Robert Ryan - Signal Red

'OK,' said Bruce with fresh enthusiasm. 'So it's still on. Full steam ahead. Or full diesel in our case. We might get to be rich bastards, after all.' He picked up one of the bottles of Bushmills and unscrewed the top. 'But I suppose there's no harm in a little drink now. Get the uniforms off, I don't want you sleepin' in them, and grab a glass. And keep the bleedin' gloves on. Ronnie, that means you.'

'Oi, and boys,' said Bobby to Tony and Tiny Dave, 'if you are going back in town, pick us up a bottle or two of HP sauce, will you?'

'And some Kit-e-Kat.' It was Roy.

Bruce ignored him and concentrated on Tony and Tiny Dave. 'Apart from all that, keep your noses clean. You go in, bugger up the HVP coach, get back here. OK? Good. That's settled, then. Gordy, there's inflatable mattresses pumped up upstairs. Grab yourself a corner. We might as well get some sleep.'

Bruce waited until everyone else was busy, then signalled to Gordy and Brian to follow him outside. He stood looking up at the stars and a blurred, hazy moon, his mind racing. When he was aware they were behind him, he said, 'How much, Brian?'

'For what?'

'This drink. To take out the HVPs.'

'Ten.'

Bruce spun on his heel. 'Ten grand?'

'Per carriage. They've got a spare up there, remember.'

Bruce was speechless. The Glasgow link was already being well remunerated. He examined Brian's face, masked though most of it was by shadows, for signs of deviousness or naked avarice. He wouldn't be the first thief to pad his expenses.

Brian could read Bruce's expression. 'That's what they said, Bruce. They said if they were caught they'd be sacked. Had to be enough to make losing their job worthwhile.'

'How much do BR pay these days then?' Bruce snapped. 'Maybe we should just get a job on the rails.'

Brian spread his hands out, palms up. 'They'll have money to lay out too. Watchmen to be paid off for turning a blind eye.'

'So it begins,' said Gordy. 'The shape of things to come.'

Gordy was right. Once they got a sniff of a big payday, the jackals all appeared. The price of everything went through the roof. Especially Blind Eyes. It would be even worse when they had the actual cash in their hands. 'We haven't got much choice, have we? Tell them to go ahead.'

Brian showed a nervous flicker of teeth in the moonlight. 'I already have.'

'Hello, is that the police? Yes, my name is Charmian Biggs. Look, I'm sorry to bother you, but I don't quite know what else to do.

I'm at my wit's end. Sorry, I'm a bit tearful. Just a second. I'll have to blow my nose. This is a call concerning my husband, Ronnie Biggs. Ronald Biggs, yes. The thing is, he has gone off chopping wood in Wiltshire for some firm. No, it's just an odd job; he normally does painting and decorating. This is just a few days' casual work – well paid, he said. But I've just heard that his brother has died. So we are really keen to get hold of him, as you can imagine. No, Ronnie didn't even know he was ill, otherwise he wouldn't have gone. He is – was – very close to his brother. So I wondered, is there any way you can check on any woodcutting firms in Wiltshire? I'm sure that's where he said it was. Thank you, that's very kind. No, I'm sure you'll find him, and when you do I'm certain he'll be very grateful.'

London, 6 August 1963

'Charlie Delta Three to Foxtrot Delta Control. Have contact with silver Jaguar from the all-car message regarding a smash and grab. Proceeding along Langton Terrace. Over.' 'Roger that, Charlie Delta Three.'

'Control, I have with me DC William Naughton and DS Leonard Haslam. We are now turning into Keating Close. It's them, all right; he's seen us and he's put his foot down. Turning left into Baker Rise.'

'Charlie Delta Three, you're now car-to-car. All cars in Number One division switch to Channel Five. Repeat, Channel Five.'

'Control, this is DC Naughton. George, our driver, has his hands…Jesus!… his hands full at the moment. I shall transmit the details.'

'Very well, Charlie Delta Three.'

'The car vehicle identification on the Jaguar is bravo yankee romeo five zero two alpha. He's taking a hard right into Yates Street. He's really throwing it around now.

Ugh – sorry, dropped the handset. He's going mad… so are we.'

'Anyone able to lend assistance to Charlie Delta Three, now pursuing suspect Jaguar from all-car message one-one- nine-six towards Kilburn against the traffic?'

'This is Tango Bravo Two, am heading down Abercorn Place to try and intercept.'

'He's kerbed it. Lost a hubcap. He's back on track. Trying to lose us on these corners. Just into Foster Place. Repeat, Foster Place. Fifty yards behind now. There's a bloody wood- entop standing in the road trying to wave him down. They'll have him. Jump, you idiot! Bloody hell. Hello, Control? Unknown PC managed to get a truncheon into their screen. Repeat, Jaguar now has no windscreen. They've punched it out. You should find that silly bugger and give him a commendation.'

'Roger that, Charlie Delta Three.'

'Into the tunnel at Finlay Street, touching seventy now. Going to lose radio cont- Hang on, one of the bastards has jumped out.'

'Please observe on-air protocol, Charlie Delta Three.'

'Charlie Delta Three to Control. One of the bastards exited the vehicle at the eastern end of the Finlay Street Tunnel. Suggest you send unit to search the area. He's probably hurt himself after coming out at that speed. Oh Lord, there's a school crossing. Lollipop man. Get out the way, you old fool! Jesus, he's going to hit him. Watch out, George… Watch out for the kids.'

'Charlie Delta Three? This is Control. Come in, Charlie Delta Three.'

'Clear though school, Control. Charlie Delta Three left onto Stanley Lane, by the gasworks. He's on the wrong side

of the road! He's swerving back over. That was close. No, he's clipped a lorry. All over the shop now. Steam. No, smoke. Smoke. He's got a puncture! He's slowing!'

'Control again. Reminder that suspects may be armed and dangerous, Charlie Delta Three.'

'Roger that. We are pulling over outside Marlowe House. They're getting out!'

'This is Tango Bravo Two. I have suspect Jaguar in sight, ready to assist Charlie Delta Three. Have DS Edward Boyle, an authorised firearms officer, on board.'

'Right. Charlie Delta Tango leaving vehicle to continue pursuit on foot. Fuckin' move it!'

'Charlie Delta Three. Please observe on-air protocol. Over.'

London, 7 August 1963

The sabotaging of the Mk. 2 HVP armoured carriages presented little difficulty. Tiny Dave and Tony both wore overalls and carried toolkits, and nobody questioned their right to be moving among the coaches in the middle of the day. In fact, it would have been a brave man who questioned Tiny about anything, given his size and the scowl on his face, which suggested he had been sent to perform some horrible task and was not happy about it. Tony had slid under the gleaming HVP while Tiny Dave kept a lookout.

With new, clean fittings still uncontaminated by dirt and grit, it was a simple matter to undo the nuts, free the pipes and stuff a mixture of Swarfega and iron filings into each pipe. Stan assured them it would play havoc with the vacuum, and the Post Office would switch to an older coach. Engineers would then take a day or so to come from BR or the GPO to see what was up with their new babies.

Still, by the time he climbed from under the carriage and headed back to the Morris Oxford with Tiny Dave, Tony's

face was streaked with grease and his hair felt like wire wool. He needed a shower.

As they drove away, he let out a sigh. 'Dave, do you mind if we swing by my place? We got plenty of time.' 'Where's that then?'