Ficathon: Necessary Evil, R/C, 1b/2
Ray stepped over the threshold and looked up into the pale sunlight, trying to act like a man who hadn’t been free for three long years. He looked across to Marty whose smile stretched from ear to ear.
“They your family?” Ray asked, gesturing to two men who had begun to walk towards them.
Marty nodded eagerly and walked over to join them. Ray watched the few others who had been released walk away, but stuck with Marty, knowing that now the acting really had to begin.
The older of the two men threw his arms around Marty and slapped him hard on the back. “Bruv,” he said. “You done well, you done well.”
Marty smiled. “Just did like you told me, kept my head down and passed the time.”
“You got it, lad. Didn’t have any trouble, did you?”
Marty shot a look at Ray who had taken to scuffing his feet in the dirt, trying to listen in on the family reunion without being too obvious about it.
“Just…the other day, Charlie. Three of them…they came to my cell - I mean, mine and Ray’s. I don’t know why, but they said it was something to do with Danny. They were going to…” he gestured out a large smile on his face. “But then Ray came back and he…we fought ‘em.” Marty lifted his shirt up to show Charlie the sticking plaster that was still on his chest.
Charlie nodded slowly. “We’ll find out who it was - they’ll be dealt with. No one messes with the Jackson’s - none of us, right?”
Marty nodded.
Then Charlie turned to Ray. “You looked after him?” he gestured to Marty.
Ray shrugged. “He was me mate, in there you stick together. He ‘adn’t done nothin’ to them. ‘Sides, three on one ain’t fair, right?”
Charlie nodded, then stuck out his hand. “Charlie Jackson, Marty’s eldest brother. I’ll buy you a drink, soon as the pubs open. Until then, join us for breakfast - I presume both of you could do with a proper meal?”
Marty nodded eagerly. He walked back to the car next to the other man, smiling at him and getting a gentle punch on the arm for his trouble.
Ray took the offered hand and shook it firmly. “Ray Miller.”
Ray guessed that the man Marty was now walking with was Eddie - but he couldn’t be sure. There was a family resemblance, and he had always assumed that Danny would be louder, more outgoing. He was sure he’d find out over the next few hours.
“What were you in for?” Charlie asked Ray.
“Armed robbery,” Ray answered. “Some bastard grassed us up, di’n’t they?”
“So you’ve got scores to settle?” Charlie asked, as calmly as if they were talking about the weather.
Ray shook his head. “Reckon it’s been sorted. It weren’t jus’ me he grassed on. I were just one of the boys.”
Charlie nodded in understanding.
“So what are your plans now?” Charlie held open the back door of the car for Ray.
Ray shrugged. “Figured I’d get back ‘ome. Got a few people in Manchester who’ll see me right. Look up some old faces.”
“Manchester, eh?” Charlie nodded slowly.
“Was only down ‘ere for a coupla jobs. An’ then at ‘er majesty’s pleasure. Nowt ‘ere to keep me now,” Ray replied. He hoped that he’d said enough to push Charlie’s thoughts onto the right track, but he was worried that Marty was so quiet - he’d rather hoped the younger man might be a bit more enthusiastic about him.
They drove to a nearby café and sat down. Ray had the few pounds in his pocket that he’d been given on release to buy him a ticket back to Manchester. It was in an envelope along with the address of the probation office that he was supposed to report to. He assumed that Charlie was going to pay for anything anyway. He clearly hadn’t been idle whilst Marty was inside, if the powerful Granada he drove was any indication.
“So you were born and bred in Manchester then?” Charlie asked just as Ray shoved a large forkful of egg and fried bread into his mouth.
Ray nodded. “All me life, ‘til five year ago, when I come down here for a few jobs. Then got banged up for the past three.”
“So you know the place pretty well then?”
Ray tried not to look too eager. “Sure.”
“How would you like to work for me for a while?” Charlie asked.
Ray sat back in his chair. “Doing?”
“Nothing you haven’t done before,” Charlie answered smoothly.
Ray nodded slowly. “Aye. But I ain’t lookin’ to stay down ‘ere forever.”
“I meant in Manchester. I might find it useful to have someone on my side who knows the place. And Marty seems to have taken a shine to you.”
Marty smiled widely. “Really? Charlie? Honestly, if it hadn’t been for Ray - the governor, he would have given us extra days for sure. But Ray stood up to him - I mean, told our side. He’s good - you can trust him, you can.”
Charlie nodded and Ray could see that he was amused by Marty’s child-like enthusiasm. He wasn’t entirely sure if the older man was taken in by it though. He was pretty sure that the offer wasn’t as open as it first seemed. He couldn’t believe that Charlie would let anyone into the gang that easily. Marty reminded him of Chris though, when he was overly enthusiastic about something and he tried not to think of how much he missed the younger man.
“Why’d you want to know Manchester?” Ray asked cautiously. “Seems you’re settled down ‘ere.”
Charlie shrugged and lit a cigarette, pushing the packet toward Ray. “Sometimes one can outstay one’s welcome,” he replied vaguely. “Expansion, let’s say. New feeding ground. There are projects I’ve had my eye on for some time, and which I can’t make work down here. Too many people know our family. But if we moved…there would be potential.”
Ray nodded, not entirely sure he understood the motivations still, but happy that the job was going in the right direction.
During the rest of the day Ray slowly got to know more about Marty and Eddie, who, once Charlie had accepted Ray, began to speak more freely. Charlie though, however much he talked, said very little, and Ray was quite aware that he was under close scrutiny. He tried to play it cool, talking a little about the characters he’d ‘met’ inside - mainly a mix up of people who he’d put inside himself. He knew that he would eventually have to leave the pub and find somewhere to sleep for the night. He’d never put much thought into this part of the plan, but was slowly becoming aware that if he didn’t stick with his new ‘friends’ then he would find himself homeless on the London streets - a prospect which didn’t fill him with joy. He glanced around the pub, wondering if any of the other patrons were from the Met - Brisley had told him that they would keep tabs on him as soon as he was out. He was glad that he didn’t know the faces of the London squad.
The day passed in a haze of alcohol and celebrations - lots of people felt the need to join in the good cheer in each pub they visited and Ray was aware that he was getting further and further into debt to Charlie. He had the feeling he wouldn’t be allowed to forget it either.
He had no idea what time it was - or indeed where they were - when he passed out on a sofa. He just knew the house was big and the bar was well stocked. He guessed it was Charlie’s place, but the last few hours were too hazy to be sure.
There was a noise near him and Ray knew he really needed to be more alert, but his head was pounding. Light suddenly poured into the room, and even through his tightly-closed eyelids it was too bright. He rolled over and buried his face into on of the cushions.
“Miller,” came a gruff greeting.
Ray looked up to see Charlie across the room, doing something behind the large breakfast bar. Deciding it would be rude to ignore the man, Ray pushed himself to sitting, and, once the room had stopped spinning, he stood and made his way carefully toward the kitchen area. He clicked various joints that had stiffened up after a night on the too-soft sofa and wondered if he really was getting too old for all this.
“Here,” Charlie passed him a glass. “Drink it.”
Ray peered into the murky depths of the tumbler. “Wha’ is it?”
“It’ll fix what ails you, my boy,” Charlie smiled, obviously ignoring that fact that Ray was at least the same age as he was.
Ray pulled a face, but he tipped the glass up and swallowed the contents in a few long gulps. It was, if possible, more disgusting than it looked.
“Raw egg, milk, tomato juice and tabasco,” Charlie smiled.
Ray gave a weak smile, handing the glass back. “’S good,” he answered, lying.
Charlie barked out a laugh. “It’s bloody horrible! But it does the job. Now, Ray, we need to talk.”
Ray’s stomach hit the floor as Charlie gestured to the dining table which overlooked a huge lawn.
Once they were seated Charlie leant back and lit a cigarette, once more shoving the pack toward Ray.
“Marty seems to like you - he says good things to me about you.”
Ray nodded.
“He’s a good kid - didn’t deserve to go inside. Mind you, maybe it’s done him some good. He’s tougher now - not as soft as when he went in.”
Charlie puffed out a smoke ring.
“If you want a job, it’s yours. Up north. I have…plans. You might come in useful. Danny’s up there as we speak, things are on the move. But Eddie doesn’t know Manchester like he does London, and he’s our driver. You can help him, and if I need you, you can help me too.”
Ray nodded. “Sure, yeah.”
Charlie leant forward. “But you be sure that if you even sneeze out of line you’re finished. And I don’t just mean with me. When the guy squealed and got Marty into trouble it was the last thing he ever did. Never try to double cross me, never do anything unless I tell you to. Got it?”
There was a cold menace in Charlie’s expression that hadn’t been there the day before. Ray assumed that yesterday had been for celebrating, today was back to business.
“I got it,” he answered.
Charlie nodded once. “I don’t give second chances, remember that.”
Ray swallowed. It was obvious that things were about to become serious.
Chris stared at the case file on his desk, not taking anything in at all. He was missing Ray terribly, and despite everyone making out that the gang had been ready to move straight up to Manchester the moment Ray and Martin had set foot outside the prison gates, it was now three days after their release and there still wasn’t a whisper of anything happening. Chris knew that the Met were keeping tabs on Ray as best they could, but they couldn’t risk getting too close, so the reports the Guv got were sparse, to say the least. Chris knew that Ray was still alive and seemed to be hanging out with the Jackson family, but that was about all. Rumours were flying that Danny hadn’t been seen recently, and that may be the reason for the long wait. Chris didn’t care, he just knew he’d feel safer once Ray was back in their care. He didn’t trust the Met to do a proper job, not when it was his lover in the firing line.
“Found anything, Chris?” Sam asked.
Chris jumped, knocking a biscuit that had been resting by his elbow to the floor. “Boss? Uh, no, sorry Boss, not yet.”
Sam pulled up a chair and sat on it, leaning closer to the younger man.
“He’ll be all right, you know,” he said, knowing exactly where Chris’s thoughts went each time he was daydreaming.
Chris nodded, but looked dejected. “’S just…everyone said they’d be up ‘ere, an’…they ain’t.”
“These things can’t be rushed. You know Ray’s just biding his time - he can’t force the move.”
Chris nodded. “I thought…it’s been ages, since he was made to do this last.” He looked up at Chris from under his fringe and Sam resisted the urge to reach out and give him a pat on the shoulder or something, knowing that Chris probably wouldn’t welcome it.
“I mean, I know it’s always gonna be ‘im, Ray, like, but it don’t make it no easier. An’ now…we’re…’s a hundred times worse.”
Sam nodded. “No one else could have pulled it off though, Chris. Gene’s right, Ray is the only man for the job.”
“Yeah, ‘s what the Super’s always said an’ all.”
Sam frowned at the bitterness in Chris’s tone. “Why? I mean…what has he said?”
Chris looked around, then turned back to Sam. “What’s the worse bit o’ the job, Boss?”
Sam shrugged. “Telling people…breaking it to people that a family member’s been hurt or…killed.”
Chris nodded. “An’ worse ‘n that?” At Sam’s blank look he continued. “Tellin’ someone’s missus, one of our own. Well, Rathbone di’n’t want to be the one to ever ‘ave to break that news, so when Ray come here, wi’ no family, no parents, no missus…he were perfect, weren’t he?”
Sam nodded slowly, understanding what Chris was saying. “But now, the two of you…”
Chris gave a small smile. “But it ain’t like we can tell anyone, is it? If I ever lost ‘im…well, everyone thinks I’m a div anyhow, so mebbe they’d not be shocked if I lost it, but still…’til you come along, I couldn’t even talk to anyone like this…”
“But the Guv knows - I mean, he’s the one who…confirmed my suspicions - I mean, oh, you know,” Sam found it surprisingly hard to admit to Chris that he hadn’t just come out and asked him about his relationship with Ray, but instead had asked Gene.
“He only knows cos him an’ Ray go back years. He’s the Guv, ‘s not like…I couldn’t talk to ‘im about owt, could I?”
Sam gave in and reached over to Chris, squeezing his bony shoulder. “You can always talk to me. And don’t worry, this will soon be over.”
Chris nodded, still looking miserable, and Sam wished he could make a better job of his promise to Ray in the pub. It seemed like weeks ago now, so Sam had no idea how hard Chris must be finding it.
Ray was half-asleep, the rhythmic drumming of the train’s wheels on the track soothing away his worries. All he could think of was that he was on his way back to Manchester and Manchester meant Chris. Of course, he knew he couldn’t actually risk seeing the other man, but still, at least they’d be in the same city once again.
He scratched at the plasters which were still on his arm, holding together the long cut. With any luck it would have healed before Chris could see it and get himself into a state over it.
He cracked open an eye and glanced around the compartment. Eddie was staring out of the window and Marty was fast asleep. The two other men were dozing too. They were hired help, and Ray was getting to know them both. Doug was something of a gentle giant most of the time - it only took one look at him for most people to decide they didn’t want to argue with him. William was a nastier piece of work. Ray knew he carried a knife and didn’t doubt that he would use it, but he was also handy with his fists as Ray had discovered when the three of them had been sent by Charlie to collect some money that was owed to him. It had taken four days for Charlie to wrap up his empire in London far enough that he was happy to let them head North. He would follow them up in the car after a last few bits of business had been dealt with, and had kept three of his goons with him just in case of trouble.
Ray knew that their first port of call was somewhere that Danny had sorted out for them all to live, then there were other tasks they’d been assigned. He was to stick with Eddie and find them enough cars to get about in undetected. Ray was glad that he’d been assigned a role that meant sticking with one of the brothers - he was sure that between him and the squad, they would be on top of the gang in no time.
The house that Danny drove them to in the back of a noisy old truck was a large detached place, shielded from the road by trees and with a big drive and, Ray noted, security gates. Danny had obviously been told what sort of place Charlie wanted and Ray wondered if it would be possible for the squad to check the place out - there seemed to be security measures at every turn, from burglar alarms to electric fencing along the tops of the brick walls. He dumped his bag in one of the free bedrooms. The few days in London had not only meant he got to know the gang, but also that Charlie had provided him with basic clothing. He wandered around the house, making a mental note of the layout just in case he could get a message through to the Guv. Then he returned downstairs to find Eddie.
“We goin’ out then?” he asked.
Eddie nodded. “Danny, give us the keys to the truck, we’re gonna get some vehicles an’ stuff.”
Danny glanced at Ray and Ray knew that whatever the rest of them said, having a new face around was making Danny feel uneasy.
“I’ll come too,” he finally announced.
They headed out to the small truck and Ray made his way to the back, assuming the two brothers would want to be alone in the front.
“Oi, you, in the front with me,” Danny beckoned to him. “You’re here for your local knowledge, ain’t you? Ain’t no good in the back.”
Ray nodded and sat in the passenger seat.
As they drove through the city Danny glanced across at Ray often.
“So what jobs you done in the past then?” he finally asked.
Ray shrugged. “Payrolls, jewellers, the usual.”
“Yeah? So you reckon you got it in you to work with us then?”
Ray nodded, pretending to look out of the window.
Danny drove around aimlessly, up and down small residential streets. He pulled up to a junction and waited, despite there being no other traffic.
“Here,” he reached down under his seat and pushed something onto Ray’s lap. “Prove it.”
Ray looked down to see a black balaclava wrapped around a pistol. His eyes widened. “Wha’?”
“That shop, go on, go,” Danny commanded.
Ray’s mind raced - he didn’t want to hold up anyone, least of all like this. But there seemed to be no other option.
He pulled the balaclava over his face and jumped out of the cab, checking that there were rounds in the pistol as he did so. He almost hoped there weren’t, but the bullets gleamed back at him. He swallowed, still keeping behind the truck. Once a man had gone past on his bike and continued on down the road Ray moved. He ran swiftly across the road, bursting into the small shop. The man behind the counter was Indian and the look of shock and terror on his face was almost enough to make Ray falter. But he knew that a lot hung on his actions.
“Jus’ gimme the cash an’ the cigarettes - you won’t get ‘urt,” he barked.
The man opened the till, the bell tinkling in a perversely cheerful manner. He grabbed out the change and the few notes and pushed them into a bag, then turned to the cigarettes, swiping them off the shelves. Some fell to the floor and he bent to pick them up.
“Leave ‘em,” Ray commanded. “Jus’ get the rest.”
The man finally held the bag over the counter and Ray grabbed it, the loose change rattling at the bottom of it. He turned and ducked out of the shop, glad to see the truck was still there. He jumped up into the cab as Danny was already pulling away.
“What did you get?” Danny asked as he screeched around the next corner.
“Fags, money,” Ray answered, panting.
“Good. Show me.”
Ray tipped the bag onto the spare seat and Danny smiled.
“All right. You’ll do,” he said grudgingly, grabbing a few of the boxes of cigarettes and shoving them into his pockets.
Ray squeezed his fists closed, trying to convince himself that he was only shaking because of the adrenalin rush.
Phyllis pushed her way into the CID office, peering through the fog of smoke and picking out the slim form of Sam.
“DI Tyler - armed robbery, down Tugela Street. Suspects ‘ave made off in some sort of van or truck. Bloke sounds all shook up, but it’s ‘ard to tell, them Indians always speak so fast.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “We’re on our way.”
He fetched Gene and a minute later they were screaming through the city streets with Chris and Annie holding on tightly in the back. When they arrived at the shop there was already a crowd - mainly the local Indian community, all checking that their friend was unharmed.
“Oi, you lot, back off, police,” Gene shouldered his way through the crowd. He quickly guessed which one of the men was the shopkeeper and made a bee line for him. “Right, tell us what ‘appened then, mate.”
The man gave a quick and very vague description of the masked man who had robbed him, and a brief description of the vehicle, but couldn’t tell them a make or model.
Sam glanced around, knowing that it was very unlikely that they’d get any solid leads. He noticed that Chris was hunkered down by a wall, talking to a small girl who was holding tightly onto a man’s hand - Sam presumed it was her father. She was nodding at Chris, so Sam walked up behind him, also crouching down.
“And can you tell me what the other one were like? The one who went in the shop?” Chris was asking gently.
Sam noticed that Chris had his notebook out and was taking brief notes and gave a small smile. The constable would surely make a fine policeman one day - if only he could concentrate on the job a bit more.
“Chris?” Sam asked.
“Oh, Boss, this is…uh…Shameena. She says she were lookin’ out of the window an’ saw the men in the truck, before they robbed ‘im, like.”
Sam nodded and smiled widely at the small girl.
“And you saw what he looked like?” he asked.
She nodded, he wide eyes sparkling.
“You must tell the policemen,” her father prompted.
The girl looked up at him and nodded.
“What colour hair did he have? Was it like his? Or like mine?” Sam asked, pointing to Chris.
The girl pointed to Sam. “But long,” she added, gesturing with her fingers on herself that the hair came down at least to the man’s collar. “And…not so straight, but not curly.”
Chris gave her a beaming smile. “That’s great, love. And can you guess at how old he were?”
She pulled a face, so Sam quickly changed tack. “Was there anything else, anything you’d recognise? Was he a white man?”
She nodded, then held her finger up to her top lip. “Like that,” she said softly.
Sam frowned, but Chris laughed. “He ‘ad a ‘tache, love?” he asked. “A moustache?”
The girl nodded, smiling as Chris chuckled.
“And ‘ow big were he? Was he fat? Or skinny?”
She held her hands away from her sides, indicating a bigger man. “But not…fat,” she added softly. “He looked strong.”
After a few more minutes it became clear that she couldn’t tell them more, so Sam stood up and walked back to Gene, who also looked as if he was about finished.
“Anything?” he asked.
“Maybe a partial plate, otherwise, no. Local accent, didn’t say much.”
Chris approached them, reading his notes.
“She saw two men, the one drivin’ was dark haired an’ she thinks younger but can’t guess an age. She didn’t see ‘im much, cos he stayed in the cab. The other one were stocky, had sorta light brown hair, a bit wavy or summit, maybe, a ‘tache an’ he were the one who robbed ‘em.”
Sam frowned, then beckoned them all back to the Cortina, where Annie was leaning on the bonnet already.
“Guv - I hate to say it, but I think…well, it’d be an awfully big coincidence if…”
“What? Spit it out, for Christ sake, Gladys,” Gene barked. “You know who it is? If so we’ll go an’ pick up the toe-rag.”
“Guv…it sounds like Ray.”
The look that crossed Gene’s face was almost enough to make Sam back away.
“Stocky, wavy hair, moustache - and the other one, darker, younger - well that could fit any of the Jackson brothers really. I’m just saying…we know they’re up here…the Met followed Charlie Jackson’s car to a local house earlier today…”
Gene let out a snort of breath, then shook his head. “Well we got no way of bloody knowing, have we? Not unless Carling decides to get in touch. Christ, what a bloody mess.”
The sound of the back of Charlie’s hand smacking into Danny’s cheek almost made Ray’s eyes water.
“Stupid fucking idiot,” he hissed. “You’d ruin all the planning - all the work…for what? A few smokes and some loose change? Christ, Daniel, you’re starting to become a liability, you know? First you’ve annoyed someone enough that they nearly give Marty the old Chelsea smile inside, now this? What was the idea?”
“Wanted to test him, didn’t I?” Danny said through swelling lips, gesturing at Ray. “See if he had the bottle.”
“You’re an idiot. Get out of my sight and stay out of it before I decide we’d be better off without you.”
Ray waited for the man’s anger to turn on him, but Charlie just looked at him and shook his head before walking away. Ray took that as his sign to leave. He wanted to get out of the house, but didn’t know if he’d be allowed. He wanted to get a message to the Guv.
He found Marty in the lounge, twisting the dial on the television set, moving throught the channels.
“Marty, wanna go for a drink or summit?” he asked. “I’m gonna go crazy stuck in ‘ere. Didn’t leave stir just to get locked in ‘ere.”
Marty smiled and jumped up. “Sure. Do you know a good pub?”
Ray shrugged, wishing he could go to The Railway Arms. “We’ll find summat.”
They walked up the long residential road and Ray noticed a familiar van parked in one of the nearby turnings - a space, he reckoned, which would have a view over the gate of the house.
They got a couple of drinks in a pub that Ray let Marty choose, Ray excusing himself before they were about to leave and heading for the toilets. He pulled the pen he’d swiped from the bar earlier from his pocket and opened his cigarette packet. He scrawled a quick note in the lid, where it would be invisible to anyone opening the pack just to get a cigarette out.
‘Nine others. Something big planned. Shotguns pistols. Truck, reg. BMC 491F’
He then emptied al but two cigarettes out of the box into his pocket and made his way back to Marty.
“C’mon then, ‘fore Charlie gets a pet on ‘bout us bein’ out.”
They walked back along the quiet roads and as they neared the house again Ray offered Marty the box of fags, then took the last one himself. He half crumpled the box in his fist and threw it toward the van as pointedly as he dared, watching as it skittered into the gutter on the other side of the road. He knew that if Chris was in the van he would understand.
It was obvious that Marty found nothing odd in the action and the re-entered the house, Ray sitting in the lounge despite desperately wanting to see if anyone would take the hint and retrieve his message.
Once it was dark Gene slid the Cortina quietly into a parking space one road back from the house. He padded along the pavement, his loafers making no sound. Sam walked beside him, Chris following them. Gene glanced around and then at the house before gently tapping on the panelling of the van’s back door. The door opened immediately.
“All right, Guv? We saw Ray a bit ago, reckon ‘e went out for a drink with the one he were inside with. Nothin’ else ‘as happened though.”
“Did Ray clock you?” Gene asked.
The man nodded. “Reckon so. But he didn’t try to give us no signs. Didn’t do owt on the way there, lit up as he were goin’ back in. We’d ‘ave seen if he tried to signal - but he were with the other one, like I said.”
Gene nodded. “They’re probably not letting him out of their sight.”
The other man who’d been inside the van climbed out and stretched, yawning. Then he wandered across the road and bent down to pick something out of the gutter.
“Got something?” Gene called.
“Wha’? Nah, jus’ Ray threw it down earlier, an’ my little girl’s always givin’ me ear ache ‘bout litter.” The man looked at the look on Gene’s face. “There’s rubbish bins!” he protested.
Chris grabbed the box out of his colleagues hand and Gene was just about ready to consign them both to the nut house for squabbling over litter when Chris made a noise.
“Guv - it’s a message, it’s…he…” words evaded Chris so he just shoved the cardboard into Gene’s hands.
Gene quickly read the note and nodded. “Right, you two, in there. I’ll be back.”
Chris sat staring at the house in the gloom. It was torturous to know that Ray was so close but so far away.
“He used to do that - I mean, write notes an’ that, when we…y’know, started getting’ together, like.”
Sam smiled. “So he knew that you’d look there?”
Chris nodded, smiling.
The next morning Charlie called everyone together, and it was obvious that something big was going to happen.
Charlie outlined the plan, a simple wages heist as the money was dropped to one of the factories. Ray took careful mental notes, hoping that there was a way he could somehow get the information to the rest of the squad. His part in the raid was to carry a gun and manhandle the cash. It seemed that one of the goons who stuck closely to Charlie was capable of opening any locks they might come across - although the plan was to grab the cash when it was being transferred from the van to the offices of the factory. Danny was going to lead the raid, which worried Ray, Eddie was to drive their truck, Marty was in charge of stowing the money as the rest of them moved it into the truck and Charlie, predictably, wasn’t going to be anywhere near the action.
Ray employed the same method as before, hoping he wasn’t pushing his luck. The information he’d been able to scrawl on the packet was scant, but it gave a time and date, which was the main thing. Ray couldn’t pretend he wasn’t nervous about the entire operation. Not least because when the bullets started flying - and it seemed likely they would - he would be on the wrong side of the action.
Gene sat on the edge of the desk, looking down at the pages of notes which Sam had given him.
“Right, listen up. The blag’s on. We don’t know much, but Ray’s given us as much as he can. Wages job, up at Perkin’s Mill. We’ve asked the factory and they confirm that the money’s due in tomorrow.We don’t know how the blaggers know that - but we’ll ‘ave ‘em, don’t you worry. Now, everyone remember that one of them’s Ray, so don’t get itchy trigger fingers - right?”
There were various murmurs and nodding around the room.
“So, gentlemen, the plan is this,” Gene started. “We’ll be split - cos apparently, Charlie Jackson isn’t going to be anywhere near the action. So one team’ll take the house, and if he leaves, follows him. The rest of us will be down at the factory, waiting.”
Gene continued to go through every aspect of the sting, ensuring that each person knew their duty. He always wanted plans to run smoothly, but especially when one of their own was so mixed up in it.
Ray gripped the pistol tightly. He was sweating, despite the chill breeze and the balaclava made his face itch. He ignored it all though, knowing that his full concentration had to be on the job.
Nobody in the back of the truck dared to move. They all waited, adrenaline pumping, for the screech of tyres that told them the action was starting.
The wages van bumped lazily into view and Eddie stretched his foot out over the accelerator. As the van passed he pulled out behind it, following it the last few feet to the factory gates. He waited for it to turn in, then pulled on past, mashing the gears into reverse almost before the truck had stopped rolling. He swung the steering wheel, blocking the exit completely, the nose of the truck pointing down the street. Noises from the back told him that everyone else was on the move.
“Give us the money - give us the fucking money!” Danny shouted, waving his sawn-off shotgun at the two guards who were standing by their vehicle, total shock and confusion evident on their faces.
One of them tried to move, reaching for the cosh on his belt, but Danny strode forward and smacked him in the face, knocking him to the floor.
He shoved the barrels of his gun into the man’s face. “Give us the fucking money or your mate loses his face,” he snarled.
Ray held his gun pointing upwards, not risking anything. He assumed that the two guards had been briefed - he had expected two of the CID teams to have taken their places, though. He ran to the back of the van with some of the others, gesturing to the guard who was fumbling with his keys.
“C’mon, c’mon,” he said, worried about what Danny would do to the other man and knowing that the Guv would probably hold off taking the robbers until they had the cash in their hands. That was if he’d even got Ray’s messages.
Finally the man opened the safe in the back of the van and Ray took one of the strongboxes that was thrust in his direction. He ran with it to the truck where Marty hauled it up into the back and stowed it. Other members of the gang followed him, delivering their own precious cargo.
Then all hell broke loose. Ray jumped as Gene burst through a door on the far side of the loading bay, waving a pistol and followed by half the division - uniforms everywhere.
“Get to the truck!” Danny screamed, running already. Ray paused for a fraction of a second, knowing he could end his cover now, then turned and ran. He knew he had to be sure that the gang were all captured. He reached out for the back of the truck and strong hands hauled him in - he was the last, and the truck had already begun to move, Eddie’s foot obviously firmly to the floor.
Ray saw Chris and Sam both overtaking the Guv, running, guns raised. He could see Sam shouting something, but couldn’t make out what.
He glanced sideways and his blood ran cold. Danny was braced against the side of the truck, his shotgun aimed squarely at Chris.
Ray knew he didn’t have a moment to lose - he couldn’t shout without giving himself away, nor could he do anything to Danny, for the same reason. So he raised his own weapon, aiming deliberately high, hoping that he could get the message across loud and clear.
He began squeezing the trigger, and then there was a huge crash and massive jolt as the truck hit something and ploughed through it.
He felt the pistol kick in his hand as he almost fell from the vehicle, the smell of cordite reached his nose. He looked up and, as if in slow motion, watched Chris stumble and fall, his gun hitting the ground and bouncing away, both his hands clutching at his chest as his knees skidded on the rough road.
Ray stared, knowing he had just done something so completely unthinkable it was as if his world had ended.
“Fucking good shot!” Danny shouted, whooping. He reached over and thumped Ray hard on the back as Ray slid to the metal floor of the truck. “That’ll make ‘em think twice, eh?”
Ray looked back up the road. The police cars they had smashed through were across the road, framing the slim figure lying on the tarmac. Sam was on his knees beside Chris, Gene was standing, staring after the fleeing vehicle, and to Ray it felt as if his guv’nor’s eyes were burning into his very soul.
Ray knew he would never forgive himself.
(And onwards...
Part 2a
Part 2b)