by Alfie Robins
‘Any questions?’ asked Warren.
‘How do we know they will use the route across the Westwood?’ asked Tel. The Beverley Westwood was a large expanse of grass and woodland that offered common grazing land rights for the hereditary pasture masters of the town
‘It’s not like when they are collecting from banks, they never deviate from routine according to Mick’s contact.’
‘How do we get inside the van, don’t they have that paint that sprays you if the door is opened without the security code?’ said Jimbo this time.
‘That’s where Tone comes in, he’s got to hit the van so hard it goes over on its side and if the driver won’t, or can’t open up, Tone burns us a way in through the roof. The roof isn’t as well armoured as the rest of the vehicle.’
‘Any more questions?
‘I’ve got one, will we be tooled up?’ It was Tel.
‘Just you and me. Mick tells me you can keep your cool. He’s sorted us out with a couple of sawn-offs.’
‘Right, any more?’ No more questions. ‘Ok that’s it. Jimbo and Barry, I’ll leave it up to you to sort the cars. Tone, Mick already has a refuse collection lorry sorted, here’s where to pick it up.’ Warren passed him a scrap of paper with an address written on it.
‘That’s a bin wagon to you Tone,’ Conway said sarcastically, drawing a few laughs.
‘I want you all back here at dinner time tomorrow and in the meantime keep off the booze. That’s it, see you all tomorrow,’ said Warren.
The small team drank up and drifted out of the flat.
‘If Russ is still out there we’ll drop him off at the infirmary,’ Warren heard Tel say as they left.
The two men were now alone. ‘Got a bit of a temper on you Ray.’ Warren looked quizzical, he’d only done as he was told. ‘I mean I know I told you to sort him, but fucking hell, the docs will have a hell of a job on trying to stitch his nose together.’
‘He’ll get over it – eventually. It did the job, the rest of the lads know where they stand. We’ll get the job done a lot better without him.’
‘Right then Ray, I’m away, I’ll have someone drop the shooter off in the morning just before the off.’
Once he was alone again in the flat, Warren looked out of the window into the car park. He could see Russ being manhandled into one of the cars for the short trip to the Hull Royal Infirmary. Conway was coming out of the flat’s foyer and heading for his Audi.
He sighed to himself, what a fucking mess, things seemed to be going from bad to worse, but he was the first to admit he had enjoyed taking out Russ, at least it vented some of his frustrations. In the bathroom he splashed his face with cold water then in the mirror he checked out his own forehead. Thankfully there was nothing more to show for the altercation than a small sore lump where it had made contact with Russ’s nose, had he struck an inch higher he would have made contact with his forehead and probably caused damage to himself.
Chapter 17
After popping a couple of paracetamol for the headache that he knew would shortly follow, Warren made himself a coffee, and standing in the kitchen he picked up his mobile, pressed speed dial one and made the call.
Bob answered immediately.
‘It’s happening,’ he said agitatedly into the handset.
‘What’s happening Greg?’
‘The bloody armed robbery that’s what. And on top of that I’ve only gone and put someone else in hospital.’
‘Greg, calm down and take a breath, who exactly have you hospitalised?’ Warren went on to give chapter and verse on why and how he had assaulted Russ Miller. ‘Maybe we could turn that to our advantage.’
‘In what way?’
‘What’s worse than a woman scorned? A disgruntled ex-colleague with a grudge, someone willing to inform the police of an impending crime, don’t you think?’
‘You’re a devious bugger, I’ll give you that. If it was ever to get back to Conway, Russ would be looking at more than a stay in hospital, he’d be a dead man walking.’
‘Yes, the perfect scapegoat. We whisper in the appropriate ear and things will take their own course. Now tell me more about the robbery.’ Warren went on to outline Conway’s plan, time, route and the other members of the team. ‘As we said, we cannot allow this to take place, more so now that firearms will be involved.’
‘We will arrange for one or two of the participants in the operation to be picked up – two team members down and the operation won’t be viable. During their interviews they will undoubtedly require the services of a solicitor; a solicitor who it would be reasonable to presume is retained by Mr Conway, and the seeds will be sown, there will be no doubt that Russ Miller is a confidential informant.’
‘Think you can pull it off?’
‘The time scale is tight, but all things being equal – yes I think we can, I’ll organise a hospital visit by uniform when we’re finished here.
‘Just make sure Jimbo isn’t arrested, I have a feeling I may need his help at some point.’
‘That seems fair, I’ll be in touch shortly.’
There were no two ways about it, Warren was relieved at the prospect of not having to take part. Now it was a waiting game to see what happened.
He didn’t have to wait very long.
‘Come on, open the fucking door.’ Conway yelled as he hammered on the flat steel plate of the door. The door vibrated in its frame. ‘Open up.’
‘For fuck’s sake Mick give me a chance to open the thing,’ Warren yelled back as he slid bolts and unfastened locks.
‘It’s off, its fucking off,’ he shouted as he barged past and headed straight for the booze in Warren’s kitchen.
‘What’s off?’ Warren asked keeping up the feigned shock.
Conway popped the tab on the can and came back with lager dripping down his chin. ‘The fucking job, the heist, that’s what’s off. The coppers only went and picked up Tone and Tel.’
‘Shit, what do you know?’
‘Not much, I let them have access to my solicitor and he gave me the heads up, they’ve been picked up and held on trumped up charges. According to my brief “they are helping the Police with their enquires into historic crimes”, whatever the fuck that means.’
‘So, it doesn’t mean they know about the job?’
‘Oh for fuck’s sake Ray, get real, why else would they have been nicked?
‘So you’re telling me we’ve been grassed up?’
‘Looks that way to me, only one person would be doing that fucking Miller, fucking Russ Miller, the bloke you just sent to the Infirmary. I tell you what, he’s dead, fucking dead.’
‘You can’t be sure it’s him?’
‘Oh I’m sure, I’m fucking sure no one else would dare to stitch me up. He’s dead meat.’
‘All that planning up the Swanny, not to mention I was looking forward to the pay day. Want me to sort him properly this time?’
‘You sort him? No thanks that’s something I’ll enjoy doing myself.’
Conway ranted and raved for the next hour, making a dent in Warren’s supply of lager. He was also feeling slightly pissed, matching Conway can for can. The difference being, Warren was drinking in celebration, in relief that the heist wouldn’t be taking place.
As if he’d taken a magic potion Conway suddenly appeared sober.
‘Anyway, onwards and upwards that’s what I always say. We’ve got a busy week ahead of us.’ For some reason he couldn’t put his finger on, Warren was concerned. ‘I’ve got a deal going with Big Jim Douglas and it’s been brought forward. You interested?’
‘What, after this last fiasco? I’m not sure that I need the agro mate.’
‘Ray, what’s done is done, we have to move on.’
‘I’m not risking my bloody neck on a baccy run for Big Jim.’
‘Come on Ray, would I waste your time on a piddling job, I’ve got monkeys for that stuff.’
Warren sat forward in his chair. ‘Yeah, I’ve met them, rem
ember?’
‘Like I said, water under the bridge.’
‘Plenty more Billybobs and the like in the sea?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Ok, start talking.’ Warren was intrigued.
‘Jim has – we have a shipment coming in from Holland in a few days, we’ve earmarked a location for the job and I’d like your opinion, what you reckon like, before we confirm.’
‘Where?’
‘Coming in by yacht, they’re gonna bring it ashore at Blacktoft, a farmer who owns a stretch of river frontage owes us a favour.’
‘More than a bit risky Mick, coming all the way down the river?’
Warren gave him a concerned look.
‘Not so, the Seabird is a regular visitor, they’ll make radio contact with Customs as per usual and let them know they will be terminating the voyage at Goole. The goods will be long gone before they arrive and given a going over by the “rummagers”.’
‘Nice, you used this method before,’ Warren asked.
‘Not the same locations, but the same method. The knack is not to do it too often, you can get away with it two, maybe three times a year, any more and I think we’d be pushing our luck.’
‘What are you bringing in – “brown stuff”?’ he asked, referring to heroin.
Conway hesitated slightly before answering.
‘Diamonds.’
‘Bloody hell!’
‘Done it before,’ Conway replied, casually.
‘What’s the source, South African?’
South African “Blood Diamonds” was a very controversial subject; if he could get contact names of the original importers it would be more than just helpful it would be a major coup.
‘Maybe, maybe not. To be honest I don’t really care, a diamond is a diamond when all said and done.’
‘If I agree I suss it out on my own, no Jimbo or bleedin’ hillbillies, ok?’
‘Sound fine to me.’ Conway took an envelope out of his jacket pocket and passed it across to Warren. ‘Thought you would say that. All the details are in here, once you’re ok with it get rid of it, burn it, flush it, anything just get shut ok?’
Warren took the envelope and ripped it open.
‘Will do,’ he said as he scanned through the notes.
‘Right then I’m off, I told the bloke who owns the land he might get a visitor sometime today, so no problems there, he won’t come after you with a shotgun.’
Chapter 18
PC Brian Scott much preferred to be out on the streets, he wasn’t very pleased to be sat watching the CCTV images taken from the traffic cameras along Anlaby Road. He sat back in his chair and rubbed his gritty eyes with his knuckles.
‘Scotty how’s it going?’ Detective Inspector Bill Grimes asked, sticking his head into the video viewing room. ‘You looking into the “pharmacy” mugging?’
‘Not having much luck, yet sir,’ he replied as the grainy black and white picture scrolled slowly on the screen.
‘Have you heard anything from the hospital?’
‘Called in myself to see if Boland was in any state to get a statement from.’
Scott pressed the pause button the DVD player, freezing the footage.
‘Any good?’
‘He was sat propped up in bed and wired up to goodness knows what. They fixed his wrist with metal work, but it’s not looking so good for his leg, he’s been told its touch and go whether it might have to come off, a case of wait and see. I almost felt sorry for him – almost.’
‘Yeah well I don’t have any sympathy for him, he’s put plenty of others in the infirmary. Did you get anything out of him?’
‘You’ve got to be joking sir, apparently he didn’t see who attacked him, said he was bashed on the head, dragged down the alley and that’s all he remembered. The next thing he knew the paramedics were putting him on a trolley and he passed out again.’
He turned to the screen again and pressed the play button.
‘You believe him?’ asked Grimes.
‘Yeah, like I believe in fairies!’
‘All I can say is he must have really pissed someone off for them to cripple him… hang on, spin it back a bit.’ Scotty rewound the image, ‘Right play it now – slowly.’ The angle of the camera didn’t offer the best of views; it was high on the traffic lights opposite the Hull Royal Infirmary primarily giving a view of the junction. ‘Who do you reckon this might be?’ In the periphery of the viewing area a figure very closely resembling Billybob appeared for a few seconds then jerkily disappeared from view.
‘Boland?’ Scott said as he rewound the image again and froze the screen.
‘Could be.’ Grimes leaned in for a closer look. ‘Can you enhance the picture?’
‘Sir, I’m a plod not a techie,’ Scott said, turning to face the DI.
‘Fair enough,’ he smiled, he was all for a bit of banter. ‘And who’s this?’
A figure came out of the alley.
‘Doesn’t look like the same bloke who went down the alley, sir.’
They watched as a well-built figure wearing jeans and a hoodie came out of the alley.
‘Bloody camera, can’t make anything out. Looks like he could be talking on a mobile.’
‘Calling for an ambulance?’
‘Oh yeah Scotty, he cripples Boland then his conscience gets the better of him? Get real. But I tell you what, there’s something about him, the way he walks. I swear I know him from somewhere. Get on to the town centre CCTV bods and see if he’s picked up anywhere else.’
‘Are you really that bothered sir, after all the little shit only got what he deserved?’
‘Maybe he did, but I know that bloke from somewhere and I want to know where from. Let me know if you come up with anything.’
Chapter 19
Warren studied the timetable for the operation. The vessel, a Canadian designed Vancouver 27, a three berth yacht named the Seabird, was to head down the Humber at high-water, with the intention of reaching the meeting point sometime between 6 and 8pm the day after tomorrow. The farm had its own river frontage with a timber landing stage. The deal was to take place on board; the Seabird would be moored there for thirty minutes only, before carrying on its journey up the Ouse.
It seemed to be a straightforward operation, Warren had to hand it to Conway, he was a good organiser. There was even a sketch of the area marking the farmhouse and outbuildings. Warren went back through to the kitchen and made another coffee and then made the call.
‘Gemmell Strategies.’
‘Greg, how are things going?’ John asked as he put the phone onto speaker mode.
‘Fine, any fallout over last night’s incident?’
‘None as far as we are aware, just try not to make a habit of it. You have something to report?’
‘Another name from the dossier has cropped up, Jim Douglas.’
‘AKA: Big Jim, yes he’s well known to all departments at home and on the near continent.’
‘It appears Conway and Douglas are in cahoots on a big one.’
‘How big?’
‘Big enough. What do you know about diamonds?’
‘Small pieces of hard glass, very expensive so I’m told,’ John replied attempting to be humorous.
It didn’t work.
‘Yeah, funny – seriously, Blood Diamonds what can you tell me?’
‘Well the abridged version goes something like this. A Blood Diamond, also known as a Conflict Diamond is a diamond mined usually in a war zone and sold to finance insurgency, pay for arms.’
‘Is there a big demand?’ asked Warren.
‘There’s always a demand for precious stones at the right price. The problem being these diamonds, or for that matter other precious stones mined in precarious areas have a detrimental effect on the worldwide market, therefore they are illegal as many come from areas of civil unrest and even civil war from places such as Angola and Sierra Leone,’ Bob’s voice said over the speaker.
‘W
ell, it looks like we have a shipment coming in from Holland.’
‘How soon?’
‘In the next forty-eight hours, sailing right down the Humber to Blacktoft.’
‘Strictly speaking Blacktoft is not on the Humber at all, it’s on the north bank of the River Ouse where it joins the River Trent, then becomes the River Humber.’
‘Whatever you say, John.’
Warren went on to give chapter and verse of how and when the operation was to take place and how 1.5 million Euros were to be transferred over the internet on completion of the deal.
‘And your next move?’ Bob asked.
‘I’m going to go and give the location the once over, suss out any possible problems.’
‘Keep in touch Greg, please give me a call on your return.’
‘Will do.’
Warren hung up the call and checked his watch, lunchtime.
After lunching on a cheese and pickle sandwich washed down with a can of tepid cola, Warren readied himself for another trip down the A63. He debated whether he should take the Sig and decided against it, maybe next time – no definitely next time he told himself. After rummaging through the cupboards and wardrobe Warren found what he needed, a pair of wellington boots and a wax waterproof jacket and to complete the outfit a woolly pull-on hat. Warren changed his chinos for a pair of old denim jeans, put on the boots and jacket then checked himself out in the wardrobe mirror. Ok, maybe I don’t look like a real twitcher, he thought to himself but it was the best he could do in the circumstances. But to the casual observer that’s just what he would look like some boring birdwatcher.
The usual suspects occupied the parking area, the hoodies were there with their spliffs and cans and a couple of kids were having a kick about with a football. The Fiesta still occupied the spot where he’d left it two weeks ago; surprisingly it still had all its wheels. Warren thought this was probably down to Conway’s influence.
He opened the driver’s door and threw the rubber boots and jacket into the back then eased himself into the low seat. The Fiesta fired up first time, Warren fastened his seatbelt and drove out of the parking area. The A63 was a road he knew well, the main road leading west out of the city. The A63 changed to the M62 shortly after passing the Humber Bridge, Warren left the motorway at the village of Gilberdyke and then navigated the narrow country roads to Blacktoft.
