by Les Wood
‘Consider it forgot,’ said Kyle.
‘No, Ah mean it,’ said Prentice. ‘Ah shouldn’t have taken it out on you.’
Kyle let him walk ahead for a few paces, considered what to say next. ‘Want to talk about it?’ he asked.
Prentice turned back. ‘Not really,’ he said. ‘Just wondered what Ah was makin of my life, ye know, where Ah was gonnae be in five, ten years’ time. Still doing all this shite.’ He stopped and leaned over the balcony, examining the shoppers on the ground floor. He turned to Kyle. ‘Do ye ever think what life would be like if ye weren’t doing this?’
‘What, ye mean workin for Boddice?’
‘Aye, that, for sure. But just in general. Ah mean, let’s face it...’ Prentice glanced along the balcony, made sure no-one was in earshot. ‘…we’re criminals.’ He smiled at the absurdity of the statement. ‘But it’s not even that. We’re just bit players in the whole thing. If we were bumped off, say by big Drurie’s lot or somethin, nobody would actually notice. Maybe a report in the paper or the news, but nobody would care.’
‘Boddice would,’ said Kyle.
Prentice laughed, but there was no humour in it. ‘Would he hell. He’d soon get somebody else to step in. Christ, look at the way he took to that wee shite Leggett.’
‘Don’t talk to me about him,’ said Kyle.
‘Aye, sorry, but my point is that you and me… we’re auld.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ Kyle said.
‘No,’ said Prentice. ‘We are. In terms of this game.’
‘What about Boddice then?’ asked Kyle. ‘He’s aulder than us.’
‘Aye, but he’s a mover and shaker isn’t he? We’re just minions.’
‘So what are ye gettin at?’
Prentice shrugged. ‘Ach, nothin really, but have ye never thought about gettin out?’
Kyle’s eyes widened. ‘Cutting ties with Boddice?’
‘Exactly.’
Kyle took a step backwards. ‘No, never.’
‘Never?’ Prentice wasn’t convinced.
‘Ah owe him too much,’ said Kyle. ‘Ah told ye earlier, he’s always been good to me.’
‘So ye said, and Ah don’t suppose ye’ll change yer mind on that one.’
Kyle spread his hands. ‘Look, it’s a loyalty thing. Ah just don’t see myself chuckin it.’
Prentice sighed and turned back to look at the crowds below. ‘Ah don’t know,’ he said. Kyle felt Prentice was talking to himself as much as anything else. ‘Ah think Ah’m ready for it. Ready to give it a rest.’
Kyle tried to catch his eye, but Prentice refused to meet his gaze. ‘Look,’ said Kyle. ‘Don’t kid yourself. It’s not the kinda thing ye can just walk away from. Boddice will always have some sort of hold over ye. He’ll never let ye go.’
‘Ah could try,’ Prentice said.
‘Aye, ye could, but don’t expect to have much success.’
Prentice finally turned to look at him. ‘Ah think he knows already.’
Kyle narrowed his eyes. ‘Boddice knows? Knows what?’
‘He senses Ah’m restless, Ah can tell.’
Kyle leaned beside Prentice on the brass handrail of the balcony and stared across the void to the other side where Australian wall hangings and Mexican prints lined the walls. ‘If he suspected somethin, Ah don’t think he would let you in on this job. He’d keep you on the streets, collecting money, noising folk up. You’d be sidelined. Boddice would—’
‘Do ye not think we’re sidelined right now?’ Prentice interrupted.
‘Sidelined how?’ asked Kyle.
Prentice shook his head. ‘You don’t see it at all, do ye?’ He spread his hands, indicating the store spread out below them. ‘This whole idea, robbing…’ he dropped his voice to a whisper, ‘…robbing this fucking shop of not just some stupid wee bits of jewellery, but some bastard diamond that’s the most famous in the world or something, and where do we fit in? We haven’t even been invited to the party yet. No, it’s goons like Boag and they twins that Boddice wants. Not us.’
‘That’s just the now,’ said Kyle. ‘Boddice has his plans for us, he...’
‘Plans?’ said Prentice. ‘Ah don’t see any evidence of plans. Boddice seems to be makin this up as he goes along.’
‘Trust him,’ said Kyle. ‘He’ll let us know when the time comes. For God’s sake, we’re here aren’t we? Scouting the place, getting the lie of the land.’
‘Lie of the land? All we’ve been told is get into the glass bubble, see what’s what. We don’t even know what we’re supposed to be looking for.’
‘Which is why we should just get on with it,’ said Kyle, moving off along the gallery, following the signs for the Sky Walkway. ‘C’mon.’
Prentice waited a few seconds before following, muttering under his breath.
The Stewart Gallery led to a ramp which climbed to the mirrored doorway they had seen from below. As they passed through into a short corridor, the same sophisticated voice from the lift relayed a recorded message, this time accompanied by a synthesised heartbeat: ‘In two weeks’ time… an event to take your breath away… to widen your eyes… a unique opportunity… for the wonderful people of Glasgow… exclusive to Trusdale and Needham… we present the jewel in the crown...’ The heartbeats became louder and the surging music began to crescendo. ‘… the stone of destiny… the Dark Side of the Moon!’ The music finished in a blazing chord with accompanying timpani and cymbal crashes just as they emerged from the corridor onto the glass covered Sky Walkway which led to the Bubble.
‘Aye, very good,’ said Prentice. ‘Ah nearly came in my pants there.’
Kyle laughed. Ahead of them they could see the Bubble, improbably suspended from the great spike which arched high over their heads, customers and staff milling about inside. They could feel the Walkway bounce and swing slightly as they walked towards it. Behind them the message started up again as another customer entered the corridor.
‘How are they gonnae control the crowds comin to see this thing?’ Prentice asked. ‘This walkway doesn’t seem that safe to me, never mind what it’d be like with hundreds of folk tryin to get in.’
‘Rota system,’ said Kyle. ‘It’s ticketed, apparently. Gives ye the date and time to turn up, so no queuing. Or so they say.’
They came to the end of the Walkway and entered the Bubble. Soft synthesised music washed over them and a smell like freshly cut grass drifted out from the air-conditioning units. Sales assistants in white trouser suits smiled toothpaste-advert smiles as they approached customers with brochures and samples. Through the walls Kyle and Prentice could see the sandstone and glass of Central Station, trains snaking along the platforms, while below them the traffic and pedestrians on Argyle Street scuttled soundlessly in all directions. The effect of the whole place was strangely soothing and reassuring, despite being dangled forty or so feet above the busy intersection by nothing more than a few steel wires.
But the warm, safe glow that had settled around them was shattered as they rounded a corner and saw what was in front of them.
Kyle felt the blood drain from his face. ‘Oh fuck,’ he said.
Altogether Now
‘We saw it, and it doesn’t look good,’ said Prentice. ‘Or, rather, it looks too fuckin good. We don’t stand a chance.’
It was after nine at night. They were gathered in the storeroom of Two’s Tattoos, waiting for Boddice. Boag sat in the corner beside a mop and pail. The twins were at a small table, smoking. Prentice paced back and forwards in front of the sink, making scuffing sounds on the linoleum.
Kyle glared at the twins. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘What Ah want to know is why neither of you two thought to tell us about the fact that the security system for this diamond is like somethin out of James fuckin Bond.’
When Kyle and Prentice had entered the viewing room in the Bubble they’d seen the full extent of the protection that would surround the diamond when it finally went on display. A golden plinth, sweeping up from the flo
or in a graceful curve – it reminded Kyle of the Eiffel Tower – to a tiny platform set on a spike at shoulder-height where the diamond would sit in all its glory. But surrounding this was a whole array of lasers and sensors banked to either side of the plinth, and with a further ring of lasers suspended just above the apex sending beams down to even more detectors at floor level.
‘We thought you knew already,’ said John. ‘Did Boddice not say anythin to ye about it?’
Prentice snorted. ‘No, he didn’t,’ he said. ‘Not a peep.’
‘Me and him,’ Prentice nodded at Kyle, ‘were sent to case the place, get the lie of the land. But nobody said anythin about fuckin laser beams and grilles and electric fields and who knows what else. But you two knew about it all the time.’
‘Too right,’ added Kyle. ‘You’ve been workin in there for the last however many weeks. Did you not think a wee hint might have been useful? Give us a wee bit of warning, what to expect?’
John started to say something, but Campbell laid his hand on his arm, stopping him. ‘Wait a minute,’ said Campbell. ‘The security system was only brought in last week, and, even then, we weren’t sure what all the bits and pieces were for. It wasn’t till the day you showed up that they actually fired it up. We weren’t allowed near it. And, anyway, what did ye think was gonnae happen? Did ye think they would display somethin like this in the middle of the shop floor? Maybe put up a wee sign saying Please Help Yourself ?’
‘Don’t get lippy with me,’ Prentice growled. ‘Ah’ll break your fucking nose. Maybe then we could tell you two pricks apart.’
‘Calm down,’ said Kyle, stepping between Prentice and the twins. ‘This is getting us nowhere.’ Prentice continued eyeballing Campbell. Kyle pulled him away. ‘Leave it,’ he said. ‘We’re in this together. Let’s start acting like a team, eh?’
Prentice looked at him. ‘A team is it?’ he said. ‘A team’s supposed to have a bloody goal to aim for. So far we’ve got more in common with decapitated poultry than any semblance of a team. Maybe we’re the Z-team, eh?’ He scowled at Campbell who dropped his gaze to the floor. ‘We don’t even know what each other is supposed to be doing,’ Prentice said. ‘Boddice has told us fuck all. You two are supposed to be some sort of insiders, playing at being each other. That’s as much as Ah can fathom.’ The twins shifted uneasily, shot each other a quick glance. Prentice turned at last to Boag. ‘And you,’ he said. ‘Ah haven’t got a scooby where you fit into all this.’
Boag had been dreading this. Boddice had kept him apart from the others, feeding him nonsense about how he was an essential element of the whole scheme, how he was going to secure the getaway, make sure everyone got out intact and with the diamond safely ensconced in the old swag bag. But he’d had no contact with the rest of them since the meeting on the beach, and he now knew Boddice hadn’t told them anything about what he was expected to do on the night of the robbery. For whatever reason, Boddice had kept them out of the loop. Actually, perhaps Boddice had been right to stay quiet about it. He couldn’t imagine they would be particularly pleased with what Boddice had in mind.
***
Boddice had taken him to see the Rastahman. They had driven out into the countryside, north of the city, to an old cottage in the centre of a Forestry Commission plantation, miles from anywhere, Sitka spruce as far as the eye could see. There was no McLean, it was just the two of them.
The Rastahman turned out to be an old guy called Jim Aiken (Boag had groaned when Boddice told him), early seventies at the youngest, by Boddice’s estimation. Despite the rain, he was waiting for them in the driveway to the cottage as the four-wheel drive turned in at the entrance, bouncing over the rutted road. Aiken was a wiry figure, unshaven and with a shock of untamed hair flying in thin strands from below his baseball cap. His eyes seemed too wide apart for the size of his head, giving him a strange, fish-like appearance. Three lean and mean Dobermans barked at his side. ‘Lennox! Larsson!’ he shouted. ‘To yer beds!’ Two of the dogs slunk back to the house, while the third moved round to stand in front of the old man, its docked tail standing erect like an aerial. As Boddice and Boag got down from the car, the dog moved forward a few paces, wrinkled, quivering lips drawn back, baring its teeth in a silent snarl. The old man said nothing. Boddice walked straight up to the dog, hand out, palm upwards. The dog, still showing its teeth, hesitantly advanced a couple of steps to sniff Boddice’s hand. Once it had his scent it gave a single bark and trotted back to the old man’s side.
Boddice smiled. ‘Ah yes,’ he said. ‘Faithful old Dalglish. Still going strong I see.’
The old man hacked a phlegmy cough from some dark recess of his lungs. ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘And would have your throat at my word, never fear it.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ said Boddice. He motioned for the old man to join them. ‘How you doing, Jim? Long time, no see, eh?’
The Rastahman sent Dalglish back to the house and walked over to shake Boddice’s hand. ‘Not bad,’ he said. ‘Been better, been worse. You know how it is.’ He jerked his head back towards the cottage. ‘Roof’s been leaking these last few weeks, and nobody comes to see me much. You’re the first person Ah’ve seen in a fortnight.’ He looked at Boag, seemingly noticing him for the first time. ‘You and the boy here, that is,’ he said. ‘Is this the one you were telling me about?’
Boag shuffled nervously. Boddice and this guy obviously went back a bit, but whether they were old friends or adversaries wasn’t exactly clear. Boag struggled to identify the tension between them, and he didn’t trust the old man’s dismissive attitude towards him.
Aiken stood silently for a moment, his rheumy, red-rimmed eyes narrowing to crusted slits as he scanned Boag’s face. Whatever internal debate was going on in his head came to a conclusion. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘The stuff you’re looking for will cost you, but I have it. Come with me.’ He turned and went round the side of the cottage to a large barn, the roof a patchwork of corrugated iron panels and wooden slats. Aiken ushered them in. The barn was full of old garden and farm implements, rusting and decaying in a forest of weeds which sprang from the muddy floor. At the far end, Aiken opened a door which, to Boag’s surprise, led to a set of stairs descending to a small cellar. Aiken pulled an overhead cord, switching on a dim lightbulb. ‘Down here,’ he said.
Boddice and Boag followed him down the stairs. The walls of the room were lined with metal shelving units stacked with an assortment of boxes and containers. The old man bent down to one of the lower shelves and pulled out a grey Samsonite box. He undid a padlock on the lid and snapped open the fasteners. He placed the box on the seat of a broken chair and opened the lid. ‘This is what you’re after, I take it?’
Boddice had grinned and rubbed his hands together. ‘Oh yes,’ he said. ‘Absolutely.’
Boag had looked into the box and needed no explanation of what the long metal cylinders were. They were very familiar indeed.
***
Now, sitting in Kyle’s kitchen with everyone staring at him, he knew the answer to Prentice’s query would set the cat among the pigeons. Prentice nudged him with his foot. ‘Out with it dopey-boy. What’s your task in all of this?’
Boag grimaced and looked around the rest of the men. ‘Explosives,’ he said in a small voice.
‘Eh?’ said John. ‘Did you say…?’
‘Explosives,’ Boag repeated.
The others exchanged puzzled looks. Prentice went over to the window, muttering under his breath. He leaned his forehead against the pane and spoke, as much to himself as to the men in the room Boag thought. ‘That’s just brilliant isn’t it? We’re blindly waltzing into this plot… this heist… Whatever ye want to call it, and Boddice has set this arsehole up to blow the bloody place to Kingdom Come. Christ on crutches, this is a bloody shambles. You realise what will happen to us if we’re caught with a… a bomb?’
‘No, you’ve got it wrong,’ said Boag. ‘We’re no gonnae blow the place up, it’s—’
&nbs
p; ‘Don’t tell me, it’s to blow the security system, or a safe, or some stupid Mission Impossible pile of crap.’ Prentice’s voice was breaking. ‘This is us we’re talking about here. Us! We don’t do this kinda stuff. We’re well out our depth here. It’s all just…’
‘It’s not a bomb,’ said Boag. ‘They aren’t big explosives, just detonators. Low energy, they just—’
‘Detonators?’ said Prentice. ‘Well, thank Christ for that. Ah thought it was somethin dangerous, no somethin innocuous like a wee toaty detonator.’ Boag didn’t miss the sarcasm in Prentice’s voice. ‘To detonate what?’ Prentice asked.
‘Nothing,’ said Boag. ‘We’re gonnae use them to start fires.’ Before the others could burst in with their protests, he carried on. ‘But… only if we have to. It’s our safety net. We only use them if things go wrong and we have to get out quick.’
‘Get out quick?’ said Kyle. ‘And how exactly are fires supposed to help us do that?’
‘By providing a distraction,’ said Boag. ‘If things go wrong, if… and it’s only if… if we mess up, the alarms will go off, the polis will be there in a couple of minutes at the most. Mob-handed. Boddice has asked me to set up fires here and there throughout the whole shop.’ The rest of them stared at each other, incredulous. ‘Just wee fires. At strategic points. Ah’ll control them remotely by an electronic rig Ah’ll set up. If the alarms go off, the polis will think it’s just a fire. At first anyway. If they suspect anything else, they’ll be too busy dealing with the fires to be bothered looking for us.’
‘Wait a minute,’ said Campbell. ‘If the alarms go off, would the best thing to do not be to run like fuck? Ah know that’s what Ah’ll be doing.’
‘Too far,’ said Boag. ‘Boddice said that where you’ll be will be too far to get out before the polis get there. You’ll… we’ll… get caught.’
‘No it isn’t too far,’ said Kyle. ‘We’ve been there. We could make it.’ He glanced at Prentice, who nodded. ‘With time to spare.’
Boag shrugged. ‘Maybe you could. But Boddice doesn’t think so, he doesn’t want to take that chance. The fires will buy time. Don’t bla—’
