Ashanti Gold

by James Crosbie

  Had his mother still been alive Colin would never have surrendered to a life of crime, but she was gone now and although he revered her memory and appreciated the standards she had taught him, he knew that he couldn’t hurt her. Besides, all his efforts to find proper work had failed, and the thought of living in poverty or existing on handouts and petty crime for the rest of his days held no attraction for him. Reluctantly at first, but out of sheer necessity, he began by stealing food from street stalls and supermarkets, then, as his needs and nerve increased, cars and their contents became an easy target. He could pick up twenty quid here and there for a radio – thirty if it was a good one. The occasional bonus of a set of golf clubs or a tempting parcel meant that he was able to eat and pay rent on a modest bedsit and almost against his will he began to like the life. Inevitably his talents brought him to the attention of some of the local ‘chaps’ who offered him more serious and lucrative opportunities.

  Never a person to do things by halves, Colin decided to commit himself to this new life, willingly accepting the comradeship, risks and rewards it gave him. Suddenly he was wearing good clothes, enjoying fast cars, gorgeous girls and flashy nightclubs. He was on his way; living like a king, with a freewheeling lifestyle that could only be supported through crime. Colin reigned successfully for over four years, until one day an alert assistant in a high-class jewellery shop checked his plastic and the fraud squad caught up with him. He was only trying to buy a watch on this occasion, but there was one big fault with plastic fraud; once captured, every previous purchase on the card becomes immediately exposed. Colin had no option but to plead guilty to three sample charges of fraud, with fifteen other offences taken into consideration. It was considered ‘organised crime’ and a strict Old Bailey judge sent him down for a six-stretch. With time off for good behaviour he had served four long years. But now it was over. He took a last look at the prison and turned away to walk towards the Tube.

  Across the road a car drew into the kerb, tooting urgently for attention. Colin stared for a moment, taking in the mop of unruly black hair over a healthy, well-bronzed face – it had to be a lamp job this time of the year – and recognised Joey ‘Doc’ Docherty grinning over at him. Wary of the unfamiliar traffic, he negotiated the crossing and ducked into the front seat of the car.

  Doc’s expression showed how delighted he was to see him, his hair bouncing around as he jostled Colin’s shoulder, face wreathed in smiles, repeating the words, ‘Well done, old son! Well done!’ as if Colin had just accomplished some extraordinary achievement.

  Colin smiled widely, pleased at the friendly spontaneity of his welcome, and eyed up his pal’s appearance. Four years seemed to have made little difference to Doc. He still favoured dark-coloured silk shirts, unbuttoned halfway down his chest to display heavy gold chains amongst abundant, curling tufts of black hair. The same devil-may-care face stared at him through clear blue eyes, and a single gold earring – an affectation Colin usually disliked – winked wickedly against Doc’s dark skin.

  ‘Good to see you, mate.’ Doc thumped him on the shoulder again. ‘Bet’cha thought I hadn’t turned up, eh?’ He grasped Colin’s hand in a strong, clean grip. ‘Didn’t want to pick you up too near the gate,’ he explained. ‘The less those bastards see the better.’

  ‘I wondered where you’d got to,’ Colin admitted, his harsh Glasgow accent somewhat softened by the years of close confinement in a London prison. ‘But you’re right to be careful.’

  ‘Yea … Bastards think they’re fucking cops an’ all now. Anyway, here you are and here we go. Where will it be? Fernhead Road?’

  ‘Only to pick up my gear. I can’t stay there; it’s down as my last known address.’

  ‘No problem. Bert’s trouble’n strife is staying with her sister up Watford way for a few weeks. She’s about ready to drop a sprog – the sister, I mean. Bert said to tell you that you’re welcome at his flat until you find a place of your own.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Colin nodded, relieved that his immediate accommodation problem had been solved. Already the hard lines on his face were softening as the pressures of prison receded. He smiled and settled back in his seat, content to watch the world go by.

  ‘How’d it go then?’ Doc glanced across at him as he revved impatiently at traffic lights. ‘In there, I mean.’

  ‘Stinking dump!’ The question immediately affected Colin’s easy manner. ‘Locked up twenty-three hours a day. No association. And, fuck me, a work party’s even considered a privilege! It’s so fucking boring you even go to church for a break.’

  ‘Yeah … I heard old Wanno’ was a bit rough,’ Doc nodded sympathetically.

  ‘It was a bastard!’

  ‘Well, you’ve done it now. It’s over. You’ll soon settle back into the swing of things again.’

  ‘Aye,’ Colin rubbed his hands together. ‘I expect so.’

  ‘You’ve not turned it in? You are coming back on the firm?’

  ‘Aye, I’m coming back on the firm,’ Colin nodded. ‘But I don’t fancy getting into the old plastic game again. We’ll have to find work that’s really tasty; jobs that will throw us big lumps of money. And they’re there to be had too.’ He looked over at Doc. ‘Look at that job they pulled at the airport; the bullion vans they’ve hijacked. I’m telling you, the work’s there if you look for it.’

  ‘Well, if you can sort one out we’ll be only too pleased to take it on.’ Doc dropped a gear and charged past a startled driver. ‘You always were pretty good at spotting a piece of work.’

  ‘Aye,’ Colin nodded his head. ‘It’s just a matter of raising our sights. The fraud game is over as far as I’m concerned. It’s time to move on. But I think I’m due a bit of a holiday before I get into any sort of business.’ He pulled a well-creased letter from his pocket. ‘I’ve got an invitation here from an uncle of mine. Lives in a place called Takoradi, somewhere in Ghana, West Africa. I fancy a look at the place and it sounds a lot better than the Costa Del Sol to me.’

  ‘It certainly sounds different,’ Doc acknowledged. ‘And you’re well entitled to a rest. But after …?’

  ‘After …? Well, once I’ve had a bit of a rest it’ll be straight back to business.’

  ‘Good.’ Doc sounded pleased. ‘Here.’ He held out a wad of notes. ‘There’s a grand there. Keep you going for a couple of weeks.’

  Colin shook his head. ‘Thanks, Doc, but I don’t need it. I’ve still got a few quid stashed away. I’ll be all right for a few months, or until we have an earner.’

  ‘Take it, mate,’ Doc insisted. ‘You’re back on the firm, aren’t you? Call it mad money. Fritter it away on a bit of fun and keep your stash for living on.’ He pushed the wad of notes into Colin’s lap. ‘C’mon – you’re entitled!’

  ‘Well … thanks.’ Colin pocketed the notes, pleased more by the gesture than the actual cash.

  By mid-morning they had successfully retrieved Colin’s belongings from his old landlord and were pulling up outside a row of elderly terraced flats in Eustace Road, Fulham. ‘You’ll be all right here for a week or two,’ Doc told him as they mounted the well-worn steps to Bert’s front door.

  Colin saw little change in the stocky-looking man who opened the door to them. True, Bert looked a little heavier than he remembered, especially around his belly and shoulders. His face had beefed out a little too, intensifying a belligerent, bulldoggish appearance. With thinning fair hair and gold-rimmed spectacles glinting on a well-scrubbed face, Albert Maddren could easily have been mistaken for an earnest, old-style family grocer as he stretched out a hand in greeting.

  ‘You all right?’ Bert asked in a concerned voice, looking Colin up and down for signs of wear and tear.

  Colin held both hands out from his side. ‘I’m as right as four years in Wanno’ can make me,’ he joked as Bert welcomed him in, making no fuss, simply accepting the fact that Colin was back in circulation and needed a place to stay until he was on his feet again.

  Arran
ging to meet Doc in the evening, Colin spent the rest of the morning at the public baths in North End Road, filling and refilling a huge, old-fashioned tub as he scrubbed the stench of prison from his body. A relaxed afternoon amble round the shops enabled him to replenish his wardrobe with some up-to-date shirts and other accessories and by early evening he was ready to venture out to sample some of the things he had missed during his four years of incarceration. The tacit understanding that he would have the flat to himself that night gave him a tingling sensation of expectancy as he left with Bert to meet up with Doc again and Eddie Ferns, the fourth member of the firm.

  The scene inside the Red Lion was unchanged. The same hard-drinking, vociferous crowd of street traders from the North End Road market were still arguing in their loud, matey fashion, berating one another in friendly rivalry, or boasting of the strokes they had pulled on the unsuspecting public during the day’s business.

  Through the smoke-hazed bar-room, Colin caught sight of Doc waving over the heads of the noisy drinkers. Most of the local market men greeted Bert as he led Colin through the crowd, one or two of them directing enquiring looks at Colin as memories stirred. One of the men stared a little longer then smiled in sudden recognition, holding up a thumb in congratulation. It felt good to be in the hubbub of a lively pub again.

  There were two empty places at the corner table Doc had commandeered and sitting on a third chair was the neatly dressed figure of Eddie Ferns.

  ‘T’riffic! Great to see you again.’ There was a tangible aura of awareness and capability about Eddie as he rose to his feet and reached for Colin’s hand, his eyes keenly assessing. ‘Well, it doesn’t seem to have done you any harm,’ he said, completing his inspection and loosening his grip. ‘How’d it go then? Inside, I mean?’ he asked, regaining his seat as Bert pushed his way through to the bar.

  ‘Wasn’t too bad after the first four years,’ Colin quipped in the hoary old ex-con style. ‘I could hardly tear myself away.’

  Eddie laughed appreciatively. ‘Nice one, nice one. Maybe you should’ve signed on for a bit longer then, if you were getting to like it that much?’

  They passed friendly banter back and forth until Bert returned from the bar to place overflowing pints on the table. ‘There you go!’ He slid a foaming beer over to Colin. ‘Try a sup of that – it’ll beat your Wandsworth tea a mile!’

  The three men watched expectantly as Colin took a small, tasting mouthful, holding their breath as he rolled it over his tongue and sucked in his cheeks to saturate his taste buds. Finally, he took a long, savouring draught, swallowing slowly before lowering the half-empty glass to the table. ‘De … licious!’ He smacked his lips in loud appreciation. ‘I’d forgotten just how good a pint could taste.’

  ‘Glad to have you back, mate,’ Eddie broke the silence and lifted his glass, waiting a little for the others to follow him, and together they toasted Colin’s return.

  ‘We’ve got a table booked at the Celebrity Club, up west,’ Bert informed him as they each sank their second pints. ‘Got it all laid on for you – birds and booze all night.’

  ‘Did you say birds?’ Colin looked at him, a happy smile pasted on his face.

  ‘That’s what I said,’ Bert confirmed. ‘Wine, women and song – that’s the buzz tonight.’

  ‘Let’s get up west then.’ Colin knocked back the remains of his pint and licked his lips in anticipation. ‘I’ve waited a long time for a night like this.’

  *

  It was three-thirty in the morning when Bert helped a drunk but happy Colin back into the flat, the young woman accompanying them fussing and fluttering uselessly as they laid him on the bed, loosened his tie and removed his shoes.

  ‘Well … Sharon,’ Bert turned to the girl, eyeing her shapely figure and attractive features, letting his hand wander through abundant auburn hair.

  Her eyebrows arched. ‘He won’t be much good to me like that, will he?’ she pouted.

  Bert restrained himself with an effort. It was, after all, Colin’s night. ‘He’ll be fine in the morning, love,’ he finally said. ‘Just you make sure you do your job when he does come round – it’ll be a nice surprise for him.’

  She patted his face cheekily. ‘Just you leave him to me.’

  *

  Colin woke slowly, gradually becoming aware of soft, gentle hands caressing his body. He stirred and immediately felt the hands slip down his stomach to his groin and softly grip him. Gently her hands worked slowly up and down, doing their job.

  What a dream! He squirmed on his back, enjoying the pleasurable sensations coursing through him. And the bed felt unbelievably soft. Then he remembered. This was no dream. He was out. OUT! The nightclub. The dancing. The girls. A girl! Memory flooded back and he opened his eyes to look at her.

  He had only a vague recollection of meeting the girl and couldn’t even remember her name, but the situation was crystal clear and he rolled over to embrace her eagerly.

  His happiness was almost euphoric as he kissed and caressed her sensual, willing body, letting his hands cup the indescribably soft, silky breast, slowly massaging a swollen nipple between his fingers. It had been so long since …

  ‘What’s your name?’ he whispered, afraid that if he spoke out loud he would wake up and find himself back on his metal bunk in Wandsworth.

  ‘I’m Sharon.’ She kissed him with full red lips and punctuated each word with a peck. ‘I’m here to help you make up for lost time. Four years, I believe you told me last night, or don’t you remember?’

  ‘I remember,’ Colin assured her as he drew her body close. ‘Far too long to be missing out on this.’ And gently savouring every moment, he entered her, sighing deeply, oblivious to everything except the eroticism of the moment.

  It was good to be back.

  2

  Sharon left the flat by midday, leaving a sated Colin recovering in the well-tumbled bed. He was still there savouring the memory when the front door rattled and Bert let himself into the flat, quickly followed by a grinning Doc and Eddie.

  ‘Remembered where to put it, did you?’ Doc leered at him as they entered the bedroom.

  ‘I’m knackered!’ he admitted. ‘Really fucked!’

  ‘You’re fucked?’ Bert gave a snuffling laugh. ‘I wonder how Sharon feels!’

  Colin closed his eyes for a few seconds in blissful memory, then he looked up at his grinning mates. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘Thanks for a great night. Almost worth doing a four-stretch for.’ A sudden burst of energy got him out of bed and with an insouciance born of shared-cell living he padded naked to the bathroom.

  Half an hour later, refreshed and contented, he was lounging in the living room with his friends.

  ‘So what are you going to do?’ Bert’s voice was serious as he broached the subject of Colin’s future. ‘You coming back on the firm?’

  ‘I’ve already told Doc,’ Colin replied after a pause. ‘I’m on the firm all right, but I think we should look for a better class of work; something with a bit more money. But before I do anything I want a rest. Go and stay with an uncle of mine for a couple of months; get rid of the taste of Wandsworth and see a bit of sun for a change.’

  ‘It’s up to you,’ Bert leant forward, speaking earnestly, ‘but Eddie’s been put onto a nice little earner over Kilburn way. Inside job. The cashier is in debt to the bookies for a few grand and he’s desperate for the money. He’ll pass the bag, no problem. But there’s still his escort and the driver to take care of, so we need a bit of weight just in case. We could do it three-handed, but another man would be useful. Give you a nice few quid for a starter.’

  ‘I’m not exactly skint,’ Colin admitted. ‘Still got a few grand stashed in the building society.’

  ‘Well, it’s not exactly big time, but it’s a sweet enough little blag. Comes to about fifty grand. Cashier wants ten off the top, but it’s still forty grand to us. Handy bonus to take on that holiday,’ he teased.

  ‘What’s it like?’ Coli
n asked, tempted by the offer despite his reservations.

  ‘Nothing to it,’ Doc told him. ‘Small factory payroll. Our man and his clerk carry the money from the bank to a car waiting round the back in the parking lot – that’s where we take it. Shouldn’t be any bother for us.’

  ‘Not really a four-handed job, is it?’ Colin pointed out. ‘Three’s enough for that kind of work.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Bert agreed. ‘But it doesn’t do any harm to be careful. Remember, we’ve only got one man on our side. And the driver is supposed to be a bit of a minder too.’

  ‘What we thought, seeing as you’re just out,’ Eddie leant forward to add encouragement, ‘was to use you as insurance, in case someone decides to have a go at us. If there’s no trouble you just sit until the fuss dies down then make your way home.’

  Doc waved a gold-laden wrist. ‘It’ll be a canter, Colin,’ he said. ‘We’ve watched it for three weeks now. Believe me, it’s a job just begging to be done.’

  Despite his intention of taking a well-earned rest, Colin felt a familiar shiver course the length of his spine. The job was a lay on and he knew he was being offered the soft end – practically a spectator. It would be an easy re-entry to villainy and the money would make a difference.

  ‘Sounds all right,’ he agreed cautiously. ‘But are you sure you want me in on it? I mean … I don’t want to start off practically poncing on you.’

  ‘Poncing!’ Bert exclaimed. ‘You’re on the firm, aren’t you? Besides, the way the robbery squad’s going on just now, a little bit of insurance might come in useful.’

  ‘OK!’ Colin made up his mind. ‘I’m in.’

  3

  It was nearing eight o’clock on Thursday morning when Colin drove into the Council car park behind the main shopping centre in Kilburn High Street. He came to a halt just inside the entrance and looked on as Doc drove ahead in a stolen Cortina to park in the far corner. In another minute Doc had locked up and was walking towards him, hurrying in the cold morning air.