Give The Devil His Due (38 page)

       The terrier continued to bark. He could now hear the unusual whirring sound of some strange mechanical device – and it wasn’t Ezekiel’s pump-out toilet!

***

Peach grabbed the stern line. The wind for the main part was responsible for moving the boat. Compared with a fast flowing river, the canal had very little current. The Prefect cupped his hand. Peach raised his foot and with a one, two, three, was up on the back of
Betty
. Peach pulled Phil unceremoniously aboard.

       Peach commanded, ‘Get the bow line’.

       Sliding his hands down the roof rail, and making sure of his footing on the gunwale, Phil quickly made his way to the bow and fished the rope out of the water. In the time it had taken him to do this, Peach had got the engine started.

       Peach handled the craft well; it was obvious he knew his onions. Using the engine and bow-thruster, he soon had her under control. As he brought her alongside, Peach hopped off and tied her up securely. He then laid the cargo sling on the ground. I wheeled the safe on to the sling. Peach and Phil grabbed hold and tilted the safe slightly, allowing me to remove the trolley from under it.

       We watched as the Housemaster secured the sling around the safe. Hopping back on board, he then swung the lifting arm over. It was the moment of truth. If the sling broke we’d be screwed.

       The whirring of the tiny toy-town motor seemed almost unreal as it swung the jib carrying that heavy safe off the bank and over on to deck. Peach set our prize down with a clunk and switched the little motor off. Vaughan climbed on board awkwardly. I passed the trolley to Peach and he stowed it below. Phil untied the bow rope, while I dealt with the stern. We both jumped on, joining the others.

***

Norman Speer and Colin Drake were waiting for the police to arrive. They stared with disbelief at the cut anchor bolt sticking up from the basement floor where once a safe had been. Norman had never seen the anchor bolt of a safe before. ‘What
is
that Col?’

       ‘I’m sorry to say Norm, that, in the security business, is what they call a P45 mate!’

***

Vaughan covered the safe with a tarpaulin, masking its true identity. It would soon be
Betty’s
turn to have a change of appearance. For now though, it was time to leave. With her engine whisper-quiet, she slipped gently out to the centre of the channel and headed towards Rugeley.

       I looked back. Shoreborough had its floodlights on, the powerful beams illuminating the shrinking façade. The wind had died down. I could hear the sound of the water lapping against the side of the boat as she gracefully moved along, and the bark of a bull terrier fading away in the background.

Chapter 30

It was round about 10.30 a.m. on Sunday and
Give The Devil His Due
was now some considerable distance from Shoreborough. We were still nervous but the further away we got, the more our confidence grew – that was until we happened to hear a bulletin on
Radio Stafford
…

      
‘We interrupt this program to bring you an important news report. During the early hours of this morning, thieves raided the Shoreborough estate, taking with them jewellery and artefacts estimated to be in excess of three million pounds. We now hand you over to our reporter Jane Horton, live from Shoreborough.

       ‘Good morning Jane, what can you tell us?’

       ‘Thank you Jeremy, I am standing here at the famous Shoreborough Estate, where, at around 3 a.m. this morning, a gang of five masked men entered the grounds, by cutting the chains that secure the main gate.

       ‘Employing distraction techniques, they anaesthetised the guard dogs that normally protect the property. and then proceeded to break in to the Mansion House itself, plundering some of the important riches that this beautiful and historic building has been exhibiting to the good people of Staffordshire, and indeed the wider public at large, for many, many years.’

       ‘Jane, we’ve been told here that they got away with about three million. Is that correct?’

       ‘Jeremy, the exact figure is, at the moment, unknown. But sources have indicated to me that it may be much higher than three million. The security company are certainly staying tight-lipped, playing down the whole thing, which is to be expected.’

       ‘And how do they know that there are five men involved?’

       ‘Well Jeremy, as you’ll no doubt be aware, the violent storm that hit the area last night brought with it a substantial amount of rainfall, and it is due to this inclement weather that police have been left a multitude of clues, including many shoe prints.’

       ‘Are the police saying anything else?’

       ‘Yes, these are ruthless and violent career criminals and, should any member of the public come across them, under no circumstances are they to be approached. The police have given us a hotline number for anyone with information that may lead to the arrest of the gang. The number is 0800 555 111.’

       ‘Thank you Jane. Our reporter: Jane Horton there, listeners …’

***

Phil, Vaughan and I were sitting in the saloon with Peach up on deck at the tiller. It wouldn’t be long before we’d be meeting Neil then swapping the safe for Peachy’s bike and getting Vaughan’s gear back in the van.

       ‘Fuck! It sounds like we’re going to get caught.’

       Vaughan raised his hand and smiled. ‘Will, you panic too much. Things are going to be just fine. Adhere to our plan and nothing will go wrong, I assure you. We all wore gloves and balaclavas. What can they have? A few footprints, and that is all. The clothing and shoes will be incinerated back at Newton Manor. Now have another cup of tea and think about something else.’

       The Principal was so calm and collected. I don’t know how he managed it, but then, he’d been there, seen it, done it and got the T-shirt. At least there was one consolation: no-one would try and tackle me. I might be the ‘New Boy’ but I was a ruthless and violent career criminal not to be approached by any member of the public!

***

We carried out the rest of the plan exactly as Vaughan had indicated. It was early Monday morning when I dropped the van back at the hire office. The safe was now sitting in Vaughan’s workshop, locked away. And all our robbery clothing and shoes had been burned to virtually nothing. I began to rest easy again. Peach would be leaving the boat berthed in a marina on the grand union for a few days. Phil, who’d been dropped back in Bristol, was going to pick up Peach and Vaughan in his car and travel to Newton Manor where Neil and I had arranged to meet them. Come Wednesday morning, all our questions would be answered. Most of them, anyway.

       The robbery had been big news in the Midlands but it hardly merited a mention in our little part of the world. When Wednesday finally arrived, once again the nerves started to kick-in.

       Pulling up on Vaughan’s driveway, we could see Phil’s car. They’d beaten us to it. I wondered if Vaughan had managed to contain himself and not open the safe before our arrival. As we walked around the back of the house to the workshop we could hear laughter. The three of them were having a cup of tea and a chat. Well two of them were drinking tea; Phil was on the bottled water.

       We shook hands. Vaughan had been doing some preparation. The two large filing cabinets against the workshop’s back wall contained a wealth of information regarding different safes and their individual specifications. On the table were technical drawings. One had the company name Weddon & Mather in the top right corner, the same name painted on the safe now standing before us.

       ‘So then chaps, now we’re all here shall we see what lies within?’ We nodded.

       ‘Good. Neil lock the door would you? We don’t want any unwanted guests “barging” in, if you’ll excuse the pun, now, do we?’

       Neil locked the door. Vaughan studied the drawing, and then using a metre rule, he carefully worked out the specific point of entry needed to avoid the safe’s defensive countermeasures. Picking up a drill with a very long bit, he started drilling downwards at an angle on the front of the safe door.

       The process was loud and took some time. I could understand why he hadn’t wanted to do this on site. After a short while, the bit became blunt. Vaughan continued with a second before eventually completing the task. He picked up an object from the table. It looked not too dissimilar to the torches that opticians and doctors use to look at people’s eyes and ears, except it had a long, thin, rigid sort of probe attached to it.

       ‘What’s that?’ I asked.

       ‘This Will, is what is commonly known as a fibre optic borescope. We insert this here like so ...’

       He was pushing the probe into the hole he had just drilled.

       ‘And with a little bit of luck, all will be revealed to your Uncle Vaughan!’

       He looked through the eyepiece part of the borescope and into the inner workings of the safe mechanism. He began to turn the combination dial from left to right, sometimes several turns in one direction, and then perhaps only a turn or so in the other. Finally, he pushed the dial inwards and it clicked. He moved the safe handle downwards and pulled the door open. There, in front of us, the contents of the safe were at last exposed.

       There were two shelves almost full of papers and a medium-sized box. Peach immediately grabbed the box. He put it on the table and we all gathered round. It wasn’t locked. Peach lifted the lid. Inside, sitting neatly on top of one another, were three books. Peach lifted the top one carefully. It had a brown and green leather binding. On the side in gold lettering the initials JTB, beneath the letters was the Roman numeral ‘I’. We had the journals.

***

Peach had brought with him all the tools he needed to perform the extraction together with a temperature and humidity-controlled archive box. Once he’d removed the promissory note he would place it in the box and stop any deterioration taking place.

       As I watched Trev going to work, Phil started rummaging through the papers that were left on the safe shelves. He was not happy.

       ‘There are only commissions for paintings and sculpture here. Where’s the three million the radio’s been banging on about?’

       Vaughan looked at him. ‘Sadly, the world is full of dishonest people Philip. You can’t trust anybody these days. I suspect that someone is working an insurance scam.’

       ‘That’s all well and good Vaughan but if I’m going to be appearing on Crimewatch, I’d at least like something to show for it!’

       ‘I thought we did this to obtain the journals Philip.’

       ‘Yes we did Vaughan, but it would have been nice to have taken home a little bit of treasure.’

       Phil had distracted me with his hunt for extra booty. I turned my attention back to the archivist and his search. Peach had cut open the binding on the first journal. It hadn’t contained the note. He was now starting to work on the second. I was beginning to get a bad feeling. As he continued to edge the binding away carefully, making sure not to damage anything underneath, he cursed. Things were definitely not looking good.

       He took the last journal, placed it on the table and gave it the same treatment as volumes I and II. As Trev finally peeled away the last piece of binding, we gasped at the sight before our eyes. There it was. Staring up at us from the table. Absolutely nothing!

       We had gone through that whole escapade for a big fat zero. Phil was pissed off; Neil was silent. It was Peach I felt sorry for. He had given his all to this quest – money, time and effort. He now felt embarrassed. I could see it, so could Vaughan. Phil was still moaning about the three million.

       Vaughan walked over to the flight case that contained the explosives. I wondered what he was going to do. He opened it and pulled back some sacking. Underneath were half a dozen bottles of champagne. There never had been any explosives. It was all a wind-up. He’d made us bring the case along so that, had he cracked the safe on the night of the robbery and we’d found the note, we’d have been able to have a good celebration at his expense.

       He took a bottle out. ‘Come on chaps, we did pretty well for a first effort. Let’s have a glass, and drink to “absent documents”.’

       We all joined him for a drink. He was trying to cheer us up and we couldn’t have asked any more from the man. Without his help we would never have managed to complete the robbery. But we didn’t really feel in a champagne mood.

       We sat there awhile, talking. Hundreds of years was a long time; and to have expected the note to have remained hidden and not destroyed was a big ask – too big. I felt like I wanted to put the whole thing behind me and I was sure the others were having similar feelings.

       I asked Vaughan what would happen to the safe and all the bits and pieces. He said not to worry, that he’d take care of it, but he’d decided that first he was going to see his sister at the weekend.

       As we walked dejectedly to the cars, I suggested to Phil and Peach they come and stay at my place for the night. After all, I’d just remembered, it was Wednesday – the night of Gavin’s gig. We could take the girls with us. They thought it was a good idea.

       We headed back. On the way we had to stop a couple of times for Neil. He’d been having stomach problems again.

Chapter 31

Wednesday 8 p.m. South Wales
Life’s a bummer. What more could I say?

       Neil was sick as a dog, and he had a serious bout of
the trots
. I think the stress of the robbery was taking its toll. He wasn’t coming out. Denise said she would stay with him, but he was insistent (through the toilet door) that she go and have a good time with us. She reluctantly agreed. I was glad she was coming; it was nice for Tegan to have a girl friend with her.