Justice at Christmas

by M A Comley

  He exited his old car, the Sherman tank, Lorne called it, and made his way into the office at the front of the property. “I’ve got an appointment, with Mr. Tartt.”

  The stereotypical busty blonde sitting behind the desk smiled at him and motioned for him to take a seat. She left her chair and walked through the door behind her, reappearing a few seconds later with a tall muscular man by her side.

  The man came towards him, Pete rose from his chair and extended his hand. The thug looked at his outstretched hand with disdain.

  “Come with me,” he mumbled.

  Pete followed the hulking brute through to Tartt’s office. Tartt didn’t look up from the paperwork he was dealing with until Pete was standing directly in front of him. “Sit down.”

  He dropped into the chair behind him. The brute positioned himself close to Pete’s shoulder. Crap, back off, buddy! I ain’t gonna cause any ag.

  “So Beaumont’s chickened out, has he?” Tartt asked, his lip curling at the side.

  “Case of having to, he’s got a busted leg. No point you having a hopping Santa around the joint, so he suggested I fill in for him. I could do with some extra notes over the festive period.”

  “Don’t go counting your chickens just yet. You’ve gotta pass an initiation test first.”

  Pete swallowed down the bile that had risen in his throat. Shit, the little bugger never said anything about no test. “Yeah, Beaumont said you’d probably expect that.”

  Tartt smirked. “So you wouldn’t object then?”

  “It is what it is. You need to know I’m genuine, I appreciate that. What do you want me to do?”

  Tartt rested his chin on his hand and contemplated what to say next. “Okay, I need you to rob a bank for me.”

  Pete realised the guy was waiting for a reaction from him. “Just tell me where and when.”

  Tartt grinned. “You’ve passed. As if I’d be foolish to ask an unknown to do something like that. Time’s money. When can you start?”

  “That was easy. Well, Beaumont gave me his outfit so whenever you want me to.”

  “Okay, why don’t you start tomorrow, get a feel for what’s expected of you. One last question.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Are you up for earning a bit of extra cash?” Tartt’s eyes narrowed.

  “Depends what’s involved. I’ve got huge debts to cover from when my misses walked out on me, so yeah, I’m tempted.”

  “Let’s see how you do tomorrow and go from there.”

  Pete stood up and held his hand out for Tartt to shake, who ignored him and got back to his paperwork. Pete was escorted out of the office by the brute.

  “Don’t let the boss down or you’ll have me to deal with, got that?”

  “Sure. I know the score. Beaumont made it perfectly clear. I’m only here for the extra bucks, man.”

  He jumped in his car under the gaze of the other man and started the engine. Once he was out of the yard, he let out a huge breath. “Shit! Did you get that?”

  “We did. Get your arse back here and we’ll discuss it then, Pete,” Lorne’s voice filled his ear.

  ~

  Lorne could sense Pete’s fear once he’d notified her that he was on his way back to base. She felt for her partner, but it was too late to alter things now.

  Pete arrived fifteen minutes later. His cheeks had drained of all colour. “Bloody hell. Just being in the same room as those guys, I was bloody crapping myself, and when he mentioned he wanted me to rob a bank I almost had a damn heart attack.”

  “You’ll be fine, Pete. We’ll be with you all the way. Now we have an idea of the type of guys we’re dealing with, I’m going to call an ART unit and put them on standby. Tartt didn’t give you any indication of when the big job is going down, did he?”

  “Nope. I got the impression he wasn’t willing to say too much, what with me being the new boy. Maybe that’ll change tomorrow when I show up for my first job. Can’t say I’m looking forward to this, boss.”

  “I know. Joking aside, I really appreciate you going out on a limb for us. No arguments, you’re coming home with me tonight. A good home-cooked meal and a night in front of the TV, watching footie will help you relax.”

  “Thanks, you better check with Tom about that first.”

  “He’ll be fine. I’ll ring him now.” Lorne went through to her office and picked up the phone. “Hi, Tom, it’s me.”

  “Don’t bloody tell me, you’re going to be late again tonight.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Is it all right if I bring a guest home for dinner tonight?”

  “Guest? Like who?”

  “Your old mate, Pete. I’ll explain later. What’s on the menu this evening?”

  “Depends, what are you cooking?”

  Lorne’s mouth twisted. Idiot, don’t bloody start another argument. “No problem, I’ll pick up a takeaway on the way home. Fish and chips do?”

  “As if I’d let Charlie eat takeaways every night. I’ll cook a damn meal like I always do, for our child’s benefit.”

  “That’s really kind of you. I’ll tell Pete you’re looking forward to catching up over a beer and the game.”

  “You do that.”

  Tom slammed the phone down before she could say goodbye. Boy, what have I ever done to deserve a miserable git like that sharing my bed.

  On the way home, Lorne called into the off licence and picked up a four pack of beers to appease her husband. “Here, make out they’re from you,” she said, throwing the cans into her partner’s lap.

  “Is he still making your life a misery? Are you sure I’m not imposing?”

  “Yes, but it’ll be great having someone else around. It might even prevent him from picking a fight for a few hours.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, why don’t you two call it quits?”

  “Let’s say the thought has crossed my mind, Pete. Maybe we’re sticking together for Charlie’s sake.”

  “You know that ain’t the answer, right?”

  “I know and I love you for trying to help. Do me a favour and just treat Tom the way you always do when we get home, okay?”

  “It’ll be tough but whatever you say for a peaceful life. Makes me appreciate being single when I hear what crap you have to deal with all the time.”

  Lorne tapped his knee. “Now you understand why I never quibble about staying on late at work.”

  Tom was in the kitchen when they walked through the front door. He hugged Pete but basically ignored Lorne. She went upstairs to see Charlie, who was lying flat on her stomach on the bed poring over her homework. “Hey you, what are you up to?”

  “Boring geography. Is dinner nearly ready?”

  “My least favourite subject at school too. Yes, it’s almost time for dinner, we have a guest.”

  “I’m surprised you can remember that far back,” the thirteen-year-old stated sarcastically. “Guest? Who is it?”

  Lorne ruffled Charlie’s hair. “Why don’t you come downstairs and say hello.”

  “In a sec. I have a few more paragraphs to write about Chisel Beach first. Give me a hint who it is?”

  Lorne walked to the door. “Nope. You’ll see for yourself soon enough. Don’t forget to wash your hands before dinner.”

  “Mum! What am I, a kid?”

  Lorne chuckled as Henry the border collie followed her downstairs and back into the kitchen. Pete and Tom were discussing football as usual. It was nice to see Tom smiling for a change. She felt guilty for always making Tom miserable. It takes two to tango! She reminded herself, tears pricking her eyes as she laid the table for dinner.

  They heard the thundering feet of Charlie coming down the stairs. “Uncle Pete. It’s been ages since we’ve seen you.”

  Pete hugged the teenager and laughed. “I take it you’ve missed me then. That’s always nice to hear. How’s school?”

  “As mum would say, the proverbial pain in the rear.”

  The three adults lau
ghed.

  “Can you put Henry out in the garden, Charlie?” Lorne requested.

  Tom began dishing up the meal, it smelt delicious considering it hadn’t been created with love, or so he’d led her to believe. The chicken casserole was consumed quickly. Lorne urged the men to go through to the lounge to watch the match. Charlie volunteered to help her clean up in the kitchen.

  “Is uncle Pete, okay, Mum?”

  “Of course. Why do you ask, love?”

  “He seems a little quiet, as though he’s got something major on his mind.”

  Lorne wiped her hands on a tea towel and hooked an arm around Charlie’s shoulders. “You’re getting to be a very astute young lady. He’s fine. Over the next couple of days he’ll have a lot of pressure on him at work. No point asking, it’s a secret mission. I’ll tell you all about it once it’s over.”

  “Aww... spoilsport.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Pete said farewell to Lorne the following day and drove to the warehouse. They had decided it would be best for him not to wear a wire for the day just in case anyone at the warehouse saw it when he was in the process of getting changed into his Santa suit. Tartt was already in the warehouse when Pete arrived, along with six other men. He beckoned Pete towards him and placed an arm around his shoulder.

  “Gents, this is our latest recruit, Pete Childs. Beaumont had to back out at the last minute with a broken leg.” Pete nodded hello to all the men staring at him, then Tartt released his grip and pushed Pete away. He joined the rest of the men as Tartt began dishing out assignments for each of the Santas. “So that’s our aim for today. You’ll all be positioned in Bond Street. Make sure you spread out as we don’t want the cops getting suspicious. You’ve all got your charity identifications. Ensure they’re to hand just in case someone asks to see them. This is the final day you’ll have to do this guys. Tomorrow is the big day. Me and Bruiser will be testing the water out there today, ready for the hit tomorrow. If anyone has got cold feet, speak up now. If not, then I need you to stay vigilant out there today. Keep your eyes and ears open, and report anything you’re unsure about when you return this afternoon. Got that?”

  A few of the men said ‘yes boss’ while the others raised their thumbs. Pete followed their lead and raised his thumb also. “Pete, pair up with Glen over there. He’ll show you the ropes this morning. Then this afternoon you’ll be on your own. You get a lunch break of thirty minutes then it’s back to shaking your bucket under the punters’ noses.”

  “Rightio, boss. I’ve got that.” He watched a younger, skinny man approach him.

  The man extended his hand and Pete shook it. “Nice to meet you, Pete. Stick with me mate and we’ll do our best to rob the punters of their hard-earned dosh.”

  Pete laughed. “Sounds good to me. What do we do about getting to Bond Street?”

  “Don’t worry about that. The boss drops us all off in a van and picks up about six.”

  “Sounds great.” Bloody marvellous! It’s pissing down with rain and I’m expected to stand on a street corner for nine hours solid. I ain’t happy about this, not one iota.

  The group of men piled into the back of the van and Bruiser drove them through the packed streets of London and dropped them at various points along the length of Bond Street. Pete got out of his seat when Glen made a move towards the side door of the van. “This is us, Pete. See ya later, Bruiser.”

  The driver grunted as Pete and Glen hopped out and closed the door behind them. “So, what do we do? I ain’t never done anything like this before. All the Santa jobs I’ve done have involved being in a department store and having screaming kids bouncing up and down on my knee.”

  “That sounds a cushy number to me, mate, compared to this.” Glen dug him in the ribs. “Hey, but the benefits will be worth it after tomorrow.”

  “This job tomorrow, do we know how things are going to go down yet?”

  “Nah, the boss is still working out the finer details. He’ll let us know either tonight or tomorrow. No need to worry about that; he’s great at planning things.”

  “So you’ve been with Tartt for a while then?”

  “On and off for a few years. He treats his men well, comes up with some great ideas too. Who’d have thought about using Santas to rob a jeweller’s, eh?” he said the final part of his sentence quietly in case anyone in the crowd overheard him. “Right, let’s get on with it. Just stay six feet away from me, follow my lead for an hour or so and then move back about twenty feet, okay?”

  “Sure.” Pete copied what Glen did which was basically to shake his bucket in front of the punters as they walked by and shouting ‘ho ho ho’ at the top his voice. I’m going to be hoarse in a few hours at this rate! Any Christmas spirit Pete had in him, which wasn’t much, went south rapidly after the first hour.

  He moved away from Glen and rattled his bucket, but hardly any of the punters parted with their money, at least not for him. Glen appeared to be more proactive, laughing and joking with people. Pete was out of his depth. His conscience wouldn’t allow him to get in the public’s face just to rob them of their well-earned cash. He had a feeling he’d get a bollocking when he returned at the end of the day and already planned on putting some of his own cash in the bucket just to save face.

  By lunchtime he ached all over, from the balls of his feet from standing in the same spot for three and a half hours to his shoulders from the amount of rain his stupid Santa suit had allowed to seep in. Great, only five and a half hours left until the end of the shift. I ain’t gonna effing last!

  Over bacon sandwiches in a nearby greasy café Glen confided in Pete the plans he had for the money from his share of the heist. “I’m going to take the misses abroad. We’re expecting our first kid. She needs the break; she’s had a tough pregnancy.”

  “Shame that you’ve had to resort to this mate, if you’ve got a family to support.”

  “I blame the recession. Been out of work for years and just couldn’t find an employer to take me on. Tartt gave me the option to look after my family and I jumped on it. Sitting at home doing nothing all day ain’t everyone’s cup of tea.”

  Pete was at a loss how to respond. Glen seemed a decent enough chap, just trying to do the best for his family in troubled times.

  Glen slurped his cup of tea and put his cup down. “You know what really pisses me off about this country?”

  “Nope, surprise me.”

  “The way these immigrants are treated better than folks who have paid into the system all these years. How the heck does that work? Hey, don’t get me wrong. If they looked after the women and children first I could deal with that, but you see some of the immigrants they’re giving homes to and you can’t help wondering if all those young fit guys aren’t bloody terrorists in disguise. You tellin’ me they couldn’t stay in their own country and fight for what’s right? I know we’d bloody do it if it came to the crunch.”

  Pete frowned at the man’s logic of fighting the system by turning to crime but chose to keep quiet on the subject. “Yeah, pisses me off too, mate.” He leaned over the table and whispered. “So, has the boss given you any indication how much money we’re gonna make tomorrow?”

  In an equally low voice Glen replied, “He’s talking tens of thousands. Nothing definite but that place is going to be stocked up ready for the Christmas Eve sale they’re running. It’s a no-brainer to me.”

  Pete rubbed his hands together. “Great, it’s about time I exchanged my old banger.”

  “Yeah, I had to laugh when I saw that wreck sitting in the car park this morning.”

  “All right, no need to rub it in. Times have been hard for me lately too since my divorce.”

  “Sorry to hear that, mate. Hey, we better sup up and get back to work.”

  Pete groaned. “Just when I was beginning to dry out a bit.”

  “Stick with it for today, mate. Think of the reward coming your way tomorrow.”

  They trudged up the street back to thei
r patch and remained there for the next four and a half hours, with the sky still black and threatening storm clouds overhead.

  The van picked them up and whisked them back to the warehouse. While nobody was watching, Pete snuck a twenty pound note into the bucket and spent the next five minutes wondering if that was enough.

  Bruiser emptied the buckets one by one onto the desk. The guys applauded all the other men’s effort when it came to show off how much had been raised. Pete’s bucket wasn’t quite as bad as he’d anticipated. The grin on Tartt’s face told Pete that he’d done a good job on his first day.

  “Good haul, men. Get a good night’s kip, and be here at eight thirty sharp in the morning. We’ll run through things with you then.”

  The men left the warehouse, high-fived each other before getting in their vehicles and heading home.

  Pete drove directly to Lorne’s house as arranged. She was looking out the front window when he pulled up.

  “Oh my God, look at the state of you!”

  “Thanks, just what I wanted to hear. Any chance I can grab a quick bath, I ache all over and I’ve only got a shower back at my gaff.”

  “Sure. I’ll run one for you. You can tell me all about your day.”

  “You ain’t coming in the bathroom with me. I’m drawing the line at that, boss.”

  Lorne tutted. “Leave the door open and I’ll sit outside on the landing. I’m dying to hear how it went.”

  Tom appeared behind her. “One more for dinner I take it. It would have been nice if someone had informed me.”

  Lorne rolled her eyes at Pete. “I’ll knock Pete up one of my omelettes.”

  “That’ll be great, no need to put yourself out for me, Tom,” Pete assured him.

  Tom huffed out a sigh and went back into the lounge while Pete and Lorne trudged up the stairs.

  “Sorry you’ve had a pig of a day, Pete.”

  “Hopefully it’ll be worth it,” he said, watching as Lorne filled the bath with some of her lavender bubble bath and left the bathroom, returning with a fluffy white bath sheet. “God, now you’re spoiling me.”