by Jack Probyn
‘Like you wouldn’t believe. Who knew there was this much admin in being seconded?’
Jake flashed a grin, as if he knew what she was talking about. If there was a leader board of first day impressions, he was sure she was making a better one than him. Purely for the fact that she was over a day early for her first shift.
He had some climbing to do.
CHAPTER 5
DRAWING BLANKS
The still summer air, thick with endorphins and memories of holidays and happier times, swathed the streets of Guildford. Residents dressed in floral dresses, tank tops, shorts, and those brave enough to break the social boundaries of going topless – mostly the men – wandered up the cobbled high street. A wave of heat slapped Jake in the face as soon as he stepped out of Pemberton’s car. She had driven himself, Bridger and Danika into the centre of town for a morning drink at a local cafe. According to Bridger, it was the team’s regular haunt, and they each took it in turns to get a round in, like it was a daytime version of a trip to the pub. Jake was pleased to learn it wasn’t his turn to buy a round – that gauntlet would be passed to him in a couple of weeks, soon after he’d settled in.
The cafe was called The Coffee Company and was situated down Angel Street, a small avenue barely wide enough for two people, let alone four. Entrance into Angel Street was through an archway, and the entire stretch of cobbled stones was sandwiched between two tall buildings that shaded it completely, long strips of wood climbing the walls like it was part of a K’nex structure. Jake was grateful for the protection from the blistering elements. It was only 8:40 a.m. and his back was already as wet as it was when he first stepped out of the shower.
‘What’re you having?’ Pemberton asked as they made their way to the counter.
‘Latte,’ Jake said. And then remembered to add ‘please’ on at the end.
The rest of them ordered, and within a few minutes, the drinks were made. Jake took his from Pemberton and, following Bridger’s orders, found a seat outside. A gentle breeze rustled through the alley, brushing against Jake’s hand and face, and he shivered slightly as his sweat cooled. Danika, Pemberton and Bridger joined a few seconds later.
‘Thanks for this,’ Jake said, feeling obliged. ‘You didn’t have to.’
‘Oh, please,’ Pemberton said. ‘It’s no bother at all. I just hope you’re prepared to jump into the deep end.’
Jake took a sip. The liquid scalded his lip and tongue, but he covered it well with a lick of his lips. It was like he was drinking from the sun.
Bridger cleared his throat, announcing he wanted to speak. ‘So what sort of experience have you two got?’
Jake and Danika glanced at one another. She was in the middle of drinking, so he opted to respond. ‘A couple of years on the beat, and about six months working in CID at Croydon.’
‘You’ll fit right in,’ Bridger replied.
‘That’s what I said,’ Pemberton added as she wiped the sides of her mouth clean.
Jake relaxed a little. The more he spent time with them, the more he realised he had less to worry about. Everything was going to be fine. Beside him, Bridger removed the safety sleeve from the cup and ripped small slits into the top of it before setting it down on the table. Jake observed him, oblivious to the conversation going on around him – that was exactly what his dad used to do.
‘Thanks for sorting that out so quickly, Danika,’ someone said as he gradually came to, joining them at the end of the conversation.
Danika blushed slightly and shook her head. ‘That’s no problem at all. Honestly, I was happy to do it.’
Jake didn’t know what they were talking about, but whatever it was, it sounded like the gap between them on the leader board had distanced even further.
A few minutes later, after Danika and Pemberton had both finished their drink, Bridger checked his watch and suggested they leave. Noticing they were wearing the same timepiece – a G-Shock – Jake downed the last of his coffee, grimaced as the bitter taste blasted his tastebuds and placed the disposable cup in the bin.
The four of them left the privacy of the alleyway and burst into the sun. As they wandered down the street, Jake minding his ankles on the cobbles, he observed those around him. The retail workers rushing to get to work on time; the Royal Mail postman lugging his bag of letters and parcels over his shoulder; the labourers getting their things together for their latest project. And then there was them: four individuals dressed smartly. For all anyone else knew, they could be anyone and anything. In the short space of time he’d been training as a detective constable, Jake had learnt he adored the anonymity of wearing the suit. It covered him in the guise of being someone completely different and came with the added bonus of allowing him to get closer to unsuspecting criminals.
They reached the bottom of the high street where the cobbled road ended and the tarmacked part of the street bent round the corner. In front of him, connecting the tarmac and the cobbles, was a wooden gate. As Jake rounded the gate, heading back to Pemberton’s car, he completely misjudged the black van heading directly towards him. It slammed on its brakes, the nose of the vehicle bowing under the momentum. Only aware of it at the last minute, Jake panicked and skipped out of the way, his heart racing. He raised an apologetic hand in the air, aware that he was in the wrong, but as he started to turn away from the van, something caught his eye. Through the glare of the sun and the reflection of the sky on the windscreen, he thought he recognised the driver and passenger. They looked oddly familiar, as if perhaps he’d already seen them around town in the ten minutes he’d been there.
Before he could dedicate any more thought to it, the van slipped into first and climbed the steady incline up the high street.
Jake hurried over to Pemberton’s car. As he climbed into the back seat, he closed his eyes and attempted to recall the snapshot he’d taken of the driver and passenger.
For the first time in his life, he drew a blank.
CHAPTER 6
BRIDGEWATER JEWELLER’S
Fucking idiot, stepping out like that. Did the man have a death wish? Luke’s hands tightened around the back of Michael and Danny’s synthetic plastic seats as Danny eased his foot on the accelerator and slowly started the steady incline up Guildford High Street. The black Ford Transit rocked and swayed and jolted, knocking Luke off balance.
‘Thought we weren’t supposed to be drawing attention to ourselves?’ he said.
‘I can’t help it when people step in front of me like that. Natural selection,’ Danny replied.
Luke noticed in the rearview mirror a menace behind his brother’s eyes, and he knew exactly what he meant by ‘people like that’. The middle class, the upper class, the wealthy and arrogant suit-wearing city boy who snorted all his money up his nose on the weekdays and shared what little he had left of it with his wife and kids on the weekend. The modern-day family man.
Luke, Michael and Danny detested everything about them.
They were less than thirty seconds away, and a seed of emotion had crept into Luke’s mind. This time, however, he was sure it wasn’t the excitement or adrenaline that usually accompanied him on their heists. It was different. Emotions that he’d never felt before. The adrenaline of a job usually ravaged his body, made him shake, made him smile, made him feel alive. But this time he was filled with worry, regret and a terrible premonition that something was going to go wrong.
And, right behind him, was the reason for it.
The device. It was diabolical. Evil. Vicious. Luke hadn’t even been aware that sort of sinister equipment existed. But it did, thanks to Michael’s research and Danny’s handiwork.
‘You sure this is going to work, Dan?’
Danny veered the car to the left and then came to a stop. They were here. ‘Wouldn’t be doing it if I wasn’t, Lukey. Not flaking out on us now, are ya?’
Too late now, even if he was.
Luke glanced out of the windscreen then checked the dash – 9:03 a.m. A few minutes
behind schedule. By now, all the shops had opened, and small masses of keen shoppers had started to form outside the big chains like Jack Wills, Gant and Topshop. While dog walkers returned home from their early morning stint in the local field or woods.
On their left was Bridgewater Jewellers. Their next hit. Independently owned. Hand-crafted jewellery. Made with emotion and love. All that crap.
‘All right, lads,’ Danny said, sliding the handbrake in place, ‘this is it.’
Game time.
Michael leant forward into the footwell, reached inside a gym bag by his feet and produced three masks. Their trademark. The masks were made from latex and depicted the face of the devil. Two large white horns protruded from the top corners of their heads, and a black snake climbed between a set of fangs, exited the mouth and made its way up the cheek, the tongue licking the eyelashes beneath the slits in the mask.
Michael passed them round, and they each took one. Danny donned his then pulled his hood over his head, Michael tucked away what little of his fringe remained, and Luke pulled his full head of hair from his face, snapped the elastic band against the back of his skull and zipped his coat to his neck. They each wore crimson-coloured overalls, covering them from head to toe.
Simultaneously, Michael and Danny jumped out of the car and ran to the rear. A second later, the double doors opened, flooding light into the small space. Through the slits in the mask, Luke blinked away the brightness and restored his vision to normality. By his leg, lying on the floor, was a row of three Mini-Uzis, clamped down by cable ties to keep them in place. Beside them, a Stanley knife. Luke grabbed the knife, severed the ties, and handed them a weapon each. He then loaded the magazine into his clip, aimed down the sights for good measure and hopped out of the van. Shutting the doors behind him, he left the device in the back, ready and waiting to be used for the next part of their operation.
Bridgewater was open, as they’d expected. Danny strolled through, keeping his arm down by his side. Michael followed immediately after, then Luke. Neither of them protested that he’d disrupted the usual working order of things where Michael, with his sheer size, would enter first and intimidate everyone in the vicinity. This was Danny’s heist – he was in charge – and if he was going to break the mould, then so be it.
The inside of the jeweller’s was empty save for two cashiers behind their desks and another who sat in a half-opened booth in discussion with a client.
‘Hands in the air!’ Danny shouted, raising the gun. ‘Now!’
‘Move!’ Luke screamed. ‘Get down on the ground now!’
Danny made a beeline for the two workers standing behind the cash desk on the left-hand side of the room, while Luke rushed to the booth on the opposite side, pointing the gun at a brown-haired woman and a balding man. Luke’s breathing raced and the sound of his heart pounded in his ears, drowning out the screams and shouts surrounding him. All thoughts of fear and guilt had quickly dissipated, as though they had never been there in the first place, and were now replaced with pure, animalistic adrenaline.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ Danny said.
Luke snapped his head towards Danny; one of the employees had her finger hovering over a panic button on the underside of the desk. If Danny’s reactions had been a fraction slower, she would have pressed it and within seconds, their worst fears of being caught would have come true.
‘Put your hands in the air now!’ Danny screamed. ‘Or I’ll blow your fucking face off.’
The woman stared at him defiantly. She was blonde, portly and had a look on her face that Luke knew meant she had an attitude. Luke glanced at the badge on her left breast. Her name was Candice.
In the background, Michael was making his way around the shop, pilfering the contents from the cash register and window displays. Shards of glass splintered into a thousand pieces and rained down on the soft carpet, scattering across the floor. Michael lifted his gym bag to the edge of the cabinet and, with a sweeping motion, slid his bounty into the bag, scattering some to the floor. Watches. Rings. Earrings. Diamonds. Necklaces. Charms. They had everything.
Luke’s gaze danced between his hostages and Danny. Danny still held the gun inches from Candice’s face, but his brother’s arms were shaking. Something wasn’t right. Something was happening that hadn’t been part of the plan.
‘Hey…’ Luke said, snapping his head back to the woman and man in front of him. He switched the gun between them both, left and right like a tennis match.
‘There’s no need to panic, people,’ Danny said, keeping his eyes on Candice. ‘This will only take a short while, and all you need to do is stand still and put your fucking hands in the air.’
Out the corner of his eye, Luke noticed Candice gradually raise her hands and he breathed a sigh of relief. In all their years, in all their heists, they had never fired a shot on a single person. It was a part of their mantra. Though, for a brief moment, Luke thought that had all been about to change.
‘There was nothing difficult about that, was there?’ Danny said through gritted teeth.
Candice spat at him, globules of phlegm landing on his overalls and on the cheek of his mask.
Before anyone could react, Michael shouted, ‘We’ve got everything, now let’s go.’
Nobody said anything. Nobody moved.
Luke’s heart pounded in his chest. By now, his attention was entirely focused on the dynamic between Candice and Danny. He lowered the gun without realising it and grabbed Danny by the shoulder. ‘Come on! We’ve got everything. Let’s get the fuck out of here!’
Danny remained still. The gun had stopped shaking in his grip. ‘She’s coming with us,’ he said calmly.
‘No! You can’t!’ came the cry from the staff member standing beside Candice. She lowered her hands and reached out for the gun, protecting Candice’s face. ‘Please, don’t—’
Before she finished, Danny spun on the spot, pointed the gun at the employee’s head and pulled the trigger. The deafening sound split Luke’s head in two. His body jolted and he blinked, stepping backward as the bullet tore through the woman’s neck and buried itself in the wall at the back of the room. Blood sprayed against the shattered glass and metal stands, sparkling in the fluorescent light overhead. Screams emanated from the booth in the corner of the room, and both the man and woman cowered underneath the table. But Candice did nothing. She remained perfectly still, her face freckled with flecks of the woman’s blood.
Danny groaned, lowered the weapon, grabbed her arm and yanked her towards Luke and Michael. Michael hooked her other arm, and the four of them hurried out of there. As they exited, Candice wriggled and writhed against their grip, but she was no match for them all, so she kicked and screamed, letting her body fall to the ground as if she were a deadweight. Michael stopped, handed Luke his weapon and shoved him away from her. Then he bent down, picked her up and hefted her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
Luke raced to the back of the van, his pulse racing, swung open the doors and held the nearest one open with Danny. Michael bounded over – ignoring the punches that Candice threw into his face as she struggled to break free – bent his legs and launched her into the back of the vehicle, throwing her into the chasm of uncertainty and despair.
As they were about to close the doors, in the street, a middle-aged man with thinning brown hair advanced towards them.
‘Hey! What are you doing?’ he yelled, holding a phone to his ear in one hand and a coffee in the other. ‘I’m calling the police!’
Not another Good Samaritan, Luke thought, and as the man approached them, Danny smacked him in the stomach with the butt of his gun. The man doubled over, dropped the phone and staggered forward; Danny grabbed him by the shirt and launched him into the back of the van to accompany Candice. In the background, a high-pitched scream pierced the air.
‘Roger!’ somebody called.
Panting, breathless, Danny threw the door shut.
Luke stared at him, his eyes wil
d behind the mask.
‘What are you—?’ Luke began.
‘Shut up and get in!’
Luke did as instructed. He climbed into the back of the van with Candice and the Good Samaritan, and pressed his back against the van’s doors, pointing his gun at them both. Less than two seconds later, Danny hopped into the front, started the engine and pulled away just as the sound of sirens filled the high street. The tyres screeched on the cobbles and the van shot off.
They had just robbed hundreds of thousands of pounds’ worth of jewels and diamonds.
They had just kidnapped the woman they needed for the next part of their job.
But there was a problem: they had another hostage with them.
And they were going to have to deal with him one way or another.
CHAPTER 7
TIME TO GO
The journey back to Mount Browne took only seven minutes, traffic permitting. By the time Jake and his lift arrived at HQ, his stomach was growling at him, the weight on his abdomen felt as though it was made of lead and the layer of sweat on his body had doubled. Not to mention his arse had never been so clenched.
Pemberton was the first to enter the Incident Room, followed by Bridger and then himself and Danika. The natural pecking order of things.
As they entered, they were greeted with a flurry of activity. Constables and sergeants hurried from one place to the next, some holding phones to their ears, others carrying folders under their arms as they centred around the Horseshoe at the back of the office. At the head of it all, orchestrating them into action, was DI Mark Murphy.
Pemberton called him over.
‘What’s going on?’ She gestured at the office space, suggesting to Jake this was an unusual circumstance.
‘There’s an armed robbery in progress on Guildford High Street, guv,’ Murphy said, his eyes focusing on Bridger and Pemberton. ‘Bridgewater Jewellers. Reports of gunfire and a potential murder. First responders are already on the scene with paramedics. Scenes of crime officers are pulling in as we speak.’
