The Self Preservation Society, page 8
Dave is amazed that his team are responding so well, they all know their stuff.
“Leave that to me. Just show us how you’re gonna blow the grille. This Sunday, 5 o’clock. 74 Wharf Road, Kings Cross. I’ll text details later to remind you.”
“How could I forget? I’m Butch Cassidy now.”
“Father Butch Cassidy at least.”
Father George shakes his head as he clicks the phone off. He is holding a piece of putty-like stuff which he wraps in plastic and puts carefully into a black leather pouch. It’s his own plastic explosive. Very powerful. He picks up a sturdy metal bar and puts it over his shoulder and walks to the end of his workshop whistling Bang Bang by Nancy Sinatra as he goes.
Dave hits Alex’ number again. Still no answer.
“Damn.”
He walks into the lounge and is confronted by Susie surrounded on all sides by bundles of newspapers. In front of her are stacks of newspaper ‘money’. Newspapers cut carefully into bundles that resemble the dimensions of real money if stacked together. There are bundles everywhere all secured with elastic bands; they are on the floor, the table, the sofa, and the chairs. Piles and piles of would – be money.
“How much more?”
“According to my calculations I have cut up almost four hundred grand in Times, Independent, Telegraph, Observer and News of the World paper. My fingers are sore, my brain is fried and my arse is numb. I know that The Observer makes better money then the others and I’m pissed off that I know that. How are the others doing?”
“Great, they all seem onside. Father G is even giving up a Sunday Service to come to the next meet. Can’t get hold of Alex though.”
“Try again.”
“Tried three times, just no answer.”
“Oh dear, what do you think? Is he out/”
“If he’s out it’s a problem. No-one else can do the Tarzan bit. We need him to get to the window and get across first and help everyone else in. I can’t do it, I’m too bloody heavy. Harold and Colin are even heavier. Jason is probably scared of heights and Cheryl won’t be able to hold whoever goes second, plus she’s got enough on her plate already. Shit.”
“Try him again tomorrow. Come and cut up some fifty pound notes from The Independent on Sunday. Mr. Singh thought I was nuts when I bought 30 papers yesterday. He thinks I’m a giant hamster.
Dave sits next to Susie, picks up a pair of scissors and gets to work.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WAREHOUSE
Dave is woken from a fitful sleep by the ringing of a mobile phone. The ring is unfamiliar and he realizes it is the ‘job’ phone. He races into the lounge to pick it up falling through piles of ‘money’ and scrabbling around until he finds the phone.
“Hello?”
Alex’s chirpy voice on the other end does nothing to improve his mood.
“Hello, sorry I missed your calls. Been busy. We did a base jump last night. Try not to carry anything unnecessary, any mobiles, coins, keys all that sort of stuff goes.”
“Base jump?”
“Yeah, you know. Small parachute, big building, jump. Great fun. What a buzz.”
“Nuts. Thanks for the wake up call.”
“Not going to the gym then? Thought you’d be up and at ‘em.”
“Whatever. Too bleeding busy. How are you doing? “
“Fine. I have a way to get across the gap. It needs testing on heavier bodies though. I really need to know that the metal spar will hold. But all good.”
“Excellent. Sunday, five o’clock, Kings Cross. Bring everything. I’ll text you the full address when I wake up.”
“Ok, I’m off to the gym.”
The phone in Dave’s hand goes dead.
“Fucking adrenalin junkie...”
He picks his way past the piles of faux money and into the bedroom. He collapses onto the duvet. A small voice from underneath says:
“It’s too early.”
Dave doesn’t answer; he just closes his eyes and falls straight back to sleep.
Sunday morning arrives with a break in the weather. Clear skies and no rain. Dave remarks on the change as he looks out of the window.
“I thought we were in Bladerunner territory for a while. Constant rain and evil replicants everywhere.”
“You’re talking rubbish Dave, what’s going in your bonce? What time are you leaving?”
“About three. I’ll load the galaxy after lunch and get there in plenty of time. Be a bit stupid to turn up late. I sent a text with the address and time to them all yesterday, only George texted back, but I’m sure they’re all on.”
Susie stretches. A sexy look crosses her sleepy face.
“Good. Then come back to bed and make my morning.”
No second invitation needed Dave climbs back under the covers.
It is just after three fifty when Dave pulls up outside the rented warehouse. A deserted road with just the odd car dotted along the wire fence opposite. He locks the Galaxy and walks to the large wooden door. A battered semi – circle of wood set into Victorian brickwork. He opens the door and glances around, a furtive, side to side scope. Nothing to see. He enters the ancient workplace and flicks on the lights. A cavernous room with an arched ceiling almost twenty feet above. Just six small windows set high up in the back wall give little or no natural light. This perfect location had taken Dave almost six months to find. He had looked at hundreds of locations, warehouses, old factories, disused houses, all manner of buildings until he found this.
Rented for a year under an assumed name, paid for in cash to an old Lithuanian whose eyes lit up when the cash came out and any questions he might have asked were quickly forgotten. Now for the real test, would everyone, or anyone, turn up? If they do, can they deliver? So much time setting this up, so much money invested, would it actually happen?
Dave is as nervous as a teenager on a first date and he walks around the large empty warehouse whistling and humming to himself.
He sets a semi circle of old chairs out, one for each member and looks at the effect. Happy at the layout he practices his speech in his head, walking round the chairs and gesticulating with his hands. He returns to the Galaxy and opens the back. A pile of large black holdalls, all identical, are stacked in the back. He takes two and heaves them into the warehouse. He returns twice more and then takes one final huge black bag from the large car, locks it, checks the road one last time and heads inside. Although each of the holdalls is identical they are identifiable by a number painted on the side. Each number corresponds to the Speed Dial number Dave has allocated. He places a holdall behind each chair and the large black bag slightly off to the side. He moves an empty oil drum ten feet from the chairs, as George requested in his text. He sits down on his chair facing the semi – circle and waits.
Less than half an hour later the small door into the warehouse is pushed open and Cheryl walks in, black briefcase in hand and large black shopping bag over her shoulder. Dressed casually in jeans, boots and a tight leather jacket, she looks terrific. Dave stands.
“Am I first here?”
“Yes, come in. Not the Ritz but it serves its purpose.”
She walks to the chairs.
“Looks like the inquisition!”
“I hope not. You’re here.”
Dave motions her to chair number 2 and she walks over and looks curiously at the black holdall behind it. She looks at Dave and raises her eyebrows in question. He catches the look.
“All in good time.”
“Oh goody, just like Christmas.”
Before Dave can respond the warehouse door opens and Harold and Jason walk in together.
Harold gives a little wave.
“Hello, found Jason struggling along the road so I gave him a lift.”
Jason has on an old Columbo mac; he looks more of a mess than usual.
“In a Skoda. I’m so glad no-one saw me.”
Harold defends his car.
“Did the bus have a Ferrari badge on the front?”
“Oh God. Don’t you start on me an all.”
Dave calls them over and sits Harold on chair six and Jason next to him on five..
Alex arrives next carrying a beautiful leather overnight bag. He’s dressed as if he’s ready for a run. Tracksuit, trainers, funky beanie hat. He almost jogs to the group.
“Hello one and all.”
Dave sits him next to Jason who asks:
“Why are you always so fucking chirpy, do you eat trill for breakfast?”
“Life my friend is a feast, and one you should try and enjoy. I do.”
“Then why the fuck are you here?”
“To try and enjoy it some more of course.”
Listening to the verbal jousting, Dave has his back to the door and almost jumps out of his skin when a lilting voice with a hint of Irish brogue says:
“Hello.” Right behind his ear.
“Jesus, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”
Dave puts his hand over his heart then pats George on the shoulder.
“Take a seat on the end please George.”
He does so, nodding hellos to everyone.
As Dave looks at his watch, a motorbike roars up outside then stops. A few moments later and Colin’s large frame, topped by a black motorcycle helmet, fills the doorway. A duffel bag thrown over his shoulder, he strides to the group. Dave says hello and points to the empty chair. Colin takes his seat and Dave walks to the door and locks it securely. He strolls back to his chair composing himself as he goes.
“Thanks for all getting here so promptly. And as you’re all here, I assume you’re in.”
Nods of assent all round.
“Good, the seats you’re in are all arranged that way for a reason. They are numbered.”
He looks at Cheryl.
“Two.”
Then Colin.
“Three.”
Then Alex, Jason.
“Four, five.”
Then Harold.
“Number six.”
Harold bursts out with:
“I am not a number, I’m a free man.”
Everyone turns and stares at him. He is smiling. No-one else seems to understand.
“Oh, it’s from The Prisoner. A sixties show. Patrick McGoohan. Oh well.”
Dave looks at George.
“Seven.”
They all seem settled.
“Right. In your envelopes you all had tasks and judging by our phone conversations we have all made progress. On their own these tasks mean little; but together they form our plan. So let’s get to it. George, will you please explain what you were asked to check out and how it will get done?”
Father George stands up and takes a canvas bag from under his chair and walks to face the ‘class’.
“Hello everyone. My job, as outlined in my letter, was to find a way to remove a metal grille from a window without breaking the glass. Quite a difficult task. Well, the window is up high and out of reach so we can’t saw through the bars, take too long anyway. We obviously can’t squeeze through them so they’ve got to go.”
He removes a leather pouch from his pocket and unwraps it carefully. He then opens the canvas bag and removes a metal bar about two feet long. He walks over to the empty oil drum that Dave positioned for him, and rests the metal bar across the open top. He picks up the metal bar in the middle and bangs it up and down a few times making a real clanging and making everyone jump a little. He is acting like a magician proving that it really is a metal bar and not a fake prop.
He then removes a small cap from his leather pouch and fixes it to the middle of the bar. The cap has a small wire protruding from it. He walks back to the circle of chairs and picks up what looks like the handset to a remote control car (it actually came from a remote control boat). He flicks the switch and a mild, but concentrated explosion follows, the metal bar falls in two pieces and clangs into the bottom of the empty drum.
“You see these charges are highly explosive but, if used in the right way, can put incredible force in a very concentrated area. I have constructed a frame to fix over the metal grille and we can blow all the connecting points in one go.”
“And wake everyone in London.
Jason pipes up.
Dave interrupts.
“Well, maybe not, we’ll come to that. Thanks George, is this frame thing ready?”
“Yes, but someone will need to connect it correctly.”
Dave smiles and ushers him to his seat. A spontaneous round of applause comes from the team. Dave is delighted but tries not to show it.
“Alex?”
Alex stands, picks up his fancy leather bag. He stands confidently in front of the team.
“I was asked to create a pulley system and a cradle to, I assume, transport someone to the window and then us, one by one, through it.”
He looks to Dave for confirmation. A nod from Dave shows him that he is correct. He opens his bag and takes out a sturdy rope, three inches in diameter and very smooth leather ‘pouch’. He attaches the pouch to the rope and strides a few paces away until he is under one of the beams in the roof. He casually loops the rope over the beam with his first throw and catches it on the other side and attaches a metal contraption to the rope in his hand. The ‘pouch’ at the end of the rope lies on the floor.
“Could I borrow someone please? Dave?”
Reluctantly, Dave walks over. Alex picks up the ‘pouch’ and rests it on Dave’s backside.
“Hold it there please, and when you feel it get tight, grab hold of the rope.”
“Okay.”
Alex walks to the rope and starts to pull, the slack is taken up and the leather pouch wraps itself around Dave’s ample backside. Dave grabs the rope, and then grabs it tighter as he starts to lift off the ground. In seconds he is ten feet off the ground; Alex threads the rope through his metal gadget and flicks a catch and let’s go. Dave sees this and yells as Alex walks away. He is left suspended in mid-air; Alex smiles at the team.
“It’s a mountaineers safety catch, it’s used by extreme rock climbers; those who scale sheer rock faces on their own. Mad bastards. It will hold indefinitely. See you later”.
They all laugh as Alex walks back to his seat. Dave waits for the laughter to die down.
“Well done Alex. Now get me the fuck down, we’ve still got lots to do.”
With a raise of his eyebrows Alex jumps up and slowly let’s Dave down from his lofty perch. On his return to terra firma Dave extricates himself from the harness and Alex walks back to his chair with everyone applauding.
“Thanks Alex, thought I was there for a day or so at least.
“ Composing himself, but inwardly beaming as his ‘team’ all gel together Dave regains centre stage.
“Okay Colin, you’re up.”
Colin’s bulky frame stands and he towers over Cheryl as he walks past her to the front, his duffel bag clasped in one giant hand.
“I was asked to construct a lightweight, portable frame; it needs to be able to take the weight of two people and be adjustable to a height of seven feet.”
Colin looks over at Dave, that it needed to hold two people was not in the brief but his assumption seems to be correct as Dave smiles and nods his head in agreement.
Colin opens up his duffel back and takes out a collection of fairly flimsy looking pipes, each with a connecting couplet on the end. He quickly clips them all together in a framework and then takes a piece of plywood and clips that in to place on the top. The frame stands just three feet high but has been constructed in under a minute. Colin then agilely leaps onto the top of the frame and stands upright with his hands outstretched. The frame is rock solid and doesn’t move an inch.
“I have another twelve pipes to connect to raise the height of the frame as much as we need.”
He jumps nimbly down to the floor and quickly disassembles the frame as the team give him a round of applause.
Dave nods at Harold who stands and brings a large battered old suitcase to the front. Dave looks at him and is reminded of Michael Redgrave playing Barnes Wallis in The Dam Busters, only fatter. Harold stands in front of the team and places the old suitcase on the chair beside him; he flicks the locks and opens the case.
“Dave asked me to design a circuit breaker……well, actually, more than one. You see, the bank has an alarm system that is linked to all entry points so….”
He reaches into his case and removes a very simple wire with attachments at either end. He holds it up for all to see.
“These clip either side of the window entry point, one above and one below. Once attached, the wire round the window is cut and the window will rise to allow entry without breaking the circuit. Quite simple really, but effective.”
Harold then takes out a piece of board that to the team is covered in wires, fuses and all manner of electrical gizmos. To Harold it represents hours of work and design to create a secondary alarm circuit, one to override the banks actual system.
“This was not so simple. I won’t bore you with the details but when we attach this to the alarm box and the keyboard here…”
He points to the bottom of the board where a laptop keyboard is attached.
“We will be in control of the entire system, lights, computers, alarms, the vault, everything.”
He puts the board back in the case and everyone applauds. Harold then motions for Cheryl to join him. He continues.
“Cheryl and I have worked on a few other points together. I’ll let her explain.”
Cheryl takes over.
“So, inside the bank we have complete control but……no money. Not yet. That is in the vault. We, however, have the keys to the vault room via Harold’s override and I, thanks to Dave, have the password and a copy of the fingerprint identification to get us into the vault.”
Alex is clearly impressed.
“How in the hell did you get that?”
Cheryl nods at Dave who adds.
“The muppet they put in charge put his hands everywhere he shouldn’t, let’s leave it at that.”
Cheryl carries on.
“We can then access the vault and help ourselves. Hooray.”
Applause from everyone, but Cheryl is not yet done.
