Authors: Mark Timlin
A
group of hard-looking men were scattered around the room and when Bob and Jimmy
entered, Jimmy recognised Tony Green from the pub on the Isle of Dogs. The
others were strangers. When Butler saw them enter, he clapped his hands and
said: 'Right, gentlemen, we're all here. Please take your seats.'
Jimmy
and some of the others helped themselves to coffee, and they all sat down,
their chairs scraping on the polished wood floor.
A
small man with the face of a boxer sat next to Jimmy and offered him a
cigarette. Jimmy took it with a light, and the little man said: 'Don't I know
you?'
Jimmy
looked again and shrugged. 'Dunno,' he said.
'Walton,
weren't it?' said the little man. 'E Block.'
'Could
have been,' said Jimmy.
'My
name's Toby Lee,' said the little man. 'And on the big day, I'm driving one of
the motors.'
'Fair
enough,' said Jimmy. 'Pleased to meet you.' Although he wasn't particularly. He
was there for the job. Do it, collect his cut and vanish. He hadn't come all
this way to make new friends.
'And
you are?'
'I'm
Jimmy.'
'Nice
to see you, Jimmy,' said the little man.
Butler
clapped his hands again. 'Right,' he said. 'This is the first time we've all
been together. Some of you know each other. Some don't. But you all know me.
And I don't piss about. You can use your real names here or not, as you please.
I couldn't care less. All I do care about is that we succeed in the venture I'm
just about to describe to you.'
Butler
turned towards the first blackboard and peeled back the plain paper, revealing
a large scale map of east London.
Butler
took a laser pointer from his pocket and switched it on. He directed the beam
at the map; the red dot picked out the Isle of Dogs and moved right. 'This is
Docklands,' he said, 'as you're all probably aware.' The dot moved past the old
Royal Docks. 'In particular, Silvertown. Not a particularly salubrious area,
but trying hard. The City Airport's close by, a university, shopping centres,
and new developments of apartments. There are also several industrial estates,
and this one, close to the Woolwich ferry, is where we'll be heading on bank
holiday Monday, two weeks from tomorrow.'
There
was a rumble of comment.
'This
is going to be dangerous, gentlemen,' he continued. 'Because where we're going
will be guarded by armed men, who will do their very best to see that we don't succeed.
That's why all of you will be armed too, and some of you will - I repeat, will
- have to use those guns. Now, you've all had this explained before and I will
only say it once: there's no backing out. You're in now and you will remain in.
That's a fact, and I- can't emphasise it enough. There's only one way out for
you now. Feet first.'
Jimmy
knew Butler meant it, and when he looked around the room, he knew the other men
realised it too.
'This
is a seven-man job,' Butler went on. 'Seven on the ground, that is, plus
support staff. They have been preparing the vehicles you will use for the job
and for the getaway afterwards.'
Jimmy
shook his head. Plans. Too many plans and too many people. And where there were
people there were big mouths ready to boast about the job. And others prepared
to sell out the whole deal for their thirty pieces of silver or to save their
own skins. Jimmy knew that, only too well. But it was the only game in town for
him and he knew it. Maybe his last chance to put something away for an old age
that was creeping up fast. So that was that. No point in worrying. He just had
to do his best and hope for the same.
'Right,'
said Butler. 'Let me get down to specifics.'
'Where
we're going is a depository for precious stones.' Butler pulled the paper
covering the second blackboard to reveal a photograph of a concrete building
that resembled nothing so much as an oversized pill box. There was one main
door of truck height, with windows that were tiny and heavily barred. 'That's
why the stakes are so high,' Butler went on. 'Inside the main vault of this
anonymous-looking building in east London, fortunes come and go. On bank
holiday Monday there will be a minimum of twenty-five million pounds' worth of
uncut diamonds in the building. Possibly more. With your help, I intend to take
them. We have a buyer who will pay cash at the rate of fifty per cent of their
market value. Fifty pence in the pound. Fifty cents on the dollar. I think we
can walk out of this with over twelve million quid. I know this because, as you
may have guessed, I have someone on the inside. This information is kosher.'
Butler
paused, triggering off another rumble of whispering.
'And
I guarantee each of you here tonight with a minimum of one million in cash,'
said Butler with a big smile. 'At the very least. Very possibly more…'
'And
how much for him?' whispered Lee.
'I
heard that, Toby,' said Butler. 'And it's a good question. I take a third off
the top. In exchange I know the where and when, organise the crew, pay them
their wages, supply transport and ordnance and provide a safe getaway. Don't
you think that's fair?'
'Fair
enough, Mr Butler,' said Lee. 'I weren't complaining. Just wondering.'
'And
so you should. The rest of you, it's a straight split, including my inside man…
or woman. Don't worry. There'll be more bunce than you can spend for a very
long time. Even you Toby, with your bad habits.'
More
laughter.
'No
probs, Mr Butler,' said Lee. 'Nuff said.'
'Right,'
said Butler. 'It's a simple job. Two vehicles. One, a truck to batter down the
front gates and hit the main doors. Two up. Tony driving, Bob with him. Then
another car containing the rest of you, Toby driving that one. The stones will
be being sorted and graded and the vault will be open. There are two guards
inside, armed with automatic weapons. They have to be taken out. You load the
diamonds into the boot of the number two car, leave the truck and get out fast.
There are alarms, panic buttons through to the local police station and CCTV on
site^ The alarms won't be switched on during working hours, but the panic
buttons will be available. And the local nick, believe it or not, only opens
nine to five during weekdays, and closes for lunch. I think it's a disgrace,
the cuts in public services…' There was laughter at that.
'And
on bank holidays there's only a skeleton crew on duty in the area. But there
will be crime cars floating about, so it's a quick in and out. If you see any
police vehicles, put them out of action. You've got the firepower. Use it.
There will be two more cars waiting at a designated spot. Transfer the stones
to Bob's motor and he'll bring them to me. Tony with him. The rest of you will
be dropped off as and when from the second car and Toby will lose the motor.
Bob's motor will also be lost after the stones are in my possession. The money
will be available within forty-eight hours, and the split will take place here
as soon as possible afterwards. Any questions?'
No
one spoke.
'Fair
enough,' said Butler. 'We'll meet again soon. This rime it'll be where the
vehicles are being stored. Feel free to study the maps and blueprints. I want
you to introduce yourselves to anyone you don't know. You're going to have to
trust each other with your lives. Some of you may not survive. That's a fact.
Deal with it.' And with that, Daniel Butler turned and left the room.
Bob
gestured for Jimmy to join him, and they joined the others. 'Jimmy, meet
Ronnie, Les and Paul,' said Bob. 'Tony and Toby you've met. Tony's going to
drive the truck we'll use to get inside. I'm riding shotgun with him. Toby's
driving the other car with Jimmy and the rest of you. It's simple. But what Mr
Butler said was right. There'll be armed men on the plot who're prepared to
shoot to kill. You've got to be ready too. Any problems with that?'
No
one spoke.
'Fine.
Now all of you but Jimmy know what ordnance you're using. Jimmy, come with me
and find something you'll be happy with. The rest of you can go. Now, you ain't
got wheels have you, Jimmy?' It wasn't a question. 'Toby, you going back to
London?'
Toby
nodded.
'Hang
around for a bit, will you? I've got to stay here. Can you give Jimmy a lift?'
'No
problem,' said Toby. 'A pleasure.'
'Right,'
said Bob. 'The gun room's down here.'
They
left the others and Bob led Jimmy along several corridors, before they came to
a blank door which Bob opened with two keys. 'Can't be too careful,' he said as
he switched on the lights.
Fluorescent
tubes stuttered into life and Jimmy walked through to be confronted by a row of
glass-fronted cabinets bulging with guns. 'Christ,' he said. 'What's this?
Woolwich Arsenal?'
Bob
grinned. 'Mr Butler likes to have some firepower on hand. What do you fancy?'
Jimmy
walked along the row of cabinets, inspecting the contents.
There
were HK MP5s, Kalashnikov AK 47s, Skorpion Model 61s, Beretta Model 12s,
Mac 10s and all sorts of other automatic weapons, plus rifles and shotguns and
enough revolvers and semi-automatic pistols to equip a terrorist army.
Jimmy
went for a Remington pump-action shotgun with a short barrel arid a six-shot
capacity. 'Don't know machine guns,' he said. 'This'll do me.'
'Used
one before?' asked Bob.
'Oh
yeah,' said Jimmy, not elaborating. He'd killed Billy Farrow with something
similar. He'd used one before all right.
'Take
a handgun too,' said Bob.
Jimmy
already had one tucked down his strides but didn't let on. Instead he helped
himself to a Browning nine.
'Want
to give them a go?' asked Bob.
'Do
what?'
'There's
a range downstairs. Come on.'
Taking
the two guns, Jimmy followed Bob out of the room, which he locked behind him,
and through another door which led down a flight of stairs. 'Got big cellars
these old houses,' said Bob as they descended. 'Useful for wine and all sorts.'
They came to another door, which Bob opened before hitting a light switch.
Inside was a full size shooting range.
'Fully
soundproofed,' said. Bob 'You could let off an H-bomb in here and no one would
be any the wiser.' A touch to another switch and an extractor fan sprang into
life. 'No expense spared,' he added.
At
the side of the range was a long table piled with boxes of ammunition. 'Help
yourself.' said Bob. 'There's goggles and muffs in the drawer underneath.'
Jimmy grabbed a handful of double ought shotgun cartridges and loaded six into
the Remington, then carefully placed it on the table, the barrel pointing at
the wall, the safety on. He then took out the Browning's magazine and broke
open a fresh box of fifty 9mm rounds. He loaded the clip with thirteen bullets
and slapped it into the butt of the gun to make sure it was firmly in place. He
pulled back the slide to put a round into the chamber, set the safety, found a
set of yellow shooting glasses and ear muffs and put them on. He picked up the
shotgun and approached the range, setting the Browning on the shelf in front of
him, barrel pointed away again, and squinted down the length of the room.
There
was a cardboard target set at twenty metres, with a picture of a grim-looking
soldier, weapon cocked and steel helmet firmly on his head. Jimmy let go with
the Remington and the target blew up in a cloud of cardboard dust. It only took
three shots to completely destroy the target and Jimmy stopped shooting. Bob
operated the pulley that brought what was left of the paper soldier up close,
so that Jimmy could check his work and replace it with a fresh one. It was
barely recognisable, ripped and torn apart as it was. He clipped on a new
target, and the wires hummed as it was sent back to ten metres. 'Handgun,'
shouted Bob, and Jimmy picked up the Browning, clicked off the safety catch,
took a stance and fired. The gun kicked hard in his hands and the bullets
chopped holes in the target around the heart and the head. When the gun was
empty and the action blown back, he put it on the shelf and stepped back.
Bob
took off his muffs, joined Jimmy and said, 'Fair shooting. You'll do. But what
happens when someone shoots back?'
'I'll
do what's necessary,' replied Jimmy. 'Don't worry about me.'
'Ain't
you a bit old for this lark?' asked Bob.