Diamond Geezers

by Freer, Echo;

  ‘Exactly what you saw me doing - send it to the grave with Dad.’ Gemma stood up and straightened her skirt. ‘I was going to sneak it into his top pocket at the last minute before he’s buried tomorrow.’

  Modesty looked at her dubiously. ‘So you weren’t going to sell it?’

  ‘No! I wouldn’t do that even if I could.’ The older girl sounded shocked.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Modesty was confused.

  ‘It’s already been registered, so it’s had a certified number laser-etched round the girdle. Even if it’s re- cut, the number’s there for good, so it can never be filtered back into the legitimate market.’

  Modesty shook her head, perplexed. ‘If that’s the case, why are the thieves so keen to get it back? It’s no use to them if they can’t get rid of it.’

  Gemma gave a sad, ironic smile. ‘I said it could never be filtered back into the legitimate market. There are plenty of underworld collectors who don’t mind where their stones come from.’ She turned to face Modesty and spoke with the weariness of someone who’d been relieved of an enormous burden. ‘So, are you going to phone the police?’

  Modesty thought for a moment then shook her head. ‘No - but you are.’ She leant over Arnold King’s coffin and rummaged behind his head to retrieve the diamond. ‘And this is what you’re going to say...’

  Oz stood astride his grandmother’s bike and surveyed the magnificent semicircular building in front of him. The autumn sunlight was glinting on the stone façade, casting shadows across the Gothic arches that ran its entire length. The catacomb had been built into the side of a small hill at the back of the cemetery so that, from his position on another raised mound opposite, Oz was looking down on the structure. He was also looking down on the battered white transit van that was parked in front of it.

  As he watched, the heavy metal door in the centre of the catacomb opened. Quickly, Oz dismounted and crouched down behind an enormous Victorian monument, leaving Beattie’s bike on the grass. The first person to leave the building was a man whom he recognised instantly as Archie Bigg. Oz felt himself go tense as he watched Archie poke his head out of the door, look from side to side along the length of the catacomb, then don dark glasses. He saw him walk to the back of the van and open the double doors before beckoning to someone still in the vaults to follow. Immediately the back doors of the van were opened, a girl with a scarf tied round her face was pushed into the sunshine. Oz saw her drop the blanket she was clutching round herself, turn and give a hefty shove at another girl behind her. Although Oz had not seen Grace for four years it was not difficult to recognise her green streaked hair and her belligerent attitude from the description Modesty had given him.

  The other girl, taken unaware, stumbled backwards into a lanky boy (whom Oz assumed to be Mickey Bigg) who, in turn, fell into another girl in a pink fluffy coat. The girl in pink let out a piercing scream and the others in the group rounded on her, flapping their hands wildly as though telling her to be quiet. While the attention of the group was occupied, Oz was half relieved, half worried to see Grace snatch the scarf from her head and begin running across the lawn in the direction of the mound where he was hiding. He knew that to go out to meet her would be foolhardy - if the kidnappers caught up with Grace, then they’d catch him too and what use would that be? So he remained in hiding, willing her to make it. He could hardly bear to watch. He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into the palms of his hands, as Grace hitched up her purple and black lace skirt and ran for all she was worth.

  ‘Come on, Grace,’ he muttered under his breath.

  Archie Bigg had seen what had happened. He set off across the grass in hot pursuit.

  ‘You can do it,’ Oz whispered at Grace. ‘Keep going,’ he silently encouraged, not realising that her hatred of PE was second only to her hatred of all things pink and fluffy, whilst Archie Bigg had his own private gym and ran ten miles before breakfast most mornings.

  To Oz’s frustration, it became clear that Grace was flagging and, less than fifty metres from the tomb behind which he was hiding, she stopped running, put her hands on her hips and bent forwards panting for breath.

  Oz let out a barely audible groan. ‘No! Don’t give up now.’

  He ducked down low as Archie approached Grace. ‘Come on, darlin’,’ he heard him say gruffly.

  ‘I’ll come quietly,’ Grace puffed. ‘So long as you keep your hands off me - after all, I don’t know where you’ve been, do I?’

  ‘Spirited little mare, ain’t you?’ Archie commented, almost admiringly.

  Oz peered out from behind the monument at the diminishing figures of Archie and Grace. He didn’t know where they were taking her but he was going to do his utmost to follow. He rang Modesty’s number to let her know what was happening but her phone went straight to voicemail. Keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the two figures walking down the hill and back towards the van, he crawled over to the bike so that he would be ready to follow as soon as they drove away.

  Archie and Grace’s voices were receding but he could just make out Grace saying, ‘And another thing, if I’m going in the back of that van, I do not want Dog-breath Girl in there with me, OK? I’d rather pass a kidney stone than any more time with that social deadwood.’

  Modesty locked up downstairs, left a note for Glenys telling her that she’d popped out for a while and then joined Gemma and Noush in the Volvo estate.

  ‘OK, just do what I say and look as though this is totally normal,’ she instructed. ‘Drive into the cemetery slowly but don’t stop if the security guard waves you down.’

  Gemma looked askance. ‘So I just mow him down, do I?’

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ Modesty reassured her. ‘I know them all. Leave any talking to me.’

  Gemma pulled away from the front of the funeral parlour and headed towards the ornate iron gateway to the cemetery. Traffic was already building up and, as the entrance was only wide enough for one vehicle at a time, they had to wait for a white transit van to come out before they could enter.

  Modesty lowered her rear window and waved at the guard. ‘Morning, George! Lovely day, isn’t it?’ She pressed the electric window to go up again and spoke to Gemma through a fixed smile. ‘Keep going - straight ahead. Don’t look round. When we’re out of sight of the gate, stop and you can ring the police.’ She gnawed at her bottom lip. ‘Although, on second thoughts, that’s probably not going to give us enough time.’

  Without turning round, Gemma addressed Modesty through the rear-view mirror. ‘My contact’s in the City but they’ll probably send squad cars from Ilford, so that’ll only give us about five minutes. I think we should wait till we’ve sussed out what’s happening before I phone.’

  ‘You’re probably right,’ Modesty agreed.

  Gemma’s friend Anoushka folded her arms across her chest, in a huff. ‘I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me any of this, Gem! Don’t you trust me, or what?’

  ‘Not now, Noush, all right?’

  ‘I spent the whole week with you,’ the other girl went on. ‘All those weird calls and that attempted burglary and you knew all along what it was about. I can’t believe-’

  ‘Stop!’ Modesty cried.

  ‘Don’t tell me-’ Anoushka protested.

  ‘No, not you. Gemma - stop!’ Modesty cut in.

  Cycling towards them, eyes wide, hair flying in the wind, was Oz.

  Gemma slammed on the brakes and Modesty leapt from the car, her arms flailing wildly to attract Oz’s attention. The battered old bike skidded to a halt and Oz dismounted.

  ‘They’ve taken her!’ he gasped. ‘Has a white van passed you?’

  ‘Yes, just now.’

  ‘Well, that’s them. Which way did they go?’

  Modesty shook her head, panicking. ‘I didn’t see.’

  ‘I d
id,’ Gemma said. ‘I saw it in the mirror. They turned right, towards Wanstead.’

  ‘Quick, turn round,’ Oz ordered, pushing the bike into the bushes and joining Modesty in the back seat of the Volvo.

  Gemma spun the car round and headed back through the gate.

  ‘Morning, George!’ Modesty waved at the security man, who scratched his head, puzzled.

  The traffic on the main road was heavy with visitors to the cemetery and Sunday morning footballers coming for their amateur league games on Wanstead Flats. Oz took Modesty’s hand and squeezed it, trying to allay some of her fears as they crawled along; she’d seen funeral processions that moved faster than the traffic that morning.

  ‘Is that them?’ she gasped, anxiously pointing to a transit van several vehicles ahead.

  Oz strained his eyes. ‘No, that’s too new. The one they’re in would give a dustbin a run for its money.’

  Slowly they rounded the bend and there, about twenty cars ahead of them, was the transit van.

  ‘That’s the one!’ Oz called.

  It seemed to take them for ever to reach Wanstead and Oz took the opportunity to relay everything he’d seen in the cemetery. Modesty was relieved to see that the van was still in their sights when it turned into the High Street, but then the traffic lights turned to red and it disappeared from view.

  ‘Oh, bummer!’ she cried, exasperated.

  By the time the lights turned to green and the Volvo rounded the corner, the High Street was devoid of vehicles. The van was nowhere to be seen.

  Archie Bigg pulled into the side alley and switched off the engine. He turned wearily and stared at Harley Spinks who was sitting next to him in the passenger seat of the van.

  ‘So, ‘Arley...’ he forced a grin, ‘...babe. Run it by me one more time, darlin’ - just while we’re waitin’ for my mate. ‘Cos my brain cells is gettin’ a bit frazzled round the edges an’ try as I am doin’ to make sense of this little caper of yours, I ‘ave to admit, I am findin’ it ‘ard to understand ‘ow you could possibly think that branchin’ out into kidnappin’ was a sensible career move.’

  ‘Jeez, Arch - I dunno why you’re goin’ on about it. It’s not like it was some big deal.’

  ‘Not some big deal!’ Archie repeated. ‘ ‘Arley, sweetheart, deals don’t come much bleedin’ bigger than kidnappin’. You are well out of your league with this one, I’m tellin’ you. Your old man’ll go ape when ‘e ‘ears about this.’

  At the mention of her father’s reaction, Harley went momentarily quiet. Then she shrugged off the remark. ‘Neh!’ She turned to him. ‘ ‘Ow d’you find out, anyhow?’

  Archie handed her a crumpled piece of paper. ‘I come down this mornin’ an’ found this.’ It read:

  Dear Dad,

  Have cum home to get a blankit. We have taken the undatakers girl hostage and have got her in the katercooms but it ain’t half cold in there. Sees yous later.

  Lots of love,

  Mickey XX

  Harley screwed up the note and tossed it into the back of the van.

  ‘You bleedin’ plonker, Mickey!’ she snarled. ‘What d’you go an’ do that for?’

  Mickey poked his head up from the back of the transit. ‘Sorry, ‘Arl, but I didn’t want Dad to wake up an’ worry ‘cos we weren’t ‘ome.’

  ‘Very thoughtful of you, son - very thoughtful,’ Archie reassured him.

  ‘Thoughtful?’ Harley sneered over her shoulder. ‘So flamin’ thoughtful you’ve only gone an’ landed us in it, Gnat-brain.’

  Archie banged his hand on the steering wheel. ‘Now, listen, ‘Arley!’

  Harley spun round to face him. ‘Just who the ‘ell d’you think you’re talkin’ to like that, Arch? When my dad...’

  ‘When your dad what?’ Archie challenged. ‘Your dad is banged up an’ the rate we’re goin’ it don’t look like ‘e’s comin’ out for a very long time. So don’t try throwin’ your family tree at me, darlin’, ‘cos as things stand at this moment, I don’t give a monkey’s if your dad’s the flamin’ King of Siam. It’s about time you started showin’ a bit of respect.’

  There was a solitary round of applause from the back of the van and Grace’s voice piped up, ‘You tell her, Mr Bigg!’

  Mickey was quick to leap to his ex’s defence. ‘Shut up, Grace. ‘Arl’s only tryin’ to do what’s best, weren’t you, ‘Arl?’

  Harley turned round and gave him a grin like a barracuda. ‘Cheers, Mickey...’ Then she adopted a tone that was as near to affectionate as she could manage and added, ‘Babe.’

  Mickey coloured up and averted his gaze bashfully. ‘Aw, thanks, ‘Arl... darl,’ he giggled.

  Grace let out a groan of relief. ‘Oh, thank God for that! Last night was like being in the middle of a bun fight at a chimp’s tea party with you two slinging insults at each other. Wasn’t it, Cynthia?’

  Archie Bigg held out his hands as though appealing to the umpire. ‘You see! You see what you gone and done ‘ere, ‘Arley?’

  Harley raised her eyebrows in an expression of bewilderment. ‘Is this a game of twenty questions, Arch, or are you actually gonna tell me what it is you think I done?’

  Archie let out a long sigh and stared solemnly around the other occupants of the parked van. ‘What you done, gel - you ‘ave broken the golden rule of kidnapping. You ‘ave gone and got yourself an ‘ostage what can not only identify all of us, but she also she knows so much about our business she’s practically one of the bleedin’ family!’

  An eerie silence descended on the interior of the van. Grace was the one to break it, her voice a subdued whisper.

  ‘So, what you’re saying is, it’s too risky for you to hand me over.’

  Archie looked into the back of the van, sadly. ‘You’re a bright little thing an’ all, ain’t you? In other circumstances, darlin’, I’d be proud to know you.’ He looked at his daughter. ‘Cynth, darlin’, tie your scarf round her mouth again, babe. We don’t want ‘er drawin’ attention to ‘erself round ‘ere.’ Then, returning his gaze to the alley in front of the van, he went on, ‘ ‘Ere’s my mate now. ‘E’ll be able to sort this out. Specialises in on-the-spot removals, if you get my meaning.’

  ‘No!’ Modesty let out an anguished cry as her eyes scanned the High Street. ‘We can’t have lost them.’

  Oz tried to calm her down. ‘They must’ve turned off down a side road. They can’t have gone far.’

  Gemma slowed down as they drove past the end of each turning craning their necks to try to catch a glimpse of the battered old van. One side of the High Street was the old village green with the church in the centre, the other side was a parade of shops. There was a gap in between some of the shops to allow access to the storerooms and garages behind and, as they passed the narrow entrance, Modesty could just see the tail end of a white van sticking out into the driveway.

  ‘There they are!’ she said, then as her eyes ran the length of the parade, she added, incredulously, ‘I don’t believe this! No prizes for guessing whose shop they’re taking her to.’ She pointed to the sombre black and gilt exterior of Peggitt and Son, Funeral Directors. Turning to Oz, she pulled his head towards her and looked him in the eye, tenderly. ‘I’m going to go and do the exchange and I want you to stay here.’

  ‘No way...’ Oz argued.

  She put her finger to his lips to stem any further protest. ‘This is something I need to do on my own.’ She took out the diamond from her pocket and rolled it between her thumb and finger, then took a deep, steadying breath. ‘Gemma, as soon as I’m out of sight, phone the police, OK? And tell them, no sirens.’

  Gemma nodded.

  Noush tutted disapprovingly. ‘I don’t know how you think you’re going to get away with this.’

  ‘Well,’ Modesty said, pointedly, ‘the only person who could p
ossibly grass Gemma up is you, so if you want your friend to go to prison simply because she was scared, then feel free to tell them the whole truth. But as I see it, the only people around here to have committed a real crime are the ones who’ll get caught - provided that we all stick to the story.’

  ‘So,’ Oz frowned, ‘how are you going to explain that you’ve got the diamond now?’

  ‘Simple,’ she said. ‘As far as the police are concerned, Gemma only found the diamond this morning just before she came to the viewing. She was going to hand it in as soon as she’d finished her appointment but, when I told her my situation, she agreed to allow me to use it to try and secure Grace’s release. Which...’ she opened the car door and stepped out into the road, ‘...is what I’m going to do now.’ Before she closed the door again, she leaned forward and kissed Oz on the forehead. ‘Promise me you’ll stay there till you see me come round the corner with Grace.’

  Oz drew back and eyed her anxiously. ‘Be careful,’ he warned.

  Modesty walked across the road and down the alley between the shops. The van had pulled out of view now, so she kept close to the wall until she reached the corner of the building and was able to peer round and assess the situation. She could hear scuffling and was shocked to see Grace being bundled out of the van towards the garage behind Peggitt’s shop, a pink scarf gagging her.

  Modesty straightened her shoulders and took three explosive breaths, like a boxer preparing to go out into the ring, then she stepped out into the passage and repeated the words Harley Spinks had used to her on the phone:

  ‘I think I’ve got something you want and you’ve got something I want.’

  The gang froze momentarily before Archie Bigg grabbed Grace and held her in front of him by the arms.

  ‘You blundering fool, Archie!’ Bartholomew Peggitt muttered in an undertone when he saw Modesty. ‘One is disposable, but two?’ He shook his head and let out a low, agitated groan. ‘You’re on your own with this. I wash my hands of the whole thing.’