Tara (37 page)

Harry took out his torch, shielding the glow with his hand as he examined the lock. Just an ordinary Yale type, and even if it was bolted on the other side, the door was little more than strengthened hardboard. No dogs, no nightwatchman! This would be a cinch.

Making his way back to his point of entry, Harry flashed his torch twice as a signal, then moved back under the shelter of the warehouse wall.

'What sort of mug leaves a load of leather coats in the middle of nowhere, with no security?' he whispered to himself.

It was a bird called Janet who had inadvertently put him on to it. Just a girl he met from South Ockenden who he'd taken out a few times. One Sunday she had to work overtime and she asked him to pick her up here in the evening instead of at her office in Tilbury. After a few drinks she'd revealed it was a holding place for goods about to be shipped overseas. She'd been doing the paperwork for engine parts, but all kinds of different goods got stored here.

It didn't take Harry long to discover what went in and out. A couple of days of watching revealed goods as diverse as food stuff and refrigerators, and at six every night the staff locked the doors and went home. There wasn't even an alarm system.

He hadn't seen Janet for months now and, though he'd been thinking about robbing the place for some time, he might never have done it. But early this morning he'd been in Tilbury picking up a shipment of china and drove out here again on impulse. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw rail after rail of leather coats being unloaded. Food and household goods were notoriously hard to get shot off, but leather coats were a different ball-game – high value, easy to lift and store, and he had contacts up and down the country who would pay cash on the nail for them.

Needles, Tony and Eric, his old childhood mates, were the obvious men to come in on it with him. Every one of them could be trusted implicitly, none of them had a criminal record. But, though Needles and Tony were only too anxious to join him, Eric, who was the demon driver and brilliant at nicking cars, couldn't make it. It was Eric who'd suggested Ginger.

Harry could see Needles and Tony running towards the gate, Needles' huge gorilla shape a few paces behind the smaller, more athletic Tony. Both wore the same oilskin coats as himself, and Needles carried a pair of bolt-cutters. He ran to the gate to meet them.

'It's a doddle,' he said through the mesh. 'Come on, Needles, do yer stuff.'

His real name was Albert, but they'd christened him Needles when they were seven, after he picked up a hedgehog to stroke it in Epping Forest. Now they told other people it was because he was sharp, but sometimes when they were alone they still teased him. His huge lumbering body, great physical strength and adenoidal voice suggested an empty-headed, hard man, while his black curly hair, bright shoe-button eyes, florid complexion and penchant for flashy clothes were hallmarks of a bully boy. In reality he was a warm-hearted family man with two small children and a dainty wife who adored him. Harry had never heard him raise his voice, let alone his fists, in anger. Although he worked the West End clubs as a bouncer, he used his gentle charm, not his size or strength.

'Just 'old the chain tight, Tone,' Needles said, brandishing the bolt-cutters. 'Wot a poxy little chain. I could bite that off wiv me teeth.'

'Save them for a steak tomorrow.' Tony grinned as the chain snapped like a piece of plastic. 'Which way in, 'Any?'

'Round the back.' Harry opened the gates wide and signalled with his torch for Ginger to drive in. 'Ow's Ginge doing? It seemed like 'is bottle was going!'

Ginger was the only fly in the ointment. Harry was prejudiced against men with red hair for a start, especially when they had white eyelashes. Not that there was really anything to dislike about Ginge, he always stood his round down the Blind Beggar. But he did tend to brag – whatever you'd done, he could top it.

He'd spotted the right kind of van straight off, was into it like a ferret and had it hot wired before they could even draw breath. But Harry didn't like the way he chain-smoked, or the shaking of his hands.

' 'Ard to say if he's losing it.' Tony glanced round at the van moving towards them.' 'E don't say much. But this is a straightforward blag, 'e should be OK.'

Tony's mother was Italian and he had inherited her velvet dark eyes and olive skin, with his father's thin foxy face and wiry body. Boxing was his sport, so far only amateur, but he hoped to turn professional soon.

Needles stayed to close the gates after Ginger drove in while Harry led the way round to the back of the warehouse.

'Know what this reminds me of?' Tony said as they stopped at the door.

'Canvey Island?' Harry smiled.

'Yeah, right.' Tony chuckled. 'We was right little sods, getting in all them caravans. Remember that night we stayed down there and that bloke caught us?'

Tony pulled a jemmy out of his pocket and with one quick flick he had the door open.

'I wet me pants,' Needles said behind them.

These childhood memories had forged links of steel between them. Girls came and went, even Needles getting married hadn't loosened the bond. They understood one another. They were brothers.

'Don't wet them tonight, or else you can walk 'ome,' Harry said over his shoulder as they walked in.

'Leave it out!' Needles gave a low rumbling laugh. 'I'm more likely to shit meself these days.'

The rich, warm smell of leather almost knocked them back.

' 'Struth!' Tony exclaimed as he flashed his torch around. 'There's bloody millions in 'ere!'

Inside, the warehouse looked as big as an aircraft hangar, the torch revealing only small sections at a time. Rail after rail was crammed with coats. They couldn't see well enough to make out the styles or colours, but the feel of them was to know they were quality.

'Fuckin' 'ell,' Ginger gasped behind them. 'We'll never get this lot in the van.'

'Wheel 'em down to the door,' Harry instructed. 'Ginge, you get in the van and we can toss 'em up to you. Hurry now, just 'cos there ain't no guard don't mean the police won't come and check the place over. If it comes on top of us, leg it over the fence and we'll all meet up back at my van.'

Needles and Tony stood by the door tossing the heavy piles effortlessly into the van, as Ginger stacked them. Harry went back and forward, returning rails and bringing new ones. They were silent now, each working flat out, the only sounds the slap of leather on leather, grunts of exertion and the constant drumming of rain on the roof.

'That's enough,' Harry said when he saw the van was piled high with just a small space at the back. 'Needles, Tony, get in there. It's less 'suss at this time of night with only two up front.'

'This beats chucking out drunks,' Needles chuckled as he clambered in.

'I ain't even 'ad the collywobbles.' Tony got in beside Needles. 'Remember not to drive like a loony, Ginge, I don't wanna be the first man to drown in leather.'

It was only then that Harry took a look at Ginger. He was shivering violently, though it wasn't cold. Even in the dark, Harry could see he was white as a sheet.

'I'd better drive,' Harry said as he locked the back doors and pulled the warehouse door closed behind them.

Harry knew Needles and Tony inside out, and he could predict their reactions to almost anything. Ginger, however, was an unknown quantity. Nervous men were dangerous.

'No, that's my job,' Ginger said quickly. 'I'm all right, 'Any. Just a bit cold.'

'OK then.' Harry didn't want to shame the man. 'But drive carefully. We don't want to draw attention to ourselves.'

As they steamed up along the side of the warehouse and turned the corner, to Harry's horror he saw a man bent over by the gates, looking at the broken lock.

'Shit,' he muttered.

'What do I do?' Ginger bleated, the van swerving to one side.

Harry took it all in at a glance. A Ford Popular was parked up beyond the gates. This man was clearly a nightwatchman, but he'd gone home instead of staying here as he was supposed to. By his stooped shoulders he looked elderly and maybe they could come to an amicable agreement with him.

'Keep driving,' Harry said. 'I'll jump out, push the bloke away and open the gates. Drive straight through. I'll leg it after you.'

It was an old man; Harry could tell by his slow reactions. He stood up slowly, holding his back, and stared at the van, his face white and featureless in the headlights.

Harry leaped out of the side door and ran towards the gate. Close up he saw the man was in his sixties, tubby and paralysed with fright. His hands were clinging to the mesh of the gate, his mouth open in horror.

'It's OK, we ain't gonna hurt you,' Harry shouted. 'I'm just going to open the gates and let the van out.'

'The police are on their way.' The old man's voice was croaky. 'Don't do this, son!'

In that moment Harry guessed he was ex-service, had probably been tough in his time given the bluff about the police coming. If he had phoned from that box he would be on their side of the fence now.

Harry wrenched the gates back from him and they swung easily in the wind, but still the man stood in the path of the van.

'Look, I'll lock you in that hut,' Harry said frantically, not wanting to manhandle him. 'You can make out we shoved you in there when we arrived.'

The van revved up behind him and startled him for a second. He jumped back, pushing the old man slightly to one side, and turned angrily towards Ginger, intending to warn him not to run the old chap down. In that split-second the van lurched forward between them. Harry was blinded by the headlights, then a shot rang out.

The van was between him and the man, and the speed at which Ginger drove didn't give Harry time to think. He sprinted along beside it and leaped in the open door.

' 'Struth, the old bugger was armed. Put your foot down before he fires again.'

As the doors slammed shut, the engine revved and Needles and Tony yelled from the back wanting to know what had happened, Harry could hear and see nothing outside. They were six or seven hundred yards down the road before he realised the smell of cordite was inside the van. His head jerked round towards Ginger and he saw an old service revolver still in his hand while he struggled to steer.

'You shot him?' Harry gasped, so thunderstruck he could hardly get the words out.

Everything seemed out of control – the wipers weren't clearing the rain properly, the van was lurching on and off the grass. Even Harry's brain seemed to have seized up.

'What's goin' on?' Needles bellowed from the back. 'Are you hurt, 'Any?'

It was like a nightmare, one of those when he found himself walking down the High Street with no trousers on. Only it was real. Ginger's thin white face was smirking and there actually was a gun in his hand.

'You slag! You shot that old geezer! What on earth for, you shit-bag? He wouldn't hurt a fly!'

'He was going to stop us.' Ginger's mouth was quivering, the van was veering all over the road.

'All you had to do was push 'im away. What 'ave you got a gun for, anyway?'

They were coming into the industrial estate and, although it was after one in the morning, one factory was ablaze with lights and men were loading a lorry.

Harry tried to think. 'Did you hit 'im?' he asked.

'I might 'ave winged 'im.' Ginger was shaking now, and the van was going right up on the kerb.

'Pull up,' Harry ordered. 'I'll drive while I think about this.'

He was out of the van before it had even stopped completely and round to Ginger's side, dragging him out by the lapels of his raincoat.

'You bastard.' He wanted to pummel that white face into a pulp. 'D'you know what they give yer for armed robbery? He was a brave old man. He probably only went home for a cup of tea and some sandwiches. Now you've hurt 'im and 'e might lose 'is job. Suppose he ain't got a phone in that little hut of 'is?'

Harry threw Ginger against the side of the van and punched him in the stomach. Ginger doubled up and vomited in the road. Harry's blood was up now. He caught hold of Ginger's shoulder with his left hand, about to drive his right into the shivering man's face.

'Harry!' Needles' voice came from the back of the van. 'Will you tell us what's going on or 'ave I gotta break out of 'ere to find out?'

It was the voice of reason. He let go of Ginger, looked down at the vomit, already dispersing in the rain, and glanced up the road at the lit-up warehouse they'd just passed. Aside from that one warehouse, all the others were in darkness, but this sort of place had high security. Even now someone could be watching them.

'Get in, you maggot,' he hissed. 'And don't say a fuckin' word until I ask you to.'

Harry climbed into the driving seat, then turned towards the back. The smell of leather was almost suffocating in the enclosed space.

'Needles, Tony,' he called softly. 'Did you see anything out the back window?'

'No, just 'eard the shot.' Tony's voice was muffled. "Then Ginge drove off. Who was it? Watchmen don't 'ave guns normally.'

'We can't talk 'ere.' Harry fumbled under the dashboard for the wires to start the van. 'I'll drive to our van, then I'll fill you in. I'm for dumping this lot.'

It took no more than twenty minutes to reach the van. Harry let Needles and Tony out of the confined space and into the back of his van, leaving Ginger to stew in the stolen one while he spelled out what had happened.

'I want to go back,' Harry said, sitting on his haunches. 'That old geezer might have had a heart attack, anything. He might be lying out in the rain.'

'We can't go back,' Tony said quickly, running a hand through his dark hair. 'If he has called the police they'll be there now.'

'We could phone an ambulance,' Needles said. His small eyes glinted in the darkness and he kept cracking the bones in his fingers.

'OK, we'll do that.' Harry felt marginally better. 'I don't want no part in those coats. Let's just lock the van and leave it 'ere.'

It showed the measure of his two friends that there was no argument. Harry had always been their leader and they trusted his judgment.