Barking Boy Page 18

  Open-mouthed, Tommy watched as Gary walked out of the office. He turned toward Jimmy. “Leave him, let him go,” he held his hand out, stopping Jimmy from charging after their younger brother. He stared out the window contemplating his brother’s words. In a way, Gary was right. It was his way or no way, it always had been. But, in his defence, someone had to take charge, someone had to do the thinking, someone had to be the one to keep them all from ending up behind bars, and that person happened to be him. “He’ll come around,” he said quietly, speaking to no one in particular. He’d been saying the same thing for more than two years, and still they were no nearer to ironing out their differences. “He’ll come around, he just needs a bit more time,” he said, turning to face Jimmy, forcing his voice to sound a lot more confident than he actually felt.

  Jimmy gave a small smile. They both knew that was never going to happen. Bethany had well and truly got her claws into their little brother, and in the process, had completely and utterly fucked up his head.

  Gary climbed into his car, the grey leather seat cool against his back. He stared toward the office, his eyes flashing menacingly. The hatred he felt for Tommy was still as strong as it had been the day he’d driven Bethany away from him. He would have been a father by now. Sometimes, he imagined his and Bethany’s child. Would it have been a boy or a girl? He shook his head sadly. He would never know the answer.

  All thanks to Tommy, there was no child. It wouldn’t surprise him if he’d been the one who’d forced Bethany to get rid of their baby. He wouldn’t put anything past his brother.

  He started the ignition and skidded out of the scrap yard. Fuck Tommy, fuck Jimmy, fuck all of them.

  Sipping on a glass of iced water, Bethany lay back on a sun lounger. She placed the glass down beside her and closed her eyes. More than anything else, she wanted to drown out her son’s voice as he played happily, just yards from where she lay. “Will you just shut up?” she hissed.

  Two-year-old Cameron looked up at his mother, his brown eyes wide. He toddled toward her, his arms outstretched. The heel of Bethany’s foot kicked out toward him, sending the little boy crashing to the floor. Tears welled up in his eyes, the shock of the fall causing his bottom lip to tremble.

  Irritated, Bethany sighed. He was such a needy child, always wanting her attention, always wanting to cuddle her. She snarled at him. The hatred she felt for her own child clearly evident across her face. She couldn’t bear to touch him. He made her skin crawl. If he had looked like Tommy, she may have been able to feel something for him. She may have even been able to love him, but instead, he looked like her father, even down to his hazel eyes and light brown hair. There was absolutely nothing of Tommy in him.

  “Hey, what’s all this?” Dean scooped his grandson into his arms.

  Bethany pushed herself into a sitting position. “He fell over,” she stated, the lie easily tripping off of her tongue.

  Oblivious to his daughter’s cruelty, Dean hugged the little boy to him. “It’s okay, grandad’s here.” He grinned as Cameron smiled up at him. “Let’s go and find you some ice cream, shall we?”

  Cameron nodded his head, the thought of ice cream making him forget about his sore, grazed knees.

  Bethany rolled her eyes. The boy was spoiled, that was the problem. No wonder he was always crying. The fact that her son cried because he craved his mother’s attention, didn’t even enter her head.

  She lay back down on the sun lounger and closed her eyes. She would give anything to be back in England right now, instead of being stuck at the villa under her father’s lock and key. And more importantly, she would give anything to be able to see Tommy Carter just one last time.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “What the fuck is this?” Tommy’s eyes were wide, as he looked over the van Sonny had acquired for the robbery.

  “Fuck me, where did you find this heap of shit?” There was laughter in Jimmy’s voice, as he walked around the vehicle.

  “What?”

  “What?” Tommy’s voice took on an incredulous tone. He began to walk around the van. The driver’s side had been spray painted white, the passenger side black, and the bonnet green. “What do mean by what? Please tell me this is some kind of a wind up, Sonny, because I’m telling you now, I’m not driving around in this monstrosity.”

  Sonny grinned, as he followed his elder brothers around the van. “It’s genius, ain’t it? Just think of how much this’ll confuse the old bill if they have any witnesses come forward.”

  “It’s confusing me, let alone the old bill. We’re gonna stick out like sore a thumb in this.” Tommy shook his head as he began to laugh. “Where the fuck did you even get it from?”

  “The Isle of Sheppey. Me and Mitchel went over there to buy it.”

  “And you actually paid for this?”

  “Yeah.” Sonny turned toward Jimmy. “We only paid five hundred quid for it.”

  “Five hundred quid?” Tommy choked on his words. “Fuck me, Sonny, they should have been paying you to take this piece of shit away.” He knelt down beside the wheel arch and tugged at the rusting body work. He shook his head as he looked up at his younger brother. “Look.” Dried flakes of rust crumbled away into his hand. “They must have seen you fucking coming, bruv. It’s falling apart. There’s only one place this shit heap should be heading to, and that’s a scrap yard.”

  “Well, at least it’s in the right place.” Jimmy laughed at his own wit.

  Tommy rolled his eyes. “Cheers for that, Jimmy.” He stood up and kicked out at the front tyre. “The fucking tyre’s flat and all.” He shook his head, as he moved around the van to inspect the rest of the tyres. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Sonny? Why the fuck would you even contemplate buying this, let alone actually doing it?”

  “Don’t you like it?” Sonny’s shoulders dropped.

  “What’s to like about it? It’s gonna cost me at least another hundred quid just to sort the tyres out.” Tommy blew out his cheeks, as he gave the van a final once over. “You better hope and pray this lump of shit doesn’t die on us when we make our getaway, otherwise there’ll be hell to pay.”

  “It won’t,” Sonny replied, sounding a lot more confident than he now felt. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “It’ll be fine,” he muttered, unsure if he was trying to convince his elder brothers or himself.

  Pushing his legs into a navy blue cotton boiler suit, Jimmy glanced across at his brothers as they too began to dress in the crowded scrap yard office. He pulled the suit up his body, then pushed his arms through the sleeves. Perched upon his head, sat a thick woollen black balaclava. Beads of sweat had already begun to break out across Jimmy’s forehead. No matter how much planning Tommy did beforehand, the fear of the unknown and the terrifying thought of the robbery going wrong, always brought him out in a cold sweat.

  “Here, take these and make sure you put them on before you even think about touching those guns.” Tommy looked at each of his brothers in turn, as he handed out four sets of thin black leather gloves.

  Jimmy pushed his fingers into the gloves. He leant toward his elder brother. “Are you sure about this, Tommy?” It was a question he asked before every job they did, but tonight he felt even more uneasy than usual. Tonight, they wouldn’t be dealing with bank clerks, or the general joe public. Tonight, they would be dealing with Freddie Smith’s henchmen, the majority of them hardened criminals.

  Tommy nodded his head. “We’ve been over this time and time again, haven’t we? So stop worrying.” He patted Jimmy’s shoulder. “Trust me, I know what I’m doing, and as long as we stick to the plan, nothing will come back to us. I’ve sorted everything out.”

  Jimmy gave a small nod of his head, as he thought through his brother’s words. He hoped Tommy was right about this. He watched as his younger brothers silently filed out of the office and made their way toward the van sitting on the forecourt of the scrap yard. Already, he could feel his heart begin to beat wildly in his chest.

/>   “Are you sure you won’t come with us?” Tommy turned toward Mad Dog.

  “No lad. This is one job I won’t get involved with, and I wish you’d change your mind about it.” He watched as Tommy began to climb onto the battered and torn driver’s seat. Even as he said the words, he knew he wouldn’t be able to change the younger man’s mind. “Just be careful, okay. I’ll be here waiting for you all to get back. I’ll make sure I have a small fire burning to burn those boiler suits. The less evidence there is lying around the better.”

  Tommy nodded his head. He gave a small smile, then slammed shut the driver’s door.

  “You all know what to do, right?” Tommy pushed the key in the ignition, then glanced over his shoulder at his brothers in the back of the van. He waited for them to nod their heads in acknowledgment, before easing the gear into first. He looked toward Jimmy sitting beside him in the passenger seat. The two brothers locked eyes. They didn’t need to speak, instinctively they knew what the other was thinking. Tommy released the handbrake. This was it. He swallowed deeply. Nerves were beginning to get the better of him. He needed to get a grip on himself and fast. “It’s going to be okay.” He kept his voice low, the words he spoke were not only for Jimmy’s ears, but his too, as he tried to convince himself that everything would go to plan.

  Tommy parked the van on a side street next to the Ilford Palais. It was just before seven, and only two hours before the club opened up to the general public, giving them at least an hour to get the job done and then get back out. He took a deep breath, looking around him. “This is it, let’s go.”

  The brothers piled out of the van. As always, Tommy took the lead as they began the short walk toward the club. The cold evening air hit his body. His breath streamed out ahead of him, not that his brain registered this fact—pure adrenalin flooded through him. They reached the corner of the side street, and Tommy pulled down the balaclava, ensuring his face was covered. He pointed his finger toward his brothers, indicating they do the same.

  Bypassing the main doors, they made their way toward the side entrance. Tommy glanced up at the yellow and blue exterior. Even from the outside, the venue looked exactly what it was, a shit hole. He pointed his finger up toward where the security alarm was situated. They would need to get inside the offices above the alarm in double quick time to disable it.

  Down the side alley, Tommy paused in front of the fire escape doors. “Gary, Mitchel … I want the pair of you to get up in the offices and sort out that alarm. The rest of you stay with me, right.”

  They nodded their heads, and Tommy took this as his cue to begin kicking at the navy blue coloured doors. With relative ease, the doors burst open, leaving splintered shards of wood falling to the floor. They waited for the shrill of the alarm, and were met with only silence. “It ain’t even connected.” There was surprise in Tommy’s voice. His eyes were wide as he looked toward his brothers.

  Steven Wright made his way across the dance floor toward the bar, his large frame slowing him down. He tugged at the black jacket restricted across his stomach, and unbuttoned the top and middle buttons. He let out a long sigh, thankful for the instant relief. His wife was right, he needed to shift some of his weight.

  He began to walk toward the staircase leading up to the upper level. A crashing sound coming from his right hand side stopped him in his tracks. “What the fuck?” he mumbled, spinning his body around. “Who’s there?” he called out. He was met with silence. He stood listening for a few moments, before shrugging his shoulders, unconcerned, and moving forwards once again. It was more than likely just some piss head outside in the alley, which ran down the side of the club.

  Steven had only walked a few steps when the sound of movement, coming from behind him, caused his body to swing around for a second time. “I said, who’s fucking there?” He peered across the dimly lit club, and wanted to curse himself for not switching on the main lights—he could see fuck all. “Stop playing games, who’s there?” His heart began to pound inside his chest. Again, he was met with silence and he almost laughed out loud. His mind was obviously playing tricks on him.

  He’d barely turned his head, when a rush of black figures was upon him.

  “Where’s the fucking safe?”

  Shocked, Steven stumbled backwards, his arms flaying around him as he battled to regain his balance. He grasped hold of the bar top and pulled himself into a standing position. He stared at the black figures for a moment before opening his mouth. “We’re being turned over,” he roared, his instincts came to the fore and he charged forwards.

  Tommy thrust the shotgun out in front of him, bringing Steven to a halt. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he screamed. “Don’t try to be a hero, otherwise you’ll end up getting hurt.”

  The overhead light snapped on, causing Tommy to blink his eyes rapidly. Momentarily blinded, he adjusted his eyes to the sudden light. He turned his head from left to right, heavies ran toward them from out of nowhere. Stunned, Tommy felt his brothers stiffen beside him. They were surrounded. Not for one moment, had he expected this many of Freddie Smith’s henchmen to be at the club. There had to be at least twelve of them, if not more. What the fuck were they all doing here? He took a step forward, the gun pointing straight ahead of him. “Where’s the fucking safe?” He had to take control of the situation and fast. The fact that he was brandishing a sawn-off shotgun had to give him the advantage, surely. “I said, where’s the fucking safe?”

  Tommy watched the man in front of him falter, and he took a step closer. “Don’t make me fucking shoot you. Now, where is the safe?” He was met with silence. He watched as the man made a small inclination of his head toward the heavy stood to his right. The action being so small, many people would have missed it, only Tommy’s eager eyes missed nothing. “Don’t fucking nod your head at him.” He could feel the heavies begin to crowd forward. They were practically on top of them with no means of escape. Taking the situation into his own hands, Tommy squeezed his finger on the trigger. He had no other choice but to fire a bullet.

  The gunshot was deafening. Ducking for cover, Freddie’s henchmen covered their heads. The far wall took the bullet. The explosion from the weapon had virtually ripped apart the bar area. The mirrored wall had been shattered beyond repair, glass bottles full of alcohol smashed to smithereens. No further proof was needed to show just how much damage the shotgun was capable of causing as dust, plaster and glass flew out in all directions.

  “Now, where is the fucking safe?” Tommy sprang forward. He pushed the gun into the side of Steven’s head, the metal barrel grazing past his temple. “Unless you want to fucking die, you’d best start talking.”

  “Okay, okay.” Steven held up his hands. He spoke too fast, his voice high. Sweat began to pour from his face. “I’ll show you where it is.” He stuttered, slowly pulling himself up from the floor, his hands above his head in surrender.

  Tommy nodded his head. “Now, we’re all going to calm the fuck down. I want all of you to walk over toward the corner, and then no one will get hurt.” He watched as his brothers rounded the men up and pushed them toward the far corner of the club. Satisfied that his younger brothers had the heavies under control, Tommy then jerked his head toward Jimmy and Sonny, indicating for them to follow him. “The rest of you wait here, and watch this fucking lot,” he ordered his two remaining brothers. “If they start getting lairy, shoot the fuckers.”

  Tommy slammed the barrel of the gun into the small of Steven’s back, as they followed him up a set of stairs. Their bodies were tense and alert as they took each step, fully expecting heavies to be lurking around every corner. Finally, Steven led them down a corridor. The bare concrete floor was loud and harsh underneath their feet. The plastered walls above the chipped wooden skirting boards were cracked and crumbling.

  Steven came to a halt outside a door. “This is it.”

  “Well, open it then.”

  “I haven’t got a key.”

  Tommy swallowed down the
irritation. “Then how the fuck are we going to get into the safe, if you haven’t got a key?” he growled.

  Steven shook his head. He didn’t have the answers. Only Freddie Smith had a key to the room and safe.

  “Kick the fucking door in,” Tommy ordered his brothers.

  Within moments, they were inside the room. Tommy pushed Steven forwards. He turned to face Sonny. “Watch him, and if he moves, shoot the bastard.”

  Sonny nodded his head. Brandishing the gun toward Steven, he backed him into a corner.

  Tommy looked around him. “How are we gonna fucking do this?” He kept his voice low.

  Jimmy shrugged his shoulders. “Shoot at the fucking safe, that’s all we can do. Blast the fucking thing open.”

  Tommy nodded his head as he thought through the dilemma. “Open them up first and see if there’s anything worth taking.” He nodded his head toward five large navy blue holdalls lined up against the wall beside the safe.

  Jimmy did as his brother asked. He moved forwards and knelt down beside the first of the bags. He pulled across the zip and almost fell backwards in shock. He looked up at Tommy, his eyes were wide. He let out a soft whistle. “Fuck me, get a load of this.”

  “What?” Tommy turned his head and did a double take. He locked eyes with Jimmy. His heart began to beat wildly inside his chest. “Open the rest.” He spoke fast, not taking his eyes off of his brother.

  With all of the bags opened, Tommy stared down at the haul. Each bag had been crammed full with gold bars, and he took a wild hunch as to where they came from. This had to be the stolen gold from a recent robbery over in Deptford. He clapped his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder, a wide grin was spread across his face and there was a twinkle in his blue eyes. “You better go and get the van. It’s fucking pay day for us.”