by Drew Black
15
Jack threw the wig across the room. "This is too much Philippa, who are we trying to kid, we'll never get away with this."
Philippa went and picked it up, "It's not like you Jack, to be so negative, what's the matter?" she said sitting back down on the sofa.
"There's just too much that can go wrong. I'm putting my ass on the line just because I feel guilty about not being in that car. That's what it amounts to."
Philippa shook her head, "You know that's not true Jack. I'm not saying I agree with it mind, but I understand why you're doing it. You're doing it because you know that Tom would've done the same for you."
Jack sighed and took a sip of his whiskey.
"And I wouldn't drink too much of that, if I were you Jack, you're going to need a clear head in the morning."
Jack pushed the whiskey to one side and sighed again.
"Jack, if tomorrow goes belly up, then Thursday doesn't happen, it's that simple. Besides, you wouldn't even get done for fraud because Jenkins wouldn't press charges. If Quilter does turn up at the dyeworks with Jenkins, so what? It just makes things a little bit more complicated, that's all, but he won't bring him. Deep down, Jenkins resents Quilter, or maybe it's jealousy. Whatever it is, it's immaterial. What does matter though is, he's not as in awe of Quilter as you think he is. This is his big chance to make a name for himself, and he's going to grab it with both hands."
Philippa got up and went over and knelt at Jack's feet. She put her hands on his knees, "We can do this Jack," she said. "we really can."
Jack smiled, he took the wig from her and put it on backwards, "how convincing do I look?" he said.
Philippa laughed, "Come here." she said getting to her feet.
An hour later Jack looked critically at his reflection in the mirror. This isn't too bad he thought. Not only had Philippa given his own hair a good trim, she had also done a sterling job of making the wig look realistic. "There you are," Philippa said placing a cap on his head, "how does that feel?"
Maybe this was going to work Jack thought, "I'm still unsure about the glasses though." he said folding and unfolding them.
"Jack, I really don't think you should wear them."
"I know you don't, but I just feel so uncomfortable without them. What if the Bank Manager asks me to fill out a form or something?"
"Take them with you, just in case, but I wouldn't use them unless it was absolutely necessary."
"Okay, I've got his signature down pat. It's a good job the moron's got a signature that's just slightly more complex than an 'x'."
Philippa nodded, "I don't think this'll be as difficult as you think."
Jack looked up at her, "Do you want to swap then," he said, "you go in and get the thirty-grand, and I'll sit outside in the car?"
Philippa began massaging Jack's shoulders, "Now, now Jack, don't be facetious." she said.
16
Philippa parked the car approximately fifty yards from the doors of The Sovereign Bank. Jacks hands felt clammy, he could hardly see a fuckin’ thing, and his guts were turning over.
"How are you feeling?" Philippa asked, as she secured the hand-brake.
Jack looked at Philippa and her face swam in and out of focus. "Just great," he said, "I can't see a thing, I feel like I've got a dead rat pasted to the top of my head, I'm probably going to get arrested for fraud, but apart from that, everything's just fine and dandy."
Philippa smiled, "if anyone can pull this off' it's you Jack."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence. I'll see you when I see you. If the police turn up, make yourself scarce." Jack opened the car door and got out. It seemed busy for a Wednesday afternoon. At least he'd had one piece of luck, Jenkins banked in Bury, so he felt fairly confident that he was unlikely to bump into anyone that he knew. His heart began to race as he approached the bank's doors. A young boy went running by him screaming, a woman whom Jack presumed was his mother followed in his wake. Jack took a deep breath and went inside.
It was much darker inside the bank and for a moment he was completely disorientated. They had recced it two weeks earlier, thus Jack was familiar with the layout. He managed to find a booth on the side wall without drawing undue attention to himself. As his vision began to clear, he realised that the bank was more than half full. Christ, he thought, a thirty grand withdrawal was going to stir things up a bit. Jack got his paperwork together and joined the queue. As he approached the front of it, he seemed to find a strange kind of calmness. Now the moment had arrived he didn't feel half as bad as he'd imagined he would.
As Jack approached the counter the woman behind the glass smiled at him, "How can I help you sir?" she asked.
"I've come to collect a banker's draft." Jack said.
"Certainly sir, what's your name?
"Jenkins, David Jenkins."
"And how much is the banker's draft for?
"Thirty thousand pounds."
"Oh, yes I've got a record of it here sir, would you like to come this way?"
Jack was surprised to see a man much younger looking than himself emerge from the back office. "Hello Mr Jenkins, would you like to come through?" the man said. "Please take a seat sir, I'm Harold Dobson, Assistant Branch Manager." Dobson said extending a hand from his side of the desk. Jack shook it and sat down feeling relieved that the office was much lighter than the rest of the building.
"Would you like a cup of coffee or tea perhaps?"
"No, I'm fine thanks Mr Dobson. I genuinely don't want to sound rude, but I've got a very important meeting to get to, and I'm running a little late."
Dobson reclined in what was no doubt his bosses chair and smiled a big shit-eating grin at Jack. "I appreciate that you're a busy man Mr Jenkins, but this won't take long. I just wondered what we'd done to offend you, that's all?"
Jack frowned questioningly.
Dobson continued, “I mean you're virtually closing your account with us, and if it's one thing we pride ourselves on here at Sovereign, it's customer service."
"No-one at Sovereign's done anything to offend or annoy me," Jack said in a slightly irritated tone and glancing at his watch, "quite the contrary actually, I've always received excellent service from you. I'll be replacing all of the funds and more besides within the next few weeks, but right now I really do need to get to my meeting."
"Okay," Dobson said leaning forward and smiling again, but this time with less gusto, "Obviously, with it being for such a large amount, I do need a few details from you."
"Of course." Jack said.
"It'll be easier for you just to complete and sign this form, and I'll also need proof of ID."
Jack took out his glasses and rattled through the form signing it with a flourish at the bottom. "What kind of proof of ID do you require? he asked.
"At least two examples; driver's licence, bank statement, utility bill."
Jack removed an envelope from his inside jacket pocket. He placed a gas bill, and Jenkins's birth certificate onto Dobson's desk. Dobson took them and examined them carefully, Jack suddenly felt very warm. He told himself to remain calm, this was working - he hoped.
After what seemed like an age Dobson returned the documents to him, "Okay, Mr Jenkins, just to confirm the banker's cheque is made out to a Mr Robert Jones and a Miss Philippa Marsh, and the amount is for thirty thousand pounds sterling."
"That's correct."
Dobson scribbled his signature on the bottom of the cheque and handed it over. Jack took it, resisting the urge to smile. He gave his watch another quick glance. "Thanks very much Mr Dobson," he said, "as always, you and your staff have been very helpful."
"That's nice of you to say so Mr Jenkins, good luck with your meeting."
Jack got to his feet and shook Dobson's hand again, "Thanks," he said getting to his feet, "God willing, it'll go well."
Jack emerged from the bank into the fresh air feeling elated. He'd done it! His relief was palpable. He felt like running up to Philippa's car and punchin
g the air, but he resisted. He couldn't, however, resist giving her a broad grin as he approached the vehicle. Philippa responded a little more vigorously.
Jack got into the car, "Shh, don't overdo it." he said although even he was struggling to contain his joy.
"You actually did it Jack." Philippa squealed gripping the steering wheel and trying to shake it. "Oh God, you actually did it. Tell me exactly what happened?"
"I will," Jack replied, but first of all get us out of here."
17
When Jack and Philippa arrived home, their excitement was such that they made love immediately. As they lay side by side in bed afterwards Jack thought; could they actually pull this off. They were both relieved that they'd got Jenkins's money, and moreover money that had absolutely no links back to Jack, but what lay ahead was far more dangerous. Would Jenkins take the bait? Jack believed that he would, he'd never rated the guy much, in the brains department, ever since they were kids, but Quilter, he was a totally different proposition. If he'd got wind of the proposed meeting things could get really hairy. He could even find himself up against four of them, and his chances of surviving that little shindig were slim to none.
As Philippa had suggested; he could always try talking himself out of it, if that happened. And although, to humour her, he'd agreed that he would, but he'd already decided that come what may he was going to go for broke. If he was going to die, he would do his utmost to take Jenkins and Quilter to the grave with him. He felt as though a fuse had already been lit and no matter what happened from here on in, the outcome was predestined.
Jacks alarm brought him out of a deep sleep.
Philippa stirred.
"No, don't you get up," Jack said, "there's no point in us both losing sleep."
"I want to get up jack."
"Okay, but just give me twenty minutes first, will you? I need some time to come around."
"Okay." Philippa said, sounding a little crest-fallen. If it all went wrong today, this would be the last time she'd see him. She felt scared and vulnerable for both of them.
Jack recognised the intonation in Philippa's voice, and lent over and kissed her, "Everything's going to be alright." he said. "I promise.”
Philippa pulled him back towards her and returned his kiss.
"I'll come back and get you up in twenty minutes."
"Okay Jack." Philippa replied.
18
Jack arrived at the old dyeworks at six thirty a.m. It was a horrible place; god only knew why someone would choose a site like this to build a new leisure complex. Mind you, he imagined it would be totally unrecognisable by the time the developers had finished with it. A damn big clean-up operation would have to be undertaken first though, this place had been a dye works since Adam was a lad, until it closed in nineteen sixty. He dreaded to think what was buried in the grounds. If he was honest, he was amazed it was on the verge of being granted planning permission. Anyway, none of this was any of his concern, what was however was managing to manoeuvre the vehicle Philippa had hired for him around to the main office block without sustaining a puncture.
Jack got out of his car and made is way towards the office block's entrance. It was just typical that he'd picked one of the coldest mornings of the year for his little escapade, he thought rubbing his hands together for warmth before unlocking the padlock and entering the building. He heard a noise and prayed that it was only a rat and not Jenkins lying in wait to ambush him. He breathed a sigh of relief, he never thought he'd ever be so relieved to see a rat before, as he was when he caught the rodent in the beam of his flashlight. He laughed as the rat gave him a somewhat annoyed look before scurrying away into the darkness. Jack climbed the old stone stairs up to the second floor where he'd previously decided to set up watch for his party guest or guests whichever it turned out to be. Jack heard more scurrying and this time decided to ignore it. However, he did survey the room to check it was just as he left it a few days earlier. Everything checked out, so all he had to do now was wait.
By the time Jack's watch said twenty-to-ten he was rapidly beginning to lose concentration. Maybe he'd arrived way too early, he thought on reflection. He needed a piss badly. Jack unzipped his fly and urinated where he stood. He was damned if he was going to let Jenkins catch him unawares whilst he was relieving himself. "Come on you numb fuck, where are you?" Jack whispered. The time crept on to ten-fifteen, Jack kicked the wall in frustration. He'd honestly thought someone would be here by now, he knew how greedy the bastards were. In fact, if he was being honest with himself, there downright greed is what he'd been relying so heavily upon. They weren't going to pass up on an opportunity like this, surely, or had they guessed it was all a sham. He had to admit, he hadn't considered the possibility of no-one turning up, "Shit!" he said. The site resembled a ghost town. Weeds grew from every gap in the old paving, some were as tall as three feet high. Litter blew aimlessly around reminding of the tumbleweed you saw in westerns at the movies - ten-thirty-five.
He supposed he had to give him until mid-day. Surely Jenkins wasn't thick enough to risk Mike still being on site in the afternoon, but then again anything was possible with that goon.
Jack checked his watch for the umpteenth time - ten-past-eleven, he's not coming Jack thought wondering what the hell he was going to do next, suddenly Jenkins's Saab Turbo pulled through the dyeworks’ gates and Jack's heart began to thunder; is he alone? He thought frantically. Shit, he couldn't see. Jack strained to get a better look, but the sun was reflecting off the Saab's windscreen obscuring his view. Fuckin' great Jack thought, taking his gun off the window ledge and heading briskly for the stairwell. He descended the stone steps two at a time and stood behind the office block's main door. He'd left an empty briefcase on the passenger seat of the hire car on which Philippa had embossed Mike Armstrong's name in silver lettering. Jack hoped that Jenkins being a nosey bastard would see it, and perhaps let his guard down just a little.
Jenkins approached the hire car, his gun already drawn but held firmly at his side. He peered through the passenger window and spotted Armstrong's briefcase. Jenkins smiled to himself and re-holstered his gun. “I've beat you to the punch, Jack-my-boy, and not for the first time.” he whispered as he mounted the steps to the main entrance. The door was ajar, he drew his pistol again, probably just out of instinct, he thought, or paranoia, his mind amended. He moved forward to the door. Again, he paused, "Mr Armstrong?" he called out, "Mr Armstrong?" he repeated this time a little louder. "Oh, for fuck sake, you're being downright stupid." he said to himself before walking through the door.
Jenkins turned right - nothing. He turned left and saw his worst nightmare materialise right before his eyes.
"Drop the gun Dave." Jack said pressing the barrel of his pistol against the side of Jenkins's head.
Jenkins dropped his gun. "How the fuck did you know I was coming here today?”
"Shut it and stand against the wall." Jack said prodding his gun into Jenkins's temple.
Jenkins moved over to the wall and examined it carefully before placing his hands against it.
"If you so much as twitch, I'll blow your head off. Do you understand?”
Jenkins didn’t reply.
"Do you fuckin' understand?" Jack repeated, pushing Jenkins's head into the flaky plaster with his pistol.
"Yes, Yes! Ease up with that thing will you."
Jack frisked Jenkins with his free hand, and found a knife secured in his sock on his left shin. He removed it and threw it into the corner of the room.
"How the fuck did you know I'd be here?” Jenkins repeated.
Jack ignored the question; "Who've you brought with you." he asked instead.
"No-one Jack, I swear."
"Let's go and check, shall we?" Jack said pulling the hood of his coat up. "I'm going to make you a promise here and now Dave. No matter who's in that car, and no matter what goes down out there, you're going to get it first."
"There's no-one else here Jack, I promise
." Jenkins babbled.
"Get moving." Jack said as they stepped outside.
Jack quickly realised that there was someone else in the car, and he had to muster all his restraint to prevent himself from shooting Jenkins on the spot. Take it easy, he told himself, just take it easy. For fuck sake, he thought, it's Jimbo. Why the fuck has he brought Jimbo with him. He can't stand Jimbo?
Jack removed his hood and waved. He cast Jenkins a quick glance, just to check that he wasn’t about to pass on any kind of warning, but he appeared to be in shock. Besides, knowing Jenkins and the warning he’d just told him, he was probably far too concerned with his own self-preservation.
Jimbo got out of the car, "Ay-ah Jack, what are you--"
Phutt! The bullet made a neat circle in the middle of Jimbo's forehead. Jimbo fell to the floor.
This broke Jenkins's paralysis, "Jesus Christ Jack, what the fuck is going down here? You've just killed one of our best men."
"Get him under the arms and drag him inside."
Jenkins went over to Jimbo's body.
"Hold on a minute, smartass." Jack said, "Move away. Do it!" Jack went and removed Jimbo's gun from its holster. "Okay, now drag him inside, and don't try and say he’s too heavy, you fanny, because if I hear one complaint from you, I'll finish this here and now."
Jack went back in first and chocked the door open to allow Jenkins to bring Jimbo's body inside. "Head to the stairwell, and then up to the second floor." Jack said pointing with his gun. "Leave Jimbo there."
"Thank God for small mercies." Jenkins said laughing crazily. "Come on Jack, you've had your fun. Let me go now and I swear I won't say a word about this to anyone. I swear on my life Jack."
"Upstairs."
"Christ, it stinks up here." Jenkins said wrinkling his nose.
"Now strip." Jack said.
Jenkins looked at Jack questioningly.
"Do as I say and do it now."
