Sharman and Other Filth, page 23
‘Who is this geezer?’ said a little man at the back who looked like a bookie’s runner in some kind of forties-style suit, a trilby and a pony tail.
‘A mate,’ said my man. ‘An old mate. He’s kosher.’
Which was patently untrue.
‘Now. Are you in or out? You – ’ he said to the big bloke. ‘Or any of you.’ He swung his mean eyes round the room. ‘These things happen. We’ve got to be flexible.’
No one moved.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘Sit down, and let’s get started.’
The group did as it was told, apart from me and him. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Now I’ll introduce you.’
There were four men in the front row, including one of the black blokes. My man introduced them left to right. ‘Wilson, Cohen, Moore and Stiles,’ he said. Wilson was the big bloke in the shell suit. Cohen was the black bloke. One of my man’s little jokes, I imagined.
The woman and the other black man were in the second row. ‘Hunt and JC,’ he said. JC was the other spade.
Then the three in the back row including the bookie. ‘Peters, Ball, BC.’ The bookie was Peters. ‘Recognise us?’
‘Sounds familiar,’ I said. And it did.
‘1966. England won the World Cup. Ring any bells now?’
‘’Course. Our team.’
‘Right.’
‘Two Charltons.’
‘BC and JC. Got it now?’
I nodded again. ‘Right,’ said my man. ‘Get yourself a drink, sit down and I’ll go through the plan. You’ve got some catching up to do.’
37
There was a blackboard and easel propped up in one corner, and while I went behind the bar, found some bottles of beer floating in iced water, helped myself to one and opened it before joining the blonde and the spade in the middle row, Banks pulled it in front of us, opened the bag he had brought with him, took out a big artist’s pad which he hooked over the blackboard and flipped open to the first page.
On it was a hand-drawn map marked ‘ground floor and street’.
‘Now,’ he said, fixing his gaze on me. ‘There’s one other person you’ve got to meet. The man who found out the details of this job and put it together, and has bankrolled us up to now. Mr Alf Ramsey.’
I didn’t think all this had been entirely Banks’s idea. Especially the football part. His idea of sport was a dogfight on a wharf in Bermondsey.
As he finished speaking and dead on cue, the door behind him opened and a tanned, fifty-something bloke with grey hair just beginning to thin out, dressed in an expensive-looking tweed coat, came into the room. Banks sat down in the middle row on the other side of the spade and the blonde.
The bloke walked up to the blackboard and picked up a pointer that was balanced in the chalk tray.
‘Thank you, Mr Banks. Good morning, everyone.’ Then to me. ‘Mr Hurst. Welcome. You come highly recommended. I trust Mr Banks’s judgement implicitly.’
Not a good idea.
‘I am going through the plan for you in particular,’ he went on, ‘and for everyone else’s benefit in general. It bears repeating. And it will be several times over the next couple of weeks, even though it’s a very simple one. But I always say, the simpler the better. Now, you must remember that there are only two open exits or entrances to the hotel while the Saudis stay there. The front doors leading to the foyer and reception and the back door that opens into the kitchens. The four doors at the sides of the building will be kept permanently shut, locked and shuttered for security purposes. This is of course strictly against the rules, but when the guests are as free-spending as our friends, the management will accommodate almost any whim.’
He put the pointer on the oblong marked mercedes limo. ‘At eight forty-five on the morning in question, Mr Hurst, BC, Miss Hunt and Mr Banks will be waiting in this car opposite the front of the hotel. The three men will be carrying semi-automatic pump-action shotguns plus any personal weapons they choose to bring to the party. Miss Hunt will have a nine-millimetre automatic in her handbag. Mr Peters, all dolled up in a chauffeur’s cap, will be behind the wheel. That way if a traffic warden or copper comes along while you’re inside he can chat them up. They’re used to that in that area. He will also be carrying a pistol in case anything does go wrong.’
‘Where does the limo come from?’ I asked.
‘I nick it,’ said Peters from behind me. ‘The night before. That’s my game. I know a hire place that’s wide open. I did some driving for them a while back. That’s what I do. Nicking and driving cars.’
‘Mr Wilson,’ Ramsey went on, ‘wearing what looks like a postman’s uniform and driving the Post Office van which Mr Peters has also stolen, from a depot in Hounslow, I believe…’
I heard a mumble of assent from behind me again.
‘… goes in with some envelopes and a parcel all wrapped up in brown paper. Normal morning delivery. No problem. Inside the parcel is another shotgun. When he gets to the front desk he holds up everyone in the foyer. Now of course we can’t be sure who will be there, but we do know that one armed guard has always been stationed there on previous visits, plus the receptionist behind the desk. There may be more, there certainly won’t be less. We will all carry radios. Each one of you has been designated a number. Mr Hurst, you are number eight. Strict radio silence is to be observed apart from orders and urgent messages. When Mr Wilson has secured the foyer he gives the word and the four passengers in the limo go in to join him, deal quietly with the guard and the receptionist and anyone else there. At roughly the same time, there’s a regular daily veg delivery round the back, in the service road, by a truck that’s distinctively marked with the name of the supplier.’ He touched the pointer to the oblong marked vegetable truck. ‘That day the delivery, or should I say the collection, is going to be done by us. Mr Cohen driving, armed with an automatic, JC, Mr Ball, Mr Stiles and Mr Moore hidden in the back, once again carrying shotguns. I’ve discovered they are the most effective weapon for gaining people’s attention in a hurry. We’ve watched the van’s route for weeks. The usual driver, who by the way is black –’
‘And they all look the same to you white guys,’ said Cohen from his seat beside me, to general amusement.
Ramsey, smiling, let the laughter die down, then said, ‘The usual driver is always at the previous call between eight thirty and eight forty. Delivery takes five minutes, then he’s off. That’s when the vegetable team pull him. It won’t be difficult. The delivery is done in the courtyard of another hotel. There are no windows overlooking, and it’s a busy time in the kitchen doing breakfast, so there’re no cooks or waiters skiving off for a smoke. When the driver comes out he’s alone. In the worst-case scenario, the drive between that hotel and the target hotel takes less than ten minutes, so you should all be at the target by nine on the dot, maybe a minute or two earlier. It’s not a problem. The limo will be waiting. The Post Office van and the vegetable truck team, in another stolen car that Mr Peters has picked up some time earlier, changed its identification and hidden at our base, go to the previous hotel in tandem. Then when the vegetable truck’s ours, Mr Cohen follows Mr Wilson to the target. That way you’re all there together. Mr Cohen drives straight into the service road, he gets out, opens the back and fiddles around until he hears that the foyer is ours. Then he goes to the kitchen door, which is also covered by an armed guard, and as soon as he is inside secures that exit with the gun he has hidden in the broccoli or whatever. He then gives the word to the men in the truck and they go inside also, locking up the staff and the guard in the big freezer’ – another tap with the pointer – ‘take the service lift to the top floor, then come down, taking prisoners and emptying the place of valuables and cash as they go. Simple as that. The hotel does not have rooms, only suites. The Saudis always breakfast in their own suites so that the ground floor dining room is empty. That saves us the job of securing it, although, BC, you will check that no stragglers are eating their cornflakes or enjoying a fried egg sunny side up, as soon as the team at the front have taken care of the guard and the receptionist. At the same time, Miss Hunt takes over the desk. She is aware of the telephone system they use there and has made herself familiar with it. She will run the hotel until we are finished. All extensions will be engaged if anyone calls in, and no one will be able to phone out. Miss Hunt has had some experience of that particular task, which is why she is with us.’
‘Mobile phones?’ I found myself asking. I was getting well into the plan.
‘There are some very new and very sophisticated devices on the market,’ Ramsey replied. ‘Mostly built by students in America and Japan. They have terribly devious minds. One such will block the satellite signals from mobile phones over a small area. And at great expense I have obtained one. It will be in the back of the Post Office van and will be activated by Mr Wilson when he collects the parcel he is to deliver to the hotel.’
‘Sounds good,’ I said.
Ramsey gave me a thin-lipped smile. ‘If I may continue,’ he said. ‘After the foyer is captured, that team breaches the manager’s office, where there will be yet another armed guard, and convinces the manager that it is in his best interest to open the safe there, where the Saudis will have left the bearer bonds for safe keeping.’
‘How do you know they will?’ I asked.
‘Because that is their custom. There are ten bodyguards at least in the building, one at all times by the safe, and they think that is the most secure way.’
‘What happens if someone comes into the hotel while this is all going on? Hunt can’t man the desk and take prisoners at the same time,’ I said. This was the first time I’d heard the plan and I was looking for loopholes.
Everyone else had obviously heard the objections before.
‘That’s your job,’ Ramsey said to me. ‘You’re in the foyer with Hunt. Anyone comes in, you take care of them. With minimum fuss. There’s plenty of places to put them to keep them quiet along with the receptionist and the guard. But there shouldn’t be many callers, if any. The place has been entirely taken over by the Saudis. They don’t encourage visitors. It should be quiet. And the whole deal shouldn’t take more than fifteen, twenty minutes from start to finish.’
‘And afterwards?’ I asked.
‘You take off in the three vehicles you came in. Peters will have stashed another three cars close by –’
‘I’m going to be a busy boy,’ croaked Peters from the back.
‘– you change motors and meet up at our base and we split any cash, and there should be plenty, and I take the jewellery and the paper back to where it can be changed into cash,’ Ramsey concluded.
And we just trust you, I thought.
‘You mentioned a million each,’ I said. ‘There’s no way there’ll be that sort of cash on the premises. How long do we have to wait for payday?’
‘For the tom, a couple of days,’ Banks said.
‘And I have to go to South Africa’, Ramsey continued, ‘to change the bearer bonds into a banker’s draft, which I deposit in a Swiss bank on the way back, and after that one million sterling gets transferred to accounts that have been opened for all of you under a variety of other names. That money can be moved into any British bank account on the mention of a number and a simple password. You, however, are responsible for your own tax.’ He smiled again.
‘Complicated,’ I said.
‘Not particularly. Not under the circumstances.’ said Banks. ‘Anyway, we’ve been through all this before. Think about it, and you’ll know it’s the best way.’
‘I don’t like the stuff leaving the country,’ I said. ‘It puts temptation too much in Mr Ramsey’s way. No offence meant,’ I said to Ramsey.
‘No offence taken,’ said Ramsey ‘But South Africa is the only place that can get one hundred cents on the dollar on the hurry-up.’
I looked at the other members of the group. They were pokerfaced. ‘OK,’ I said. ‘If everyone else agrees, I suppose it’s all right by me.’
‘Good, Mr Hurst,’ said Ramsey sarcastically. ‘I’m so pleased that you’re happy with the plan. Now, the finer points shouldn’t concern you as long as you get paid, which you will. I’ll just show you the make-up of the rest of the floors.’
He flipped over to the next page of the pad which was marked 1st floor.
‘The whole place is a sodding maze inside,’ he said. ‘We must all be careful not to get in one another’s way. The rest of the floors are residential and identical…’ Another flip, another plan labelled upper floors.
‘How many?’ I asked.
‘Three,’ came the reply.
There were four suites per floor, a dozen in all, and a load of corridors, but as I had no business there I hardly took it in.
‘And finally,’ he concluded, reaching into the bag that Banks had brought with us. ‘This gentleman is our main target. The hotel manager.’ He brought out an eight-by-ten glossy photograph and passed it to me. It showed a pleasant-looking, dark-haired bloke of about forty. ‘Remember him,’ Ramsey said to me. ‘He holds the combination of the safe. We don’t want him hurt or vanishing. OK?’
I nodded.
‘Right,’ said Ramsey. ‘Let’s break this up, have a bevvy and split. I’ve got things to do.’
38
Everyone seemed to relax and the blonde sitting next to me turned and stuck out her hand. ‘I’m Hunt,’ she said. ‘That bastard Banks picked the name for me. And no rhyming-slang jokes.’
‘I don’t make jokes,’ I said, shaking her hand briefly.
‘Looks like we’re going to be working together,’ she said. ‘Closely.’
‘Looks like it.’
‘A nice thought.’ She was attractive, and showing out, but I was in no mood for women right then. Or ever again.
I smiled politely and that was all.
‘Drink?’ she asked.
‘Don’t mind if I do.’
We got up and went to the bar. On the way I was waylaid by a hard-looking face in a single-breasted mackintosh. ‘BC,’ he said by way of introduction. ‘Fuckin’ stupid, but what can you do? We’re in the Merc together.’
I nodded.
‘Done this sort of thing before?’
I nodded again.
‘Good. We don’t want any virgins around.’ And he gave Hunt a long, sardonic look.
‘It’s been a long time since I’ve been a virgin,’ said the woman and patted him gently on the cheek. ‘So don’t you worry about a thing.’
She swished by him and headed for the bar. Peters, who seemed to be a jack of all trades, had taken up residence behind the counter and was busy dispensing drinks to one and all.
As we were waiting, Ramsey grabbed me by the arm. ‘You’ve got a lot of questions,’ he said.
‘I’m not noted for taking things at face value,’ I replied. ‘This could get heavy, and I want to be sure my back’s covered.’
‘Fair enough. I can understand that. Banks was adamant you were the man for the job, and I’m happy to trust his judgement.’
I wasn’t sure he was telling the truth. ‘It’s always nice to get a good reference,’ I said.
Hunt turned as I spoke and said, ‘What’s yours?’
‘Scotch,’ I replied. ‘Large.’
She made the order and Ramsey said, ‘Listen, I’ve got to go. Anything you need, see Banks,’ and he slipped away towards the door.
‘Don’t I know you?’ said a voice from behind me as Ramsey left the room.
I hope not, I thought as I turned towards whoever had spoken. It was one of the men who had been sitting in the front row, a slim bloke of about my age with a rapidly retreating hairline. ‘Call me Stiles,’ he said. ‘Now, where was it we met?’
‘I think you’re mistaken,’ I said, although there was something vaguely familiar about him that I couldn’t place.
‘Never forget a face.’
‘I’ve got a pretty forgettable one.’
‘I wouldn’t say that,’ said Hunt as she turned and gave me my drink. ‘It looks all right to me.’
‘Thanks,’ I said and raised my glass in a salute.
‘Three years ago,’ said Stiles. ‘A bank job in Southampton.’
I relaxed slightly. That definitely wasn’t me. ‘Not me,’ I said. ‘I’ve only been there once to catch a ferry to France.’
‘Shit,’ he said. ‘If you say so. But I’m damn sure –’
‘And you know we’re not supposed to pry,’ said Hunt. ‘So why don’t you just leave him alone–’
She was turning out to be my saviour. All I needed was some nosy bastard to start digging.
‘– or I’ll tell Banks, and you know what a stickler he is for keeping to the rules.’
Stiles shrugged. ‘Sorry,’ he said to me. ‘But I’m sure we’ve met. It’ll come back to me.’ And he wandered off.
‘We’re not supposed to fraternize,’ said Hunt. ‘But I’ll make an exception for you.’ She was drinking something as pale and interesting as herself.
‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘I’ve just come out of a bad relationship.’
‘What other kind is there?’ she asked. ‘Never mind. Think about it.’
‘I will,’ I said. ‘Now I’ve got to talk to Banks. Thanks for getting me a drink.’
‘That’s my job. Total submission.’ And she winked at me.
I went over to my man and said, ‘Two questions?’
‘What? I thought you’d had enough during the meeting.’
‘Just checking. First. Who the hell’s this Ramsey character? And secondly, where’s this base he kept talking about?’
‘He’s someone I met,’ replied Banks. ‘You don’t need to know. Apart from that he knows what goes on at that hotel, and he’s got enough money to bankroll us. The base is in Wandsworth. I’m going to take you there now. So drink up and we’ll get going.’
