by H G White
‘There are, of course, plenty of loose ends to be tied up.’
Peach looked at Vaughan. ‘Such as?’
Vaughan settled further into his seat and began to elaborate. ‘Are there dogs being used to guard the property? If so, you will need to anaesthetise them. You will also need to use some temporary artwork to change the livery of the boat while it is moored at Shoreborough, disguising its true identity. This can be peeled off once the boat is underway after the operation. The weather is a major consideration. A robbery like this is best performed during a heavy storm so that the noise helps to provide sound cover for any movements made. It is also likely to stop anybody else being encountered along the towpath. If it's raining cats and dogs people do tend to stay inside and batten down the hatches. You’ll need good equipment: two-way radios. Not mobile phones, their records are traceable and can pinpoint a person's movements.’
Vaughan was a star. His strategic thinking made me wonder about having a career change. I was getting thirsty. ‘Anyone fancy another brew?’
All the talking had also left Vaughan in need of hydration. ‘Excellent idea Will.’
I walked over to the galley and put the kettle on. Phil was jotting things down as Vaughan pointed them out to him. I replenished everybody's mug.
It was then Peach looked at the professor. ‘Vaughan?’
‘Yes Trevor?’
‘How would you feel about crewing the boat up to Shoreborough with me and then leading the operation?’
Vaughan sat there pipe in hand, contemplative. Suddenly, a smile broke out on his face. ‘Thought you'd never ask dear boy. I thought you'd never ask!’
Chapter 21
By the end of the afternoon, my head was buzzing. There was so much to do. Vaughan would be cutting short his stay in Kent. Burst pipes and tradesmen that needed supervision would be his excuses to Lottie.
Phil had built an electronic gizmo which he assured everyone, would without fail, decipher the keypad code. Peach suggested it might be best to back this up using Vaughan’s tried and tested method of someone hiding in the bushes with a pair of binoculars, pen and note pad, observing the numbers input by GSS staff.
Neil was assigned the task of obtaining the dog-dope. He told everyone that he’d have to steal it from Denise, but I was sure he'd just ask her for some. At least then we'd have the correct advice on dosage and how to administer it without hurting the animals. I was given the duty of acquiring a van with a tail-lift that could handle a minimum one-tonne payload.
Phil’s to-do list included sorting out the temporary artwork for the boat. He'd use his computer to create the design and then it’d be a matter of finding the right backing to print on. Vaughan's suggestion was that the boat should be ready to go Friday evening, giving Peach a weekend of travel time before his official leave kicked in. He had three weeks available. It wouldn't matter if the boat hadn't made it all the way back to London on the return journey once the operation was over, as long as it was well clear of Shoreborough. Peach could always marina-hop along the Grand Union back to London, over as many weekends as needed. This would enable him to commute each day to work, until the boat finally reached its home berth at Little Venice.
With a two-week journey ahead of them, Vaughan and Peach could iron out the finite details of the plan during the trip up to Shoreborough, and any last minute adjustments made once the destination was reached. By the time we got back on the boat that evening, having first dropped Vaughan back at Charing Cross station, I was knackered. The day had been a long and tiring one.
Wednesday 10 a.m. Little Venice
There was so much to do and so little time in which to do it. We would have to drive back to Phil’s, then on to Wales. Vaughan would be making his way back to the Cotswolds later that same day.
It had been decided that Phil would bring Vaughan over to Little Venice Friday afternoon, in readiness for the evening departure to Shoreborough. Peach still had to arrange his annual leave. We all hoped there would be no problems on that score.
Depending on how tired Peach and Vaughan became from the two-week journey, it was probable that Phil would join them both at the beginning of the second week. The advantage of this was that with an extra crew member they could get some rest over the remainder of the trip.
Neil and I would drive to Staffordshire in the hired van during the latter part of the second week, though first there would have to be a brief stop off at Newton Manor. Two heavy-duty lifting trolleys and some other pieces of essential equipment would be left by Vaughan for us to pick up from one of his outbuildings.
By this time, the plan was that the boat would be moored up and waiting for us in a quiet spot, probably ten miles or so away from Shoreborough. Here we would offload Peachy’s motorbike and store it in the back of the van, leaving space on deck for the safe.
We dropped Phil off at his house in Bristol and an hour or so later we were back home. As we pulled into the street I noticed Tegan’s car parked outside her house. She was supposed to be at work. I told Neil I’d catch up with him at the rank. I went straight over to Tegan’s and rang the bell, the dogs started barking. She opened the door. She wasn’t smiling.
‘What’s the matter?’ I asked, ‘You don’t look yourself.’
‘Come to the kitchen. I’m having a cup of tea.’
I followed her and sat down. She grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured me some.
‘They’re closing the gallery. I’m losing my job.’ She started crying. Bollocks, I thought.
‘Why? You said it was making good money.’
‘That’s just it. The gallery is making good money. There would be no need to sell up but the owners have still decided to.’
‘Can’t they sell it as a going concern?’
‘They won’t, they own the building and want to realise the asset value. It's much easier for them to sell the property to a commercial developer and shift the stock to one of their exchange partners.’
‘So when’s all this happening?’
‘The sale board went up this morning. With the location of the gallery, it wouldn’t surprise me if they’ve already got someone interested.’ I felt really sorry for her, she’d not long bought the house and the news that her job was going must have been a real shock to the system. I was trying to think.
‘How are your finances?’
‘I’ve got a couple of months-worth of mortgage payments in the bank but after that it’ll get difficult.’ I was still trying to think.
‘Don’t worry. Now Neil’s working I could always rent him my house and move in with you to help pay the bills, or you could move in over the road with us and rent your place out.’
She smiled. I could see by her face she was touched, but I knew she was fiercely independent. Not being able to support herself was something that would eat away at her.
‘Look at it this way. It’s a great chance for you to have a career with photography. You said it’s what you really want to do. Maybe the gallery closing down is a twist of fate. Life’s like that sometimes. You know the old saying: When one door closes, another one slams in your face!’ She started to laugh. At least I’d cheered her up.
Her smile woke little Buddha from his slumber. After some bedroom shenanigans, three hours had passed by when I finally got on the rank. I might as well have not bothered; it would soon be time to knock off. After having earned a mind-blowing £23.75 I called it a day.
Arriving home, I parked the car on the drive and went to the front door. I needed a quick shower and then I’d visit Tegan to see how she was doing. Entering the house I was greeted by Neil. He had a face like a smacked-arse.
‘Phil’s phoned. He said could you call him as soon as you get in, it’s urgent.’
‘Did he say what it was about?’
‘No he wouldn’t tell me.’
What couldn’t he tell Neil? The mind boggled. I dialled. ‘Hi Phil it’s me, what’s urgent?’
‘I’ve been burgled.’
‘You’re joking.’
‘Do I sound as though I’m joking?’
‘Er, no.’
‘Well maybe that’s because I’m not.’
‘Is there much damage?’
‘None.’
‘What do you mean, none? I thought when people get burgled their drawers are all over the place, graffiti everywhere and shit.’
‘There’s none of that.’
‘So have you called the police?’
‘Called the police? With this thing we’re about to do? Are you mad? Hello …Earth to Planet Will, are there any signs of intelligent life up there?’ Once again Phil had gone into arsehole mode.
‘There’s no need for that Phil; I’m trying to be helpful.’
‘Yeah, well I’m pissed off.’
‘So what makes you think you’ve been burgled then?’
‘Someone’s been fucking about with my computer.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course I’m fucking sure! Documents have been scanned.’
Maybe he was just imagining things. ‘How can you tell?’
‘The scanner’s count display has been zeroed. I never zero it. So I checked the PC. It's showing me that the last time a scan took place was at 3.47 a.m. Tuesday morning.’
‘But you were …’
‘… On the boat at that time, yes I know.’
‘So what’s been scanned then?’
‘The one thing that’s been moved as far as I can see is Charles De Villiers’ biog.’
I thought for a moment. ‘Remember the Calvados night, when you were trying to access his files. Do you think …?’
‘I’m already ahead of you. The only plausible explanation for any of this is that someone from De Villiers-Moncourt has been in here while we were at Peachy‘s.’
‘You said the biog. What about the rest of the bundle?’
‘No, I took all that with me, just in case I had to refer to any of it in the meeting. I’d scrawled different password options on the biog, so I had to detach it otherwise Peachy might have seen my doodling and asked me awkward questions.’
Fuck! This was a mess. Peach had been kind enough to share his dream and the chance of a lifetime with us and we’d all been carelessly shafting him big-style behind his back. First Neil leaving his bundle lying around in the lounge and Tegan finding it. And now Phil by trying to be clever, had, if his guess was correct, alerted someone at De Villiers-Moncourt to his meddling. The whole operation could go tits-up if we weren’t careful.
‘You’ll have to tell Peach, Phil.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Do you want me to speak to him?’
‘And say what?’
‘I’ll say I had a hand in it.’
‘No don’t, you know exactly what he’ll do.’
‘I don’t know exactly what he’ll do at all.’
I was lying to Phil. I knew Peachy would definitely go into one of his meltdowns, only marginally-milder than the type Martin Sedgely suffered from. I was glad Phil lived closer to Peach than I did. At least if he decided to hot-foot it over to Phil’s and get some punching-practice in, he’d get it out of his system before he paid me a visit.
‘Let’s face it. I know he’s not going to be happy, but if I tell him it was because we’d had a few, and it was me distracting you that made you do something completely abnormal, he’ll have to blame both of us – which will soften him a bit.’
‘I don’t think it’s wise to tell him.’
‘Phil, he’s got to be told. The fact that someone’s been to your place already says it all. They could even be listening in to this phone call.’ Phil was silent.
My mind was made up. ‘I’ll phone Peach. Let me deal with it, if he calls you up and has a thrombo, don’t argue, just apologise.’
‘All right.’
‘And one other thing.’
‘What?’
‘You owe me one for this, Wankelot.’
‘OK.’
I hung up and looked at Neil who’d taken in my every word. Neil’s face had changed from smacked-arse to worried-arse. I walked into the kitchen and dug out the bottle of Scotch I kept for medicinal purposes. I poured myself a triple dose of medication, downed it and thought for a moment about what I was going to tell Peach. I picked up the phone and dialled his mobile.
‘Hi Peach, it’s me.’
‘Will, glad you called. I’ve had a great idea. Tell me what you think of this …’ Peach was feeling really upbeat about everything. I felt awful.
‘Hang on a second Peach. Something’s happened.’
I started to tell him. He listened quietly while I went through it. I kept apologising in a bid to placate him. I must have sounded like some sort of gibbering moron. At the end I finished up with, ‘Well that's it, sorry.’
I waited. And waited …
Then Peach gave me his view on things. ‘You fucking ignorant shithead. What the fuck were you thinking of?’
I didn't answer. I just let him carry on ranting.
‘I can't believe you. I always thought you were thick when we were at school and as for your mate Simms, he's even fucking thicker than you are … if that's at all possible.’
Towards the end he was getting quieter. This was a good sign. He still slammed the phone down on me though. Neil looked at me. ‘Do you fancy some more Scotch Will?’
‘Yeah, what the fuck!’
We both sat there, drinking.
‘What do you think he'll do Neil?’
‘Just give him time.’
We talked about stuff. I told him about Tegan's impending redundancy, and the possibility of her moving in with us. He didn't seem at all bothered. He was more concerned with what was going on with Peach.
After a while I couldn't bear the thought of Peachy getting worked up anymore. ‘Do us a favour Neil. Ring him and talk him round.’
Neil reluctantly called Peach. Within a few minutes of pleading he looked at me. ‘He wants a word Will.’ Neil handed me the phone.
There was an uncomfortable silence then Peach spoke. ‘I'm sorry about the things I said. You aren't quite as thick as I made out.’
‘How thick am I?’
‘On a scale of one to ten?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Somewhere between three and four.’
‘Thanks Peach.’ We both laughed.
‘Have you given Phil a verbal broadside?’
‘Not yet, I'm letting Mr Simms simmer.’
‘So where do we go from here?’ I asked.
He thought for a second. ‘Well Phil bringing Vaughan up on Friday is a non- starter.’
‘What do you suggest then?’
‘I don't know. Let me chew it over.’
‘Phil’s about to shit himself. Why don't you phone and tell him he'll live to shit another day?’
Peach started laughing. ‘OK I'll ring him, but do me a favour?’
‘What’s that?’
‘Destroy your bundles, and by that I mean burn them.’
‘It's done.’ It wasn't done, but it would be.
We had a bit more bullshit-banter and Peach hung up. He was going to express his concerns to Phil no doubt.
Subsequently Neil and I sat drinking for another half-hour or so, just mellowing out after the ‘down’ of Phil's break-in and Peach losing his rag, then the ‘up’ of Peach regaining his rag.
It was time to visit Tegan and make sure she hadn't hit another low. There was an electric paper shredder somewhere in the attic. I asked Neil if he fancied digging it out and putting the bundles through. He said he didn't fancy it but would do it all the same.
I told Neil I’d see him in the morning then went to Tegan's for the night.
Chapter 22
Thursday 10 a.m. South Wales
Denise was driving away from the street as I returned home. Inside the house I could see Neil had been busy shredding. The bundles were no more. Neil headed for the kitchen and began to fill the ket
tle.
I called Phil. ‘How're your NATO plates then, Wankelot? Did he phone you?’
‘My NATO plates are fine thank you, and yes he did phone me.’
‘Did he go off-on-one with you?’
‘Actually, he didn't as a matter of fact. He wasn’t too happy about my little mistake, but he kept himself under control.’
‘No Henry V speeches then?’
‘No, he was a bit concerned; told me to destroy my dossier.’
‘Have you?’
‘I shall in due course.’
‘Glad to see you're making it your number one priority.’
‘I'm a busy man.’
Phil's laissez-faire attitude always bugged me. He was the one who'd fucked up. He should at least have respected Peach's wishes and destroyed the file as soon as he’d asked.
Neil had already shredded ours. What if Phil's unauthorised entrant made a return visit while Phil was out and had a good look at that file. Phil was a man who liked to live dangerously.
‘Made a start on the art work?’
‘No, I haven't bothered. I'm planning to get stuck in tomorrow, now that I'm not dropping Vaughan off. It gives me an extra day to play with. Besides, it'll be a doddle. The hardest part is acquiring the right printing paper.’
It would be a doddle for Phil. He was always good at that kind of stuff – it was sickening.
Because of the break-in and change of plan, it had been decided that Neil and I would now drop Vaughan off on the Friday afternoon. Peach’d telephoned Vaughan to let him know this would be happening. Vaughan suggested that room permitting, we could bring the trolleys and equipment on the trip to London. If the stuff would fit in the cab, it’d save us the bother of having to stop at Newton Manor in the hire van when we travelled to Staffordshire a fortnight later.
As I pondered this course of action, my mind began to wander, logistics weren’t the only things to contend with. Over the last few days my piles had really started to play me up. I now began to understand why they were referred to as a complaint. If every set of piles hanging off every backside in the world had a nationality, then the bunch hanging off mine had to be German. And in the age-old Teutonic tradition they complained about every bastard thing.
