A Time To Pay Read online

  Reg and Stan were in their mid-thirties and for a long time had made a living out of crime, mainly burglary, except for a two year period when Reg worked for a tank manufacturer cutting up steel sheet and welding. He did not like the strict timekeeping routine and the wages were poor. Stan worked for a turf accountant for a while, but got sacked when he was caught with his fingers in the till.

  They started by stealing from cars and then went on to theft from lorries parked overnight at transport cafes or lorry parks. They were nearly apprehended twice and decided it was getting too dangerous, so house burglary became their next move. This venture proved more successful and they built considerable stocks of valuable household items, mainly held in lock-up garages. They acquired a list of contacts who would fence almost anything, but they had decided to make jewellery their speciality over the last two years because of a Belgian named Venk, or that is what he said he was called. Venk would always take the stolen goods and give them a fair price. The brothers assumed the jewellery went abroad, as the arrangement was that they would meet in a remote country spot and exchange it for money, always in Kent and near the Channel ports. The last time, however, the arrangement was changed and Venk had insisted they should not meet due to the risk of being seen together. The brothers reluctantly agreed and left the stolen goods in a broken down woodman’s hut, under some old sacks, the money to be left at another drop point the following day, after a telephone call to agree the price. This arrangement worked out well and they collected the money.

  The brothers had always avoided violence because of the risk of a heavy penalty, so they agreed to break into the jewellers after the staff had left. Stan was always the better planner, and went into the shop to purchase a cheap necklace for his wife, June. He spent a great deal of time choosing this object making certain the assistant had to return to the window display for a different tray three times. By the time he had made his purchase he had noted the position of the safe against the wall adjoining the construction site, well to the back of the building.

  Stan followed the old Bedford van, keeping his Ford Zephyr a safe distance behind, until the van had dropped off the last of the building workers and been driven into a compound with several other similar vehicles. The driver got out and took the keys into a Nissen hut. The compound was ringed with a high wire fence and gates, and Stan decided all that was necessary was a pair of bolt croppers.

  That evening Stan and Reg met in the local pub, and after a couple of pints went out to the Ford and drove off. They always discussed their plans sitting in the car and never involved any other person, which annoyed Stan’s wife because she never knew his whereabouts, or what he was doing. Reg’s wife just thought he was a dealer and took very little interest.

  “Have you got the cutting gear laid on?” Stan said.

  “Yeah, it’s all ready, but d’you think we’ll be able to get away quick enough?”

  “Bloody sure we will. Stop worrying.”

  “But this is the biggest job we’ve done, and that shop will be well alarmed.”

  “So what, we’ll be in and out in no time.”

  Reg always got very nervous before a job. They went over the details again and agreed to meet the following day to get things started.

  At their lock-up garage the next morning they checked over the oxyacetylene cutting gear. In the afternoon they drove off in the Zephyr to find a fast car to steal, soon finding a Jaguar parked behind a bank. After driving past twice, they agreed the owner probably worked at the bank and would not miss the vehicle until the evening. Reg only took a minute to break in and hot-wire the ignition. They met again in a quiet side street and transferred the equipment to the Jaguar, while Stan parked the Ford and locked it up. Reg drove slowly and Stan went over the plans again, re-assuring Reg they could get away with it. They sat and watched the building workers leave the compound, and then waited for another half an hour when Stan got out to look. He walked by the entrance looking towards the Nissen hut and could see a light through the window. He carried on walking to the corner of the road and into a shop where he bought two chocolate bars. On arriving back at the car, he glanced towards the window in the hut where a man sat inside at a desk.

  “I think we should pack it in” said Reg nervously.

  “Don’t worry, it’ll be all right.”

  Stan had seen Reg like this before and knew exactly how to calm his nerves. After a while they settled down to consume the chocolate.

  The man in the Nissen hut finally left in an Austin A50. They waited another ten minutes, drove slowly forward parking close to the gates, and Stan jumped out quickly to cut through the chain with his bolt croppers. He pushed the gates open and Reg drove through. Stan closed the gates, ran across to the hut to cut the padlock and disappeared inside, whilst Reg opened the boot of the Jaguar and quickly glanced around the compound. Stan ran out of the building with a bunch of keys, finding that fortunately the registration number of the relevant van was on the key ring. He opened up the rear doors and Stan loaded the cutting gear. Reg, driving the van, followed Stan out of the compound and shut the gates, carefully hiding the cut chain on the inside. As arranged, Reg parked the van at the front of the building where the builders always parked, and Stan put the Jaguar around the back. Reg carried the cutting gear in to the site to join Stan, who was already inside calculating where the safe would be. The wall was solidly built and after an hour they had removed several bricks, but Reg was beginning to panic again.

  “It’s all taking too long.”

  “If you worked a bit bloody harder, we’d soon be through.”

  Reg just grunted and worked on until they could see the inner wall was built of breeze blocks, and would be a much easier job. After an hour they looked at each other.

  “Ok it’s big enough.” Stan said.

  They were looking at a steel wall. Stan pulled the cutting gear up to the hole and had a rapid look around. No one appeared to be taking any notice so he went back and nodded to Reg, who lit the torch and started cutting. It took nearly an hour and they almost ran out of gas. Stan pulled down the steel sheet that was hinged at the bottom by about an inch of uncut metal, he looked inside with a torch and discovered there were shelves all around the safe.

  Reg shoved the cylinders out of the way and looked inside.

  “I can climb in between the shelves.”

  “Go on then.”

  He quickly climbed in and started handing out boxes of jewellery to Stan, who put them in a large holdall. After ten minutes Reg looked through the hole and held two cloth bags in his hands.

  “What about these then.”

  “Yeah, could be diamonds.”

  Just at that moment a police car drove at high speed down the street, making a lot of noise on its way to an accident. Reg jumped through the hole.

  “Christ Almighty. Let’s get out of here.”

  Stan grabbed the bag and they both stumbled through the rubble to the car. They drove away slowly.

  Reg yelled. “For Christ’s sake get a move on.”

  “Don’t panic. I can’t see any cops, can you?”

  Reg looked wildly round and stared out of the back window.

  “Where the ‘ell did they go?”

  “The bastards were after someone else.”

  By the time they had reached the Zephyr Reg had calmed down and he transferred the holdall to the Ford. They drove off, leaving the Jaguar half a mile from where they parked the Ford.

  That evening Stan rang Venk.

  “We’ve got a sack full of expensive jewellery and two bags of uncut diamonds for yer.”

  “Is that the job I heard about on the news?”

  “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “I can’t handle the stuff for a couple of weeks.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because it’s too hot.”

 
“What about the ice?”

  “I’ll take that.”

  “Ok. I’ll drop it in the hut tomorrow about midday.”

  “Right. Ring me tomorrow night.”

  They rang off and Stan telephoned Reg before going for a pint on his way home. He felt relieved it was all over.

  Reg spent the evening worrying about the day’s events, trying to convince himself they had covered their tracks well and the crime could not be traced to them. He sat staring at the floor until he began to feel sick with worry, and eventually he could sit no longer. He walked down to his local for a pint, which he drank on his own, standing at the end of the bar. The more he thought about the burglary, the more certain he was that this would be the job they would not get away with, due to the high value of the goods they had stolen and the effort the police would put in to get it back. He even considered giving himself up to try for a lighter sentence.

  It was dark and foggy as he walked slowly home, the street lamps casting a dull glow of light over the pavement. He was only fifty yards from his front door when the scene ahead caused his heart to miss a beat and he stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. A police car was parked in front of his garden gate. Just as he was about to give himself up, two policemen walked out of the house next door to his and drove away.

  Chapter Three

  Inspector George Harris surveyed the scene of the crime and said to Detective Sergeant Bill Randall.

  “They must have left in a hurry. Check those gas bottles and the torch for finger prints.”

  “Right, Sir. But I don’t suppose we’ll find any.”

  “Then check the safe.”

  Harris then interviewed the shop manager, a middle aged man, who was obviously shaken and distressed by what had happened, and worried about the repercussions from head office that would undoubtedly follow.

  “We have an expensive alarm system, but didn’t expect a break-in through the wall.” He said gloomily.

  “Quite understandable, Sir.”

  This is going to be a long and tiresome investigation Harris thought to himself after he had taken statements from the shop staff, but there are some favourable points. The jewellery is expensive enough to have been photographed, and a detailed description of each piece has been supplied so it will not be easy to fence. He doubted the cutting gear would be traceable, but worth a try.

  The inspector only had three more years left to retirement, and was looking forward to it. He was worried about this burglary and all the other unsolved crimes he had to deal with, as his chief was getting agitated and looking for results.

  Brian had finished his breakfast, collected a lunch bag from his mother and gone out to the implement shed, where he quickly greased the tractor and plough, and filled up with diesel. The water level in the radiator was adequate, so he drove off in the direction of the five acre field, which had produced a poor crop of wheat that year, and was further away from the farm buildings than the other fields, and next to a large acreage of woodland belonging to a neighbour.

  After an hour’s work in which he had managed to keep the furrow straight, Brian began enjoy his work. The roar of the engine and screeching of the gulls trying to grab the worms seemed to dull his senses, until he started to feel hungry. He pulled out a tobacco tin from his pocket and looked at his old pocket watch he always carried. I will stop at the headland by the wood, he thought, and with the engine stopped he climbed off the tractor, pulling an old sack behind him to be used as a seat. It was so peaceful sitting by the hedge where all he could hear were the leaves in the breeze. This was a sanctuary, a resting place deep in the country, where he had felt at home with nature many times before. The sharp distinction of the roar of the tractor with the peace of the country had made him appreciate his surroundings, and now even the gulls had given up and disappeared.

  Having eaten the thick sandwiches and large slice of home-made cake, Brian’s thoughts returned to the farm and how they could rescue it. No inspiration was forthcoming, so he sipped his hot coffee from an old tin mug and thought about Laura. She had been so nice to him in the past and he wished he could make love to her again, he imagined her blue eyes looking lovingly at him when they first met, how they cuddled that first night and he could almost taste her juicy lips, but suddenly reality returned and he was almost sure the affair was over. His deep sense of rejection bore heavy on his mind, but as he tipped the coffee dregs out of the mug he decided not to dwell on the subject. He rose and walked into the wood to stretch his legs, following the path he had walked many times before.

  The wood was owned by a London banker who never seemed to come near the place and, when he did, it was for some organised shoot to which Brian and his father were never invited - not that they would have gone anyway! After ten minutes he stopped abruptly, just thirty yards from the old abandoned woodman’s hut. A snapped twig had alerted him, so he stood behind a tree and waited. The old hut was only three minutes’ walk from the road and Brian did not normally go any further than this. He watched two men with greasy black hair and dressed in donkey jackets and black trousers, they were obviously townies. After they had entered the hut, Brian heard a sort of shuffling sound and then the men left crashing noisily through the wood. He waited until he heard a car start up and move off.

  The hut was dark and dingy but the hiding place was easy enough to find. An area in one corner had been disturbed, and it was the only place where cob-webs were not laced across the sacks, so he lifted them carefully, expecting a rat to jump out. Under the last sack he found two small cloth bags, which when he picked them up felt as if they were full of stones. He carried them across to the open door, undid the string and inside saw they were indeed dull looking stones.

  He had spent a lot of time reading travel books last winter, and suddenly remembered a true story about the discovery of diamonds in South Africa. He nearly dropped the bags when he guessed they contained uncut diamonds and after staring into them for a while, he wondered why those men needed to hide them. They must be stolen and maybe they would be collected later when police activity died down, but it did seem like a daft place to store something so valuable. It must be a short term measure. He suddenly thought that perhaps someone else would turn up to collect them, and with this in mind, quickly made his way back through the wood to the tractor, placing the bags in his lunch bag. He thought what do I do now? I’ll finish ploughing this field and while I do I’d better think of a plan.

  As the afternoon wore on his plan was taking shape, but he could not help glancing anxiously at the wood and wondering if anyone would suspect he had picked up the bags. It would be marvellous if these diamonds could be the answer to our financial problems, he thought. He decided not to tell anyone about his discovery, but to study the newspaper in the morning to see if it reported any robberies.

  It took longer to finish the ploughing than he first anticipated, as the headland was wetter than the rest of the field, which slowed him down. At last he could go no further, and the last time around the headland the wheels were scraping the hedge.

  It was seven thirty in the evening when he finished ploughing, and by the time he had returned to the farmyard it was getting dark, so he had to brush grease over the plough mouldboards and discs with the aid of a torch. If he had waited until morning, they would be red with rust. Before going into the kitchen for dinner, he went upstairs to his bedroom to hide the stones. When he came down, feeling very weak from not having eaten for hours, he collapsed in a chair. His mother immediately admonished him.

  “You shouldn’t go on so long.”

  “I know”

  “If I’d known you were going to be so late, I’d have packed extra food.”

  John Wilkins looked up from reading his newspaper.

  “Well son how did you get on?”

  “I finished” said Brian between mouthfuls of rabbit stew.

  “Splendid
. Because they have forecasted rain for tomorrow.”

  As he tucked into a bowl of steamed pudding and custard, he felt much better. He wondered if he had done the right thing and are they really uncut diamonds? Later that evening he recalled the book about South Africa and how to check if the stones are real. He opened one of the bags and selected one of the larger stones, then fetched a glass of water from the kitchen, dipped the stone in and lifted it out again. The water ran off and it was dry. He tried it once more and again it came out dry. That proves it, he thought, they are real.

  As they sat in the kitchen eating breakfast the next morning, Betty turned on the wireless for the 9 o’clock news. Following a few items of international importance, it was reported that a jewel burglary had taken place in London. The news reader said the thieves took advantage of building work to adjoining premises and got away with jewellery and uncut diamonds, the value of which was still being assessed. Brian felt shocked at this news, wondering if he should ring the police, but after thinking about it decided to stick to his plan.

  “Dad, you know I talked about taking a holiday after the ploughing is finished.”

  “Yes, you did say something about it.”

  “Well, I want to leave the day after tomorrow.”

  John dropped his newspaper and looked over the top of his spectacles.

  “A bit sudden, isn’t it? Why the rush?”

  “If I wait until October the weather won’t be as good.”

  “That’s true, but where have you decided to go.”

  “Belgium”

  “What on earth for? It’s all flat and uninteresting.”

  “Do you remember that book I read about Antwerp last winter?”

  “Yes. I read it after you,”

  “Well I’ve decided I’d like to see the place.”