Blaggers

by Echo Freer

  When the group had dispersed, Mercedes wriggled to try and regain some feeling in her legs and bum. She heard the door shut at the other end of the lock- up but the lights were still on and she could hear muffled voices. She checked her watch. It was five thirty. Just enough time to call Zak to pick her up, go home, get changed, have something to eat and be at Frankie’s to babysit at eight o’clock. Perfect. She rolled her neck and stretched her arms as she thought of all the things she needed to put into action now that she knew exactly how the robbery was going to take place. All she needed was the last of the gang to go home so that she could get on with her plan. She began to push her feet into her trainers ready to leave, when Frankie’s voice sounded from just the other side of the tyres.

  ‘There’s something I didn’t mention to the lads,’ she heard him say, although she wasn’t sure to whom. ‘We’ve got a grass.’

  There was a murmur of unrest. Frankie lowered his voice so that she could only just make out what he was saying.

  ‘Someone’s stitched us up with Spinks and ’e intends to do us over once we’ve done the dirty work. We been had - hook, line and flamin’ sinker.’

  The gruff voice of Uncle Horace sounded. ‘Any ideas?’

  ‘Well, my money’s on Kev. He’s a cocky little pilchard with an eye for the main chance so that’s why I’m going to leave him out of it.’

  ‘You’re not still going ahead, are you?’ Chubby asked.

  ‘Course! Gone too far down the line to call it off now, so that means you’re back in as number two driver, Chubbs - only I want you parked in King Street. We’ll need another motor though.’

  ‘Cheers, bruv. What sort?’ Chubby sounded enthusiastic.

  Frankie hesitated. ‘ ’Orace will sort that. All right, ’Orace?’

  ‘No problems. I fancy a day in Brighton tomorrow.’

  ‘Good.’

  Mercedes wished they would just clear off and let her get out of there. Why couldn’t they have this discussion at home? Frankie threw down his cigarette end and Mercedes watched in alarm as the glowing butt rolled towards where she was concealed. It rocked to a halt next to a puddle of oil that was only inches from the edge of the tarpaulin. If that went up, she stood as much chance of getting out of there as yesterday’s hog roast did of foraging in a field again. Her eyes widened in terror. If only she could stretch her foot out and step on it - but it was too risky. Another train went overhead and between the clunking of the metal wheels she could just make out the sound of footsteps diminishing. Quickly, she reached forwards and stubbed out the smouldering remains of her brother’s bad habit. When this was all over, that was something else she was going to speak to him about.

  ‘Cheers then,’ she heard Frankie say from the other end of the lock-up. The door was obviously open because she could hear the rain pelting on to the road outside. She heard muffled voices then Frankie responded. ‘Nah! I’ve got paperwork to do here. I’ll see you down the club later.’ The metal door swung shut.

  That was all she needed: just as she’d been hoping to make her escape, Frankie had decided to stay. From her position behind the tyres she watched him go into the office. He picked up the phone then sat on one corner of the desk.

  ‘All right, darling?’ she heard him ask. She’d give fifty to one it wasn’t Cheryl on the other end.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Mercedes checked her watch; he’d been on the phone for almost an hour. It was already half past six and she needed to get out of there. Frankie changed his position on the desk so that his back was to the main area and she decided to take her chance. Shuffling backwards along the tunnel of tyres she made her way to the far side of the lock-up. There was a tight gap between the tyres and the wall but she reckoned she could just about get through. Then, if she was careful, she could make a dash for the cover of the cars. After that it wasn’t far to the door, provided she didn’t make a noise and attract his attention. She sent Zak a text to tell him to be outside in ten minutes.

  Already here came the reply. R U OK?

  Frankie on phone. Can’t get out.

  Don’t do anything. Wait there he instructed.

  Mercedes crouched down behind the BMW and folded her arms. Now what was he going to do? Much as she liked Zak, she wished he’d stick to the investment side of banking and leave this to her.

  Zak’s shirt stuck to his skin as the rain continued to lash the streets of Leyton. He’d been parked in a side street all afternoon and had witnessed the majority of the men leaving. Now he was standing outside the lock-up, getting worried. He needed to get Mercedes home for her babysitting appointment, and the last person he’d wanted to be between him and his goal was her psycho-nutter brother. Somehow, he had to draw him out of there. And the means of doing that was right next to him; Frankie’s black Carrera 911. He remembered an occasion some years ago; his normally passive father had erupted with rage when a lorry scraped the side of his brand new car. His mother had shaken her head and sighed, ‘The way to a man’s anger is through his pride.’ So, that was what Zak was going to do; prey on Frankie’s weakness and threaten his pride and joy. He sent Mercedes another text:

  As soon as F leaves run 2 Lea Brdg Rd. Mt me @ Baker’s Arms in 5 mins.

  Zak didn’t want to damage the vehicle, he had too much admiration for the car to do that, but he wanted Frankie to think he was damaging it. So, gathering up an assortment of plastic bottles and crisp packets from the bin outside a nearby newsagent’s, he placed them in a mound on the bonnet of the Porsche. When everything was in place, he put his foot against the wheel and gave it a hefty kick, setting off the alarm. Within seconds Frankie appeared at the door of the lock-up and the alarm bleeped off. Zak, standing far enough away to be seen but not identified, ran off conspicuously.

  ‘Come ’ere you little toe-rag!’ Frankie shouted, heading after him in the opposite direction from Lea Bridge Road.

  Zak knew there’d been a reason why he’d been in the school athletic squad. He ran for all he was worth then turned into one of the residential side streets that was lined with terrace houses. The storm had darkened the July evening prematurely and most houses had their lights on. Choosing one that was in darkness, Zak vaulted the hedge and crouched down in the front garden until Frankie, realising that he’d lost sight of this quarry, swore loudly before kicking over a dustbin in disgust and heading back toward the lock-up. Zak gave an almost imperceptible punch of satisfaction; His plan had worked - well, at least his part of it had. He only hoped Mercedes had got out when she’d had the chance.

  Five minutes later he pulled up outside the Baker’s Arms, leaned across and opened the passenger door. God, she was beautiful! Mercedes slipped into the car and, tossing her wet hair out of her face, she smiled at him.

  Zak pushed the car into gear and returned her smile. ‘So, are we a team? Or are we a team?’

  She looked across at him and appeared to give the question some thought. ‘OK,’ she agreed. ‘On one condition though - for the rest of this game, I’m the captain.’ She checked her watch. ‘And, we’d better get a move on because we’re playing again in just over an hour.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Mercedes smiled. ‘Don’t worry though; this time won’t be as dangerous.’

  Zak eyed her dubiously.

  ‘We’re going to break into my brother’s study so, as his neighbour, you’ll be practically playing on home turf!’

  Twelve

  Jenny could hardly contain her excitement. She’d been all set for a boring Sunday evening sitting in front of a documentary on the meerkats of the Kalahari with her father tutting over the state of the world from behind his Sunday papers on one side while her mother clicked over her knitting needles at the other, when her mobile had flashed up with a message.

  Zak pickin U up @ 8. Goin to F’s to suss out w
ots happnin. C U there. M xx

  She’d lost no time in texting Donovan.

  Fancy babysitn 2nite? B ready @ 8.05.

  As eight o’clock approached, Jenny gave little thought to the original message from Mercedes but was focusing all her anticipation on the one she’d sent Donovan. This would be the second time in two days that she’d seen him and she was hopping up and down by the window like a hedgehog on hot tarmac.

  ‘When are we going to meet this young man, Jennifer?’ her mother said from behind a pattern for an Arran cardigan.

  ‘Erm,’ Jenny hesitated, as the word ‘never ’ struggled to be voiced. ‘Oh, he’s very shy,’ she said, crossing her fingers behind her back.

  There was the honk of a car horn and Jenny ran out of the house and down the path before her mother could finish her stitch. But, any plans she’d been making for a cosy evening as a foursome were dashed when she saw En Min sitting in the passenger seat.

  ‘Oh - hi, En,’ she said through a forced smile. ‘What’re you doing here?’

  En Min shrugged. ‘Your guess is as good as mine. I just got a weird call from Mercedes telling me she needed my help.’

  Jenny was put out. Mercedes hadn’t said anything about needing her help.

  ‘So did I,’ she said. ‘Exciting, isn’t it?’ Then before En Min could reply, she turned to Zak. ‘I said we’d pick Donovan up on the way. Is that OK?’

  Zak hesitated. ‘Fine by me - does Mercedes know?’

  ‘She’s cool,’ Jenny hedged, crossing her fingers once again.

  However, when they arrived at the house in St Drogo’s Avenue, it was apparent to everyone that Mercedes was anything but cool about Donovan’s presence.

  The second they stepped over the threshold, Jenny found herself being dragged the length of the galleried hall and into Cheryl’s kitchen.

  Mercedes folded her arms and addressed her in a harsh whisper. ‘Why the hell have you brought him, Jen?’

  Jenny was put out. ‘Well, Zak’s here, isn’t he?’ she offered by way of explanation.

  Mercedes frowned as though she was trying to follow the logic behind Jenny’s statement. ‘So? This isn’t a date, you know? We’re here to do a job tonight, Jen. You’re my lookout in case the kids wake up or Frankie comes home early. I need you to be focused.’

  ‘I will be focused,’ Jenny said, gazing over Mercedes’ shoulder and giving a little wave to Donovan who was in the hall with the others.

  ‘I can’t afford for you two to go off for a snogging session on the settee while we’re in the study. You have to stay alert.’

  Jenny gave a sigh of irritation. She didn’t know what had got into Mercedes recently. She’d never really been one for the dramatic but she was beefing this up like some West End production. ‘Er, hello! This is your brother, you know, not the Wanstead Mafia.’

  Mercedes rubbed her forehead in frustration. ‘This is serious, Jen. Frankie might not be in the Mafia but this is hardly Little League, either.’ Jenny raised her eyes skyward as though doubting the statement. ‘You know we heard those guys in the caff talking about Nick the Bubble?’

  Jenny nodded.

  ‘Well he’s an arms dealer!’

  Jenny peered into the hall and smiled at Donovan. ‘What sort of arms dealer?’ she asked, distractedly.

  Mercedes slapped the heel of her hand against her forehead, exasperated. ‘What do you mean, what sort of arms dealer? How many sorts are there? We’re not talking prosthetic limbs, you know!’

  Jenny drew her attention back to her friend and stared at her blankly. Then, as the full realisation of what had been said registered, her eyes widened in horror. ‘Oh my god! You don’t mean guns?’

  Mercedes sighed. ‘No, Jen; they’re going to rush into the bank with false fingers blazing. Of course I mean guns!’

  Jenny felt the colour drain from her face. ‘I don’t believe this! This is awful! This is terrible!’ She looked at her friend mutinously. ‘How could you get me involved in this?’

  Mercedes tried to reassure her. ‘It’ll be OK as long as we keep our heads.’

  ‘Yeah, well - with guns flying around, that’s going to be easier said than done,’ Jenny replied, sarcastically. ‘Do the others know?’

  ‘Only Zak.’

  The knowledge that she had been chosen to be privy to the information above En Min went a small way towards mollifying her - but only a small way. Jenny was annoyed and scared and there was only one sensible thing to do - they had to get out. They should go home and forget the conversations they’d overheard. They should just pretend that none of it had ever happened and that everything was back to normal.

  Mercedes tried to placate her. ‘It’s not as bad as it sounds - they’ve got guns but no bullets apparently.’

  ‘Oh, well that makes all the difference!’ This was not what Jenny had had in mind when she’d invited Donovan to babysit with her tonight. She cast another glance out into the hall - he was so gorgeous and it might be a whole week before she had the chance to see him again. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to talk sense into Mercedes and salvage something of the evening, after all.

  ‘Look,’ she suggested, ‘I’ve had a brilliant idea, why don’t we just call the whole thing off and spend a nice evening together? The five of us - and maybe Zak can get someone round here for En Min?’ she said lightly, as though raising her voice half an octave would make the idea more appealing. ‘Then we’ll just go home and they can get on with their robbery. Or,’ she beamed as a thought struck her, ‘maybe that wasn’t even what they were talking about... maybe we’ve just imagined...’

  Mercedes sighed. ‘If you want to go home, Jen, you can do, but it’s too late for me. There’s no going back.’

  Their conversation was interrupted by Zak. ‘Everything OK here?’

  ‘No,’ Jenny said, in a voice that sounded more like her parents’ budgie than her own.

  ‘Yes, I’m just coming,’ Mercedes replied.

  Zak walked over to the sink and picked up the opened bottle of red wine that was on the worktop. Jenny couldn’t believe he was so calm when he knew about the guns. And now, it seemed, he was about to start helping himself to a master criminal’s alcohol supply! Had he and Mercedes suddenly developed a death wish? Maybe they’d agreed on one of those suicide pacts and they’d decided to drag Jenny along for the ride.

  ‘Zak!’ she warned. ‘Put it down.’

  ‘Interesting,’ he said, holding out the bottle towards the girls as though he were a wine waiter. ‘Would Mademoiselle care to sample Château No-label. A very good vintage I’m told.’ He chuckled and spoke to Mercedes. ‘So your brother doesn’t limit his robberies to banks then?’

  Mercedes shook her head and frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  Zak put down the bottle and took another from the wine rack. ‘Look,’ he said.

  ‘I’m looking.’ Mercedes was obviously perplexed.

  Zak took down another and held it out to her. ‘Doesn’t it strike you as a bit odd?’

  Jenny was as puzzled as her friend. So, Mercedes’ brother and his wife liked to drink wine; didn’t most people these days? She knew her own parents referred to it as ‘the devil’s liquor ’ but then, her parents were so old fashioned they thought Windows 2000 was a double glazing catalogue.

  ‘What are you on about?’ Mercedes said.

  Zak replaced the bottles in the rack and then planted a kiss on Mercedes’ head. ‘It means they’re dodgy: nicked, half inched, illicit, contraband - whatever you want to call it,’ he explained gently. ‘Why else would they have had their labels soaked off?’

  Jenny was astounded. Mercedes looked none too pleased either. Her face set.

  She turned to Jenny. ‘You see, Jen; this is why it has to stop. For as long as I can remember my family have been d
rinking wines and spirits without labels and I’d never even questioned it before.’

  Jenny suddenly felt overwhelming sympathy for her friend. What else in Mercedes’ life was of dubious origin, she wondered? The clothes she herself had so often been lent? The beautiful home that she coveted; their cars; even Mercedes’ school fees - were they all the results of her family’s sticky-fingered lifestyle? Was there anything about her, (other than her friends, of course) that wasn’t tainted?

  ‘Hey, you don’t suppose that Tiffany necklace that your brother gave y-’ she began.

  ‘Don’t even go there, Jen,’ Mercedes sighed. ‘I’ve already decided the odds of it being stolen are at least eleven to four. So, are you in or are you out?’

  Jenny went across and put her arms round her friend and hugged her. ‘I’m in.’

  ‘Right!’ Mercedes said. ‘We’ve wasted enough time. Come on.’

  She positioned Jenny and Donovan at the foot of the stairs from where they could see both the front door and the study on the ground floor yet were also within sight of the children’s rooms on the landing. The slightest sign of movement and Mercedes wanted them primed to alert the others.

  Donovan put his arm round Jenny’s shoulder and shrugged. ‘I’d always thought of myself as a bit of an Action Man but I suppose lookout is cool.’

  ‘Oh, lookout is very cool,’ Jenny agreed, snuggling up to him.

  ‘Jen? Focus!’ Mercedes sighed. ‘The back door’s unlocked - just in case Frankie or Cheryl come home early and any of us need to make a hasty exit. Now, let’s get on.’