Tennison (56 page)

‘Are you sure of that? Seems a bit quick after where you left off this morning.’

John was certain they would break through into the vault, and because the area was quiet at the weekend they would have more opportunity to use the Kango drill without being overheard. He knew that once the job was done the break-in would not be discovered by the manager until the bank opened for business on Tuesday morning, after the Monday bank holiday.

‘I told Silas and Danny I wanna work during the day as it’s a Sunday. All the shops round there are closed and there’s very little foot or vehicle traffic.’

Clifford looked surprised as he gulped down a mouthful without chewing it properly. ‘I’ll stand out like a spare prick at a wedding in daylight.’

‘No you won’t, only if you stand up all the time. Did you not notice the gaps in the wall for the rainwater to drain away? Just look through them till it gets dark.’

‘Fuckin’ brilliant and what about daytime security, or anyone who comes up to the top floor to park?’

‘Don’t worry about it. According to Silas, because that patch borders the City, all the local businesses are closed at weekends so it means there’s nobody to use the car park and no attendant on duty in the pay kiosk. If anyone did drive in there’s loads of room on the ground floor so why go all the way to the top.’

‘I was thinking that now I’m the lookout, as well as one of the persons who put the job up, I deserve a slightly bigger cut than I’m getting, don’t I?’

‘You’re a greedy old sod, Dad. OK, I’ll slip a bit extra on the side for you.’

‘Shake on that, son,’ he said, putting out his hand.

‘But don’t say anything to the others or they’ll start kicking off,’ John said, shaking his father’s hand.

Clifford laughed, coughed up some phlegm and, pulling a dirty handkerchief from his pocket, spat into it.

‘If we finish the job by early Monday morning there’ll be plenty of time to stash the stolen goods. I’ve already rented another lock-up nearby in Dalston to count out the proceeds.’

‘Good thinkin’, son, the filth will be crawling all over the place.’

‘I know, and Silas is likely to be the first person the police will be looking for. I’ll give him his cut of the cash so he can make his getaway and fly out to Greece.’

Clifford smiled. ‘Make sure he’s loaded with the dodgy fivers.’

John laughed. ‘There’s a secluded area in nearby woodland where I’ll bury our cut of the money for a few days while the heat dies down, but I’m not sure yet what to do with any jewellery we find.’

‘Don’t worry, I know a good fence who can take it off our hands. What you gonna do with the van, son?’

‘Take it to some wasteland and set light to it, along with anything else that might lead the police to any of us.’

Clifford patted John’s back. ‘Good lad, looks like you thought of everything.’

‘Well, I was taught well, wasn’t I, Dad?’ John pushed his chair back and checked the time.

‘OK, we go in half an hour at just after eleven.’

Clifford nodded and poured himself another mug of tea.

‘I’ll be ready, son, just finish me breakfast and then put some long johns on under me jeans and shirt and a couple of jumpers on top as well.’

John left the room to speak with his mum. Clifford took the opportunity to quietly fill his hip flask with the remains of the bottle of brandy, sticking the flask into the inside pocket of his donkey jacket which was hanging in the hallway.

Renee had changed into her dress and was in the lounge drying and brushing her hair in front of the electric fire when John walked in. He told her that he and his dad were off down the bookie’s for a flutter and then the pub. She asked when they’d be back and he said he didn’t know and she wasn’t to wait up.

‘What you want for tea? There’s some stew left over,’ she said, as she sprayed lacquer on her hair, making it stiff.

John replied that they’d get something from the chippie and as he turned to leave he stopped and looked at his mother.

‘What you all dolled up for?’

She pulled on her white gloves and put on her hat, looking at John in the mirror as she adjusted it.

‘Ma Phillips is burying her grandson today. Half the estate is going and everyone’s given money for flowers and beverages.’

‘On a Sunday? You are fuckin’ havin’ me on. Besides he was a pitiful waste of space, and what have I told you about not going out the flat?’ John shouted.

Clifford heard them talking and walked in with his donkey jacket slung over his shoulder.

‘Leave it out, son. It’s always good to show respect.’ Clifford turned to Renee. ‘But don’t you go on the lash or blabbering with your bingo mates, you come straight back home, right?’

‘I heard you the first time, Clifford. It’s sunny out, so what you want your big heavy coat for?’

‘Because, you nosy cow, we might be doing some night fishing for carp on the Lea tonight. Me mate Chaz has invited me and John along.’

She laughed and took another look at herself in the mirror. She’d even put a bit of lipstick on. She wanted to see how David was doing before she left for the funeral, so she went out across the hallway and popped her head around his bedroom door.

‘How are you feelin, son?’

‘Not so good, Ma. I’ll try and get up later.’

‘I won’t be gone long, love.’

‘You look real nice, Ma. That’s a very pretty dress and hat you’re wearing.’

He gave a sad smile and blew her a kiss as she said she’d see him later and closed the bedroom door.

After a minute John looked in on David who was lying with the eiderdown pulled up to his chin.

John spoke quietly and told him their dad was going to be filling in for him again.

‘I’m sorry to let you down, John, but I’m still feelin’ really rough.’

‘Yeah, well, it’s sorted. But he’s gonna take your cut of the wedge for the two nights,’ he said, and moved a little closer before continuing. ‘I reckon we’ll get through to the vault by midnight and have the divvy-out done by morning. Come Tuesday the whole of the Met will be turning over London lookin’ for who done the bank so I’m gonna torch the van and bury our cut in the woods till things die down.’

David looked worried. ‘They won’t catch us, will they, John?’

‘No bloody way. They haven’t got a clue what’s going on or they’d have nicked us by now. By this time tomorrow we’ll be fuckin’ rich.’

As David smiled and coughed he saw his dad standing behind John.

‘Froze me bollocks off last night. It’s the wind that whistles round the effing place. It’s no wonder yer come down with a bad cold, son.’

‘Sorry, Dad, and thanks for taking over from me.’

Hearing the front door close and realizing they had all gone David eased himself to a sitting position on the bed and tried to get to his feet. He had to sit back down again as he felt so sick, but it was his nerves more than still feeling ill.

DC Stanley had switched from Op One and was now down at the far end of the estate with a colleague watching the garage where John Bentley’s van was parked. He was distracted by a call over the radio.

Oscar Pappa Five from One receiving, over.

‘Yeah, go ahead, over,’ Stanley replied.

Eyeball on Targets One and Two leaving premises with female occupant, all on foot towards you.

Stanley looked up the road and in the distance could see John, Clifford and Renee coming from the estate and heading in his direction.

He turned to his colleague. ‘It looks like they’re taking Renee with them now!’

‘Maybe she’s going to be lookout,’ his colleague said.

‘Well, she doesn’t look dressed for it,’ Stanley replied, and heard the sound of a number of vehicles passing the observation van.

‘Holy shit, I don’t believe this!’ He turned to his mate and gestured for him to look through the peephole.

His colleague crouched down and peered through. ‘It’s a funeral cortège and they’re parking up in front of the garages. If the Bentleys are going to a funeral they can’t be working on the bank job during the day.’

‘Or tonight – round here there’s usually a big piss-up afterwards.’

‘Clifford and John don’t looked dressed for a funeral,’ his colleague remarked.

‘Shit, I don’t know whether to inform Bradfield or wait and see what happens,’ Stanley added, rubbing his head.

Floral tributes adorned the sides and front of the old gleaming hearse. Written in carnations almost ten inches high were the words ‘Grandson Eddie’, and more flowers were lying on top of the coffin. There were two more Daimler funeral cars parked behind the hearse. The drivers, wearing black suits and ties, stepped out of the vehicles for a quick smoke and to stretch their legs whilst they chatted with the funeral director, who was wearing a black top hat and carrying a long black traditional undertaker’s stick.

John and Clifford followed behind Renee thinking she was going to Nancy Phillips’ flat, which was near the garages, and therefore wouldn’t see them getting in the van. They both froze on the spot when they reached the point where they could see clearly along the row of garages.

‘Jesus Christ, this is a fuckin’ joke, how the hell are we gonna get the van out?’ John whispered in disbelief through gritted teeth.

‘Can’t we get them to move?’ Clifford whispered back, sweating profusely as he had so many clothes on.

‘Oh yeah, that’s very bright, Dad. They all watch us drivin’ out in a van with false logos and copied number plates – that’s just what we need. We got no option but to bloody wait.’

Renee turned and saw them both whispering. ‘I thought you two were going fishing?’

‘We were, darlin’, but Dad thought we should pay our respects to Ma Phillips and her grandson,’ John said lamely, unable to think of a better excuse.

‘You’ve changed your tune – the lad was a waste of space not five minutes ago,’ Renee said, knowing they were up to something.

John and Clifford had no way of contacting Silas as he didn’t have a phone in the café and it was too far for a walkie-talkie to work. All they could do was stand and watch impatiently as mourners began to gather around the waiting funeral cars. Nancy Phillips, dressed in a black-lace dress with matching black hat, directed who should go into which car. It all suddenly became too much for her and she broke down in floods of tears. Renee put an arm round Nancy to comfort her and she asked if Renee would accompany her in the Daimler behind the hearse. It was something of a relief for John and Clifford when Renee agreed and said she’d see them at the church.

Jane was in the incident room with Kath, who had decided to say nothing to her about Bradfield until Operation Hawk was over. Bradfield was in his office, but had lifted the mood by supplying bacon-and-egg rolls as well as teas and coffees. DS Gibbs was briefing the detectives who formed the outside arrest teams. He told them that for now it was a waiting game, but it was more than likely that the arrests would be made tonight and they would be called into position when the time was right.

‘DCI Bradfield will be making the arrests inside the vault with a couple of you as backup. Team One will take out Clifford Bentley on the car-park rooftop. It’s likely he’ll try and sling the walkie-talkie over the top, so if anyone has a good pair of hands stand down at the bottom and try and catch it before it breaks into hundreds of pieces.’

They all smiled. One of the officers said he played a bit of cricket and would be the catcher.

‘Teams Two and Three will cover the back alley in case any of the suspects try and do a runner. The Greek’s a fat bastard so he should be easy to nab, but Danny Mitcham is likely to be quick on his toes and so is John Bentley. You have Bradfield’s authority to use any force required to take them out should they resist arrest, but do not draw a firearm unless absolutely necessary,’ Gibbs said, and placed a map on the wall before continuing.

‘These are the positions you will take up when DCI Bradfield tells you to, and you will only move from them as and when he gives the order. Is that clear?’

They all nodded and Jane could see the excitement on their faces. Even though she was not part of the arrest team she could feel the buzz.

Kath had a forlorn look on her face as she raised her hand in the air and Gibbs nodded at her.

‘I assumed I’d be on the arrest team.’

‘Why’s that, Morgan?’

‘Well, I did a good job on the Collins murder and . . . ’

Gibbs smiled, ‘Course you did, Kath, and that’s why DCI Bradfield’s taking you with him as part of his arrest team.’

Kath’s face lit up. Others in the room were happy for her, but one or two had envious looks on their faces.

Gibbs had just finished when DC Stanley radioed in about the funeral. Two detectives laughed and made derogatory comments about Eddie and his gran which upset Kath.

‘Grandma Phillips must have spent all her savings on her Eddie’s funeral. It’s always the way round here: live a rotten life but get buried in style. I’ve seen processions with horse-drawn hearses and bands, all for a two-bit criminal. Maybe its cathartic tears for a wretched existence, but that kid didn’t deserve to die so young and he was all she had to live for.’

Gibbs went to Bradfield’s office and he could see from the look on Spence’s face that it wasn’t good news. He explained to him that it seemed the Bentleys, apart from David, were going to Eddie Phillips’ funeral, which meant they wouldn’t be going near the bank, especially if there was the usual piss-up afterwards.

‘Christ, that’s all I need! I’ve got a team of officers costing a fortune in overtime and tomorrow the bank holiday will be double pay for them all. A shedload of money and they could end sitting with their thumbs up their backsides watching nothing for God knows how long.’

‘There’s still Silas and Danny at the café. They might start work on their own and then the Bentleys join them later.’

‘You don’t know that for certain, and if they do start work and get in the vault without the Bentleys, what then!’ Bradfield snapped, infuriated by the situation.

‘Do you want a surveillance unit to tail the Bentleys to the funeral?’

‘Yes, but tell them to keep their distance behind the procession.’