The Criminal Escapades of Geoffrey Larkin

by R. W. Hughes

  All that Sooty heard was ‘passports’ and that indicated to him holidays abroad. Great!

  ‘It’s only as a precaution,’ continued Geoff smiling. ‘We’ll probably never need to use them.’ He said this with a confidence he did not feel in a vain effort to calm John Bolton whose sense of panic seemed to be spreading to the rest of the group.

  ‘It’s just our escape route if it’s ever needed. It’s unlikely but I would be letting you, my mates, down if I didn’t take these steps, it’s to safeguard all our futures. I’m just being prepared for the worst which will probably never happen, planning ahead, that’s the name of the game, I’m looking after your interests the same as I’ve always done.’

  After much grumbling from the Bolton brothers and more persuasive talk from Geoff, and as the brothers were not able to come up with a better solution, it was decided they would go along with Geoff’s suggestion, for the time being anyway.

  They stayed a short while at the cafe, watching a couple operating the nearby canal locks for their brightly painted steel narrow boat.

  What an idyllic lifestyle, thought Geoff. I wish I could join them and just motor away down the canal and leave all these problems behind me. But sadly he realised that was just not possible.

  *

  The following morning after breakfast they made their way to the sub post office near the hotel. Having their photographs taken in the booth was a light-hearted event with the first photographs not being at all suitable. They were all pulling funny faces but, eventually, after several failed attempts they managed to take photographs that were suitable for their passports.

  The incident had relieved the tension; consequently, they left the post office in a much more jovial mood than when they had first entered thirty minutes previous.

  *

  Wilf Norton had left the police station charged with being in possession of stolen goods, the same offence as his mates. He’d been booked then let out on police bail. He decided to make his way to the hospital to see Sidney Locket. He lied to the receptionist saying he was a relative so that they allowed him to see his mate outside visiting hours.

  He had to identify himself to a police officer posted outside the room who checked with the police station, they confirmed that Sergeant Robinson had given the okay, before he was allowed to see Sid Locket.

  It was a very shocked and pale Wilf that left the hospital grounds half an hour later. He had been informed by the sister on duty that his cousin was still on the danger list. He was also told that Sid did not recognise anyone at the moment and kept slipping in and out of a coma but he was stable and making some progress, slowly recovering from the operations on his internal injuries.

  Wilf was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he was not aware of the large saloon car that pulled up alongside him, until the door opened and the bulk of a large man blocked his passage along the pavement.

  Before he could turn, his elbows were firmly gripped from behind forcibly manhandling him into the rear of the vehicle, where he was held while his assailant wedged in beside him.

  Wilf Norton was already blubbering.

  He blurted out as loud as he could, trapped as he was between the two heavies. ‘I know nothing but will tell you anything you want to know.’ This was before any of the other four passengers in the car had said a word.

  ‘Quiet!’ the stern command from the man next to the driver stopped Wilf’s terrified ramblings in mid flow.

  ‘We’re looking for someone you know. We’re looking for Geoff Larkin and three of his friends.’ The man’s voice was menacing but showed no emotion whatsoever.

  ‘Larkin’s no friend of mine,’ uttered Norton, alarm in his voice in case the men thought he was associated in any way with Geoff Larkin.

  The man continued, ignoring his outburst. ‘You’ve no reason to be afraid, Mr. Norton. We want you and your associates to do a little job for our organisation. For which you will be well paid!’

  He stopped while he allowed what he’d said to sink in to the frightened young man’s brain. He then continued in the same monotone voice, ‘We want you and your friends to find this Geoffrey Larkin and his three companions. Just find where they are staying, do nothing else. Do not be seen, just find them. Do you understand me my friend?’

  ‘Yes sir, I understand sir. I’ll do as you say.’

  At that point in time Wilf Norton would have agreed to anything just to get out of the car and away from the four men. He was having difficulty in talking his mouth was so dry.

  ‘This is for your expenses,’ said the quiet voice handing him a thick envelope. ‘My associate will give you a package when you leave this car. It contains mobile phones so that your friends can contact you on these. You will then contact me on this number.’

  A piece of paper was pressed into the top pocket of Wilf Norton’s jacket. ‘Only use the phones for the job you are paid to do, they are not for silly chit-chat. There will be a good bonus if you produce a satisfactory result. We think Larkin is in lodgings somewhere near the city centre and we want you and your friends to start looking at once.’

  The car had stopped now and the man on the near side opened the car door, standing on the pavement holding the door open for Wilf.

  As soon as he had scrambled out, the car pulled away leaving a very frightened Wilf Norton standing quivering at the side of the road near to his digs. It was only after the car had been out of sight for several moments and he had gathered his wits about him that he realised he had wet his pants while in the car. As he walked slowly to his accommodation his wet trousers were sticking to the inside of his legs, but his mind was not on this unpleasantness; he was too busy concentrating on counting the wad of notes in the large envelope.

  *

  While the other three lads were having a meal in a nearby café, Geoff caught the bus to the depot. He then caught a No. 25 bus that would take him to the run-down area of the city and Jock’s second-hand shop that acted as a front for his other petty criminal activities.

  Under normal circumstances he would not have gone to the old fence in daylight but these were not normal circumstances, the passports he considered to be vital. If they were to have any chance of surviving it was necessary to outwit and out-think the efforts of the characters that were hunting them. Geoff left the bus several stops away from Jock’s shop, travelling the rest of the way on foot.

  Walking briskly past on the far side of the road everything seemed to be normal. He crossed the road at the junction then walked back towards the shop. He opened the door and entered, placing the photographs and the note containing the information requested plus the £4000 in cash on the faded, varnished, wooden counter. He smiled at Jock who had appeared from a rear room at the sound of the brass bell vibrating above the door.

  Turning quickly Geoff left again, even before the door at the shop entrance had chance to close. He looked up and down the road from the doorway; nothing seemed to have changed from when he had first entered several moments earlier.

  There were two men erecting scaffolding at the side of a building lower down the road, the old woman who he had overtaken earlier was making her way along the pavement on the far side opposite the shop and a delivery van had pulled up at a grocer’s where the driver was busy unloading cardboard boxes.

  He relaxed; nothing out of the ordinary was happening. There was no screaming of tyres with cars appearing from all directions as they screeched to a halt in front of him.

  All he had to do now was to try and keep the other three lads from panicking. The big problem he knew that was looming would be to persuade them to leave the country once the passports became available. He realised what he had to do; he had to concentrate on overcoming one obstacle at a time as it appeared.

  *

  The following morning Sergeant Robinson received a phone call from the police laboratory about the notebook sent in from Geoffrey Larkin’s bed-sit.

  Even though the top pages had been removed it had still b
een possible to establish enough of the faint numbers and letters to establish that they were from a series of bank accounts, possibly based in Switzerland but, unfortunately, there were insufficient numbers and letters to confirm the exact accounts.

  There were also a series of credit card numbers with their four digit pin numbers. Several of these were complete but the vast majority were illegible.

  ‘This just confirms what we suspected, Wilson,’ said the sergeant as Constable Wilson entered the office, ‘I think it’s now time to inform the chief constable that we’re dealing with the big boys and not a local mob that some small time tea leaves have got involved with. What it does do is it gives us the opportunity to crack an international ring of forgers; that’ll go down well on your CV, Wilson.’

  The last sentence was said as an afterthought as Sergeant Robinson left the office to make his findings known to the superintendent, leaving the constable to reflect on his previous few words. It would certainly improve his chances of advancement in the force to be involved with a successful prosecution against such an organisation, not only his, but the sergeant’s as well, that is, if he was still allowed to carry on in charge of the case. It was most likely they would bring down a team from the city to take over the proceeding, that’s what usually happened in a situation like this.

  Several hours later, after the superintendent’s secretary had managed to squeeze Sergeant Robinson into his tight schedule, the beaming sergeant left the senior officer’s office.

  He made a quick phone call to Constable Wilson instructing him to arrange all the team that were in or near the station to be present for a short briefing in one hour’s time.

  The hub of conversations in the conference room stopped as Robinson entered. He walked over and placed a thick folder on the centre desk. He turned and faced about three quarters of the team that the constable had managed to contact and who could make the meeting.

  ‘The first thing is that we are still in charge of this case.’ Robinson’s few words caused a sudden stir in the room.

  The cases which were as serious as this one were usually taken over by their senior colleagues in the city. This was certainly a feather in the cap for Robinson and also for the local station.

  The sergeant held up his hand for quiet before he continued. ‘This is, as you all know, an opportunity for us to prove what we are capable of, so no slacking, get all your facts correct, follow up even the slightest of leads. Let’s show what this station but more importantly, what you can achieve.’

  There was a spontaneous round of applause from the officers as the sergeant finished. They all realised that he must have put forward a very strong and persuasive argument for a team of detectives at the local station to be allowed to continue with such a serious case with all its international connections.

  ‘Oh, and before you go,’ shouted the sergeant above the excited conversation. ‘For the sake of the press, I have been promoted to acting inspector but until the position is made permanent, if that ever happens, I would appreciate it if you would still continue to address me as sergeant.’

  The last sentence from Sergeant Robinson brought a fresh round of applause from the room. All the officers there knew the sergeant and felt that his promotion, even though it was not yet permanent, was long overdue.

  *

  It was on that same morning, just as he was leaving to meet the rest of his gang, that Dave Higgins received an envelope in the post. It contained a large number of £20 notes. ‘Those guys weren’t joking when they told our Wilf they would give us a bonus,’ he said to himself as he counted the money, ‘they’ve even paid it up front.’ Stuffing the money into his inside coat pocket he went off to meet his cousin, thinking as he went. Between them they needed to round up as many mates as possible to start searching for that bastard, Geoff Larkin and co. There was going to be a lot of money in this for him if he played his cards right. It was Larkin’s fault that Sidney Locket had ended up in the hospital. He was going to enjoy dropping Larkin and his cronies in the shit and even that nutcase Sooty would not stand a snowball in hell’s chance against this mob of heavies.

  *

  Geoff was finding it difficult to keep the Bolton brothers entertained; they had quickly reverted into the gloomy mood they had been in prior to the photographs being taken at the post office. Sooty wasn’t a problem; to him it was just one long holiday.

  The owner of the small hotel where they were staying had been quizzing Sooty the previous day about the construction site on which they were working. It was obvious he was becoming suspicious as the other contractors staying at the hotel were always away for seven in the morning and did not return until seven at night.

  In contrast, Geoff and his mates didn’t even arrive for their breakfast until after nine o’clock, not leaving the hotel until after eleven and then they were then back again early in the afternoon. Usually loaded down with presents and parcels, they were getting bored; the novelty of going to the cinema every day was beginning to wear off.

  Geoff, in desperation to keep them entertained, had taken them for an early tea after an afternoon in an amusement arcade.

  They had just left the pizza parlour, after visiting the all day cinema, the film they had watched was a restored and re-released old black and white comedy called ‘The Lavender Hill Mob’ which Sooty had enjoyed tremendesly.

  ‘Can we call ourselves. The Stepping Hill Mob’ he quiried taking the name from one of the main streets in Stockport.

  ‘Yes if you like Sooty’ said Geoff in reply, smiling to himself.

  It was a miserable afternoon. It had been drizzling all day, that fine rain that clings to your clothes, eventually leaving you soaked. The weather was not helping the despondent feeling in the group

  He had stopped in the protection of a nearby bus shelter to fasten a loose shoelace. The rest of the group had carried on walking, chatting glumly to one another; they were now about twenty yards in front of him. Just as Geoff was about to leave the shelter he noticed a familiar figure across the road, it was one of Dave Higgins’s gang. He seemed particularly interested in the group of three lads in front of him. Geoff’s heart missed a beat. Sooty and the Bolton brothers were definitely being followed! His first reaction was to catch up with the lads and run for it but he quelled the panic that he could feel rising in his stomach.

  He had to play this right in order to buy them a little time. He could feel the surge of adrenalin as his brain kicked into top gear. If Higgins’s crowd knew where they were staying it would be bad news indeed. A thought flashed through his brain, should he keep the cash? There was enough to keep him on his own in luxury for years. He could do a runner, leaving the rest of them to carry the can. He would leave the plates and the list of account numbers because that’s all they were after. If they were lucky, the lads would just get roughed up a little and probably, they would not bother to carry on looking for him. But, Harry Sutton would not be roughed up, he would fight back, he wouldn’t know when to give in. He would, more than likely, end up like Sidney Locket in the hospital, or worse.’

  An uncontrollable shiver passed through his body as these thoughts flashed through his mind. He kept his distance behind the young man across the road just to be sure he really was stalking his mates then, increasing is pace, he caught up with them just two streets away from their hotel.

  ‘Don’t look now but one of Higgins’s gang has been following us for the last ten minutes so just keep walking.’

  The group had settled down into a routine and they were, reluctantly, very slowly accepting the situation. Although they grumbled to Geoff they really quite liked the lifestyle of having their meals prepared for them and no work to interfere with the spending of the ample amounts of money they had available. Even John Bolton had begun to get over his nervousness, calling them ‘the idle rich’, then laughing aloud at his own corny joke.

  The few words spoken by Geoff stunned the group and left them in a state of panic.

&n
bsp; ‘I’ll go and sort him out?’ said Sooty, starting to turn.

  ‘No! That won’t do any good at this stage,’ said Geoff grabbing the big lad’s shoulder, stopping him from turning, making it look just like a friendly hug.

  Changing direction at the next corner the four continued walking at the same leisurely pace, taking their follower further away from their lodgings with every step they took.

  Geoff, in the meantime, was racking his brain of what to do.

  ‘What are we going to do Geoff?’ said Derek Bolton with a hint of panic in his voice. ‘He’ll know we must be stopping somewhere close to here; it’s been raining all day and we are all reasonably dry.’

  Geoff had already fathomed that out so the younger Bolton’s comments only irritated him, distracting his thoughts.

  ‘He probably won’t think of that but the guys who are employing him definitely will!’ he replied.

  ‘He’s still there,’ muttered John Bolton as he looked behind and gave a wolf whistle at two girls who passed them going in the other direction.

  ‘Okay,’ said Geoff. ‘There’s a hotel down here on the right. We’ll make it look good so Sooty and me will go in first. You two drop back about twenty yards then slowly follow us. We need to leave by a rear entrance so we’ll play it by ear. ‘Any port in a storm,’ he muttered to himself as they both went up the steps to the hotel’s swinging double doors.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The hotel they entered was a lot more upmarket than the one where they were staying. It had a large, carpeted reception area with a highly polished desk at the far end surrounded by dark timber panelling.

  Standing behind the desk was a middle-aged, balding man in a striped waistcoat speaking on the phone. He hardly gave Geoff and Sooty a second look as they entered. Mmm, thought Geoff, it’s amazing what a decent set of clothes does. It certainly helped avert any suspicions. They went through the motions of looking at a stand near the entrance with brochures of forthcoming events and sites of historic interest stacked in neat rows on the wooden shelving. The man at the reception was still on the phone as the two Bolton brothers strolled into the lobby.