by R. W. Hughes
So, on the face of it, they had less than five minutes to move as much bullion as possible from the safe, if they ever managed to force it open. Possibly a few extra minutes if the police could not open the closed gates at that entrance and had to race back to the next nearest gateway leading out of the town. Eight minutes at the most was what Geoff had calculated to be on the safe side and clear of the area.
He was now beginning to have serious second thoughts about the attempt. The stupidity of this was endangering not only his life and freedom but also those of his mates. Could he live with himself if, for instance, Sooty was blown up or John or Derek Bolton should lose an arm or a leg through following him and his hare-brained, crazy scheme? There was still time for him to call it off even at this late stage. Perhaps that was what he should do.
His thoughts were interrupted by Derek who had removed the weather covers and plugs from the end of the gun, then waited while two cars passed along the road before he activated the laser level fixed along the barrel. ‘Geoff! Geoff!’ he repeated. Geoff fitted his glasses, from his position he could see where the laser pointed.
‘Derek, it needs lifting, also move it over to the right. Over!’ he whispered into the crackling mouth piece of the hand set. A few minutes passed and then the beam slowly traversed to the right.
‘Hold it at that,’ he whispered again into the hand set. ‘Now lift it a little. Over!’
Several minutes passed. The beam stayed motionless, still pointing directly at the centre of the metre high, cement rendered, white painted parapet wall that surrounded the building.
The speaker on the hand set crackled.
‘We’ve got a problem here, Geoff. We can’t raise the barrel of the gun; you’d better come over here.’ The speaker crackled, went silent then crackled again. ‘Sorry Geoff, over!’
Geoff was already hurrying across the dividing road towards the dark patch under the tree where the moving shadows showed where the rest of the trio were.
Derek and John Bolton were waiting outside the tank. Geoff could hear a faint grunting coming from inside the hatch.
Looking inside by the faint, low light of the lamp he could make out the shape of Sooty squeezed into the gun operator’s seat struggling to turn the manually operated elevation wheel for the gun barrel.
‘Won’t budge!’ he muttered, looking up at the faint outline of Geoff’s face peering in through the partially open hatch. ‘What kind of car jack’s in the Merc, John? Can we use it to raise the barrel?’ he said, turning to face the two brothers, noticing at the same time that the elder Bolton brother had now stopped shaking.
‘I’ve already thought of that. It’s no use, it fits into slots in the car chassis,’ replied John glumly.
‘Get the big crowbar. You and John stand on the tank and get either side of the gun barrel,’ said Sooty to Geoff, as he struggled out of the hatchway.
‘You Derek, come in here and be ready to wind this barrel elevation wheel.’ Both the Bolton brothers looked first at Sooty and then at Geoff, who just hunched his shoulders and grimaced at the usual quiet Sooty suddenly taking over, and issuing instructions with such uncharacteristic authority.
Harry Sutton positioned Geoff and John Bolton, who were both about the same size, on either side the gun with the large crowbar slung under the barrel with them holding each end. ‘Place your foreheads together, you’ll get more leverage that way.’
‘How do you know about this, Sooty?’ whispered John Bolton.
‘I used to give the landlord at the pub a lift moving his barrels of beer in his cellar and this is how we lifted them on to the wooden still-age,’ replied the big lad as he positioned himself on all fours on the tank’s main body with the gun barrel resting across his back.
‘Okay, when I say heave, heave!’
Nothing happened for several moments as both Geoff and John Bolton pulled on the ends of the crowbar, their foreheads firmly pressed together, with Sooty forcing his back up against the bottom of the gun barrel, pressing his huge thighs against the body of the tank for extra leverage.
Suddenly in several very jerky movements the barrel of the gun was slowly raised upwards.
‘We’ll give that a try,’ gasped Geoff as he sank onto the body of the tank along with John Bolton and Sooty each one taking in a great lung full of air. ‘Finish fitting the firing mechanism, John. I’ll go across the road and check the laser.’ As Geoff slipped off the tank he slapped the still gasping Sooty on the shoulders, ‘Well done, mate.’ Sooty just raised his hand in acknowledgement not yet having the breath to reply.
As Geoff crossed the road he looked at his watch, 23.15pm, luckily, the Italian firework team at the wedding were running true to form. They were fifteen minutes late.
He waited while another car passed in front of where he was standing but he was well out of sight behind the parapet wall. ‘It needs lifting a little more. Over,’ he said into the mouthpiece of the crackling handset.
Now that it had been loosened, with Derek on the elevation wheel and Sooty pushing it from the tank body, the gun barrel was a lot easier to move.
‘That’s it, spot on,’ said Geoff as the red laser spot settled on the centre of the double front doors of the town’s Municipal Building.
The speaker on the handset crackled again.
‘Our kid’s fixed the firing mechanism, Geoff.’ There was a few seconds delay, more crackling and then a single, ‘Over!’ The walkie-talkie crackled and then went dead again.
Geoff was thinking that this was it. They’d gone this far. There was no turning back now. He could imagine the scene in the confined space of the cabin of the tank. He looked at his watch again. 11.35pm. Sooty would have already pulled the homemade cleaning plug through the barrel as Peer Merkel had shown him, and then taking the big crowbar and bolt croppers he would have made his way to the open, iron studded, wooden gates at the nearby entrance into the town, returning for the men at work road signs.
The firing mechanism would have been fitted and John would have loaded the shell into the breach by now, ready to pull the firing pin and his brother, Derek, would be ready to load the second shell, all as Peer Merkel and Werner Fisher had coached them over and over and over again.
Everybody was in position just waiting for the firework display to start. It was deathly quiet in the piazza apart from the distant noise of the festival celebrations, which could be heard faintly coming from the far side of the town.
‘Have you loosened the gate Sooty? Over!’
‘Yes! They were a bit stiff but they moved when I got the big bar under them, they’re ready to be closed and padlocked with the chain. Over!’
‘Well done Sooty.’ At least that’s going to plan, thought Geoff.
‘You standby Sooty. Over!’ he answered.
The firework display started suddenly with a series of loud bangs that sent several projectiles into the night sky. They burst into a vast, florescent, white light that lit up all the car park and the surrounding buildings as well, cracking and banging as they slowly floated down to the ground.
‘What should I do Geoff?’ He recognised the voice of Sooty who was still positioned near the town gates. He started to answer but realised that Sooty, in the excitement, was still on ‘send’ and had not turned over his set to receive.
‘What shall I do now Geoff?’ Then several moments later, ‘Over!’
‘Close the gates Sooty. Over!’ shouted Geoff into the handset. Time seemed to stand still while Geoff waited for the signal from Harry Sutton that he had closed the heavy, wooden town gates using the long bar as a lever, fastened the chain and padlock between the two great, iron door knockers, placed the men at work signs on either side then closed and padlocked the pedestrian door on the pavement. It was not possible for anyone, especially the local Carabineri, to leave the city by those gates. They would have to use the next exit much farther around the city wall; this Geoff had calculated would give them those few more vital extra minutes when the
bank’s alarm was activated.
Geoff’s radio crackled. ‘Sooty here. Job done Geoff! Over!’
‘GO! GO! GO!’ shouted Geoff into the handset but John Bolton needed no urging and at the first crack of the fireworks he had been ready to operate the firing mechanism of the gun.
From where Geoff was crouching behind the wall, the crack from the 75mm shell was not much louder than the fireworks which, by now, were banging and cracking away merrily from the wedding reception several blocks away.
It was the shaking of the wall that he was huddled up against that told him that things had not gone quite to plan.
Looking up from the shelter of the barrier he could see that the shell had hit the top of the clay brick wall, leaving a large hollow in the process and leaving a great cloud of dust. It had then carried on towards the large doors but it had been slightly deflected and instead of hitting the centre, it had taken out the complete right hand side internal door panel whilst still leaving the solid doorframe in place.
There was a crackling on the handset.
‘What happened, Geoff? Cough! Cough! The shell fired but we didn’t hear an explosion at your end. Cough! Cough! The bloody tank’s full of bloody smoke. Cough!’
Geoff recognised the voice of Derek Bolton on the walkie-talkie. Geoff knew what had probably happened. Werner Fisher had told him what the dangers could be. And there were many.
Geoff looked across to the dark shape of the tank, In the light of the street lighting and the exploding rockets he could see the smoke was quickly dispersing amongst the many branches and leaves of the large chestnut tree.
Even though they had attempted to clean the barrel, it had been unused for so long that any build-up of rust, grime or hard grease could prevent the shell from leaving the barrel. The gases would build up and explode in the barrel, killing for certain, anyone who was in the cabin of the tank or standing nearby at that time. There was also a danger that the shell could be so old that they may be unstable and fall short of their target or even not fire at all.
Geoff was standing at the front of the building now. The fact that the alarms had not been activated was because the door was still in its solid frame.
It had not been opened; the shell had simply removed the centre door panels. The fireworks and rockets were still banging away as Geoff trotted to the road, he was thinking that the bank manager was certainly giving his daughter a good send off.
Speaking into the handset as he stopped at the edge of the road, he said, ‘Get your John to load the second shell, Derek. Can you reset the laser? We will have to alter the position of the gun slightly. Over!’
‘Okay, will do. Over!’ came back the prompt reply. ‘Ho! And we’ve had to open the hatch, we were being choked with the smoke.’ Several second elapsed then, ‘Over’ from the radio’s speaker.
Geoff was in a little bit of a quandary. Should he try and raise the gun barrel to clear the wall and compensate for dropping short like the first shell or would the barrel be clear now? Or had the barrel been damaged so it would not take a second shell and explode? Or did the shell drop short because it was old? Will anyone passing notice the light from the torch coming out of the tank’s turret?
All these thoughts were flashing through Geoff’s mind as he reached the edge of the road and turned, looking back towards the building. Passing traffic was unlikely to notice the missing door panel, or the gap in the wall opening as both were in the shadows and even the light from the exploding fireworks whistling around above fortunately did not light that side of the building.
As he returned to the damaged door the speaker on the handset crackled again. The blast from the cannon had disturbed the laser level so Derek had set it up again as Geoff had asked.
The beam passed through the wall going through the hollow created by the previous shell but it did not finish on the vault but on the wall slightly to one side. After a little more manoeuvring and with a little help from his brother John, Derek had set the barrel a little higher to, hopefully, clear the wall and slightly to the right following Geoff’s instructions. This positioned it right in the middle of the side panel of the extra special, toughened, steel safe. ‘Okay, Derek, that’s set up. I’ll go back behind the wall then give you the okay to try again. Over!’
Werner had told Geoff that the armour piercing shells may not explode unless they hit solid metal and that had been the case. He had noticed a hole in the brick wall behind the vault where the shell had penetrated without exploding, unless, the thought suddenly struck him. The shells were all duds!
By now most of the dust had settled, Geoff crossed his fingers. ‘Okay, fire when ready. Over!’ There was no reply on the walkie-talkie as he crouched behind the low boundary wall. It could have been only half a minute, but to Geoff it seemed like forever.
‘Is there a problem, Derek? John, come in. Over!’ He noticed that there was a quiver in his voice, which he could not control. There was a crackle on the walkie-talkie.
‘Hi, Geoff. It’s me Derek. Sorry about the delay but our kid got his overalls sleeve trapped in the breach when he was putting in the shell. We’re okay now, sorted out and ready to go. Over!’
Geoff could just imagine the scene inside the cramped tank compartment. John Bolton would be all of a dither and Derek would be trying to be extra calm. Both young men would be sweating buckets; the extra complication of John getting his sleeve trapped in the breach would not have helped the already stretched nerves of John Bolton.
The crack of the 75mm cannon again was only slightly louder than the fireworks. The smoke from the barrel after the second shell again quickly dispersed amongst the many branches of the chestnut tree but the explosion in the bank was a lot louder. Clouds of dust were billowing from the gap in the front door. ‘Hello! Hello! Derek, John. Are you Okay? Over!’
‘Cough! Cough! Yes just! This metal coffin is full of. Cough! Smoke. Cough. It isn’t doing our. Cough! Our kid’s hayfever any good. Over!’ Geoff could here heavy sneezing in the background of the message, but he was relieved that they were both unhurt.
As he left the safety of the wall his feelings surprised him, that he should again have this feeling of concern for his companions. He supposed it was what you would call comradeship?
He entered through the broken wooden doors of the bank, it took a few seconds, but by the light of his torch, through the dust-laden air, he could see that the safe had disappeared from its position in the centre of the room. ‘Christ, we’ve blown the bloody safe into little pieces!’ he shouted.
Moving further into the room by the light of his torch, which was dimly penetrating the dust, he made out the large shape of the safe. It had been knocked from its temporary floor fixings on its rollers to the far side of the room, coming to a stop against the far wall.
The shell had hit and penetrated the side panel of the specially toughened steel vault leaving a neat round hole and had obviously then exploded within. The vault had taken all the force except the 150mm thick rear vault panel that had ruptured away from the main vault frame. He clicked on the walkie-talkie.
‘John! Bring the car. Derek! Sooty! Get over here pronto and bring the crowbars. Over!’ Geoff forced his crowbar into the split at the back of the safe; the panel moved but would not part from its main frame. Just in time, Geoff thought to himself, as the final giant rocket went up from the wedding reception, covering the entire piazza and a large part of the town in a blaze of light, penetrating through the windows into the dust-laden air of the bank.
‘Thanks mate,’ he said, chuckling aloud to himself. If only the bank manager had realised that his firework display had covered the noise they had made while they robbed his bank.
Geoff was still straining on his crowbar when the Derek arrived with his long bar to help, making short work of forcing open the damaged panel. Sooty had farthest to come, as he came closer he could see the Mercedes was already parked at the bottom of the steps, he could also make out all three of his mates, slowl
y making their way down the steps from the bank to the open boot of the car with the heavy, although somewhat damaged, ingots of dull burnished heavy metal. Before racing back up the steps to the safe.
At the town’s Carabinieri station, the alarm for the vault at the Municipal Building was bleeping spasmodically and was brought to the attention of the on duty station sergeant; but then it went back to silent mode again.
‘The alarm must be very sensitive. The fireworks have disturbed it but now the fireworks have stopped and so has the alarm,’ the newly promoted station superintendent observed when it was brought to his notice by the security officer. He made a note that when someone was free from controlling the festival, he would send them to check around the Municipal Building just as a precaution, and record it in the incident book, it would show proficiency and attention to duty on his part.
Geoff’s planned escape route was a road behind the bank, however, it meant going down a one-way system the wrong way. This was the shortest route and it avoided going through the built up areas below the medieval city. It would put them very quickly on the main road, then onto the country roads leading in the direction of the villa. It was on this road that they were forced to pull over; there was so much weight in the rear of the car that the exhaust was dragging on the road, leaving a trail of sparks in their wake.
‘We’ll have to stop and sort this out!’ shouted Geoff in the ear of John Bolton, who was so busy concentrating on his driving, holding the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were showing white through his flesh.
He had not heard Geoff the first time. ‘You’re right Geoff, there’s so much weight in the back it’s lifting the front of the car. I’ve very little steering, it’s those last two wooden boxes that Sooty brought from the bank; I told him the springs would not take any more weight but he insisted.’ Geoff realised this situation had to be rectified quickly otherwise it could attract too much unwanted attention especially if they were involved in an accident.
It was while they were transferring some of the loose silver bullion from the boot and rear seats into the well of the front passenger seat to try and distribute the load that a car approached from the opposite direction, picking them out in its headlights.
