Читать книгу Northern Heist - Richard O'Rawe - Страница 11

FOUR

Ructions removes his yellow hard hat and rubs his hair as if to shake out dandruff. How the hell do workmen wear this crown of thorns from morning to night? And this hi-vis jacket … it’s like a second-hand shroud.

Panzer doesn’t seem to have a problem with his disguise. He adjusts the mirror of the open-back jeep and squints intently at the street behind him. A small dry wheeze is followed by a prolonged bout of coughing. ‘I’m … out of puff,’ he rasps.

Ructions stares. Sounds to me like you’re out of time.

Panzer recovers. ‘What happened between Eleanor and what’s his name?’

‘You mean her husband? Frank?’

‘Yeah, him.’

‘She caught Frank banging his secretary.’

‘That wouldn’t have helped.’

‘No.’

There is a mischievous grin on Panzer’s face. ‘She must be some ride, all the same.’

Ructions sighs. ‘She’s not a ride.’

Panzer sniggers. ‘You’re riding her, but it’s only business, isn’t it?’

Ructions does not respond.

Panzer’s mood changes. ‘Are you sure she’ll be sound if the cops lean on her?’

‘She’ll hold up.’

Ructions’ mobile phone rings. He looks at the number. It’s Maria. He turns it off.

‘You can’t be certain,’ Panzer says.

‘Certain about what?’

‘About the bold Eleanor holding up.’

‘I’m telling you, she’ll be fine.’

‘You say that, but it isn’t going in here.’ Panzer taps his temple.

‘She has to be tight.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘Because she’s supplied me with a full rundown of the security system, the rotas, the security guards, the staff levels and the exact amount of money that’s in the bank. If that doesn’t make her a player—’

‘Jesus Aloysius Christ! Will you shake your fucking head, man,’ Panzer says dismissively. Clicking his fingers, he adds, ‘The cops wouldn’t give two fucks about any of that.’ He starts coughing again. ‘To get to us,’ he catches phlegm in his handkerchief, ‘they’d dig up Marlon Brando to make her an offer she couldn’t refuse.’

Ructions is alarmed at Panzer’s deterioration. ‘Good God, boss, you look like a corpse that’s been sent back amongst the living on weekend parole! Are you all right?’

‘Thanks. That’s cheered me up.’

‘I didn’t mean—’

Panzer points a finger. ‘Nothing you’re saying makes Her Ladyship any less of a potential problem.’

‘But how? What would she tell them? I’m the only person she knows. It’ll be her word against mine.’

Panzer taps the steering wheel with a pen. ‘And a jury would take your word against hers, would they? They’d think you a more upright citizen than the deputy bank manager’s wife, would they?’ Panzer opens the glove compartment and throws in the pen. ‘If she fingers you, she fingers us.’

‘She won’t finger anybody.’

‘Why not? What makes you so sure?’

‘You don’t want to get it, do you?’

‘I fucking do want to get it. Fuck! I want to get it big time, but you’re not convincing me.’

Ructions runs his hand across his forehead. From experience he knows that the pistons in Panzer’s mind can sometimes turn very slowly. ‘She’s not on the bank’s payroll, so why should she come up on the cops’ radar?’

Panzer is still dubious. She’s on your radar, Romeo, because you’re letting your dick rule your brain. Panzer rolls down the window and pretends to adjust the side mirror. He turns his face away from Ructions because he knows his protégé will not like his next proposal. ‘When this job is put to bed—’

Ructions has a good idea what’s coming next. ‘Uh-huh?’

‘Why don’t we …?’

‘What?’

‘You know.’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘Course you do.’

‘Clip her? You want her clipped?’

Panzer turns towards Ructions. ‘Yeah, I do. Fuck her!’ he rasps. ‘She’s a loose end and we don’t do loose ends. Have you forgotten the golden rule? Have you?’

Be calm, don’t let him rile you. ‘How do we know she hasn’t a diary somewhere?’ Ructions says. ‘Or a recording of her handing me over the bank details? How do you know she’s not watching us right now – maybe even filming us?’ For a split second Ructions thinks he sees alarm in Panzer’s eyes. ‘Listen, Panzer, my judgement has always been good, hasn’t it? I’ve never, in all the years we’ve been together, screwed up.’ Ructions puts up one finger. ‘Not once.’

‘I can’t argue with that.’

‘I’m not going to screw up on this one either. If I even get a whimper that she’s going to give us grief, I’ll put her to sleep myself. I will. No fuckin’ sweat. But I’m telling you, she’s up for this job.’

Panzer stares at Ructions, lips pursed. He doesn’t say it, but he’s thinking it: You’d better be right, my friend. But now it’s time for a change of tack; now it’s time to throw the dog a bone. ‘Look, kid,’ Panzer says smiling, ‘I’m your greatest fan and you’re my Uri Geller.’ Panzer pretends to punch Ructions in the stomach. ‘You’re the Magic Man. Now, tell me again, how much was in the bank last week?’

‘Give or take a few hundred grand.’

Panzer cannot suppress a smile. ‘Listen to you, give or take a few hundred grand.’

‘Forty-one million in sterling, seven million in euro and two million in foreign currencies, mostly US dollars. Of the sterling, only twenty-eight was usable, the rest was coin and new print. I reckon we should be in a position to harvest about thirty to thirty-five million.’

‘Harvest, Ructions? Is that what we do? Harvest bank money?’ Panzer has a vision of a field of green money plants, with fifty-pound notes flapping like leaves in the wind. ‘Still, why not? The O’Hares: money farmers. I like it. You and Eleanor can’t have any contact for at least a couple of years and—’

‘She’s okay with that.’

‘You’ve told her?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you believe her?’

‘Yes.’ You’re still not certain, are you, Panzer? You’d just love to put a bullet in the back of her head and remove even the sniff of a problem, wouldn’t you? No, I take that back; you’d love me to put a bullet in the back of her head for you. Isn’t that the way of it?

‘Heads up,’ Ructions says.

Eleanor Proctor – five feet seven inches, thirty-two years old, curvy, with long auburn hair and a spring in her step – walks out of her home carrying a gym bag.

‘She’s a stunner, amigo, I’ll give you that. How long have you been banging her?’

Eleanor gets into her red Volvo and drives off.

‘Amm, about a year? I’ve been chasing her properly since May 2003, but she played hard to get.’

‘The old Ructions charm didn’t work right away, then?’

‘It took a while, but Ructions always gets his woman.’

Panzer laughs. ‘How did it start?’

‘I set her up.’

‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’ Panzer says.

‘It was at the Bruce Springsteen concert in the RDS stadium in Dublin,’ Ructions says. ‘She was chatting to her friend, Stacy, outside the venue. I knew who she was, who her husband was. The only reason I was there was because she was there. So, I gave a kid a few quid to snatch her bag. I pretended to give chase and got the bag back. She was very grateful.’

‘Extremely grateful,’ Panzer says.

‘In the end,’ Ructions says.

The Proctors’ garage door opens, and Frank Proctor drives out in a silver Saab.

‘I’ll catch you later,’ Ructions says, getting out of the passenger door.

Panzer lifts the stopwatch on the dashboard, turns the ignition key and leans over to Ructions. ‘Make sure you do. We need to talk this thing through some more.’

Ructions gets into his car and drives off, taking to the back streets to get to the gym before Eleanor.

The gym is usually quiet at eight o’clock in the morning. As Ructions waits for Eleanor to arrive, snippets of his conversation with Panzer rampage through his mind like a terrified elephant in a shopping centre. ‘Look, kid, I’m your greatest fan …’ Yeah, you’re my greatest fan, Panzer – as long as I’m making you cartloads of money. What was it you said? ‘You’re the Magic Man.’ Too fuckin’ right, I’m the Magic Man.

Eleanor’s car enters the car park and pulls up alongside Ructions. On the far side of the car park, in the back of a yellow Volkswagen van, a small freckled man with strands of white hair brushed across his pate to conceal his baldness zooms in his video camera on the couple. ‘Mr James O’Hare is getting out of his car and is walking towards the car of Mrs Eleanor Proctor.’

Ructions gets into Eleanor’s car. They kiss. Eleanor instantly feels the electricity. Ructions offers Eleanor a cigarette. She shakes her head, wipes away a strand of hair from her face. ‘I look a mess,’ she says defensively.

Ructions toys with her silver earrings, then traces a finger along her breast. ‘Actually, you look extremely fuckable.’

‘More fuckable than Sweet Maria?’

‘Infinitely more fuckable.’

Eleanor shakes her head. ‘I want you to get rid of her,’ she says.

‘She’ll be gone soon.’

‘When?’

‘Very soon. She’s already picked up that things are different between us. It’s over bar the sighing and sulking.’

‘It’d better be. I mean it, James. I’m not going to be yours or anybody else’s mistress.’

‘Trust me, El.’

‘I do.’

Eleanor feels a lessening of the tension in her stomach. She nibbles his ear while pulling down his trouser zip. ‘Besides robbing banks, is that all you ever think of?’ she says huskily.

‘In case you haven’t noticed, love, that’s your hand on my joystick.’

‘Is it? Bad hand.’

A car pulls up close to them and a man and woman carrying gym bags get out. Eleanor takes her hand away and Ructions pulls up his zip. ‘Are you okay?’ he asks.

‘Yes, I’m fine.’

‘That doesn’t sound very convincing. What’s wrong? Out with it.’

‘It’s you.’

‘Me?’

‘Yeah, you. James, I’d better not be just a recreational fuck with a bank rota.’

‘Hey, that’s—’

‘Tell the truth. Am I only a way for you to find out what’s happening in the bank?’

Ructions shows genuine surprise and pulls back his head to get a better look at Eleanor. ‘Can we rewind this tape? I must have missed the first act.’

‘You’re avoiding the question.’

Ructions looks at Eleanor. Holy fuck! What do I say? He folds his arms and turns to her. ‘You know what? We should make a clean break now.’

Eleanor reaches across Ructions and opens the car door on his side. ‘Away you go then,’ she says dispassionately.

Away you go then? Ructions had not expected this reaction from Eleanor. He closes the door. ‘Would it be that easy for you?’

‘Easy? It’d be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But if you want to break up, there’s nothing much left to say.’

Fucking tough wee woman this. Ructions puts his arm around Eleanor’s neck and presses his forehead to hers. ‘Breaking up with you is the last thing in the world I want to happen. And you’re not a recreational fuck.’ Ructions frowns. ‘El, where did that come from?’

Eleanor pulls back, her eyes searching Ructions’ face. ‘I’ve fallen in love with you, James.’ She points a finger at him. ‘But you don’t own me. Nobody owns me. And I don’t give in to threats. I said I’d help you to rob this bank and I will. But I’m doing so with my eyes wide open.’

‘I’d never—’

‘Let me finish,’ Eleanor says. ‘At the start you were just a bit of fun, and I was flattered by the attention you paid me, but things have moved on from then. I’ve moved on. You’ve helped me feel alive again. I said I’ve fallen in love with you and I have. If you don’t feel the same way about me—’

Ructions leans over, draws Eleanor to him and kisses her. There is no hiding the passion as his tongue searches out hers. When they pull back, Ructions stares at Eleanor, his face inches from hers. ‘You want me to say—’

‘I want you to be honest with me. Nothing else.’

He plants another kiss on her lips, a light kiss, a kiss so intimate that it sweeps away all Eleanor’s nagging doubts.

Ructions breaks off. ‘I love you.’ He flops back in his seat. ‘Holy Christ! Did I just tell you I loved you?’

‘Yes, you did,’ Eleanor says jubilantly, her eyes dancing. ‘You did – and you meant it!’

Ructions closes his eyes. Good God! What am I doing? Am I only churning out the words to keep this woman sweet because I can’t empty the National Bank of Ireland without her help? Or do I really love her? Do I? Yeah, I fucking do! Christ! Ructions O’Hare, how the fuck did you ever get yourself into this mess?

Eleanor reaches for her handbag, takes out her make-up bag and reapplies lipstick. Her lips don’t need a fresh coat, but she has to be doing something. She puts away the bag. ‘Why don’t we get out of here, James? Start afresh. Go to London, wherever. I’ve got money. We can—’

Ructions puts his finger to her lips. ‘After,’ he murmurs. ‘When this is over, we can go wherever we want.’

Eleanor’s eyes search his face. ‘Do you mean that?’

‘Every word of it.’

‘Do you know what? I believe you.’

‘Mr O’Hare has got out of Mrs Proctor’s car and returned to his own car,’ the man with the video camera says. His phone rings. ‘Oh, hello,’ he says, still recording. ‘Don’t worry on that score; they haven’t spotted me.’ As Ructions drives off, he shuts down the recorder and concentrates on the phone call. ‘There’s no doubt, Tiny; the evidence is overwhelming.’

‘What is the purpose of your visit to Ireland, sir?’ the Irish customs official asks as he examines Serge Mercier’s passport.

‘To see if your golf courses are as good as they say they are, Monsieur. Are they?’

‘Oh, certainly,’ the customs official says, handing Serge back his passport. ‘Where do you hope to play?’

‘My friend tells me, er … Port … Portmarnook?’

‘Portmarnock, sir.’

‘Portmarnook—’

‘No, sir, Portmarn … ock.’

‘Portmarn … ock.’

‘That’s it.’

‘Pardonnez-moi.’

‘That’s okay, sir. It’s a fabulous course. You’ll enjoy it. The fourteenth and fifteenth holes are amongst the best in the world.’

‘How nice.’

‘Enjoy your visit, sir.’