‘Oh, Tom, do you have to?’
It was apparent that she was unhappy with the idea of losing him even for a few days, depressed by the thought of being on her own again, and perhaps fearful that he might never come back.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I have to. I can’t get the money here; London is the place for that. The streets are paved with gold, you know. I shall have to dig some up.’
She gave him an anxious look. ‘You won’t do anything dangerous, will you?’
‘Dangerous? Now whatever put that idea into your lovely head?’
She did not answer the question, but he thought it might have something to do with the pistol she had seen him use to send the two intruders packing. Perhaps she was wondering whether the weapon might have some connection with his undertaking to obtain the two thousand pounds.
‘Don’t worry about me,’ he said. ‘I’ll be very careful and I’ll be back before you’ve noticed I’ve gone.’
He left early the next morning, taking his suitcase and the Beretta with him. Jean was in low spirits but she managed to raise a smile when she gave him a farewell kiss. Joe stood by, grinning and waving his hand.
Soon after eleven the Vauxhall was in the thick of the traffic on the outskirts of London and he drove straight to Sangster’s place. Mrs Ellis opened the door to him; he was well known to her and she gave him a friendly greeting.
‘Mr Sangster’s in the sitting-room. He’s not quite hisself this morning. I think he’s got a bad head.’
Sangster was reclining on the chesterfield and Benton guessed from his appearance that Mrs Ellis was probably right. He was wearing an open-necked shirt and a pair of sloppy trousers and suede slippers, and he looked really under the weather. He observed Benton’s entrance with a bleary eye.
‘So you’re back. Had enough of the country life?’
‘Not yet,’ Benton said. ‘What’s up with you? You’re looking pretty seedy.’
‘Hangover,’ Sangster explained. ‘Went to a party last night. Drank too much. Feel like death warmed up.’ There was a bottle of whisky and a half-filled glass on a table close to hand, and he took a drink. ‘Hair of the dog. You want some?’
‘No, thanks,’ Benton said. He lowered himself into one of the armchairs and looked at Sangster speculatively. ‘Anything happened while I’ve been away?’
‘Like what, for instance?’
‘Well, you know.’
‘No,’ Sangster said, ‘nothing’s happened. It’s been dead quiet.’
‘That’s something to be thankful for, I suppose.’
‘Bet your life it is. What’s new with you?’
‘I need money.’
‘And that’s new?’
‘This is special.’
‘Well, if you’re pushed, Tom, I could let you have something to tide you over until things get better. Wouldn’t do it for Dob or Gus, but you and me are old pals and that makes a difference. How much do you want?’
Benton shook his head. ‘Thanks, Eddie, but it’s not like that. A handout won’t serve. What I need is a pretty big sum. I was wondering if there was anything on the stocks.’
‘No, nothing. It’s early days yet. And me, I’ve done a lot of thinking since you went away. Fact is I’m not so keen on the old game any more. I have a feeling it’s time to try something else.’
‘You wouldn’t be talking of honest work, would you?’
Sangster gave a grin. ‘Sort of. I’ve got a bit laid by and there’s openings in the business world for people with drive and ideas. Tom old son, you could be looking at a budding entrepreneur. I might even get a government grant, and the banks are falling over each other to advance capital for likely enterprises. It’s a great future.’
‘You’re not kidding?’
‘No way. Dead serious. I’ve had this in mind for some time, and that last job more or less settled things for me. Seemed like a warning to get out now, before it’s too late. And if you take my advice, old son, you’ll do the same.’
‘You could be right,’ Benton admitted. And he knew just where he would go; back to the land. But the trouble was he needed that two thousand pounds before he could do it. He wondered how much Eddie had got put by; but there was no way he was going to ask him for a loan of that size, however much he might have.
‘There’s people in the City,’ Sangster observed, ‘who started from practically nothing and now are worth tens of millions. Property tycoons, heads of vast conglomerates with fingers in all sorts of pies: shipping, newspapers, hotels, fast-food chains, supermarkets, oil … They get titles too. The sky’s the limit.’
Benton could tell that Sangster was seeing visions; there was a dreamy faraway look in his eye that was not the effect of the whisky, though that might have helped. He himself doubted whether the visions would ever turn into solid fact; for every financial adventurer who succeeded in building a commercial empire there were probably thousands of hopefuls who never made the grade. Still, maybe Eddie would be one of the lucky minority; the opportunity was certainly there.
His own sights were set on a far more modest target. But he still needed that two grand. It was no great sum of money but it was not so easy to come by for all that.
After leaving Sangster’s house he went to look for Gus Houlder. He was none too happy with the idea of seeking Houlder’s assistance, but for the moment he could think of no alternative.
He ran Houlder to earth in a public-house called the Green Dragon. Houlder was on his own; he appeared to be pretty well down in the mouth and he was drawing what solace he could from a pint of beer and a desultory conversation with a peroxide blonde barmaid who looked bored to death.
Benton bought another pint for Houlder and a lager for himself and they installed themselves at a corner table where they could have a quiet heart-to-heart talk.
‘I heard you was still down among the clodhoppers,’ Houlder said. ‘When did you get back?’
‘Just this morning.’
‘Couldn’t stay away from the bright lights and the jazzy life no longer? Is that it?’
‘No, that’s not it. Fact is I’m in need of some money.’
‘Ain’t we all?’
‘I thought you might be able to help.’
‘Now come off it, Tommy,’ Houlder said. ‘I’m as pushed for a bit of the old folding as you are. You know that.’
‘I’m not asking for a loan. I was wondering if you had any kind of a job lined up.’
Houlder drank some beer, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gave Benton a shrewd look. ‘Now that’s different. What you’re saying is you’re ready to take a hand in anything that’s going. Right?’
‘If it’s not too dicey.’
‘They’re all dicey,’ Houlder said. ‘I never knew one as wasn’t. Basically.’
‘Yes, but some are more dicey than others.’
‘That’s true an’ all.’
‘So have you got anything in view?’
‘Might have. I been trying to get Eddie interested, but it looks like he’s got other ideas in his noddle these days and doesn’t want to know.’
‘So he told me.’
‘Ah, so you went to him first. Well, it figures.’
‘We’ve been buddies a long time.’ Benton had the impression that Houlder was slightly peeved to learn that he had come only second on the visiting list. It was curious how sensitive characters like him could be; to look at them you might think nothing less than an electric drill would get through their skins, but where their professional pride was concerned they could be as touchy as prima donnas.
‘Reckons he’s going to make his fortune as a top rank wheeler-dealer or some such.’ Houlder sounded scornful. ‘Fat chance there is of that.’
‘He may just do it.’
‘Never in a million years. It’s all pie in the sky. Anyway, he’s got all these airy-fairy schemes in his brain box and he won’t even listen to anything I’ve got to say. Dob’s ready to come in on it, but we re
ally need a minimum of three – two for the job and one for the wheels.’
‘You’d better tell me about it,’ Benton said.
Houlder told him, leaning across the table and keeping his voice low, though there was no evidence that anyone was listening except Benton. When he had heard what Houlder had to say Benton thought it was indeed dicey; but perhaps no more so than the average job; there were always risks. And if they were successful there ought to be at least enough in his share of the take to pay off that feed merchant’s bill which was giving Jean Mace so much worry.
When Houlder had finished outlining his plan he sat back and looked at Benton questioningly. Benton was silent, thinking about it. He wondered what Jean would have said if she could have heard what Houlder was proposing. Would she have urged him not to touch it? Probably. She had voiced her anxiety regarding the possibility that he might be going to do something dangerous, and there was certainly an element of danger in this. But that had to be accepted, since there was no way he knew of picking up two thousand pounds without a certain amount of risk.
‘So,’ Houlder said at last, ‘are you in or are you out?’
‘In,’ Benton said.
He went to Jackie Fulton’s flat after leaving Houlder. She was not there, but he still had a key to the door and he let himself in and dumped his suitcase. The place was more of a mess than it had been when he had left it. In the bedroom Jackie’s clothes were lying around everywhere and the bed had not been made. In the bathroom some stockings and briefs were hanging up to dry and there was a lot of dirty crockery in the kitchen sink.
He rolled up his sleeves and washed the dishes and cutlery, and then went back to the bedroom and made the bed. The room was stuffy and heavy with Jackie’s unmistakable scent, so that he felt a curious sense of her presence even though she was not there. He opened a window to let in some fresh air, but at that it was nothing like as fresh as the kind he had been breathing recently.
She walked in as he was brewing a pot of tea.
‘Oh,’ she said, ‘it’s you.’
It was not exactly a rapturous welcome, but maybe she was feeling tired; she had apparently been shopping, for she was carrying a couple of polythene bags and one of them had the name of a West End fashion house on it, so it looked as though she had been buying clothes. Benton wondered whether she was still using the money he had given her or whether she had found a fresh source of supply.
He gave her a kiss because it was what she would be expecting and if he had not done so she would certainly have wanted to know the reason why.
‘When did you get back?’ she asked.
‘I arrived in London this morning. I went to see Eddie and then Gus.’
‘Why?’
‘I wanted to know how things stood.’
‘It didn’t occur to you to come here first, I suppose?’
‘If I’d done that I’d have had to go out again. And anyway you weren’t here.’
‘You didn’t know that.’
‘Let’s not start an argument,’ Benton said. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’
‘I’m dying for one.’ She looked at the sink. ‘So you washed up.’
‘It was something to pass the time. I made the bed as well.’
‘You’re a great one for housework, aren’t you?’
Benton poured the tea and they went into the living-room. Again he thought of Jean and wondered what her reaction would have been if she could have seen him at that moment. He had never told her about Jackie, and he had an odd feeling of guilt, as though the mere act of returning to this flat were a kind of betrayal. Yet where else could he have gone? He could not have afforded to put up at an hotel; and anyway it would not have been a suitable base to use for his proposed activities. This had been the logical place to come to.
‘Did you enjoy your holiday?’ Jackie asked, with mild sarcasm.
‘If that’s what you call it.’
‘How else would you describe it?’
‘I don’t know. It was a change, anyway.’ And the devil of a lot more of a change than he would ever have dreamed about. But he did not tell her that. ‘How have you been managing?’
‘I’ve been scared,’ she said. ‘All the time I’ve been expecting to hear a knock on the door and a voice on the other side shouting: “Police! Open up!” ’
‘You don’t need to worry. They’ve got nothing to go on.’
‘How can you be so sure of that?’
‘If they had they’d have been here before now. They’d have picked up Eddie and Gus and Dob; but they haven’t.’
She seemed only half convinced, and he was not entirely convinced himself. The investigation would certainly not have been abandoned yet, even though it had dropped out of the news. So maybe she had some reason to be scared.
That night she was very loving. ‘I’m glad you’re back, Tom. I’ve missed you a lot. Promise you’ll never go away again without taking me.’
‘I can’t promise that,’ he said. ‘Something might come up to make it necessary. We can’t see into the future.’
She was not at all satisfied with this answer, and he was not particularly satisfied with it himself. It was an avoidance of the truth, which was that he would leave her again as soon as he damn well could; just as soon as he had the money to take to that other woman who had come into his life, leaving no more room for Jackie. He felt that he was cheating her; and cheating Jean also if it came to the point. But what else could he do? If he told her the truth there would be such an almighty row that it might wreck everything.
He guessed that she had a suspicion that all was not quite as it should have been. His response to her ardour was not what she would have wished it to be, and his professions of love lacked conviction. He was saying the words and going through the motions, but it was all a sham.
She pushed him away from her. ‘What’s wrong with you?’
‘Nothing’s wrong with me,’ he said. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’m talking about you. You’ve changed. Something’s happened, hasn’t it?’
‘Nothing’s happened. I’ve had a long day and I’m tired, that’s all. People do get tired, you know.’
‘Don’t give me that crap,’ she said. ‘Tired! What are you? An old man?’
‘Sometimes I feel like one.’
‘And sometimes you sure as hell act like one.’
It was not, he reflected, the happiest of homecomings.
If you could call this home.
10
Bitter Farewell
Houlder and Dobie had carried out some reconnaissance at the site of the proposed operation. It was a supermarket in a mainly residential district and had only recently been opened. The shopping part was a large single-storey building, and there was another smaller structure which housed the offices and staff canteen. Separating the two was a paved yard where delivery vehicles could draw in for unloading. On the forecourt in front of the larger building was the customers’ car park, and there was a road running past, with a filling-station some fifty yards further along.
‘It hasn’t been on the go for very long,’ Houlder told Benton. ‘But it’s doing a lot of business by the look of things. Must take thousands in the course of a day.’
Houlder’s plan, worked out in consultation with Dobie, was simple in the extreme. The two of them had discovered, partly from observation and partly by a bit of chat with one of the assistants, that when the place closed down in the evening money was collected from the various cash-registers and carried by two men across the yard to the office building. There it was apparently stowed away in a safe before being banked the next day.
‘All we have to do,’ Houlder said, ‘is nip in, grab the loot and scarper.’
‘Isn’t there a gate or anything on the yard?’ Benton asked. It sounded just a bit too simple. There had to be a snag.
‘There’s a gate,’ Houlder said, ‘but they don’t close up till later. There’s still cars and lorries goin
g in and out.’
‘So there’ll be people around?’
‘Maybe one or two. But we’ll have our shooters and they’ll be scared to do anything. The whole thing’ll only take a minute, and Dob’ll be waiting in the car with the engine running.’
Benton was not sure he liked the sound of it; any plan that Houlder thought up was likely to have flaws in it. Eddie Sangster had been the real brain of the outfit, and he thought of asking his opinion but decided not to. What good would it do? He wanted the money and he wanted it quickly. This was the only likely way of getting it.
In the event his qualms proved to be only too well founded; the operation turned out to be a disaster.
It began well enough. They sat in the car, a BMW which had been stolen the previous day and fitted with false number plates, keeping watch on the gateway. Then, as soon as the men came out from the bigger building and started to walk across the yard with the leather bags containing the cash, Houlder and Benton jumped out of the car and ran to intercept them. They were wearing balaclavas and Houlder was carrying the sawn-off shotgun and Benton had his Beretta pistol.
They seemed to be in luck; there was no one in the yard apart from the men with the bags. Houlder and Benton got to them before they were halfway across the yard.
‘Give us,’ Houlder said; and he jabbed the muzzle of the shotgun into the ribs of one of the men.
Benton showed the other one his pistol, and it was enough; neither of the men had any wish to be heroes of the posthumous variety; they looked petrified with terror and handed over the leather money-bags without a murmur.
But then there was an unforeseen interruption. Unnoticed by either Houlder or Benton, there had been a man at the back of a lorry parked on the concrete away to the right, and this man was one of the reckless kind who believed in having a go, no matter what. He had probably been doing some work on the vehicle, for he had a wrench in his hand, and the first indication Benton had of his presence was a blow on the back of the neck from the wrench which knocked him to the ground.
He was still lying there when he heard the crack of the shotgun, and he was not too stunned to realise that Eddie had done it again.
Dishonour Among Thieves Page 9
