1953 - The Things Men Do Read online

  I was looking down on top of it. I couldn't see who was in the van. Harris spoke to the driver, consulted his watch, then waved the van on.

  As it drove into the street, I saw it was Bill's van. I hadn't any doubt now that the consignment of diamonds Dix had planned to grab was in the van, and at this very moment, Joe was phoning a message to Dix to tell him the van was on its way. Probably Dix was waiting with Louis and Berry in a side street on the route the van would take. Within a few minutes the hold-up would take place.

  The van moved swiftly down Eagle Street towards Oxford Street. I leaned out of the window and watched its red tail light disappear around the corner, heading towards Marble Arch.

  I looked over my shoulder at Ami. She was still sleeping.

  I crept across the room, eased open the door and went silently downstairs.

  In the dark garage I could hear Joe moving about. I stood just inside the office doorway and watched.

  He came out of the partitioned room, a flashlight in his hand and went over to the Jaguar. He put the flashlight on the car roof so the beam fell directly on the door of the partitioned room, then he went back and came out again, staggering under the weight of a big suitcase. This he put in the boot of the car.

  I walked down the garage towards him.

  "What are you doing?"

  He swung round.

  "Clearing out Come and give me a hand."

  "You're not leaving now? There's a fellow standing in the doorway across the street. He'll see you if you take the car out."

  "Who said I was going to take the car? Do you think I'm that dumb? I'm leaving the car. Gloria will fetch it first thing tomorrow."

  So Gloria was coming here!

  "Come and give me a hand," Joe went on impatiently.

  "Has it started yet?"

  He grinned at me in the light of the torch.

  "You bet it's started. They're waiting for them in Shepherd's Bush."

  I followed him into the partitioned room. Together we carried the second suitcase to the car and put it alongside the other in the boot.

  "What the hell have you got in these two cases?" I asked.

  "That's Ed's cockeyed idea. He's too damned thorough, that's his trouble. They're full of television parts, just in case you shot your mouth off and the busies got curious. "That stuff's hot too. Louis knocked it off from a factory, and then there's the telephone Louis knocked that off too."

  "You're not leaving this stuff here for tonight? Suppose the police find it? They could trace it, couldn't they?"

  "You bet they could trace it, but don't get windy. The cops aren't coming here until tomorrow. By that time Gloria will have shifted the car. Well, I'm shoving. Keep your trap shut and remain healthy."

  In spite of this assumed nonchalance, I could see he was jumpy and his heavy battered face was glistening with sweat.

  "Open up. I want to get out of here."

  As I slid back the bolt and opened one of the double doors, I said, "I don't like that stuff being here. The police would pin it on me if they found it."

  "That'd be just too bad, wouldn't it?" he sneered, pushed past me and peered up and down the street. "So long. Keep your nose clean. If you don't it'll be just too bad for you."

  I watched him walk quickly and silently away, then I bolted the door, and as I went back to my office I wondered what had been happening. Had the hold-up succeeded? I lit a cigarette and almost immediately stubbed it out. There was a sick sensation inside me of excitement and uneasiness. Would the police come here? I suddenly realized just how dangerous Tim could be. As luck would have it, he worked this Sunday as it was my Sunday off. If the police questioned him, he was sure to tell them about Joe and Berry. I would have to get rid of him. I didn't want to lose him, but I had to keep him from talking to the police.

  I went upstairs. As I quietly slipped into the bedroom Ann said, "Where have you been, Harry?"

  She gave me a start.

  "I've just had a drink. Can I get you one?"

  "No, thank you. Couldn't you sleep?"

  "It's still damned hot. It feels like an oven in here."

  "What's the time?"

  "Getting on for five."

  "You had better rest. It's too early to get up just yet."

  "I don't want any more sleep. I'm going to dress."

  She half sat up.

  "There's nothing wrong, is there?"

  "Wrong? Of course there isn't. Now, go to sleep."

  I collected my clothes and went into the bathroom. After I had shaved I went into the kitchen to make some coffee.

  I took the coffee downstairs to the partitioned room and sat at the window where I could look across the road and watch the entrance to the sorting-office. My nerves were screwed up and my heart was thumping.

  It was now half-past five: an hour and forty minutes had gone by since the van had left the sorting-office. Any moment now the alarm would come through.

  I could see Harris sweeping the floor of the shed opposite. He was smoking, and swept slowly as if he had all the time in the world to get the job done.

  At ten to six I heard a telephone bell ring across the way.

  Harris put down his broom and walked with infuriating slowness to his office.

  I felt a trickle of sweat run down my face. I leaned forward to crush out my cigarette.

  Minutes ticked by, then Harris appeared He came quickly to the entrance and looked up the road. There was a dazed, startled expression on his face that told me the hold-up had taken place.

  I watched him as he moved out on to the pavement. He stood on the kerb for two or three minutes, then turned and went back to the office as the telephone began to ring again.

  The time was just on six, and I went to open the garage doors. I would have given a lot to cross the road and ask him what had happened.

  I swung back the double doors. Then I strolled out on to the pavement in the hope that Harris would reappear, but he didn't. I waited several minutes, staring up at the blue sky, then reluctantly I went back into the garage.

  The hands of my watch crept on to six-fifteen. Then one of the trucks that called regularly for petrol drove up. I nodded to the driver as I unscrewed the tank cap.

  "Going to be hot."

  "Phew! What a night! Couldn't sleep a wink."

  "Nor could I."

  A dark blue car suddenly slid to a standstill outside the sorting-office.

  " 'Ullo," the truck-driver said. "Busies: what do they want?"

  Two plain clothes officers got out of the car and talked into the sorting-Office. The uniformed driver remained at the wheel.

  "Bet you someone's pinched a tuppenny-halfpenny stamp," the truck-driver said scornfully. "That's all these cops 'ave got to do: joy ride at the taxpayers' expense and stick their noses where they're not wanted."

  "Better get moving or they'll be pinching you for obstruction," I said, wanting to be rid of him.

  "That's a fact. See you tomorrow, mate."

  I stood back while the truck-driver drove into the street.

  When he had gone I walked to the partitioned room where I could watch through the curtained Window without being seen.

  There wasn't much to see.

  The police car remained outside the sorting-office for a good half-hour. I saw neither Harris nor the two plain clothes officers. A few minutes to seven one of the plain clothes men appeared, got into the police car and the car drove away.

  "Harry?"

  I came quickly out of the partitioned room, closed the door and walked down the length of the garage.

  Ann was calling from upstairs.

  "Yes?"

  "What's going on over there? That was the police, wasn't it?"

  "Yes. I have no idea."

  I was standing at the foot of the stairs now and Ann was leaning over the banisters.

  "Do you think something's wrong?"

  "I don't know," I said, speaking casually. "They're probably checking up on an anonymous
letter or something like that."

  "Oh; I see." She looked doubtfully at me. "I hadn't thought of that."

  "Have you had breakfast?"

  "I'm getting it. Will you have something, Harry?"

  "I've had all I want. I'm going to look at the brakes on the truck. I should have tackled them weeks ago."

  "You—you don't think there's anything wrong over there?"

  I laughed.

  "I haven't the slightest idea, Ann. Go and get your breakfast."

  My indifference seemed to reassure her and she went back into the kitchen.

  As I returned to the garage I saw two police cars pull up outside the sorting-office. Two uniformed policemen took up positions either side of the door while three plain clothes men and a sergeant in uniform went inside. One of the plain clothes men carried a black box and a tripod.

  Would they come here? I wondered. Not yet anyway.

  The hold-up had taken place in Shepherd's Bush. It would be in that district that they would start their inquiries.

  For something better to do and to occupy my mind I drove the truck to the door and then set about adjusting the brakes. From where I worked I had a good view of the sorting-office, but there was nothing to see except the two policemen at the entrance.

  Ann came down a little after half-past seven.

  "There is something wrong over there, Harry," she said coming to the entrance of the garage and staring across the road at the two policemen.

  "Looks like it," I said indifferently. "Well, it's not our business."

  "Do you think there's been a robbery?"

  "I don't know. Look, darling, I want to get this done before Tim comes in." I crawled under the van again and began tightening the nut on the brake drum.

  "Couldn't you ask Harris, Harry?"

  "I will if I see him. What are you getting so excited about?"

  There was a long pause. I could see her small feet and slim ankles as she stood near the truck.

  "I'm not getting excited. I'm worried, Harry."

  "Oh, forget it, and let me get on with my job!"

  She went away then, and I worked until eight o'clock. I had just finished when Tim came in wheeling his bicycle. By this time there was a small crowd standing in front of my entrance, gaping at the sorting-office. Several Press cars had arrived and three men with cameras were taking photographs.

  "Morning, Tim," I said, wiping my hands clean on a lump of waste. "Looks as if there's some excitement across the way."

  "There's been a robbery, Mr. Collins," Tim said, his eyes round behind his spectacles.

  "One of the mail vans?"

  "That's right. No one seems to know if they got away with much. It's not in the papers yet. I asked one of the reporters."

  "Well, never mind that for a moment. Come into the office, Tim. I want to talk to you."

  Surprised, he reluctantly dragged himself away from the activity going on outside and followed me into the office.

  I knew it would be too dangerous to let him stay in the garage a minute longer than necessary. I didn't want to get rid of him, but I had to. I couldn't let him tell the police about Dix and the others.

  I sat on the edge of the desk and to cover my embarrassment. I lit a cigarette.

  "Look, Tim, I'm not going to beat about the bush. Business is rotten. I've got to economize or I'll go bust. I'm sorry, but I can't afford to keep you on."

  His face fell.

  "Oh. Well, I was rather expecting it, Mr. Collins. There doesn't seem any work coming in, does there?"

  "That's a fact." I flicked ash on to the floor, went on without looking at him. "I'm not going to stand in your way, Tim. You can pack up right away. I'm going to give you two weeks' money."

  He stared at me.

  "I'll work my week out, Mr. Collins. I wouldn't like to leave you in the lurch."

  "I can manage all right, and I'll feel happier if I knew you were looking for something else instead of wasting your time doing nothing here."

  "I can get another job easily enough. I'd like to work out my week here."

  "There's no point in that. There's no work to do. You get off right now, Tim."

  He shuffled his feet. I tried to meet his eyes, but I couldn't.

  "I—I haven't done anything wrong, have I, Mr. Collins?"

  "Don't be an idiot, Tim. It's just that I want you to get fixed up right away, and also, if I've got to do without your help, the sooner I get down to the job the better." I took out my wallet and counted nine pounds down on to the desk. "There you are, Tim. Now you get off. I'll send you a cracking fine reference. You'll get it tomorrow."

  "I can't take that, Mr. Collins," he said with a dignity that surprised me. "I'll take a week's money, but not two weeks. That wouldn't be fair."

  "Please yourself," I said, beginning to get irritated. I was anxious to get rid of him in case Ann came down. "It's due to you."

  "No, it isn't."

  He took four pounds and a ten shilling note and left the rest of the money on the desk.

  There was a long, awkward pause, then as he still showed no sign of going I said, "Well, Tim, thanks for all you've done. I can't say how sorry I am this has happened. You get off now."

  "If you're sure you want me to go, I suppose I'd better go. I'd like to say good-bye to Mrs. Collins, please."

  I was expecting that

  "She's busy right now, Tim. I'll tell her you wanted to say good-bye. She'll understand." I forced a laugh. "It's not as if we shan't see you again. I hope you'll look us up one of these days."

  I knew this would be the trickiest part of getting rid of him. He was devoted to Ann. The worried, unhappy look went out of his eyes, and something like anger showed in them.

  "Does Mrs. Collins know I'm going?"

  "Of course she does." I had to stop this, and stop it quickly. "As a matter of fact, Tim, it was she who suggested you should go. Don't let's embarrass her with a lot of good-byes."

  He went as red as fire.

  "Oh, I see."

  I got up and began to crowd him out of the office.

  "Of course she doesn't want you to go any more than I do, but we've got to be sensible about this."

  "I'd like to say I have been very happy here, Mr. Collins. I'm sorry this has happened. If there's anything wrong, I'd like you know you can rely on me to help."

  "There's nothing wrong. Now get off. I've a lot to do this morning, and I can't stand here nattering all day."

  I spoke more sharply than I intended to, but my patience was rapidly running out.

  He turned even redder.

  "Well, then, I'll say good-bye."

  "So long, and good luck."

  I watched him put on his coat and cross over to where he kept his bicycle. As he wheeled the machine to the entrance to the garage, he looked back over his shoulder.

  "And good luck to you, too, Mr. Collins."

  And I'll need it, I thought. How I'll need it!

  "Thanks, Tim."

  The miserable, dejected look on his face made me feel bad. We had got along together, and I liked him, but he was too dangerous now. He had to go.

  I watched him push his way through the crowd, mount his bicycle and pedal away.

  Now I had to cook up some explanation for Ann.

  I went to the foot of the stairs.

  "Ann?"

  She came out on to the landing. Sunlight coming through the landing window fell directly on her. I was startled to see how pale and anxious she looked.

  "I think you must be right, Ann, Tim says there has been a hold-up."

  "Yes."

  "Well, thank goodness Bill wasn't mixed up in it. Bit of luck him being called home like that."

  "Yes."

  We stood looking at each other.

  "It never rains but it pours," I said, making an effort to sound casual. "Tim has had to go home. His father's ill."

  "Ill, Harry? I'm sorry. Is he bad?"

  "He said something about a heart atta
ck."

  "Has he gone now?"

  "Yes. I told him to take the week off." I began to move back into the office. "I think I'll shut up for the day, Ann. With all these crowds outside there won't be any business."

  "All right, Harry."

  She turned and went into the kitchen. I listened to her moving about. My hands were damp and I felt a little sick. The lies were piling up now. I could see nothing but lies ahead of me: lies to Ann, to the police, to Bill.

  "Mr. Collins?"

  I turned quickly, my heart skipping a beat. A squat, red-faced man in a shabby brown suit and a slouch hat pulled down over his eyes was standing in the office doorway.

  "That's right." I got to my feet "Sorry, I didn't see you come in."

  "That's okay, Mr. Collins. My names Norton: Evening Mail. I wanted a word with you about the robbery across the way."

  I felt a cold chill run up my spine.

  "What robbery?"

  "Haven't you heard? There's been a hold-up of a mail van. The van left the sorting-office over the way about half-past three this morning. It was ambushed off Shepherd's Bush on its way to Northolt Airfield. It's big news. They got away with a lot of industrial diamonds, and one of the Post Office guards was killed."

  "Killed?"

  "That's right. Must have been quite a scrap. Two of the bandits were laid out, and one of the guards was killed."

  "One of the guards was killed?" I repeated stupidly; my mouth was so dry the words came out in a whisper.

  "Yes. Now, look, Mr. Collins, you're right opposite the sorting-office. I was wondering if you saw anything suspicious."

  "I didn't see anything."

  One of the guards was killed! If I hadn't got Bill out of the way, it would have been him!

  "The way I figure it, Mr. Collins," Norton went on, "the bandits must have been watching the sorting-office for some time. The van left at an unusual hour, and yet they were waiting for it. That must mean they had someone watching for the van to leave. Do you happen to remember seeing anyone or a car even hanging about Eagle Street during the past few days?"

  "No. I don't remember seeing anyone."

  I don't know how I managed to sit still or even speak. I wasn't only involved in a hold-up, I was now involved in a murder!

  "Think a moment," Norton urged. "Are you sure you didn't notice anyone? Didn't you hear something unusual around half-past three this morning?"