Inside Straight (13 page)

"Fuckin' shame. Nobody's got pride in their work anymore. You know they're skimming on their tax an' all?"

"I heard that."

"Robbing bastards." He stirred his cappuccino and gestured at Jez. "Anyway, just so you've been formally introduced. This is Jez. Jez, this is Graham."

"Aye, we met." Jez smiled briefly.

"So what's the story, Graham?" Pollard smiled at me. "Talking like you've got it all sorted for us. What you got?"

"Well, that depends on your proposed cut."

Pollard showed teeth. His eyes crinkled. "Fuck me, he's haggling."

I looked at my hot chocolate. "Percentage-wise. I mean, you can offer a fixed fee, but it's in your best interests to keep it to a percentage. The bigger the take, the more I have invested in it."

"
Take
, is it?" He pointed at me and nudged Jez. "Look at him, he's been watching his telly, hasn't he? Fuckin' hell."

"I'm not kidding."

The smile remained, but his eyes went to the cappuccino in front of him. His bottom lip overwhelmed the top and he nodded. "Yeah, I know you're not. You're a very serious young man, Graham. I knew you were right from the get-go. And I appreciate you lending a hand like this."

"It'll be services rendered."

"Of course. And that's why I think I can maybe stretch to ten percent."

I shook my head. "A third."

"I've got expenses, son. You'll get ten percent."

"You wanted my help. You came to me. You wouldn't have done that if you thought this was going to be easy. You said yourself that it would be a better proposition all round if you had someone on the inside—"

"You hard of hearing, son? I said ten."

"Then I say no." I sipped my hot chocolate and then wiped my mouth. "And that's all I'll say. I'll just leave and you can sort this out yourselves."

"You think you're going to be safe on a ship?"

"Who says I'm going on the ships? I could have another offer with Stanley or Grosvenor. I could be land-based in Prague in a week. You said it yourself – I'm better than that place. And if you want my help, you're going to have to pay for it."

Pollard laughed. He looked at Jez, then shook his head like I was the funniest thing he'd ever seen. "Alright, how about you tell us what you've got?"

"A third."

"Fuckin' hell, he's a parrot, this one, eh?" He waved at me. "Let's see what your plan's all about first, see if it's as airtight as you reckon, then we can talk about your fuckin' third."

I waited. Paused for effect. Then I reached into my pocket and retrieved the flyer. I put it on the table between us. Pollard looked at it, but didn't make a move. "That's your date."

"Sunday?"

"Sundays, there's normally two days' worth of money on the premises. You make it a Sunday at the end of the month when you've had the pay day punters and a major Chinese festival, you're adding another zero onto your take."

"Alright." He looked at Jez, who shrugged. "Sunday."

"And if you go in there without me, you'll mess it up. I'm not talking about the staff here, either. Sovereign don't care about the staff. People heal, and turnover's high anyway. But you lot, go in there without my help, you'll wreck the fixtures and fittings. That's unforgivable – means the organisation have to put in a bigger insurance claim. And as you know, there was a lot of pressure not to open the place in Salford anyway. They said it was a security risk."

"They were right."

"Didn't help that you came round demanding protection."

"Did I do that?" He smiled at Jez. "Did I do that, Jez?"

"Doesn't matter if you did or not. That's the story. That's Pete Rockwell's story."

"Pete Rockwell." Pollard raised his eyebrows. "Jesus, there's a blast from the past. How is Pete? You talk to him recently, have you?"

"No."

"No, I didn't think so." Pollard and Jez shared a chuckle.

I didn't want to push for an explanation, so I decided to change tack. "Soon as the place is robbed, they'll come to you. You know that."

"Don't you worry, son. I'll be fine."

"I'm not worried about you, I'm worried about your team."

"My
team
?" Pollard smirked. "They'll be fine."

"You're sure about that?"

"Trust me."

"I wish I could. But you need to make sure. Way I heard it, the only reason they haven't pulled you in on the Palace robbery is because it wasn't big enough. This one, this here, this is going to be big enough. And it's going to be close enough to the Palace to suggest a pattern if you let it. Which is why you need to listen to me, Mr Pollard, and listen closely, because you're going to need to follow my plan to the letter. You don't do that, I promise you – and I promise Jez here, too – that you'll be in Strangeways for Christmas."

Pollard moved his mouth. He touched the rim of his cup. There was a different kind of smile on his face now, as if he was being reminded of an embarrassing story. He jerked his chin at me, but kept his gaze on his cappuccino and his voice low. "What's the plan?"

"Quick, simple and clean. This isn't a smash and grab. If you rush this place, panic the staff, then someone's going to do something daft. I don't think either of us wants blood on our hands if we can help it. Which means you can't hit the place while it's open."

Jez scoffed. Pollard glanced at him.

"I'm telling you, you can't do the club when it's full of punters. Yeah, you might pick up another couple of grand in wallets and watches, but all it takes is one bad pawn shop to put you in prison, and some of the punters are probably going to put up a fight. Trust me, I've watched these people for sixteen years. They'll gamble it away, but never give it up without a fight."

"And the staff?"

"The staff don't care. They're trained to step back. Not their money, not worth the risk."

"When do you suggest, then?"

"The count."

"Which is what time?"

"Casino closes about four, the boxes come out shortly after that. I can give you an exact time if we sort out the cut. The benefit of hitting the count is obvious. All the cash is out in the open, you don't need to bother with the table boxes and your cashiers are otherwise engaged. There'll be a couple of seconds' leeway on any surprises. Everyone's knackered that time of the morning."

"Not gonna work, Barry." Jez shook his head. "The count room's built like Superman's shithouse."

"A door's only as good as its locks. You won't have to worry about that. I'll be in there. I'll sort it out."

"What about alarms?" Pollard wiped a speck of chocolate from the side of his mouth.

"One in the cash desk. I won't be able to do anything about that."

"For fuck's sake." Jez rolled bloodshot eyes. He was smiling, but it was more out of disbelief than any actual mirth. "This one's a fuckin' chancer, Barry. He's talking out his arse."

I interrupted him. "Alarms won't matter. Like I said, everyone's knackered, they'll be slow. So say two minutes before they hit the alarm. You've got clear roads at that time of the morning, but even then there's an average police response time of about fifteen minutes for urban areas."

Jez frowned. "How d'you know that?"

"How do you not? The Met were hauled over the coals last month for the drop in response. Check it out. It's all available online if you know where to look . And the way the alarms have been going at our place, unless they get a phone call or secondary alarm, they're not going to treat it as a priority, so you can add another five minutes to that. All in all, you're probably looking at twenty-two minutes to pull this off, which is about the length of a
Big Bang Theory
if you want to time it."

"What the fuck are you talking about, mate?" Jez shook his head, his eyes slits. "Barry, you want to—"

Pollard held up a finger. Jez shut up and turned his gaze to the table.

"Now your only real problem is going to be crowd control. The first thing that'll happen when you come in is they'll break for the back, which means you have to block those exits off. There are three main exits and entrances." I pulled a napkin. "You got a pen?"

Pollard tapped Jez on the arm. He chucked a chewed bookie pen at me. I didn't want to use it, but I didn't want to seem prissy, either. I held it lightly and after a brief scribble to make sure it worked, I drew a rough outline of the casino and crossed the main entrances. "This one you know. The main reception area. You're asking for trouble if you come in through there – two mechanised doors and they're both toughened glass, locked tight after four. Anyone makes a move for them, you'll see them, but they'll also see
you
coming a mile away if you try to make it your entrance, but it'll do as an exit point. Be as noisy as you want going out. Won't matter by then."

I drew a box by the front entrance, then I tapped the furthest back entrance.

"You see this?" I drew another large box by the entrance. "This is the main staff entrance and it's a fire exit, so the door opens outwards. If you put something solid and high in front of that like a van or a truck, you'll block the exit and probably knock out the camera into the bargain."

"What about security?"

"They'll be on the floor. Couple of ex-army, emphasis on the ex. I never met an ex-army who was much cop at anything but sitting on his backside."

Jez nodded at that. "Else they'd still be in."

"That's right. So your other entrance here is through the kitchen. Kitchen staff and valets are long gone by closing, so you'll just need the code, which I'll give you. You come in through there with a truck round the back and your getaway up front. Run up this corridor, take a right and you'll be in the count room. Take a couple of guys out onto the gaming floor to weaken the staff constitution. They won't run out the front because of the car. If you get any gyp from Security – if he's on, there's one might give you a bit of mouth – feel free to get the blood running. They're paid for it. The rest I think will buckle without much of a push. There's no way to alert the police from the pit without you seeing and if you get their mobiles, the lines should be effectively cut."

Pollard frowned at the napkin. After a short pause, he looked at me. "You're sure about the staff?"

"How d'you mean?"

"No one's going to fuck us about?"

"I don't think so. They're mostly trainees, those that aren't rejects from other clubs. They should be too busy filling their pants to give you any trouble."

Pollard finished his cappuccino. He took the napkin I'd drawn on and wiped his top lip with it. "Where will you be while all this is going on?"

"The count room, trying to make sure everything goes according to plan."

"What about the manager?"

"She'll be in there with me, most likely. There's a good chance she'll curl up into a ball and stay that way until the police turn up. She worked land-based in Odessa for a while, and I get the feeling it traumatised her. For all intents and purposes, I'll be the senior member of staff because I'm the one with the most experience. People will do what I tell them to do."

"And what about afterwards when the plod turn up?"

"I'll tell them the truth." I shrugged. "I was following procedure. My first and only priority is to make sure none of my staff are hurt. The official company line is that we protect our own above the money."

"And the unofficial?"

"Is that I'll have missed key opportunities to hit the second silent alarm in the cash desk, or the first if one of the cashiers doesn't do it. That I was too busy watching my own back to take proper control of the situation. And after the police have finished with me, I'll no doubt be pulled up by Regional and given a good going over. But I'm there for a reason, aren't I? I'm a reject just like the rest of them. They make a noise like they're going to get rid of me, I'll claim stress and go on the sick."

"And then you'll bugger off."

"Hopefully. Nothing's confirmed yet."

"You let us know when it is."

I shook my head. "I'll be gone, Mr Pollard. You won't have to worry about me."

"So you've got it all worked out, have you?"

"The count room door's been playing up, or it has when I've been trying to lock it, anyway. There'll be nobody in the back of the club when we're in doing the count, so we won't know what's hit us until your boys come out through the staff door."

"What about exits?" Jez looked confused. "You said it was toughened glass."

"It is, but it's still glass. Whatever you're using as weapons should get you through it. Or you could have someone from your car smash their way in once the boys are in view. It's entirely up to you. Nobody's going to get in your way."

"Good." Pollard smiled. He wiped his mouth on the napkin and dumped it on the table. He nodded to Jez, who got to his feet.

"So are we agreed on a third?"

"No. But I'll cut you in for twenty percent if you make sure that door's open and the alarms stay quiet."