The Annie Carter Series Books 1–4. Jessie Keane

ripe for the taking. Jack the gelly man had his pack of three with him. He was pleased with the way things were going, so far.

      So was Jonjo. So was Max, who had the bags at the ready to stow the cash. The telephone chap was sweating up a bit and had taken his hood off. Obvious he’d never done a job before. But he was okay. They were all dressed in gloves and navy boiler suits and thick hoods, in case anyone spotted them. Jimmy had breached the frame-room door for the ex-GPO man to do his bit, and was now outside keeping his eyes peeled. Gary was parked round the corner, ready to go.

      It was midnight. Everything was peaceful, just the way it should be.

      The ex-engineer found the alarm line, got his tools out and started gently stripping back the wire in two places. Then he attached the two crocodile clips to the bared wires and had the diverter wire in place in a second. He turned and nodded to Max.

      The alarm was inactive. They were going to steal away the thirty thousand as quiet as a mouse’s fart. Jonjo went over to the manager’s office and busted the door wide open. The two others were tearing around the store grabbing fur coats, blankets, rugs, all to mask the noise of the explosion.

      The gelly man went over to the safe. It had a steel door built into concrete. He looked it over, then knelt down and unpacked his pack of three and his other bits and pieces. You had to keep gelignite cool and dry. Once it started to run in the heat, you were in trouble.

      ‘I should stand back a bit,’ he said.

      Max, Jonjo and the telephone man moved out of the room. Jonjo went off to pick up whatever he could carry in gemstones and watches. The telephone man took his hood off and mopped his brow. Max watched what the gelly man was doing through the open door.

      Jack had already snipped the ends off the condoms. Now he started to pipe the stuff all around the door, squeezing it into the gap with gentle precision. Then he turned to the lock, the safe’s weakest point, and used up the last of the gelly. Then he got out a spatula and a block of kiddies’ Plasticine and slowly covered the gelignite with it.

      Max looked at his watch. Nearly twelve thirty.

      Jack finished with the Plasticine and started setting up the detonator, a simple battery with a wire attached. All he had to do now was close the circuit and the safe would be cracked open like a crushed nut.

      ‘We’ll pack it now,’ he said.

      Max and the telephone man started passing in the rugs and the coats and the sheets and blankets. The gelly man packed them around the safe until it looked like an igloo.

      ‘That’s fine,’ he said, and moved out of the room with the detonator, the cable unravelling between the battery and the safe.

      Jonjo came back with pockets like Squirrel Nutkin. He was beaming from ear to ear, mask still off. Sloppy, thought Max, displeased.

      ‘Everyone ready?’ asked Jack.

      Cool bugger, thought Max as he nodded. He could have been leading a Sunday School prayer meeting for all the concern he registered. They got down out of the way.

      ‘Put your hoods on,’ Max told Jonjo and the telephone man.

      ‘It’s too fucking hot,’ said the ex-engineer while Jonjo complied.

      ‘Put it on, you pineapple.’

      The gelly man closed the circuit. The explosion was nothing more than a soft crack, but the floor shook beneath their feet. All the covers fell off the safe and the door lolled open. There was a heavy cordite smell in the air and a little smoke, but Max was pleased. No one outside the building could have heard that. Not even Jimmy, and he had ears like a bat.

      ‘Come on,’ said Jack, and started throwing all the covers back out the door of the manager’s office. He then neatly packed away his stuff.

      Then Max got to the open safe and saw the huge stash of cash inside. He shook out the bags and started piling it inside and handing it back to Jonjo. God bless the January sales. Where the fuck was Jonjo? This was no time to be off on the rob around the shop.

      ‘Hey!’ someone said from behind him.

      Jonjo was grappling with a man near the door.

      ‘Who the fuck are you?’ Jonjo demanded.

      Max looked at the telephone engineer. His mask still off. The bloke had clocked him. Not good news.

      ‘Get off me!’ The man was squirming in Jonjo’s iron grip.

      ‘Who are you, pal?’ asked Jonjo again.

      ‘I’m the manager,’ the man gasped. ‘I came back for some papers.’

      Now the engineer pulled his hood back on. About a lifetime too bloody late. Max was seriously annoyed. He was going to have words with Jimmy over this. What was he doing out there, having a wank? He wasn’t keeping watch, that was for sure. This bastard must have come right past him.

      ‘Fuck it,’ said Jonjo.

      ‘Take him into the storage room. Tie him up,’ said Max.

      ‘But he’s seen my …’ yelled the engineer.

      Max gave him and slap and caught the front of his boiler suit.

      ‘Shut it, you.’

      The man fell silent. Christ, spare me from bloody amateurs, thought Max. God knew what this idiot had been about to say. He could have roared one of their names out loud, he was that rattled.

      ‘He saw my face,’ moaned the man.

      Max gave him a little shake.

      ‘So? I hear Scotland’s nice this time of year. Take yourself off up there. Go tonight. And keep it buttoned, my friend, or I might get upset with you.’

      ‘But what if he identifies me?’

      ‘You’ve got no record. No wife. No kids. He’d have to be fucking clever to do that, wouldn’t he? But take no chances. Clear off out of it.’

      ‘My cut! What about my cut?’

      ‘Send a postcard in three months’ time to Eric at The Grapes. I’ll see you right. So long as you remember you say nothing to nobody about this. You get careless, I get upset. Remember that. I hear anything about you mouthing off, I’ll find you. And you’ll be sorry.’

      The man nodded. Max started piling the cash into the bags. A good night’s work, all in all. And on Delaney turf, too – that made it twice as sweet.

       52

      ‘So how was Cliveden this weekend?’ asked Annie absently as she thumbed through one of the copies of The Times newspaper she bought in for the clients. Not much to see, really. The odd scandal. The odd robbery, too. A massive thirty thousand quid had gone walkabout from a department store on the Delaney manor. Ronnie and Reggie Kray had been remanded in custody, charged with demanding money with menaces. Adam Faith had cancelled concerts in Johannesburg after refusing to play to all-white audiences.

      Mira, Jennifer and Thelma were in an ecstatic pre-party huddle on one of the big Chesterfields. Mira, beaming with happiness, tossing her blonde mane, looked up at Annie who was standing over them with an indulgent smile.

      ‘I was just telling Jen and Thelma about it. It was so wonderful. We had one of the suites overlooking the Thames. The view was stunning. I met Joe Louis.’

      ‘Who’s Joe Louis?’

      ‘The boxer, silly. And I was introduced to Lord and Lady Astor. And I met Harold Macmillan. And Tony Bennett the singer, he was lovely. William was very attentive. It was fabulous.’

      Annie didn’t doubt that William had been attentive. William was Sir William Farquarson. Unfortunately his wife, Lady Fenella, was horse-faced