The Criminal Escapades of Geoffrey Larkin

by R. W. Hughes

  ‘Where are we going?’ asked Derek as he settled down in front of the computer screen.

  ‘The world is our oyster,’ came back the reply and ‘all’s well that ends well.’ Geoff finished with a short nervous laugh.

  Twenty minutes later Derek beckoned Geoff to the computer. ‘The only flight that’s leaving tomorrow morning and where we can pay cash at the desk is one at ten thirty leaving for the city of Pisa, Italy, that’s if there are seats available,’ he said.

  ‘All roads lead to Rome. Then it’s Pisa, Italy, that’s where we’re all going, all being well.’ He slapped Derek on the shoulder, ‘Let’s go and tell the other two we’re going on holiday, we’re off to taste some original spaghetti but before that we need to get some sleep, we’ve got an early start in the morning.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Wilf Norton had been out all day. At the time, the proposition made by the heavies had looked very rosy. But now it wasn’t that appealing. He was tired and soaked to the skin. His shoes squelched in sodden socks at every step.

  He’d been on a spending spree over the last few days with the money he had been given at the first meeting with the heavies. Then the thick envelope of cash his cousin had received through the post had given him another boost but the heavies had brought him quickly back to earth, they treated him like he was shit.

  They’d blamed him for losing Larkin and his mates earlier in the day. They’d also threatened that unless he shaped up and started coming up with better results he would end up like his mate, in the hospital! It had been this threat and the fear of these men that had kept him out wandering the streets so late; otherwise he would have packed up and gone back to his flat hours before.

  He had just left the bus near the railway station and was walking towards the taxi rank when, in front of him, he noticed two figures leave the street at the side of the station, walk quickly to a black taxi and then get in the stationary vehicle.

  Wilf could not help but recognise the big lad with two suitcases and the smaller figure in the front. It was definitely Geoff Larkin with the one they called Sooty.

  ‘Got you again you pair of bastards,’ Wilf said under his breath as he quickly jotted down the registration of the taxi. Taking out his mobile he was laughing to himself as he typed in a telephone number. The screen lit up dimly showing ‘LOW BATTERY’. He tried typing in the number again and the same thing happened. ‘SHIT!’ he shouted out loud as he started running. He was only a few minutes from his digs. He could put his phone on charge and dial the heavies straight away so he’d be back in their good books in a matter of minutes.

  Wilf opened the front door of his bed-sit. It wasn’t the best of accommodation being paid for by social services but it was close to the town centre which suited him.

  He took a few more minutes to find the mobile phone charger amongst all the parcels and packaging lying about in the flat from his latest spending spree. He quickly plugged it in the socket. Suddenly the lights went off. Nothing! The electricity was metered and he must have used it all that morning making his breakfast.

  He searched the loose change in his pocket. The meter took one pound and fifty pence pieces. Using his cigarette lighter to throw light on the table where he’d dumped all his loose change, he found one fifty pence piece in the pile of coins. Quickly he placed the coin in the meter and turned the key.

  The lights came on again. ‘Geronimo!’ he shouted aloud. Going back to his mobile phone he could see the bright blue light to show it was charging. ‘Great!’ he shouted out again.

  A surge of adrenalin pumped through his system as he started to type in the phone number that would put him in contact with Mr. Big. They had been most insistent for some reason that their contact phone number be memorised and typed in every time, and not kept in the phone’s memory.

  He had nearly finished dialling when he looked up to see the front door opening. In his haste to charge his phone he had not closed it properly. As he moved towards the door, he froze!

  Standing in the doorway smiling at him he could see Sergeant Robinson with his lap dog of a constable looking over his shoulder.

  ‘Evening, Wilf. Don’t let us stop you making your call. We’ve been waiting for you to turn up for quite a while!’ Robinson made his way further into the flat followed by Constable Wilson.

  ‘You’ve no right coming in here. Where’s your search warrant, Robinson?’ blurted Wilf, quickly turning off his phone and putting it in his pocket.

  ‘It’s just a social call, Wilf. You left your door open and we thought it might be burglars in your place!’ Constable Wilson sniggered at his superior’s sarcastic reply.

  ‘You’ve been spending quite a lot of money lately Wilf, throwing it about all over the place, taxi fares, new clothes, pizza deliveries and new mobile phones.’

  ‘Well, what’s wrong with that? It’s my money!’ retorted Wilf.

  ‘Good! I’m glad you admit to that. It makes my job so much easier. Just empty your pockets, Wilf, and place the contents on the table.’

  Wilf Norton wasn’t particularly bothered at this stage and, as far as he was concerned, there was nothing extra these coppers could stick on him. He reluctantly followed Robinson’s instructions. He wanted them out of his flat pronto; he had an important phone call to make.

  ‘Where did you get all this money?’ said the constable, holding up a wad of £20 notes before passing them over to his sergeant.

  ‘It’s my money, it’s what I saved,’ came back the defiant reply.

  ‘Well, if you admit to it being your money, young man,’ said the sergeant, inspecting the notes with a smile still on his face, ‘I’m arresting you, Wilf Norton, for passing forged £20 notes. My constable will read you the usual.’

  Wilf Norton, for once in his life, was stuck for words. He just stood there dumbfounded looking first at Paul Robinson and then at the smiling constable Wilson.

  *

  It was 9.30 the following morning before Wilf Norton could make his phone call from the police station where he had been detained over night; he rang the number he was trying to reach the night before, keeping his message short and to the point.

  ‘I was arrested last night after I’d seen two of our friends catch a taxi. I’m at Stockport main police station and I need a lawyer.’

  There was no acknowledgement, the line just went dead.

  Thirty minutes later there was a representative from the firm of Brywood & Brywood Solicitors standing at the desk of the station sergeant, demanding to see his client, Mr. W. Norton.

  As soon as the opportunity presented itself during the period of talking Wilf passed on to the solicitor his information from the previous night.

  Immediately the lawyer made a weak excuse and left, saying he would return as soon as possible. A bemused and bewildered Wilf was promptly returned to his cell and locked up again.

  It was early afternoon of that day before the heavy mob managed to trace the taxi cab, finding where the two young men had been dropped off.

  Several more £20 notes changed hands at the airport hotel which helped to make their enquiries much easier. There were eight young men who had booked in the previous night, all for two nights. Four were in the lounge. They were members of a wedding reception party being held in the hotel that night. A quick look in the lounge confirmed they were not Geoff Larkin and his crew. The other four had also booked a table for dinner that night.

  The maid making their rooms said their cases and clothes were still in their rooms. The doorman had seen them leave that morning and overheard them say they were going into Manchester city centre and would be back later that day.

  Four of the heavies made themselves comfortable in the hotel lounge taking it in turns, every fifteen minutes, to take the lift up to check on the two rooms that had been occupied by the four young men. Four more of the heavies stayed in their car, parked near the hotel entrance, occasionally coming into the lobby to use the hotel’s toilet facilities.
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br />   The heavies were rather frustrated at the delay. The hotel’s security had recently been updated with cameras covering all the corridors at all levels. A new system of card entrance into the rooms had also been installed instead of the previous key locking system, which had apparently been too easy to tamper with.

  *

  When Geoff and the other lads reached the airport early that morning the first thing they did, following Geoff’s instruction, was to purchase, separately, four return tickets to Pisa airport in Italy.

  ‘Why the return tickets, Geoff?’ queried Derek Bolton, knowing they would not be returning and return tickets would cost them a lot more.

  ‘It’s all part of trying to mingle with the tourists Derek. Single tickets would be picked up straight away by anyone scrutinising the bookings. Return tickets looks like we’re just tourists on a couple of weeks holiday. It may just buy us a little more time,’ he explained.

  They also bought themselves four new suitcases, a set of new clothes and toiletries from the shops in the airport. They had no problem with their luggage or customs.

  Geoff was relieved that, after a great deal of thought, he had decided to place their great stack of cash in their suitcases and had not tried to carry it in their hand luggage through customs. The cash would have definitely come to light as none of them had ever travelled by air before and were not aware of, or had ever experienced, such tight security that was in place going through the airport check in.

  Their flight was quite uneventful apart from some severe turbulence when they were flying over the French-Italian Alps. This caused some alarm to the four lads and cabin staff, especially when Sooty, who panicked slightly, wanted to get off the plane. It took all the persuasive powers of Geoff and both the brothers to restrain the big lad, who was left hanging on the seat in front of him for dear life, his eyes tightly closed and groaning at every lurch of the plane to the great concern of the passengers at the side and in front of him, who thought he was going to be sick.

  As the turbulence did not seem to bother the other passengers, the lads soon relaxed. The buffeting only lasted for a few minutes but it left Sooty pale and drawn and unnerved the rest of the group for the remainder of the flight, consequently, none of the lads took up the option to purchase any of the sandwiches or drinks that were offered by the stewardesses.

  There were another few moments of panic when just before landing Sooty went deaf and was convinced the plane was going to crash, as he saw through the port hole the ground rushing up to meet them as they approached the runway. It took all the combined strength of the two Bolton brothers sitting either side of the big lad and the seat belt, which Sooty couldn’t undo in his panic, to restrain him and keep him in his seat until the plane had become stationary.

  On leaving the aircraft and walking down the steps at Pisa airport they were immediately hit by the heat and above them the clear blue skies, a complete change to the damp weather and grey overcast skies they had left back in Manchester.

  They followed the rest of the holiday passengers onto, and then after a short journey off, a coach that delivered them to the airport terminal.

  On Geoff’s instructions the first-time travellers approached the customs officer’s cubicle separately, allowing several other passengers in front of each one of them, the same procedure used when they had purchased their tickets. His precautions were unnecessary as they were waived through along with the rest of the throng of tourists after the briefest of looks at their passports, much to the great relief of Geoff, Derek and John Bolton.

  There was a minor incident at the baggage collection point as Sooty allowed his case to go past him. Then proceeded to jump on the moving luggage conveyor belt, chasing his luggage to retrieve it, much to the concern of some of the older passengers and to a great deal of laughter from some of the younger ones.

  ‘Your friend do not need do that,’ said a voice at the side of Geoff. ‘His case come afterwards around, no worry.’ Geoff turned towards the voice. It was an old man leaning on a walking stick, smiling. He was indicating with his finger a circle. Geoff understood what he meant, and smiled, nodding back in return. The small group then followed the rest of the passengers out through the unmanned checkpoint into the main building where all four congregated near the information desk.

  ‘Where to now Geoff?’ said a bemused Derek Bolton, the brothers were now more relaxed having absorbed some of the holiday atmosphere at the throngs of people in the arrivals hall. And the ground staff speaking in a foreign language was all excitingly new. But Geoff’s brain was in a bit of a turmoil, he’d not planned any further than Pisa airport, he needed somewhere to buy a little time while he sorted out in his own mind what the next step would be.

  While all these thoughts were flashing through his mind, he was looking around the airport in desperation for some form of inspiration amongst the hustle and bustle and the seemingly endless multitude of scurrying passengers.

  ‘We’ll go to that place there that says “Pizzas”, get something to eat and drink then have a talk about what we intend doing from now on.’

  ‘That sounds good to me,’ Sooty said enthusiastically, his complexion now back to normal, as was his appetite which had also returned. They had altered their watches on the plane following the advice on the plane intercom system. It was now lunchtime and they were all relaxed after the tension at Manchester and the airport plus the actions of Sooty on the plane. They now realised how hungry they were.

  The pizza café was quite full, but sitting in a corner with a table to himself, was the old guy from the luggage conveyor belt. He caught Geoff’s eye, indicating there was room at his table as he moved his stick that was hanging on a spare chair.

  After a lot of manoeuvring with their luggage, the lads managed to make their way around the other occupied tables. After borrowing two empty chairs from other tables they were eventually all seated, their suitcases stacked nearby as out of the way as was possible.

  ‘Thanks mate,’ Geoff said to the old man who reminded him, in many ways, of his old friend, Sir Reginald.

  ‘Okay lads. When the waiter comes we’ll order four pizzas and four beers,’ Geoff added. ‘Sounds good to me,’ said Sooty, smiling. The Bolton brothers nodded in agreement. ‘Gentlemen, there non waiter service.’ The voice was that of the old man whose table they were sharing. ‘You require, stand at bar, order, pay requirements, take paper to end where pizza cook, ya. You wait. You collect pizza with beer. Return table. So, pronto!’

  ‘Thanks again, mate,’ Geoff said to the old man, smiling his gratitude for the advice.

  ‘No problemo. You welcome.’

  ‘Can I buy you a drink?’ continued Geoff as he stood to go and order the food.

  ‘Thank you. I accept from you coffee Americano, together with small cognac.’

  ‘You’re on!’ came back the quick reply. ‘You’d better come and give me a lift, Sooty. On second thoughts you’d better come, Derek,’ said Geoff as he had a vision of disaster with the big lad trying to manoeuvre around all these tables carrying pizzas and beers.

  Several minutes later they were all settled down around the table with their food and drink, including a coffee and large cognac for their newfound friend.

  ‘What next Geoff?’ said John Bolton with a mouth full of pizza. Geoff’s reaction was to mouth a silent shhhh, with his lips and look with his eyes in the direction of the old man quietly sipping his coffee at their table.

  John Bolton nodded knowledgeably and concentrated on eating his meal.

  They’d finished their pizzas and were near the end of their beers when the old man looked at his watch and thanked them all again for the drink.

  Pushing himself upright with the aid of his stick, he slowly negotiated the surrounding tables, and left the bar, watched by the four lads.

  ‘He was a nice old guy,’ said John Bolton.

  ‘Yes! We could do with someone like that to show us the ropes around here,’ volunteered his broth
er.

  ‘Mmm. You’ve got a point there, Derek,’ said Geoff, a thoughtful look in his eyes. He was kicking himself mentally for not thinking of that earlier. He made his way quickly to the entrance of the café but there was no sign of the old man in the throng of travellers milling around the doorway. Slowly, he made his way back to the table where the rest of the lads were watching him closely after his sudden rush from their company without any explanation.

  ‘I lost him in the crowd,’ he said disappointedly to the Boltons, ‘anyway, not to worry; we’ll go to the information desk. We need to find out where to go to catch a train to Pisa central station as, apparently, this airport is outside the city and we need to find our way to the station in Pisa itself.’ He gave no explanation to the rest of the group about why he had suddenly shot off after the old man like he had.

  *

  That same morning, as Wilf Norton was being interviewed by Sergeant Robinson and Constable Wilson on how he had come into possession of so many forged £20 notes and what was his connection with Geoff Larkin and his associates; Harry Sutton, Derek and John Bolton and the murdered Mr. X, Geoff and the lads were flying past at several thousand feet above their heads on their way to the city of Pisa, Italy. It was early evening that same day when Robinson, with Constable Wilson and three other detectives, arrived at the airport hotel. It had taken them until then to trace and interview the taxi driver from the registration number left on Norton’s notepad.

  Also that same day they had received, from their American colleagues, a much more detailed and improved section of film which had confirmed what Robinson already suspected. Geoff Larkin had been crossing the road just before the taxi carrying Mr. X had arrived, placing him in the exact spot at the time and place when Mr. X’s briefcase had been lifted.

  *

  The hotel lobby was quite busy that late afternoon; the three heavies sitting in the easy chairs reading the daily newspapers went unnoticed by the team of detectives that arrived in the room. One detective stayed at the lifts while the other positioned himself at the bottom of the stairs.