1 I sit, clutching a small canvas bag, as tightly to my chest as my strength and space will allow. It is my only possession in this place. The bench is wet from the rain and the station platform is so crowded that the pressure I feel from the people around me makes it difficult to breath. I feel so afraid. Real, all enveloping fear. I scan the exit from the ticket office again. Still no sign of him. The train is due at any moment. The woman sat next to me moves closer to make way for someone else to sit and I glance across to make sure our new companion is not him. It is another woman. I let out a small involuntary gurgle. The tannoy booms “The next train arriving at platform 3 is the …….” It is my train pulling in so I stand and move nearer to the track. I feel the cold of the moisture from the bench seeping through my trousers against the backs of my legs and the brim of my hat flutters in the wind as I approach the platform edge. The back of my hand brushes against my own rough stubbled cheek as I reach for my hat to stop it blowing off and I am shocked at how abrasive it feels, like a course grit sandpaper. The carriages swish by, gradually slowing until one stops almost in front of me and the doors open. It surprises me when the woman who was sitting next to me on the bench pushes by me quite aggressively and gets onto the train first. I want to tell her not to be so rude, but I don’t want to draw attention to myself. As everyone jockeys for position I find myself being forced further back into the carriage and it occurs to me now that if he were on this train, I would have no chance of escape. The doors close against someone’s bag then open again. As they do he climbs aboard. I recognise him instantly and he looks straight at me. No nod of recognition, no sneer or smile. He looks away and into the rest of the crowd. I can’t believe that he hasn’t recognised me, but he continues to look into the crowd, searching. I feel sick with it all and the crush of people is so claustrophobic I want to cry out. As the train pulls away I decide to move further down the carriage and exit from the doors at the back when the train stops at the next station. The tightly packed commuters obstruct me, but I am insistent and quietly determined. After a minute or so I find myself in front of the rear doors. As the train slows I look out onto the approaching platform. Bond Street. Not my stop, but close enough. I can walk the rest of the way. The carriage lurches as the driver applies the brakes and I stumble against the wall of the train and the man standing next to me puts out his arm to steady himself. I am quite literally horrified when his hand goes straight through me and smacks, palm first into the wall. He pulls his arm out of me again and the train door opens. I almost fall out of the train onto the platform and as I do a small child runs into me and onto the carriage. Through my legs like they were mist. I turn to try and make sense of what has just happened and the childs mother walks through me in the same way. It is at this point I realise that I am invisible. My would be assassin hadn’t recognised me because he hadn’t seen me. I am probably dead already. 2 Malcolm Tewksbury bought a newspaper and a packet of pipe tobacco from the little kiosk on the Embankment just opposite The Savoy Hotel. It was 7.30 in the morning, but the sun was struggling to break through the dark clouds and occasionally waves of misty rain blew across the Thames into the faces of people making their way into work, turning the pavements into shiny grey mirrors. He stopped and sat on the river wall and instantly three or four pigeons settled near his feet. Opening the little paper pouch, he pulled at the fibres of tobacco leaf and pushed them into a small briar pipe that he always carried with him. He lit the pipe and sucked until a little fire glowed in the bowl and then let the smoke out of either side of his mouth and nostrils into a big cloud around his head. He shook the newspaper straight and read the headlines for the morning which he noted was September 12th ,1971. No mention was made of the robbery from the day before. Nothing. He rustled through the rest of the newspaper, fighting to keep it from turning in on itself in the breeze. Not a word had been written about the heist. He smiled to himself and closed the paper, folding it so that it would fit into his jacket pocket. Puffing at the pipe a few more times he stood and turned toward Westminster. He could see Big Ben from where he stood. He checked his watch, 20 minutes to walk to parliament square. He would be able to do that easily. **** When the robbery had first been presented to him as a possible job, he had dismissed it out of hand. He preferred the kind of steal that was in and out. Quick strike, make a lot of noise, threaten everyone, take the money and run. Of course, he didn’t do any of the dirty work himself. Planning was everything in his book. He planned the job, employed the right people and took his cut. He had never been in prison. He’d had a few close shaves, but he always made sure he was so far removed from the action that nothing could ever be proven. ‘Circumstantial’, he liked that word. This robbery had been different and difficult and because the target had been safety deposit boxes, no one was quite sure how much money could be made at the end of it. That was part of the thrill too. It was a Lloyds Bank and it was in Baker Street, so the pickings were likely to be good. Safety deposit boxes were also a good bet because rich people put things in them that they didn’t want the authorities to know about… lots of cash, gold and jewellery. The difficulty was having enough time to empty them and leave the bank before the police turned up. He organised the meet at his sister’s house. She went to Bingo on a Wednesday evening. The four men sat around the table. All of them drank tea from large white mugs. They had been over the possibilities and talked around the job for almost two hours. Fresh tea had been made. “We’ll need a whole weekend to empty that lot.” said Jarvis. Tim laughed. “it’s a bank 3 Barry, they ain’t going to stand by while we empty the bloody boxes.” Barry shrugged his shoulders, “if we can’t spend a bit of time in there, then we haven’t got a hope in hell of coming out with anything. We gotta empty the boxes so we know whats in ‘em”. Mike Turnbull, vintage bank robber took a sip of his tea. “Or we get the boxes out and open them later?” Malcolm shook his head. “There are too many boxes Mike and they are too big.” “How about we tunnel in?” said Barry. Tim laughed again, loudly. “No, seriously”, Barry raised his voice. “we tunnel in and then we can spend as long as we like, within reason, having a look through. Then we only take what’s valuable.” Tim got up, really laughing now. “He is mental!” “He has a point though” said Malcolm raising his hand. “You are joking” said Tim. “Turnbull grimaced as though he had a bad taste in his mouth “I know a tunneller” he said. Malcom raised an eyebrow, “Do you mean Jimmy?” Mike nodded, “I know he’s a pain in the arse but he can dig and he can get a good team who will keep their mouths shut.” Malcolm sat contemplating for a moment. “It’s an option. We still have to work out where we tunnel from and we can’t guarantee that we will earn enough from this to make it worthwhile for everyone involved. Can you find out if he’s available Mike?” Turnbull nodded. Tim gulped the last of his tea. “I’m out on this one Malcolm, I think you’re all barmy. Where are you going to tunnel from? What about the noise?” Malcolm made a smile “No problem Tim, as I said at the start no one has to commit until it’s all been worked out.” “who is this Jimmy? “Asked Barry. “Jimmy Parkes,” said Malcolm. “He’s an unreliable, lowlife., but very handy with dynamite and a tunnelling genius. He has never been caught, not for digging tunnels at any rate.” “He laid sewage pipes for the army in Egypt straight after the Second World War and then on the London underground during the 1960s. His knowledge of explosives and his readiness to work underground means that he got plenty of work with some of the larger criminal gangs and he’s made a fortune from various jobs up and down the country. Sadly, for Jimmy his addiction to gambling means that he often owes more money than he has. That’s what makes him a risky prospect for us. When he owes money, he’s an easy target. When the chips are down, Jimmy looks after Jimmy.” “is there anyone else we can use?” asked Barry. Malcolm looked up at Mike who again made a face and shook his head. “No.” said Malcolm. “If we want to tunnel, then we have to use Jimmy Parkes.” **** The walk to Westminster took him twelve minutes. His pipe was still burning when he arrived at the base of the clock. The man that he was supposed to meet had been almost as reticent about meeting face to face as Malcolm. Malcolm was still worried that it might be a trap set for him by the police although the meeting had been set up through another infamous criminal, a man that, if you valued your life and reputation, you didn’t argue with. 4 Malcolm recognised him as soon as he appeared in the doorway. Lord Brinksby, Aristocrat, ex politician and fixer. A big supporter and adviser to the Royal Family. His face looked as though it had been polished like his shoes and his mouth was full to bursting with pristine teeth. He was about six inches shorter than Malcolm and his camel coloured Crombie coat looked as though it were too big for him. He gave a nervous little laugh and stepped forward, offering his hand. “Mr. Tewksbury? His teeth almost stopped the name coming out . Malcolm shook his hand. “sorry, you have me at a disadvantage, have we met before?” Brinksby smiled. He knew Malcolm was pretending not to recognise him. “we have not met before Mr. Tewksbury , but I am certain you would have heard of me , I am Lord Brinksby.” Malcolm relented “yes , of course, Lord Brinksby” he smiled back , “very pleased to meet you, although I am at a loss to know why you might wish to speak to me”. Brinksby opened his other hand with a flourish. “Shall we walk , whilst we talk?” They started off back toward the Embankment and Brinksby was silent until they reached the river. “This is difficult Mr. Tewksbury , but I believe that during the course of a recent ‘job’ undertaken by some friends of yours, something that belongs to a very powerful acquaintance of mine has gone missing and they would like it back very quickly without any fuss.” Malcolm was genuinely surprised. The robbery, which was obviously the “Job” that Brinksby spoke of had yielded a lot of cash and more gold than they could have hoped for, but very little by way of trinkets and Jewellery. “I am not sure I quite understand .” said Malcolm. Did Brinksby want an admission that he was involved in a robbery. Was he being set up? Brinksby’s casual manner changed very abrubtly. “This is not a game Mr. Tewksbury, I will not be played to.” His red cheeks seemed to grow ever rosier. “ I have no interest in any crime you may have committed, but I cannot stress enough how important it is that this item be returned immediately or I have to say the consequences will be dire.” Malcolm held up his hands, palms open. “ I can assure you sir , I have not come across an item that I could describe to you as unusual or of any great value in connection with the “job” you speak of. “Have you been through all the boxes and bags that were taken from the vault?” asked Brinksby. Malcolm shook his head “No , not all of them , but as I said, no one saw anything unusual. What is the item you are looking for?”. The Lord stopped walking. “ I can’t tell you what it is , but I can tell you what it looks like.“ He ran his tongue over his teeth. “it’s a bangle a bracelet, Ivory and Jade. It is hinged and very thick with an inscription on the inside edge. It has no great value as an item of Jewellery. My acquaintance would like the item returned. Once it has been received, nothing more will be said and nothing else will be asked of you. As I say we have absolutely no interest in the matter other than this item. Malcolm thought for a moment. The very fact that he was told by one of the most notorious gangsters in South London to contact Brinksby , was incentive enough .There was nothing to be gained from resisting this man’s request. Early estimates from the heist showed a haul amounting to at least four million pounds in cash alone. The value of the item was nothing in the scheme of things. He would look for the bracelet and if it were amongst the spoils he would return it. 5 He offered his hand to Brinksby “ I will check and contact you by telephone in the morning on the number I was given. If the bracelet is there, you can be sure you will have it by the end of the day tomorrow. I give you my word.” Brinksby returned his handshake. “ I do hope for all our sakes Mr. Tewksbury , that the bracelet is found and placed back in the hands of its rightful owner. I expect to hear from you tomorrow morning.” He nodded a curt farewell and turned back towards Westminster. “Goodbye.” **** “Jimmy is in.” said Mike. He wants two of his own boys to help him with the dig and he’ll pay them out of his percentage. “There’s a shop two doors down from the bank that’s empty, used to be a men’s outfitters, Jimmy reckons he can go through the wall in the basement of that shop into next door and then dig a fifteen foot tunnel straight through to the bank vault.” Barry laughed . “How long is that going to take?” Mike shrugged “Well; He says three weekends. Cant dig in the week as its too noisy and he thinks someone will hear. The vault will need to be cut open with something he calls an Arc cutter. He says that’s pretty noisy too , but if that’s done in the early hours on Saturday of the last weekend then we get the whole Saturday and Sunday to clear the security boxes.
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