A Time To Pay

by David Woods

  The simple affair was performed with two hymns sung loudly by the congregation, made up of friends and relatives packing the little church. Brian gazed around noticing how happy his mother looked, despite being heavily outnumbered by the Belgian relatives and friends. The minister announced some of the service in English, but most in his native tongue.

  When the service ended they all walked the fifty yards down the road to the village hall, where caterers had prepared a meal for about fifty people. It became a noisy affair with the guests getting merrier as the afternoon progressed. Brian was pleased to find the speeches were short, and when it came to his turn, just thanked everyone for attending and sat down to a thunderous amount of applause and stamping of feet The meal lasted nearly three hours after which Anna introduced her relatives to Brian, some of them having difficulty staggering to their feet to shake hands, and then collapsing back into their chairs. Brian was pleased to see them all enjoying themselves, including his mother and father, who had found a small group of people able to speak English, and were making sure their glasses were full. Betty’s face was getting redder, and John was shaking with laughter at something a large fat lady was saying.

  Brian whispered to Anna. “My folks are well oiled. I don’t think they have ever drunk so much.”

  “Good. They deserve to have a bit of fun for once.”

  Anna led the way to where Betty and John were talking and gave John a hug and then Betty. Brian could see they were delighted at this display of affection.

  They left shortly after and drove back to the farmhouse, where Brian was amazed to find piles of presents stacked in the sitting room. He had not really considered that aspect of the affair before. Anna joined him in the front room. “Are you happy?”

  “Very happy. Your parents have done us proud.”

  They spent a happy half an hour looking at the gifts, and Brian wondered how he was going to get them all back to England.

  Anna changed quickly and they left with the car bedecked with all the customary ‘just married’ decorations. They stayed in a small guest house in Eindoven, eating a light dinner mainly consisting of salad, before going to bed tired but happy.

  They arrived in Zurich the next evening after travelling at high speed all day, and during the following five days relaxed and did some sight-seeing. They arose late and bathed together every morning, getting down to breakfast just before it was cleared away, and one day only just in time for lunch. Brian suggested a leisurely trip back, so that they were not too tired to get down to working again when they returned to Kent.

  The return trip took them through the Black Forest, across the Rhine to Strasbourg as previously and on to Luxembourg for the night, to be spent in a large old hotel with huge bedrooms. They had dinner and enthused over the past few days and how they had enjoyed themselves. “We should work towards having more time to enjoy life instead of always being at work”, said Anna.

  “I agree, but I’m not sure how we’re going to do that.”

  “We could take on extra staff.”

  “Yes, but we’ll have to be careful not to burden the company with too many costs.”

  They agreed to continue expanding the company until people could be employed to carry out the day to day business. This would allow them to travel more together, visiting the two sides of the company and try to ensure its continuing prosperity.

  They left the hotel the following morning, and it was late afternoon when they arrived at the farmhouse where milking had just been completed. Lucy Van Meer was relieved to see them both looking so well and relaxed, making them both promise to take things easier in the future. They were pleased to be able to use the large double bedroom without having to creep about silently in the night.

  The car was loaded up with the presents the next morning, and they left early to catch the evening ferry, arriving with only fifteen minutes to spare. Brian had to pay duty on some of the gifts before leaving customs and they arrived home late. After a quick supper they collapsed into bed exhausted.

  Brian was checking machinery in the meadow by the barn and looked up to see a familiar figure riding a horse down the track towards him. He studied the girl, who rode the chestnut mare as if she were part of its body. She dismounted gracefully and landed very close to Brian. “Hello Laura, how are you?”

  “Very well, thank you. And pleased to see you again.”

  “It’s been a long time. And a lot has happened since I saw you last.”

  “Yes, I can see it has. What are you doing with all this machinery? Is it all yours?”

  “I’m in import and export. But most of this lot will be sold to English machinery dealers.”

  “So the farm won’t have to be sold?”

  “No. I’m very pleased to say it won’t.”

  Laura’s expression changed from surprise at seeing such a lot of equipment and Brian’s revelation that he had his own business, to a smile that used to make Brian want to hug her. This time he kept his distance. “I’m glad to see you’re doing so well. You deserve it”, she said with considerable feeling.

  Brian returned her smile. “Things have worked out very well so far.”

  She lowered her eyes and seemed to look at his chest with a sad expression. “I’m sorry I was so cruel to you the last time we met. And I don’t blame you for not coming to see me again.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve forgotten all about that. Besides, as I said, things have worked out very well for me.”

  “But I would like to see you again.”

  “That would be very nice, but I don’t think my wife would approve.”

  “Your wife! When did you get married?”

  A few weeks ago.”

  Laura’s face turned pink and she became angry as she mounted the horse and rode away from the barn. Brian watched her look inside where several people were working. She turned back towards him, carefully scanning the meadow with all its machinery parked in neat rows. As she passed by she looked down at him with glistening eyes and a sour expression. “I suppose the Council knows about all this, do they?”

  He had no time to reply as she urged the mare forward into a trot, and soon disappeared from his sight.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Venk drove as fast as his beetle would allow, but soon realised he did not stand a chance of catching the bike before it arrived at Calais, and slowed down as he remembered a jewellery shop he had studied on previous occasions and thought easy to rob. Perhaps this might be the right time, he thought. He had been travelling all day and decided to book into a small guest house just outside Calais, and after dinner drove into town and parked near the docks. He walked through the narrow side street which he knew well, until he came to the shop in question. With poor street lighting that part of the street was quite dark, and there was a narrow footpath that squeezed between it and a cake shop. He went around to the back of the premises, which was in total darkness except for a light in one window in the flat above. He guessed the owners lived above the shop and probably came down to check regularly, so he crept carefully through the small back garden and tried the rear door which was locked. A quick flash of his torch revealed a strongly built door and bars across the window. He retreated and walked to the front door again. As there was no one about he looked through the window but found it too dark to be certain of the contents. He returned to his car and drove back to his room.

  The next day was wet and windy with rain driving in from the sea as Venk parked in a large public car park. He made his way through the streets to the shop, looking into other shop windows on the way, and was grateful it was wet because it gave him a good reason to pull his hat low and lift his coat collar up, all but hiding his face. The jewellery shop window was well stocked with expensive diamond rings and diamond studded necklaces. The door was set back about five feet and the side windows contained bracelets, brooches and more rings. H
e walked in, following a lady with a shopping bag, which gave him time to study the door on his way slowly through. It had a simple lock with no extra bolts, and he waited while the lady was served by a man of about sixty. She wanted a watch repaired and the man took a long time opening it and examining it with an eye piece, and at last agreed it was worth repairing. Whilst patiently waiting Venk memorised all the details he needed, noting the absence of an alarm system, buying a small tie pin and leaving.

  The rest of the day dragged by slowly and was spent sitting in the car feeling nervous, as he had not done a break- in for years, quite happy to let others carry out the high risk work. The weather became progressively worse, the wind rocked the car as it stood in an out of town lay-by and Venk just sat there churning over past events in his mind. All the time the face of ‘that man with the piercing eyes’ kept appearing, which twisted his mind with hatred, and made him feel so sick he could stand it no longer. He got out of the car, walked up and down and got wet, but felt better and drove off to eat lunch in a roadside café. He made it last as long as possible, and went into town, parked in a car park and bought a newspaper to read in the car.

  After twenty minutes or so the newspaper words seemed to go fuzzy and blurred, Venk closed his eyes and drifted into a half sleep whilst the rain and wind pounded on the roof and windows. His mind drifted back to the wood with the Opel standing by the track, and once again he saw the logs thundering down the hill towards him, crashing into the car. That sick feeling came over him as he recalled looking down the hill, seeing the car disappearing into the river and he re-lived the search through the wood when he was so tense and his stomach was in a knot. He remembered all the sounds and the loud crack of a snapped twig, which diverted his attention and allowed him to be disarmed. Could it have been the girl who distracted him? He could not see. All he could remember was the man who sprang out in front of him, crouching, ready to strike and staring with piercing eyes. Then came the moment he was hurled through the air, which ended with a flash as his head struck the tree. He woke up sweating, with the newspaper torn in his lap, his hands were shaking as he slowly came back to reality, gathering up the torn shreds of paper and rolling them into a ball. This is no good he thought. I must do something. He walked along the sea front, dumping the paper in a litter basket. After walking for twenty minutes he found a café where he stopped for a drink, sitting looking out of the window at the rain and planning the night’s work with the help of a local map for the best escape route. He went over the details of his plan again, memorising every detail until he was satisfied.

  The rain stopped in the afternoon and Venk drove out of town to fill up with petrol, checked the oil, walked for an hour and returned to his room for a bath. After dinner he paid the bill and checked out. It was dark as he drove into town, parking at the rear of the shop by a footpath. The wind was still blowing hard and howling through the telephone wires as he walked slowly down the footpath, looking up and down the street. It was deserted, so he quickly slipped into the shop doorway to start working on the lock, but after five minutes had got nowhere. He looked up and down the street again but it was still empty. He returned to the lock and tried sliding a thin piece of metal between the door and door jam, which suddenly worked, and he half stumbled into the shop.

  Recovering quickly, he started filling his large coat pockets with the diamond necklaces and rings, and after a few minutes of frantic work, they were full. He carefully made his way back to the door, but as he was about to leave a gust of wind caused the door to slam in front of him, making him jump and sending his nerves in to a worse state than before. He grabbed the door handle, wrenched it open, and ran out and down the footpath.

  As he rushed towards the car he heard a shout and a door slam, but fortunately the car started with the first turn of the key and he was away. His heart pounded and his knees shook, but the road was clear and he slowed down to avoid being stopped for speeding. His plan was to drive inland and across the border at a country lane. He looked in his mirror to find the road still clear, and followed the main road for five miles to Ardres, then turned left into a country lane soon reaching the village of Cassel. From here he followed the signs to Poperinge, a village just over the border, approaching the customs post slowly, and noticing to his horror, a police car parked. He turned quickly hoping he had not been seen, drove fast back to Cassel and then left on to the road to Lille. After an hour he slowed down and pulled in at a well concealed lay-by for a rest, as he thought he would stand a better chance in the daylight. He fell asleep, not waking until it had become light, got out of the car and walked up and down as his legs had become stiff.

  The road to Lille was relatively free of traffic and he soon found himself in the centre of town heading for Brussels. He had not bothered to look behind for some time, assuming he was in the clear. It was twenty minutes later when he entered the village of Fryennes close to the border, looked in his mirror and saw a police car with light flashing closing in fast. He panicked and put his foot down. What the hell he thought. I have nothing to lose. The two French border guards ran for their lives as he smashed through into no man’s land, but the Belgian guards were ready and opened fire with pistols. Venk ducked behind the dashboard hoping he was going straight, the windscreen shattered and glass fell all over him. Then there was a crash as he went through the next barrier. The whole car juddered but carried on, and he looked up quickly correcting the steering, then ducked down again as the rear windscreen shattered. When he looked up again he was out of range.

  The next town was Tournal and Venk was certain it would be full of police by the time he arrived, but when he glanced in his mirror he could see no pursuers, and turned down the next country lane. It was wet and muddy, and sprays of mud and water came through the shattered glass on to his face. Half a mile down the road he turned into a farmyard where he saw a Citroen parked near to the road. The beetle skidded to a halt and Venk grabbed his coat containing the jewels, jumped in the Citroen which had the keys in the ignition and started it up. By the time he had turned and was heading out of the farm gate a man had appeared, waving his arms about and shouting, but Venk kept going. He drove slowly at first, getting used to the car which was faster than his beetle, and had a full tank of petrol.

  The country lane ran fairly straight across flat ground and he could see woodland in the distance. He looked behind at the deserted road which stopped at a T junction just beyond the trees, to the left Tournel and to the right the border. Venk turned left, drove slowly into town and seeing no police cars, left town on the road to Ronse.

  Driving along a narrow but straight road he was beginning to think he had escaped, but when he looked in his mirror, saw a police car fast catching him up. His spirits sank as he pressed his right foot to the floor, the car responded well surging ahead and he flashed through the next village, scattering chickens and dogs. The police car was still following but not gaining much. The small town of Ronse came into view, but so did a police car blocking the road at a junction. Still at speed he approached the police car, and the two officers got out and ran. He turned sharp left, the car jumped a small ditch and bounced across a grass field and on to the road leading east, but the two police cars were soon in pursuit. Venk could see they were gaining on him, but pressed on hoping for a miracle. This did not happen, and he splashed down muddy country lanes for another fifteen minutes, sliding about dangerously.

  Another village came into view, and as he drove through flat out, the police cars got nearer. A sharp corner was the next problem, with mud all over the road, so he managed to get around it by bouncing off the bank. No sooner had he corrected his slide when the road ahead became blocked by a tractor and trailer, so he skidded and turned off into a field, immediately getting bogged down in the soft soil. He jumped out of the car, ran across a ploughed field and headed for a copse with the police chasing after him. The tractor driver, a strong man, joined in and soon left the police behind, as t
hey were not used to running across rough terrain. He caught up with Venk and dived for his legs, and Venk fell on his face in a pool of muddy water. The man wrenched his arms behind his back and sat on him. The police arrived out of breath, and quickly pulled his face out of the water to prevent him from drowning. They led a pathetic looking Venk, covered in mud, back towards their car.

  Venk wiped the mud out of his eyes and looked at the tractor driver, a young man of about twenty with fair hair and green eyes, who stared him straight in the eye. He shuddered and collapsed a broken man. They had to carry him the rest of the way, as he cried uncontrollably.

  Stan and Reg Jones had years before discussed the possibility of getting caught, and had agreed not to divulge the names of any of their accomplices for fear of violent repercussions whilst in jail. When Inspector Harris questioned them in an effort to recover the missing jewels and uncut diamonds, he did not get very far. The brothers both insisted the missing items had been left with a fence, who was making enquiries as to their value and so far they had not been paid. They stuck to this story despite pleas from their lawyers, who pointed out that if they did not co-operate the sentence might be longer. However, Stan and Reg were more forthcoming about previous incidents, and Harris was able to close the files on five jewellery burglaries. This took the pressure off him, and pleased his boss no end, and made sure his remaining years on the force would be less stressful.

  When at last the brothers appeared in court and pleaded guilty, the judge lectured them on the evils of their life of crime, sentencing them to seven years each in prison. They had envisaged a maximum of five years, and were shocked at the severity of the sentence imposed.

  Stan soon settled down to prison life. His wife visited fairly regularly for about six months, but moaned about the neighbours talking, and anything else she could think of, so these visits tailed off. After about nine months they ceased altogether, and in spite of her constant complaining, he missed her. His cell mate was released shortly after his wife stopped visiting and promised to check up on her. When he visited Stan a fortnight later he told him another man had moved in with her. Although this did not surprise Stan, it upset him considerably and he requested a meeting with a prison official. The assistant governor was very sympathetic and promised to arrange a visit to his wife to see if there was any chance of reconciliation, but she refused and wanted a divorce. Stan agreed and two years later she became free to marry again, the house was sold and the money split between them. Stan’s half was invested for him, which he hoped would enable him to buy a flat when he was released.