Broken

by Oliver T Spedding

  I was angry at myself though, for being so foolish and leaving the bank deposit book lying behind the couch. I'd thrown it there in anger and I knew that my anger towards the world and myself needed to be curbed. It was when I was angry that I made mistakes and this incident with the deposit book was a typical example. But anger had been my dominant emotion ever since I could remember and had become a deep-seated habit. Changing would be almost impossible.

  The mistakes that I'd made with regard to robbing and killing Mister Eksteen had taught me that I could never be too careful. I had promised Cindy that I would never commit a robbery again but the ease with which I had executed the robbing of Mister Eksteen made me realise that, if properly planned and executed, robbery would be a very lucrative enterprise. The planning had been exciting and challenging and I was quite proud of how I'd gone about it. Of course, there had been mistakes; the main one being that my timing had been wrong. If I'd taken the results of the horse races into account I would have waited for a race meeting where there had been more outsiders being led into the winner's circle as this would have resulted in Mister Eksteen having a lot more cash to deposit. My reward would then have been far more satisfying.

  But if I were to attempt another robbery I would have to be far more meticulous about the planning, the execution and especially covering up my tracks afterwards. And as far as my promise to Cindy was concerned; promises were made to be broken. If an opportunity to take something of value from someone arose, I would take it.

  ***

  I was sitting on the couch in the lounge with a beer and watching television when Cindy arrived home after her first day working at the dry cleaners. I expected her to be smiling and happy about her day but the expression on her face as she came into the room told me otherwise. She kissed me and sat down on the couch next to me. I could see that she was close to crying.

  "Obviously your first day at work didn't turn out the way you had expected it to." I said.

  "No." Cindy said, her bottom lip trembling as she fought to prevent herself bursting into tears. "It was horrible!"

  "Horrible?" I asked. "How so?"

  "I couldn't believe that two people could change so drastically and as completely as Mister and Mister Whiteside did." she said, shaking her head slowly. "When I went for the interview they were both so friendly; especially Misses Whiteside. But, no sooner had I signed the employment agreement and sat down at my desk, than she started talking to me as if I was a naughty little girl. And from then on she criticised everything that did and even shouted at me a few times. And never once did she explain to me what and how she wanted the work done. It was if she expected me to know everything! And when I asked her to explain anything she rolled her eyes and shook her head. And Mister Whiteside was no better. He threw some papers onto my desk and told me to type two letters for him and when I asked where the letterheads were kept he shouted at me as if I was a complete idiot. When I finally found them he stood over me as I typed and shouted at me when I typed too slowly. The two of them carried on like this the whole day. It was really horrible!"

  "Obviously they were being nice to you last Thursday at your interview so that you would take the job." I said. "And now that you've signed they've become their real selves. Why don't you just leave and look for another job?"

  "I can't." Cindy said. "The employment agreement states that I must give a month's notice and, if I don't, they can sue me for breach of agreement. So, even if I give notice tomorrow, I'll still have to work there until the end of the month."

  "Well, give notice tomorrow." I said. "Then you'll just have to stick it out until the end of the month. In the mean time you can look for another job. That shouldn't be too hard to find. Especially as there seem to be so many suitable jobs on the market right now."

  Cindy nodded glumly.

  "And tell them that if they so much as touch you or try to get you to do anything that's not specified in your contract, I'll come round there and beat the living daylights out of both of them." I said.

  "Thanks Garth." Cindy said squeezing my arm "I'll tell them that."

  That evening Cindy wrote out her letter of resignation with a copy and the following morning she went off to the dry cleaners, a look of trepidation on her face.

  When Cindy got home from work that evening she looked a little calmer.

  "So what happened when you handed in your resignation" I asked as she sat down at the kitchen table where I was sitting having a beer.

  "I handed Misses Whiteside the letter and asked her to sign the copy." Cindy said. "She immediately started shouting at me and threatened to go to the Labour Council. I simply stared back at her. She accused me of reneging on our agreement but I pointed out to her that I was entitled to give a calendar month's notice as long as it was before the seventh of the month. And as today was the fourth of the month, I told her, I was not reneging on the agreement. She glared at me, grabbed the copy of the letter, and left the office. A few minutes later she returned and threw the copy onto my desk. I looked at it and saw that it had been signed. The next minute Mister Whiteside came into the office. He shouted that I would regret what I'd just done and moved threateningly towards me. I told him that if he so much as touched me or tried to make me do anything that wasn't stipulated in my contract, you would come round there and beat him and his wife to a pulp. That stopped him in his tracks." Cindy said grinning. "He then asked me if I was threatening him. I told him that I wasn't threatening him; I was promising him. He glared at me, turned around, and left the office."

  "Well done." I said.

  "Then, a little later Misses Whiteside came back into the office and apologised to me." Cindy said. "She said that maybe they'd overreacted. She said that she and her husband were both under a lot of strain and that she would try her best to be nice to me. She then asked me if I would tear up the copy of the letter of resignation if she promised to do that. I just stared at her and after a while she told me quietly that I was going to regret my actions. Then she turned and left the office. I'm really not looking forward to being there for the rest of the month but I won't renege on the contract."

  "Okay." I said. "But if they try anything nasty just tell me and I'll sort them out. In the mean time you can start looking for another job."

  ***

  I could see that Cindy was becoming more and more angry with Mister and Misses Whiteside and that she was gradually coming to hate them. Then, on the Friday afternoon she came into the house, sat down on the couch next to me in the lounge and burst into tears. I put my arm around her.

  "And now?" I asked. "What's happened now?"

  Cindy wiped the tears off her cheeks with her handkerchief.

  "This morning I carefully added up all the takings for the week, filled in the bank deposit book and put the money and the book into the plastic shopping bag that Mister Whiteside usually used to take the money to the bank." Cindy said. "I also gave him the breakdown for the wages. But when he got back from the bank he shouted at me that the takings had been fifty Rand short and that he had been forced to make up the shortfall with his own money. He then said that he was going to take fifty Rand off my salary at the end of the month. Garth, I know that the takings were correct and tallied with the total written in the deposit book. I checked it twice."

  "Next time get him to sign for the takings." I said. "Make him sign that they tally with the amount written in the deposit book as well. Do that every time you give them any money. In fact, make them sign for the money that you put into the safe every afternoon. Next, they’ll say that that money is also short."

  "I'll do that." Cindy said.

  Cindy got up and went to the kitchen to make our supper. I sat in the lounge and thought about what Cindy had just told me. If Mister Whiteside took the whole week's takings to the bank on a Friday it was probably a sizable amount. Cindy had told me how busy the depot was. I needed to know just how much the old man took to the bank each week. Knowing how much Cindy had grown to hate th
e two old people, I decided to take a chance. I got up from the couch and walked to the kitchen. I sat down at the kitchen table. Cindy stood with her back to me stirring a pot of stew on the stove. I took a deep breath.

  "How much money does Mister Whiteside take to the bank on Fridays?" I asked.

  I saw Cindy tense.

  "This morning it was just over fifteen thousand Rand." she said. "Why do you want to know that?"

  "No reason." I said casually. "I was just wondering."

  I got up from the table and took another beer out of the fridge. I opened it and sat down at the table again. I watched Cindy as she worked at the stove.

  "Garth." she said after a while, still with her back to me. "You promised me that you would never rob anyone ever again."

  "Who said anything about robbing people?" I asked.

  Cindy remained silent.

  "But, now that you've brought up the subject, look at it this way." I said. "Those people robbed you of fifty Rand this morning and, if you think that they're actually going to pay you at the end of the month, you're being very naïve. I can tell you now that they'll stall and stall; saying that they're short of money but that they'll pay you your money as soon as they're flush again. And they'll go on stalling for months, even years. And even if you go to the Labour Council, they'll stall them as well. You'll never get your money from those two crooks. Take my word for it."

  Cindy continued to stir the pot of stew on the stove in front of her. I waited, sipping my beer and watching her surreptitiously. Eventually Cindy switched off the stove and turned. She placed the pot on the table and ladled the contents onto our plates. She set one in front of me and sat down opposite me with her own.

  "Garth." she said. "Two wrongs don't make a right. The fact that they've stolen from me doesn't give us the right to steal from them."

  I nodded.

  "In a way, I suppose you're right." I said. "But to me life's about survival of the fittest. Those two people are just begging to be robbed. For an old man to walk to the bank unescorted with fifteen thousand Rand in an old plastic shopping bag is crazy. Somebody's going to attack the old man sooner or later and take the money. So why shouldn't that somebody be me? Those two have probably got millions in the bank anyway. That's why they're so stingy."

  Cindy took a mouthful of stew and chewed thoughtfully. I continued before she could finish chewing.

  "Those two are thieves." I said. "And they deserve to have their money stolen. Earlier, I was convinced that you hated them. Am I wrong?"

  "No, you're not wrong." Cindy said. "I do hate them. But what if something goes wrong and you kill Mister Whiteside by accident like you killed that bookmaker?"

  "We don't know that he died because I hit him with the truncheon." I said. "He could have died from a heart attack."

  Cindy sighed.

  "I don't know what to say." she said. "My heart says yes but my brain says no. What if you're caught?"

  "I'll plan this very carefully." I said. "Far more carefully than when I robbed Mister Eksteen. And when I've got the plan together we'll discuss it and, if you think it's too risky, we'll drop it."

  "I'll have to think about this some more." Cindy said.

  "I we do this and it comes off, we'll have fifteen grand." I said. "After we've paid Mister Bogdanovic the money we owe him we'll still have enough money to easily last us six months. And it will take the pressure off both of us. The need to find work won't be nearly so urgent. And, who knows? Another opportunity may show up. The important thing is that we'll have to be very careful and never let down our guard."

  "Are you saying that we should make a career out of crime?" Cindy asked.

  "No, not at all." I said. "Once we have permanent jobs we won't have to do that anymore."

  ***

  The suburb of Kenilworth where the Ace Dry Cleaner depot was situated was an old suburb with many buildings dating back almost a hundred years. For this reason most of the city blocks had old service alleys that ran behind the buildings and were used mainly for refuse collection. The owners of the buildings would leave their refuse bins in the alleys to be emptied by the municipal refuse collection department once a week. The alleys were kept clear of weeds and rubbish and most of them ran from one side of the block through to the other.

  Cindy had told me which bank branch Mister Whiteside visited to deposit the firm's takings and collect the wages. It was just over five city blocks from the depot. She also described Mister Whiteside to me so that I would recognise him as he walked to the bank. And she told me that the plastic shopping bag that he always used to carry the money in was green with white lettering on it.

  I walked the route that the old man took to the bank. It passed several alleyways. As the alley in which I had attacked Mister Eksteen in had provided the ideal escape route, I decided to use one of the alleys that Mister Whiteside passed as my escape route as well. But it was important that the alley that I used had to lead out into a busy thoroughfare as this would allow me to mix with the other pedestrians quickly, should anyone be following me after the robbery. Three of the alleys proved suitable.

  As Mister Eksteen's robbery plan had been so successful, I decided to use exactly the same plan when robbing Mister Whiteside. I would pull or push the old man into the alley, grab the shopping bag with the money in it, and run away along the alleyway. As I ran I would stuff the bag of money into my rucksack, pull off my ski mask and put on fake glasses. Even if Mister Whiteside tried to follow me or shouted for help, I would be at the far end of the alley by the time anyone responded. I would then sling the rucksack onto my back, and casually walk out onto the pavement and mingle with the other pedestrians.

  I chose the third alley that Mister Whiteside would pass on his way to the bank, reasoning that he would be less vigilant by then than he had been when he first started out. This would make it easier for me to approach him. But I also knew that it would be dangerous to follow the man from the depot. I therefore decided to wait for him about fifty metres from the alley and then begin to move in on him. By doing this I was less likely to attract any attention.

  As I'd thrown the frames of Auntie Rose's glasses away I went to the supermarket and bought a cheap pair of black-rimmed reading glasses and removed the lenses. The change that they made to my appearance was amazing.

  I discussed my plan with Cindy and she couldn't find any flaws in it.

  "What I can do is SMS you when Mister Whiteside leaves the premises to go to the bank." she said. "Then you won't have to follow him from the depot and you can wait somewhere along the route. And you'll also know when to expect him."

  "That's a brilliant idea." I said. "Can you also SMS me the amount of money he'll have in the shopping bag? Then if it's a lot less than we're expecting I can abort the plan. We don't want to make the same mistake as I made when robbing Mister Eksteen and end up stealing only a small amount of money."

  Cindy nodded.

  "I can do that." she said. "And nobody'll be aware that I've been in contact with you. An SMS would be perfect."

  "So you're happy with the plan?" I asked. "Can we go ahead?"

  "Yes." Cindy said emphatically. "But please try not to use any violence, Garth."

  "I'll try not to." I said. "I have a feeling that Mister Whiteside will be too shocked to do anything."

  "So when are you going to do it?" Cindy asked.

  "Why wait?" I asked. "We'll do it this coming Friday."

  ***

  My plan to attack Mister Whiteside worked perfectly. As Cindy was going to send me an SMS as soon as the old man left the depot it wasn't necessary for me to be anywhere near the area where I planned to attack him. I walked around the streets of Kenilworth, stopping to look at the merchandise displayed in the shop windows and even spending a short time sitting on a bench in a small park.

  Eventually the SMS arrived. Mister Whiteside had left the depot with the week's takings and was on his way to the bank. The amount of cash in the shopping bag
was just over fifteen thousand Rand. I shook my head in amazement that an old man was prepared to walk through the streets of Johannesburg on his own with fifteen thousand Rand in an old plastic shopping bag. As far as I was concerned, he deserved to be robbed.

  I walked to a spot about fifty metres from the entrance to the chosen alley and saw Mister Whiteside approaching. Cindy's description of him had been very accurate and he was also carrying a green shopping bag with white lettering on it. With my ski mask was rolled up to just above my eyebrows, I began to close in on Mister Whiteside, surreptitiously watching the other pedestrians. None of them took the slightest interest in either me or the old man.

  By the time Mister Whiteside reached the entrance to the alley I was walking right next to him. As quickly as I could I pulled my ski mask down over my face, shoved him into the alley and grabbed the shopping bag with my left hand, holding the rubber truncheon under my jacket with my right hand. To my surprise, Mister Whiteside made no attempt to fight for the bag of money. As he stared up at me through his thick glasses I could see the shock and fear in his eyes. He was paralysed with fright. I pulled the shopping bag away from him and turned away, sprinting along the alleyway as fast as I could and expecting to hear shouts for help at any moment. But the old man remained silent.

  As I ran along the alleyway, I pulled off my rucksack, opened it and stuffed the bag of money, the truncheon and my ski mask into it. I closed it and slung it back onto my back. I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the fake glasses. As I neared the end of the alley I put on the glasses, and even though I had told myself not to, I glanced back over my shoulder. Mister Whiteside stood at the far end of the alley staring at me, his shoulders slumped in resignation.

  I stopped a short distance from the end of the alley to regain my breath. Then I casually walked out onto the pavement and mingled with the other pedestrians. I could hardly believe that it had been so easy to steal fifteen thousand Rand.