1953 - The Things Men Do (14 page)

"I haven't, you know," Harris said indignantly. He came hurriedly out of the office. "I might have been resting my eyes, but I haven't been asleep."

"Well, come on. I want to sign off."

I heard them walk over to the office.

I slipped out of the van, shut the door and edged out of the bay. It seemed a long way now to the street entrance. I could get within twenty feet of it in safety, but the last twenty feet were in full light from the overhead lamp.

I made my way towards the light, keeping close to the wall.

The sound of voices wade me dock down behind a van.

The driver and Harris came out of the office. They began to walk slowly down the shed towards the entrance.

At the entrance the driver said, "Well, sweet dreams. Mind you don't snore."

"Hop it," Harris said, grinning good-humouredly. "See you tomorrow. Don't do anything I wouldn't do in the meantime."

He stood just inside the entrance, looking after the driver as he walked away, then yawning, he came slowly back into the shed. He stood looking into the darkness, scratching his head, then he walked back to his office and shut himself in.

I didn't move. I knew he would see me if I walked into the light. I leaned against the wall and waited. I waited over a quarter of an hour, then I saw him rest his face in his hands again.

I moved then. Silently and swiftly, I dodged past the pool of light and into the street. I kept going, crossing the street to the garage, drawing a deep breath of relief as I reached the darkness without hearing any shout of alarm.

Joe was waiting for me. In the dim light coming from my office I could see his sweat beaded face.

"You took your time. I thought he had spotted you."

"He didn't spot me."

"Have you fixed it?"

"I've fixed it."

I closed the garage doors and shot the bolt, then I walked quickly down the garage to my office, turned off the light and went upstairs.

"Harry?"

I stiffened as I opened the bedroom door.

"Aren't you asleep?"

"No. What were you doing across the road? Why did you go over there?"

I felt a little chill creep up my spine.

"I made some tea. I thought Harris would like a drop. My voice was unsteady. "Did you see me then?"

"I thought I heard something and looked out of the window. Is Harris Bill's pal?"

"That's the fellow. I'm going to have a wash, then I'll be with you. Don't turn on the light."

"Was the carburettor all right?"

"I fixed it in the end. It was quite a job."

"Hurry up and come to bed, Harry."

"I'm coming."

chapter twelve

I
had spent a week's holiday with Bill's father and mother after I had been demobilized. They lived in a remote village near Anton, some ten miles from Berwick-on-Tweed. The old boy was getting on for eighty, and Mrs. Yates was only a few years younger, but they lived alone and managed for themselves, and Bill thought the world of them.

I decided to use them as a bait to get Bill out of London. I didn't like doing it, but I knew they were the only people, except for Ann and myself, he cared about. They were not on the telephone and their cottage was a good mile from their nearest neighbours, something that was always worrying Bill.

"If ever one of them got ill," he used to say, "I don't know how they would get on. But they won't move. I've argued myself black in the face, but it makes no difference."

Soon after four o'clock on Saturday afternoon, I happened to have a telephone call from one of my customers.

Knowing Ann had heard the telephone bell, I used the call to set the ball rolling.

After I had hung up, I raced upstairs to find Ann.

"I've just had some pretty bad news," I said, coming into the kitchen. "It's Bill mother. She's been taken ill. The doctor says Bill must go at once."

"Oh, Harry! Do you know where Bill is?"

"I haven't an idea. The doctor didn't know if he was on the phone. Bill's father told him to get in touch with me. I've got to find Bill. Tim can hold the fort. Maybe they'll know where he is over at the sorting-office."

"Is it bad?"

"It could be. She's had a fall. Could be serious at her age."

I went downstairs and over to the sorting-office where I found Harris sunning himself in the doorway.

"I've got to find Bill," I said. "Just had news his mother's taken ill. They want him to go home. Know where he is?"

"I'm sorry to hear that," Harris said, looking startled. "He's at his lodgings. He's on night shift tonight. I expect he's having a bit of a kip."

"Will he be able to get time off?"

"Shouldn't be any trouble about that."

"Now look, I'm going down to his lodgings right now. I'll drive him to the station. There's a train in an hour I think he can catch. Could you report this for him? He won't have time to ask for leave himself, and he'll be easier in mind if he knows you're taking care of it for him."

Harris hesitated.

"Well, he should report it himself by rights. He should get permission before he goes."

"But he's got to catch that train. Even now he may arrive too late. This is a matter of life and death. You can't expect him . . ."

"Okay, okay," Harris said. "Leave it to me. I'll fix it."

"Good man! Then I'll get off."

I went back and told Ann what I was going to do, then got out the truck and drove fast to Bill's lodgings; a small house off the Fulham Road.

His landlady said he was in his room having a sleep. She knew me and told me to go on up.

As I climbed the stairs, I wondered if I were going to pull this off. Bill was shrewd, and a difficult man to panic.

I had to stop him from checking my story. I had to get him on the train without telephoning. Once on the train I knew he couldn't get back until late Sunday afternoon. By that time the hold-up would be over.

I rapped on the door and pushed it open.

Bill was lying on the bed in shirt and trousers, smoking and reading a paper-backed novel. He gaped at me and sat up.

"Hello, Harry, this is a surprise."

"I've got some bad news, Bill," I said, coming into the room and shutting the door. "It's your mother. She's had a bad fall, and they want you to go up right away."

Alarm jumped into Bill's eyes as he scrambled off the bed.

"Is she badly hurt?"

"I do think so: it's more a question of shock. There's a train in forty minutes. You can just make it if you hurry. I've got the truck outside, and I'll run you to the station."

"I can't catch that. I've got to get permission to go. I'm on night duty. What's the next train?"

"You've got permission. I fixed all that with Harris. There's nothing to worry about. He's doing all that's necessary. Now come on, and stir your stumps. We haven't much time."

"This is damned good of you, Harry." He sat on the bed and struggled into his shoes. "How did you get mixed up in this?"

"Your dad told the doctor to phone me. He hoped you might be across the way."

"Who's the doctor? Is it the hospital?"

"No. She's at home. He did tell me his name, but I can't remember it."

"Mackenzie?"

"It might be. Come on for goodness' sake."

He was now putting on his collar and tie.

"I wonder if I should call him first?"

"You haven't time. I told him you'd be on the five-fifteen. He said she was dangerously I'll and she's asking for you."

That galvanized him into action. In under three minutes he was ready. I felt pretty sick deceiving him in this way, but it was for his own good. Nothing else would have got him to chuck up his work at a moment's notice.

We ran downstairs and to the truck.

Fortunately the traffic was fairly light as it was Saturday afternoon, and we made good time to King's Cross. Bill couldn't hope to reach his home before one o'clock in the morning, and even if he turned around immediately, he couldn't get back to London before nine-thirty. By then he should be safe.

I bustled him along the platform, not giving him a chance to think, to where the train was waiting.

"Do you want any money?" I asked, taking out two five-pound notes I had brought with me. "Better take these. Here's a corner seat. Hop in here."

"I can't say how grateful I am, Harry." Bill climbed in, his usually cheerful face worried and anxious. "I wouldn't like the old lady to go without seeing me."

"She'll be all right as soon as she sets eyes on your ugly mug," I said, gripping his hand. "Let me know what happens, Bill, and keep your pecker up."

We had a few minutes to wait before the train left, and I talked desperately, giving him no time to concentrate. I was scared stiff he might want to put through a priority call to the doctor. Being a member of the Post Office he wouldn't have any trouble doing that, so I didn't give him a chance even to think of it "Looks as if you're off," I said as the guard waved his flag. "Good luck, Bill."

"Thanks for all you've done. I'll let you know how it goes."

The train was moving now, and I stepped back with a sigh of relief. Bill hung out of the window, waving. I stood on the sunlit platform watching until I lost sight of him.

As I drove towards Eagle Street, my mind was busy. I felt I had won the first trick against Dix. I had got Bill out of trouble.

Now I had to wait to see what my next move should be. It depended on Dix. What would he do after the robbery? Would he leave the country or hide in London? If he hid in London would he use Gloria's flat? Could I get at him through Gloria?

Sooner or later he must make a slip or give me an opportunity to wreck his plan. I knew I was running a risk. The wisest thing to have done would have been to have told Bill what was going to happen, but Dix might slip through the net, and I knew he would get those photographs to Ann if it was the last thing he did.

The thought of her looking at those pictures brought me out in a cold sweat. No matter what happened to me, no matter what risks I had to rim, those photographs were not to get into her hands.

I got back to the garage find told Tim to go home.

Ann came running into the office as soon as she heard me come in.

"Did you find him?"

"It's all right He's on his way by now. He said he'd let us know what happens."

"Oh, good. I do hope she'll be all right."

"Seeing Bill will cheer her up. I don't envy him his Journey."

We talked about Bill for a few minutes, then Ann went upstairs again.

I went into the office and began to sort out the more important bills that had to be paid.

I had paid the seventy-five pounds Dix had given me into my bank. I had been tempted not to put the amount through the books, but I couldn't pay my bills in cash, and finally I had decided it would be too risky to try to gyp the income tax people. I had completed writing out the more important cheques when I saw Joe come out of the partitioned room and go over to the Jaguar. I watched him check the petrol and oil.

He then inflated the tyres with my pressure pump.

Their get-away car, Dix had said.

I felt an angry wave of resentment run through me as I thought how easily I had been fooled, and how clever they had been.

"Harry," Ann called from the head of the stairs.

"Right here." I pushed back my chair and went to the door.

"Where have you put the vacuum flask?"

"The—what?"

"The vacuum flask, darling. It's not in the cupboard."

"I haven't seen it"

"Didn't you take it when you went over to Harris last night?"

Cold fingers suddenly closed around my heart. I had difficulty in breathing. Luckily the light was bad, and Ann couldn't see my face.

"I—I didn't take the flask. I took him a cup of tea."

"That's very odd. The flask's not here."

I was trying to think what I had done with the flask, but for the moment my brain was paralysed.

"I was going to take it but I couldn't find it," I said, my voice husky.

"It must be somewhere. I'll look again."

I heard her go into the kitchen.

I stood still, cold sweat on my face while I wracked my brain to remember what I had done with the flask. I had it with me when l went across to the sorting-office. I had it in my hand when I spotted Harris in his glass-partitioned office. I had it with me when I got into the van to cut the wire, but after that I couldn't remember what I had done with it.

I couldn't have left it in the van?

I couldn't have done such a mad, stupid thing as that?

I suddenly felt weak at the knees, and I sat down. I must have brought it back! Maybe it was in the garage. If I had been mad enough to have left it in the van would it eventually be traced to me? It would have my fingerprints on it.

I went out into the garage and began to hunt feverishly, but I couldn't find it.

"It's not in the kitchen, Harry," Ann called.

I went to the door at the foot of the stairs.

"It'll turn up. Don't worry about it."

"I'll have one more look."

You won't find it, I thought, sick and shaking. I remembered now. I had put it on the floor of the van just before I cut the wire. It was there now: a blue and white flask, easily identified, and with my fingerprints on it.

chapter thirteen

I
t was a sweltering hot night, and although the window, overlooking Eagle Street, was wide open and the curtains pulled back, the room seemed like an oven.

I lay sleepless. At my side Ann slept quietly.

It wasn't only the heat that kept me awake. My mind was darting about like a rat in a trap, as I tried to think of the best way out of my predicament. At first I decided to tell Joe about the vacuum flask so he could consult Dix, but on second thoughts I realized they wouldn't put off the hold-up, and they were certain to blame me for being so stupidly careless.

I then wondered if it would be possible to go to the sorting-office after dark and try to recover the flask, but I gave up that idea as soon as it entered my head. Joe would be watching the place and he would see me. I might just as well tell him and be done with it.