. Jack was very experienced, in his late thirties, and had done no other type of work since he had left school. He’d been with Wellsec for more than five years. Jack was also very good company, constantly telling wild stories and crazy jokes. Like Steve, both Paul and Jack were physically well built and tall, and both attributes were of considerable advantage when undertaking the work that they had chosen. It certainly helped that most would-be thieves or villains would think twice before confronting any of them, whether they were working on the job or not. The only real problem could arise if any potential robbers carried guns. UK law prevented any of the travelling security staff from carrying them, and Steve often wondered why that was the case. Built in cameras would identify any attackers, and alert the security company’s office of any crisis, but any thieves’ faces would certainly be hidden behind masks or covered with cloth. By the time police arrived, most perpetrators would be well gone, and the goods stolen. It didn’t make sense to him, but he didn’t write the rules. That was done by people in London offices, very safe and a long way from such a problem.
The sound of Paul’s voice both interrupted and halted Steve’s thoughts.
“Here we go, lads. We’re moving in now.”
The van was now into the industrial estate and heading directly into a narrow gap between two large commercial buildings, one a supermarket, the other a manufacturing plant. The plant appeared to be unoccupied. A large ‘TO LET OR PURCHASE’ sign hung down from the centre of a wooden beam above its wide steel doorway.
Jack scanned the area immediately around them. There were a few cars parked nearby, but none of them appeared to be occupied. Other than a lady with two very small children fifty yards away, the close area seemed to be almost deserted. Satisfied, he opened the van’s front door and stepped out. “Stay inside the van, Paul. Steve and I will collect the box. Make sure the van is secured until we come with it out of the ‘staff only’ door, and then it’s a quick unlock and we unload it straight into the back.”
Paul grinned. Did Jack really have to tell him all of that after all this time? He supposed so. It was just routine and the man was simply doing what he had been trained to do. Jack nodded to Steve and headed for a ‘staff only’ reinforced door situated a few yards from the main entrance. Paul watched on in silence as Jack rapped on the door and stood back a pace with Steve by his side. The cameras would have a full view of them both now, and seconds later the door clicked loudly, and two male members of staff appeared, holding a large wooden box. The exchange was quick as always, and both members of staff had disappeared back into the building by the time that Jack turned his body, and with Steve by close by his side, smartly headed for the rear of the van.
Steve would never forget the next few moments. One of the apparently unoccupied cars parked nearby, a grey four by four, lurched suddenly forward, its engine roaring, its tyres screaming on the tarmac surface. The car’s front grill hit Jack’s legs, lifting him onto its bonnet before he rolled to the ground in agony. The four by four jerked to a sharp halt, its doors swinging wide open, and five men, each one with half covered faces and blue woollen caps on their heads, leapt out with wooden bats clutched in their hands, one of them heading directly to the cash box. This was one time when Paul knew for certain that regardless of protocol, he could no longer stay in the security van. Jack was out of it, and Steve was now on his own, in serious danger and completely outnumbered. The big lad was already battling, his own baton already drawn and striking out wildly at four of the men. In the split seconds before Paul reached his side, Steve had fiercely struck at least three of the robbers on their heads and arms, but was now down on his knees from blows that landed all across his body from their larger bats. Three injured but still standing, and two left, Paul k
new deep inside that he had little chance, but waded in, landing several blows on the attackers before taking a big one on the side of his head and then sinking unconscious to the floor.
*
“Bloody hell. Have you seen this?” Terry stared at the local police app. on his mobile screen.
“Don’t tell me that it’s more kids hurt again, or worse,” growled Reg.
“No mate, but it’s not good.”
Frank leaned forward; his face grim. “Go on, Terry. What is it?”
“South Shore. On the industrial estate as it happens. Some bad buggers attacked a security van early this afternoon, and stole a whole stash of money. The cash had come from the big supermarket on the site, and the van was just loading up.”
“Anyone hurt?” asked Roy.
“Yes, I’m afraid so,” muttered Terry, grimly. “There were three security lads in the van, and they were doing the cash pick up. Luckily there’s no one dead, but they were beaten up pretty badly. One of the guards was a young lad, a new starter, and apparently he did as well as he could have, considering that in the end he was completely outnumbered.”
“What did he do that was good?” asked Frank.
“Well, it seems that he put up a hell of a fight, and landed several punches on the robbers, despite being hopelessly outnumbered.”
“There would be cameras around the estate, and at least one camera on the security van.”
“Yeah, I know, but these guys were all covered up so much, that they would be unrecognisable.”
“How many were there?” asked Frank.
“Five.”
“What about their transport. I don’t suppose they walked in. They must have come and gone in a vehicle.”
“They did,” answered Terry. “It says here that they came in a four by four, and drove out in it straight after the heist.”
