A Question Of Honour: A Harry Royle Thriller (6 page)

Dropping the cigarette, he opened the car door and hurried over to join the waiting woman. She saw his approach and flashed a warm smile at him. They kissed their hello and then Royle showed Susan Brown the car. She was suitably impressed and suggested a drive. Harry quickly explained that he had only recently learned to drive and that he was more than a little nervous driving in the city. Royle disliked the fact that telling the lie seem to come all too easy for him. He had always had a very low regard for criminals. In such a short time, his view had turned on a sixpence.

As he smiled at the pretty woman in the green coat, he realised that had things been different, he would have been an officer on leave meeting his sweetheart, not a desperate man on the run. Smiling in return, the woman asked if she might drive instead.

"You drive?"

She grinned.

"Not only do I drive my dear Harold."

Royle winced at hearing his Sunday name used, as she continued.

"Having been taught by my dad three years ago, I drive very well. Just can't afford a car yet. I passed my competence test just after they came in and have my licence here in my bag, I'll show you."

She reached inside her dark brown handbag but felt a gentle restraining hand upon her own.

"I believe you and yes that would be lovely."

They swapped positions and she eased the black car away from the curb. The drive was easy and surprisingly relaxing for Harry. She was a very good driver and had in fact impressed him. The conversation had touched on various subjects and for the most had centred on women drivers at Brooklands, a subject dear to Susan's heart. As they drove through Moss Side, she had asked Harry whereabouts he lived. Without thinking Royle began to reply, and then had second thoughts about the suitability of the run down house where his flat was. He had instead lied once again. He had indicated a very nice property on Moss Lane East as home but had explained that his landlady was having the carpets cleaned and so he couldn't go in until evening. Susan Brown had brushed her nose with the tip of a finger and exclaimed how grand it must be to have one's carpets cleaned, in a mock comic voice. They had both laughed and decided instead to find somewhere to eat.

Susan noticed the cafe where Harry had eaten breakfast that morning, but he put her off it quickly, by telling her rats had been seen nearby. She had shrugged her shoulders and suggested maybe somewhere a little more sanitary. In the end, they had settled on a Lyons house close to where Susan lived. After eating and a stroll to walk off the food, they had parted and Harry had driven home. He spent the rest of the day going over the map. Over and over he checked all the possible routes to and from the ironworks. He also attempted to get to know the city centre in case of needing to drive through it.

This took him hours and he only stopped when he found his head beginning to nod. Putting the maps away, his thoughts turned to Susan and he found himself smiling about the car ride and the meal. He had to admit, she was good to talk to and easy on the eye. Laying back on the bed he wondered what the future might hold for him and if she might just be a part of it.

Chapter 4

The next day was like any other, consisting of breakfast at Barney's with Eric, followed by a walk around the local shops. Royle didn't have the heart to go far, knowing that something big was coming and not wanting to be too far from the flat. He helped Edna change a lightbulb, and she rewarded him with a glass of sweet sherry for his trouble. He disliked the drink but didn't like to refuse. The rest of the day passed slowly. He read the paper and listened to the radio.

That evening was quiet, and he decided to stay in and spend another evening with his map. He had bought two bottles of brown ale and had kicked off his shoes relaxing in the battered armchair, in his small furniture crowded room. A cigarette was held loosely between his fingers as his hands held the map. On the bed, not three feet away was spread an identical copy of the map, but this one had various routes marked on it and a large pencil circle surrounding the ironworks.

It was after eleven when the knock came. The house had gone to bed earlier, and the silence had played on his nerves a little. He had taken the gun out from beneath its mattress hiding place and had placed it on the chair beside his right thigh, beneath the map. Reaching out, he drank the ale straight from the bottle. He was just lighting a Woodbine when the knock came. It was not loud, yet seemed deafening in the silence.

Snatching up the gun, he pushed himself into the corner behind the door. He found his voice, which seemed a pitch higher than normal.

"Who is it?"

The door was pushed open, and four men crowded into the tiny room. They came in fast, but Harry was already behind them and stood with the gun held level at chest height. With a soft kick, he sent the door back to its closed position. He found his voice again but made sure to keep it lower this time.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?"

They turned as one and seeing the gun, raised their hands quickly. Royle now recognised three of them, Pete, Eric and the third man he had met in the pub, Dave. The fourth man was a stranger. Pete with hands still held at shoulder level looked at Harry and took a slow step forward.

"Sorry Harry, we didn't want to be seen lurking on your stairs, didn't mean to startle you."

The room's tension eased a degree. The men slowly lowered their hands and Harry lowered the gun. Pete turned swiftly on his heel and addressed the others, and in particular, the stranger.

"See what did I tell you? Impressive, or what?"

The tall stranger in the good quality suit took a step forward and offered Royle, his hand. The two men shook hands and Pete introduced Harry to Mr Green. Harry wasn't impressed with the obvious use of a false name but gave no indication of his feelings on the matter. Pete explained that Mr Green was the money behind the ironworks venture and that he had wanted to see where his hard earned was being spent. Green seemed suitably impressed, and the men spoke for an hour or so, their voices never rising above a murmur. Eric remained standing at the door with his ear pressed against it the whole time Pete explained the plan.

Tomorrow would see the ironworks robbed of its Thursday wages. Green made a point of telling the group that they would have to remember that every single worker at the place would want their pay and so would try anything to stop the men in their tracks if given half a chance. That was why Harry had been brought in, a man used to carrying a weapon, used to giving, as well as obeying orders, and who would see a mission through.

Mr Green explained that he wanted Royle not just to be the wheel man, but also to take the money. He said that the others would act as fend offs, like you'd see at a rugby match. They were to clear the way for Harry. Once clear, the money would go in Harry's car and the others, using a second car would make certain no other vehicles could follow. He was to drive to Great Ancoats Street and hide the vehicle in a lock-up garage there and then go home and wait to be contacted later that day. Once everything was agreed, the men left. On his way out, Pete lightly slapped Harry on the arm, in an almost fatherly gesture.

The night was dark and empty, too dark for Harry to settle and too empty for any sensible thought to come. He walked the floor in his stocking feet, so as to not wake the house, smoking endless cigarettes. Pete had dropped twenty woodbines on the bed, as a parting gift. The ale was by now flat and tasted sour. The other bottle lasted less than five minutes, as it was drunk with nervous contempt for the work ahead.

Royle wanted to find a way out of the nightmare, wanted desperately to go to the police and get the obviously dangerous gang off the streets. Dangerous was certainly something Harry considered Mr Green. During the long conversation, the man had told Royle not to hesitate using the gun and to make sure it was loaded. After that, Harry had liked the man even less than he had at first sight. Green had been altogether too cool about the whole thing. He hadn't talked about people, simply money, cars, guns and no mention of the human perspective.

Harry stubbed out a cigarette angrily in the ashtray and lit up another. Human was not a word he would use for Green, whoever he really was. The man was a menace. Royle knew that he was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. He could no more go to the police than he could walk away. Come the morning at half past ten, he, Harold Royle would be doing his best James Cagney impersonation for the second time in twenty-four hours.

As soon as it was decent, he washed and shaved, then left the house taking the car out to get it filled with petrol, and grab a morning paper. He couldn't face food, and so had steered clear of the cafe. He didn't like Ancoats, but could see the sense in hiding close to the city centre. Anyone looking for the car and the money would expect him to go in the opposite direction to the city. But it was still too close for comfort, and what of the car? He knew he wouldn't be able to risk driving the thing. He just hoped Green had that part of the plan worked out as smoothly as he had the first part.

After driving around aimlessly for an hour, he decided to get closer to the ironworks and so had driven to Nuthurst Street, at the corner of Broadhurst Park. He spent some time simply walking around the park, looking at the trees and wishing the day away. The place was empty, just an empty set of fields. The birds were in full song, and there was very little morning traffic to spoil the country-like effect. He had stopped on the way to buy some more matches and had picked up a Kit Kat as well. He sat on the hard bench and slowly opened the blue chocolate wrapper. His strong fingers breaking the chocolate-covered wafer biscuit into smaller bite size pieces. He ate the snack thoughtlessly.

He was glad the park was empty. He would have had no cheerful morning smiles for anyone. He thought suddenly of Susan and realised that the chances were that he would not see her again, not for a long time anyway. She was a nice girl and Harry reasoned that she probably deserved a lot better than he would be able to offer, with or without his share of the money.

The time to move came all too soon and Harry made his way back to the car. The short journey to the ironworks was quiet and uneventful. Royle pulled up at the curb outside the works, with the nose of the car pointing toward Hilda Street. He had no idea what the drill for an armed robbery was. He assumed get in quick, try not to be seen and get out even quicker.

Leaving the car unlocked, pushing up his collar and pulling down his dark brown tweed cap, he walked through the main gate and up the metal stairs to the works offices. Royle's right hand caressed the cold metal of the gun in his pocket and he felt a damp sweat patch begin to spread across the small of his back. He'd worn an old woollen scarf that morning and hoped that pulling it up, just under his eyes, would strike the right chord of danger in those inside. With scarf firmly in place, he moved through the thick wooden door with speed and deliberate purpose.

Once inside, Harry was greeted with surprised looks and almost comical expressions of disbelief. He remembered the weight in his pocket and quickly withdrew the gun. This had the desired effect on those in the room. Everything went hazy and time appeared to slow down. An older man with spectacles and very little hair thrust a large leather satchel into Harry's left hand. An older woman pushed three young terrified girls behind her, in an act of natural motherly instinct. He felt a shiver and heard his inner voice rasp in his brain, that it was time to go. He waved the gun towards the office staff and backed out of the room. Royle ran down the stairs, he could see Eric hiding under the metal staircase, beneath his feet and Harry asked.

"What about the phones?"

"Cut them ten minutes ago boy. Don't worry, this is going like clockwork. Be off with you and I'll see you later on. I've got your back, trust me."

Harry pocketed the gun and ran breathlessly to the unlocked Austin and wrenched open the door. Throwing the bag on the floor and covering it with his hat and scarf, he brought the car to life and headed off down Hilda Street as fast as he could, without overdoing it. He had noticed glancing back, that Eric hadn't come through the gate, which was now out of his view.

Back at the ironworks, the office door burst open and the man with the spectacles emerged, closely followed by one of the young girls, a petite blonde who ran down the stairs behind the man. As he reached the bottom, intent on raising the alarm, he met with a harsh blow from the leather club wielded by Eric. The man's eyes rolled up in his head, as his legs buckled under his unconscious body. The blonde opened her mouth to scream and the Welshman punched her fully in the face, twisting his fist at the last second, to give her the benefit of his signet ring.

The cruel blow sent the young girl sprawling to the floor in an unconscious heap, blood trickled from her split and twisted lip. Eric put the blackjack back in his pocket. Smiling he kissed the ring on his finger. It hadn't been the first time that he had used the hide under the stairs ploy and he reasoned that it wouldn't be the last either. He strolled out through the gate and turning, ran toward Church Lane, where he was picked up by Dave and driven off towards the city centre.

Harry Royle was sweating and had a splitting headache. Over and over his mind kept playing back the scenes of the robbery. The frightened women hurt the most, girls scared they could die. It was too much. His head swam. Breaking hard outside the garage, he quickly opened up and got the vehicle out of sight inside.