by Amy Shaw
"Are you kidding? Why would they do that?"
"Money. The thieving bastards will sell the lead to a scrap metal dealer. I'm going in closer to see if I can get the stash or not, so don't worry if you don't hear from me for a while, this ain't going to be as straight forward as I expected."
"Be careful Big Joe, I'll be here ready."
Mark got to the gate where he and Abby shared their first kiss only a few hours earlier. He stood up onto the gate to get a better view. Adjusting the night vision focus he had a clear view of the church and graveyard. Strange. It all looked clear. He looked over towards the bright green glow of the building site but there was no movement there either. He climbed over the gate into the field and lightly ran across the grass towards the church gate. As soon as he was within twenty yards he stopped and crouched on his knees. Scanning the area it was all clear.
The window-less and door-less buildings had a dark eerie look to them. To Mark this had been open fields with a peaceful and calm feel and now these dark blocks gave the place a sinister feel. He rose and ran towards the church jumping up onto the stone wall that separated the church ground from the farmer's fields and landed softly on the other side, surrounded by headstones.
Mark looked across to the grave that held his stash, but then walked past it, checking out the roof and continuously scanning the area for any sign of the gang or security. He circled the church entirely and came back to the grave. The coast was clear.
Crouching down and sliding off his backpack he reached in and pulled out a canvas bag. He unclipped the plastic catch and took hold of the metal spade, folding it out into position and screwing the lock-hold into place. One last look around and then he started to dig. The soil was soft and made for an easy dig. After eight minutes Mark's spade hit a hard pack giving a welcome thud. It was his plastic wrap. He jabbed the spade to the side cutting into the soil around the edges before reaching down with his hand to dislodge the package from its resting place.
At the precise moment his fingers touched the packet a diesel engine chugged into life and lights shone over to the church casting tall grave stone shadows up the side. Mark jumped back as though the packet was electrified and scrambled to the base of the wall for cover.
Did I just trigger an alarm? Mark thought to himself. Couldn't be. Must be a coincidence. Keep cool.
Despite his cool exterior, Mark's heart was pounding and thoughts were racing. The diesel engine was getting closer, lights flashing up and down the side of the church as the machine bounced its way across the field. Mark laid his body down against the back of the wall, trying to keep his breathing under control but it was hopeless. He couldn't believe he was about to get caught for retrieving his own stuff. It would have been understandable and a little easier to accept if he was getting caught raiding someone else's valuables.
He'd been in plenty of forbidden places before and gotten away with it. Why now? How did they know he was here? His night vision had helped him remain invisible, a shadow in the dark. Did they have night vision too? Couldn't have, his night vision goggles would have picked up their infra-red.
We're they expecting me? How? Abby? Surely not. No way.
The sound of men's voices were close enough to be heard over the chug of the diesel engine. Mark looked across at the grave, his hole fully visible and lit up like bonfire night. The backpack sat precariously next to the freshly dug mound. Mark crawled along the grass using the wall for cover until he was at the far end of the grounds. He crouched, backing up on his feet, hands sprawled out in front ready for an Olympic sprint. As soon as they crossed the wall he would take them out with a surprise attack from behind and then run for his stash. He knew if he was quick and precise he would be able to disappear into the darkness. He was ready for a fight.
Mark moved his goggles up onto his forehead and watched the lights get brighter on the church wall. So bright that they reflected back and Mark could see his own hands without the use of night vision. He was visible. Dimly lit but still visible. Suddenly a man jumped over the wall and appeared in line with Mark.
"Where the fuck you going?" one of the gang shouted.
"I gotta take a piss," the man shouted back.
"You fucking kidding? Now's not the fucking time."
"Shut the fuck up, otherwise I'll piss on your grave."
Mark didn't move a muscle. There was no way these idiots knew he was here. The lights turned and the graveyard went dark again as the machine drove on by. Mark could see the orange glow of the man's cigarette and hear his urine pool on the ground in front of him.
The man let out a sigh and flicked the cigarette over to Mark's backpack before turning on his torch and jumping back over the wall. The smoker's cough in the distance told Mark he should be clear. Peering above the wall he could see the man rejoining the gang as they ran alongside an excavator chugging its way across the field leaving deep dirty caterpillar track marks as it went.
14
Plan B
Mark pressed his walkie-talkie button.
"Little Jo, do you read me?"
"Hey Big Joe, you ready?"
"No not yet. Listen. Change of plan. Time for plan B, you understand? Time for plan B."
"I understand Big Joe."
"But first, there's a telephone box on the main road next to the post office. Stop there and dial 999. Ask for the police and tell them a robbery is in progress, building machinery at Underexe farm and then hang up and meet me at the plan B spot. Remember, use the public phone, not your mobile."
Abby got the message, pressed the car's red starter button, and drove out of the tractor sales forecourt where she had been waiting. She roared down the main country road, the next village only moments away. The old fashioned red telephone box sat on the pavement next to the old post office. Abby pulled up, left the engine burbling away and opened the creaky door to the telephone box.
A sign said "NO COINS, CARDS ONLY" but that didn't matter tonight. Emergency calls were always free. Lifting the receiver her fingers pressed 911 before the tone reminded her she wasn't at home. Pressing the nine button three times got her through to the control center.
"Which emergency service do you require?"
Pausing for a moment to contort her face, Abby spoke in a manly voice simply saying, "Police."
Mark checked the packet and it was all secure. He roughly tugged the bag over it and then got to work filling in the hole, before stamping it down with his body weight.
He stood up and gave a respectful nod to the head stone. "Goodbye Sir Godfrey, thanks for looking after this," he said.
He secured the backpack over his shoulders and made a run for it. The field gate was wide open, a broken chain lay on the floor. He got to the narrow church track and ran towards the T-junction, stopping to look up left where lights could be seen at the barn.
The truck began to pull out of the courtyard, excavator fastened securely to the trailer. A cloud of dust rose, and then the Mitsubishi off-roader followed with the gang members inside. The idiots had made such a racket, it would have been impossible for the local residents to ignore. All it would take was one of them to see Mark run past as they peered out from behind their curtains or make a note of the license plate on the Jag and he would be caught up in the robbery too.
But he had a plan B.
Instead of following the robbers back up the track, he turned and ran further down it. The track was a two mile long loop before it rejoined the road near the next village. Mark had other ideas. Plan B entailed being in another village entirely. Six miles by car. Quarter of a mile by foot. But that meant crossing the river Exe.
Fourteen foot deep in places and with a current strong enough to give the fittest of swimmers a tough time, Mark was in no position to take up the challenge with expensive night vision equipment and ten kilo of gold strapped to his back. Plus, with the extra distance Abby had to drive he knew the walkie-talkies would be out of range. This was no time for drowning. Mark knew this area, an
d if he followed the field south a short distance past where the cows herd during the day, the river thins out at the site of an old Roman crossing point. It hadn't rained in weeks so the river was as low as ever.
Mark reached the shallow ford crossing point and, without even slowing down, trotted through the inch deep flow barely making a splash. He was on the other side and more importantly, far enough away from any attention the gang would be creating. The only slight issue was this old Roman crossing belonged to a farm and was private property. Still, at this hour there shouldn't be any problem. Mark ran up the other side, a stone track lead to the farm drive. Once here he slowed down to a walk, looking around for any movement. Passing the front door he heard a faint click and suddenly a brilliant white light lit up the driveway and several farm machines. A motion detector flood light could be triggered by passing deer or even a small fox. There wasn't normally an alarm, it was more of a welcome for the owners arriving home in the dark or a deterrent for casual thieves. Mark instinctively bolted, just in case anyone got up for a cursory glance out of the window, not slowing until back in the dark once again.
Within a few short minutes he was out of the farm drive and back on public roads. The village was three hundred yards to his right, only two street lamps gave enough glow to outline the pub. Mark turned left, into complete darkness once again hoping to hear the familiar bark and crackle of the exhausts.
Where are you Abby?
There were no lights in the distance, had she taken a wrong turn? He pressed the walkie-talkie button and spoke into the microphone. There was no reply. She was still out of range. Feeling anxious, Mark started to run along the lane. This was the meeting point. The lane. But there was no sign of Abby. Had the gang caught up to her? Just barely making out the metallic outline of a field gate, Mark stopped to climb and get a better look in the direction of where Abby would be coming from. But it was a sea of black. No lights, not even a dim glow making its way along the hedge row, no V8 crackle echoing through the lanes. Everything was quiet and still.
Mark felt concerned and was now starting to feel vulnerable. For each extra minute he spent in the lane, he knew it would increase his chances of someone else finding him. And being spotted in a quiet village lane in the middle of night, wearing fresh mud on all black, carrying night vision and a backpack containing a fold-up army spade and ten kilos of gold did not look good. Then a bleep emitted in his left ear.
"Little Jo to Big Joe, making a second pass."
Relieved, Mark stood in the middle of the lane and responded.
"Hey Little Jo, sure is good to hear your voice. I'm in place ready for pickup. What does second pass mean?"
Just then Mark cast a long shadow in front as headlamps came up from behind. Startled, he turned in time to see them dip to sidelights revealing the low stance of the F-Type.
"It means I'm right behind you!" the voice came back.
Mark moved over to the hedge side and got in letting out a huge sigh of relief.
"I was starting to worry."
"I did exactly as you said, kept moving to avoid arousing any suspicion and when you weren't here I turned beyond the village and was making a second pass. And here you are."
Mark smiled and nodded, catching his breath.
"Oh my God!" Abby said concerned looking at Mark as the interior light faded off. "You're bleeding!"
"Just a few surface scratches, nothing to worry about," he said wiping his face with a tissue. "Bloody thorns."
"Was the mission a success?"
"Yes, more than a success. I got it all, and you were perfect. Did you make the call?"
"I made the call," she said nodding. "I didn't think you'd want to get involved in something like that, preferring to stay invisible."
"Yeah you're right, normally I wouldn't. It's not the theft of an excavator that bothers me so much. It's what they were going to use it for that bothers me. Hopefully we prevented two crimes from happening, that's if the police catch up to them."
Out on the main road Abby made her way back to the roundabout to head back through Exeter. Coming over the brow of a hill a dazzling display of blue flashing lights filled the night sky.
"Shit," Abby blurted out.
"Relax. It may just be random vehicle checks. We'll be okay, all tires have legal tread and we're taxed and insured. They don't normally check backpacks unless they think we are involved in drugs, so just act normal."
As they approached a police man was in the middle of the road and held his hand up to stop them. Abby came to a holt and slid the gear shift into park.
"What happens now?" she asked.
"Just wait here a second, he'll direct you to the side of the road if he wants you to pull over," Mark replied. "I should tell you something but promise me you won't panic?"
Abby looked across at Mark who had a face of terror. "What? What is it? Tell me!"
"It's about the gold."
"What about it?"
"It's not what you think. It's not gold. It's cocaine. And has a street value of three million pounds. Just keep cool and pray the cop doesn't have a sniffer dog."
Abby's face turned white in-between the blue police lights flashing across her cheek bones.
What. The. Fuck. It was all she could think.
Mark reached his arm over and patted her leg. "I'm only kidding," Mark smirked, grinning like a twelve year old.
"You better be, you bastard. I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Don't EVER do that again!" she blasted back.
The policeman then waved Abby to come forward. She sat there still in shock. Mark grabbed the shifter and rammed it into drive. "C'mon, let's go," he said.
She put her foot on the gas pedal and drove slowly past the police officer who was waving them by a group of squad cars. The policeman guided Abby the wrong way around the roundabout due to the carnage on their side of the road. An excavator lay on its side in a hedge still strapped to the trailer it sat on. A Ford truck had overturned and sat across the roundabout on its side in a pool of glass and twisted metal.
"Nice," Mark said as they burbled by. "I guess it's not easy controlling a trailer with a flat tire while being chased."
Further up the road another police car sat on the side with intermittent red flashing lights. "Now what?" Abby asked feeling exhausted.
"It's okay, just go around, those lights just let you know he has pulled someone over, they're only for safety," Mark explained.
"You got further than I thought you would," Mark said as they passed the police car. In front, a Mitsubishi off-roader was abandoned on the pavement, all its doors still open, a sign of desperate escape.
"Is there anything else you'd like do tonight cowboy?" Abby asked in a playful tone. "Any more tombs you want to raid or burglars you want to chase?"
Mark looked over to her silhouette as she remained focused on the road ahead. Her delicate face concentrating intently was causing his adrenaline to stir even more. "Well… there is something I can think of," he said trying to hide his cheeky grin.
"Oh yeah?" Abby asked biting her lower lip.
15
Recovered
Abby woke to find Mark already dressed and making coffee in the kitchen.
"Morning cowboy," she said leaning into the door frame smiling.
Mark turned to see Abby's beautiful face watching him, wearing a white short sleeved buttoned shirt he instantly recognized as his own. It rested gently over her hips, her silky smooth legs drawing in Mark's eyes.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I needed to be up early, I have a long trip ahead."
"Ah yes, Birmingham isn't it?"
Mark brought in coffee and sat down next to Abby. He reached over to the table in front and pulled off a towel that had been covering the gold bars.
"There you go, just to prove it wasn't cocaine."
Abby gasped as she looked at twenty two bright, shining gold pieces, each one the size of a credit card.
"Oh my," she said raising
her eyebrows. "This is what ninety gee's worth of gold looks like then? And you hid all this in a grave?" She looked at Mark who gave a resounding nod. "You really are cuckoo."
She watched as he placed each small piece into envelopes and then into his brief case. "Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked in a mournful tone.
"What? Sell my gold pieces that I have been patiently saving all these years to buy a an exotic Italian V12 and instead help some girl I barley know buy a lighthouse for a holiday home so her mum can look after a few scrappy K9s?" he replied placing the last envelope in the case. "Absolutely! I'm cuckoo all the way!" he said smiling.
He stood up and put on his suit jacket.
"You look so different to just a few hours ago," Abby observed. "You looked like a Navy SEAL wearing all your black combat gear, big boots, rough stubble and cuts all over your face," she said touching his cheeks with her fingers. "But now you're all clean shaven, smooth and gorgeous. If you weren't wearing jeans, you'd look like you work in a bank."
He met her eyes and kissed her gently on the lips.
She watched the Jaguar disappear out of view as it left the gates, hearing the exhausts pop and crackle as it descended the hill. Now she had time to herself to go through her grandpa's work. After making a fresh cup of coffee she entered the lighthouse, giving a quick glance up the driveway before bolting the door behind her and opening the closet.
After a few hours Abby returned to the cottage holding a file containing papers belonging to her Grandpa. She placed them on the side and went to the bedside drawer to collect her passport and driver's license and placed them in an envelope. She sat on the sofa and stared at the file on the table.
"I don't know what to do Grandpa," she said looking up at the ceiling. "Give me a sign, please."
She sat for a while until her stomach gave a ferocious rumble breaking the silence.
