Tennison

Chapter thirty-one

It was 2.30 a.m. and Bradfield was on tenterhooks listening to the suspects’ conversation on Frank’s CB. By now they were all clued in as to which of the men were talking.

‘He’s cut through, we’re finally going in!’ John Bentley said excitedly to his dad over the walkie-talkie as he sat next to Silas in the cellar.

‘It’s about bloody time! Still all clear out here. Don’t take longer than necessary or get greedy as we need to be well away before sunrise,’ Clifford’s gravelly voice replied.

‘I’ll call back when we’re nearly done and pick you up on the corner, OK?’

‘OK. Yeah, received.’

Clifford felt good, although there was something that was worrying him, but he said nothing to John as they were almost home and dry.

Danny was first through the hole in the vault floor, which was just wide enough for him and John, but not Silas. Taking the gas tanks back out of the tunnel would have been tiring and time-consuming, so John pushed while Danny lifted the heavy tanks up into the vault out of the way. Once John was in the vault he stood next to Danny and, using the light from one of the Eveready bicycle lights he’d rigged up to a sports headband, they looked round in awe at the large twenty-four-foot-square room lined with rows and rows of locked numbered drawers held in wall-to-ceiling cabinets.

‘We need to find box 320 and open it first,’ John said.

‘Why, is it your lucky number or something?’ Danny asked suspiciously, which angered John who snapped back.

‘Yeah, cos there’s at least a hundred thousand of used notes in it from a previous bank robbery. That’s what kick-started this job in the first place.’

Danny scanned the drawers then pointed to his right.

‘It’s over there.’

Silas was in the tunnel and John called out to him.

‘Hand me up a load of pillowcases and the holdall containing the gear we need.’

Silas did as he was asked and John unzipped the holdall, removing the contents and placing them on the small table in the room: two club hammers, crowbars, flat-head chisels and four bike torches to help light up the vault.

‘Help yourself, Danny. Let’s get to cracking this lot open.’

John slammed the forked end of a crowbar into the small gap at the top of deposit drawer 320 and whacked it hard twice with a club hammer to force it in. He then pushed the bar forwards and upwards, causing the drawer to make a popping sound as it broke away from the lock. He pulled it out, placed it on the table, then prised open the lid and saw that it was packed with £20, £10, £5 and £1 notes. Danny was looking over his shoulder, which annoyed him.

‘What are you waiting for? Get on with it and start down the far end. Get the drawers out, open them up, take out what’s valuable and shove it in a pillowcase.’

Danny went to the far end of the vault as John started to put the money into a pillowcase, making sure that the soon-to-be-worthless fivers were in a separate one. It was his intention to pass them off to Silas on the grounds they were more common than tens and twenties and therefore easier to use or pass on. His dad had wanted him to give them to Danny as well, but he’d been a long-time friend, and John knew he was not a man to cross, or you’d pay the price.

They forced open one drawer after another and the hammering sound of metal against metal echoed round the vault like a chorus of musical chime bells. John and Danny were screaming and shouting with delight as the contents spilled out of the drawers. Some were filled with valuable jewellery, others with silver cutlery and Georgian tea services, along with more trays filled with cash. They were working at a frenzied pace as they stuffed the pillowcases full with a treasure trove of looted goods. They then handed them to Silas who looked inside and rubbed his hands together in delight.

Danny raised his arm and John stopped.

‘I got a tray filled with bags of what looks like heroin and cocaine,’ Danny said.

‘Leave it,’ John replied.

‘Why? It’ll be worth a fortune on the streets, probably more than the cash we got so far.’

‘I don’t deal in shit like that. It ruins lives and kills young kids, so do as I say and leave it,’ John said, making it clear he meant every word.

Bradfield was on a high. He remained calm as he told the arrest teams to move out of City Road, but to stay in the backstreets away from the bank and café until he gave the order for them to take up position to block off the possible escape routes. He also called the officers watching the Bentleys’ place and Danny Mitcham’s flat and told them to come over and support the arrest teams. His mind was racing as he wondered if he had covered every eventuality, but he could think of nothing that could go wrong. He knew that Operation Hawk was on its way to being a huge success and was now eager to arrest John Bentley and his team.

‘Are you OK, Mr Dunbar? It’ll soon be over.’

‘I’m very nervous, Mr Bradfield, and somewhat worried as they’ll obviously have hammers in their hands.’

‘Don’t worry — all I need you to do is open the vault as quietly as possible and then step to one side and let me and my arrest team do our job.’

Bradfield phoned the shoe shop to tell the officers there that the suspects were now in the bank vault. He spoke with DC Stanley who said the officer in the shoe-shop basement using a listening device could hear the sound of metal being hammered.

Bradfield turned to Spencer Gibbs. ‘We’re going over to the bank in fifteen minutes, Spence...’

‘Why not go now if they’re in the vault?’

‘I don’t want to burst their bubble of joy quite yet. When I give the order you get your team in the shoe shop to go out and cover the back alleyway in case any of ’em try to escape from the rear of the café. I’ve also got backup teams in unmarked cars at each end of the alleyway to block the route off in case they try to get out in the van.’

‘How are you getting into the bank?’

‘We’re going in by the front door with Dunbar.’

‘We?’ Gibbs asked, having thought he was to cover the rear alleyway.

‘I want you with me on the arrests, Spence. Kath and four other officers will be with us as backup, and if the suspects kick off I’m carrying,’ he said, making reference to the revolver he had in a shoulder holster under his jacket.

‘What about Cliff Bentley? He’ll see us going in.’

‘He’ll be taken care of. The two officers dressed like tramps will go to the top of the car park and take him out as we move in.’

‘What if he raises the alarm before they get to him?’

‘Chance I have to take, but even then where are the bastards going to run to? They won’t try and escape empty-handed. We’ve got them, Spence, we fuckin’ got ’em like rats in a barrel!’ Bradfield said and patted Spencer’s back.

Clifford felt his teeth chattering with the cold as he looked down on the street below from his vantage point. Everything was quiet and there was an eeriness about the stillness of the night that troubled him. He knew via the walkie-talkie that they had broken into the vault and soon they’d all be rich beyond their wildest dreams. He sat back against the wall and began to think about what had been worrying him earlier. It seemed strange that he’d not seen one single police patrol car or a uniform officer pounding the beat all night. He’d seen a few patrol cars the previous night and knew that when David had been lookout a tramp had been arrested by a uniform officer and a paddy wagon had turned up. Clifford began to wonder if uniform patrols had been told to stay away from the area, or was it just pure coincidence?

Inside the vault John and Danny were still breaking open the deposit boxes. Silas was sweating heavily as he crawled to the café cellar with pillowcases of money and valuables. He then took these upstairs and placed them by the back door to be loaded into the van when they were all ready to leave. Although they were exhausted the euphoria and exhilaration at what they were about to get away with was pumping the blood through their veins and keeping them going.

Silas went back into the tunnel to collect more loot and stood up so that his head was sticking up through the hole in the vault floor.

‘Is nearly 4 a.m. and sun will rise in hour or so.’

Danny looked at John. ‘We must have amassed a fortune so far. Maybe we should call it a night.’

John bent down to look at the heavy combination-dial safe that was embedded into the wall and floor between the rows of deposit drawers.

‘We open this — it’s gotta have somethin’ of big value inside. I’d reckon a load of cash, or really expensive jewellery.’

Silas shook his head. ‘Come on, John, is not good idea. I agree with Danny, we have plenty and need to load up the van.’

‘Use the torch to cut it open,’ John barked at Danny.

‘I’m happy with what we got so let’s just get out of here,’ Danny said impatiently.

John was livid. ‘What’s your fucking problem? I brought you in on this job and I’m running the show, so do as I say.’

‘You want what’s in it then you do it,’ Danny shouted.

‘I fuckin’ will,’ John said and hauled the oxyacetylene rig over to the safe. He asked Danny to turn it on and light it for him, which against his better judgement he did.

‘You help Silas load the van and come back for the last few sacks and whatever I find in here,’ John said.

Still troubled by the lack of police patrols Clifford started to walk round the car park. It was a near full moon so he had a good view. He looked at all the buildings and windows overlooking the bank and café to see if there were any lights on and noticed the derelict flats that were to one side and slightly set back from the car park. He could see that all except one flat, on the second floor, were boarded up but there were no lights on in the premises. Using his binoculars he looked closely at the net curtain and suddenly saw it move slightly but there was no sign of anyone peering. It crossed his mind that it may just have been the draught, but the night was still with little or no breeze. Through the binoculars he saw two tramps come from the rear alleyway of the flats. He recognized one as the man he’d kicked and knew from the way they moved at speed towards the car park they were not drunks. Fearing the worst he pressed the walkie-talkie communication switch.

‘Get the fuck out of there now! The rozzers are on to us,’ he whispered frantically.

Clifford moved around the wall of the car park and looked over to see one tramp hurriedly enter the building’s stairwell and the other run up the car ramp.

‘They’re in the car park, John, I gotta try and get outta here,’ he said quickly and waited. ‘John, John, can you hear me? Get out now!’ But still there was no reply.

In the flat Bradfield swore when he heard the transmission over the CB loudspeaker and realized that Clifford had somehow discovered that the police were watching. He was worried all hell would break loose now that he had lost the element of surprise.

Bradfield radioed the officers in the car park. ‘Target on rooftop making escape, cut him off and arrest now. Be warned he is extremely dangerous and violent!’

‘We’ve got to move in now, Spence. Are you ready to go?’

‘I just spoke with Stanley at the shoe shop and I don’t think the suspects in the bank heard Clifford,’ Gibbs said.

‘How could they not hear them when we all did here?’

‘Stanley said the Greek and Danny loaded some bags in the van a couple of minutes ago and went back inside. If they’d heard Clifford they’d all be well on their toes by now,’ Gibbs replied.

Frank raised his hand and waved it to attract Bradfield’s attention.

‘Not now, Frank, I’m trying to think.’

For once Frank wasn’t prepared to shy away from speaking up. ‘I believe Spence is right.’

‘How would you bloody well know?’

‘Well, I don’t know for certain, but it can only be one of two things.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Bradfield asked in an angry tone.

‘The batteries on the walkie-talkie have gone flat, or they’ve taken it into the vault where it won’t work.’

‘Of course it will, we just heard Clifford on it.’

‘His works and sends transmissions. Problem is they won’t hear it in the vault because the signal can’t penetrate the steel surrounds.’

Bradfield’s anger abated in an instant and he smiled realizing that in all their euphoria it had never crossed the suspects’ minds that a walkie-talkie would be useless inside the vault. He was now almost certain that John, Silas and Danny were still totally unaware of what was happening outside the bank.

Clifford ran down the ramps of three floors and finally found a parked car that he could hide behind in the hope the officers would run straight up to the top floor. His heart was pounding as he lay flat on his belly in the small gap between the front bumper of the car and the wall, so he could see the feet of anyone passing or looking around. He thought about the others and assumed they had heard him and were now frantically trying to get away with the stolen goods and money. Hearing the sound of someone running up the ramp Clifford held his breath as best he could. From under the car he saw feet and heard a voice.

‘We’re nearly at the top, guv. No one’s passed us so he’s still up there and his only way to escape is to jump.’

Clifford waited until he could no longer hear the officer’s footsteps. He got up and took off his jacket. Holding it up against the driver’s-side window he used his elbow to dampen the sound as he smashed it open. Once inside he felt under the ignition barrel and ripped out the cables. Hotwiring a car was second nature to him.

As Bradfield crossed the road with his team he walked with a determined and confident stride. He radioed the officers sent to arrest Clifford and asked if they’d got him. One of them said they’d reached the top floor but Bentley wasn’t there and must have somehow got away.

DC Stanley was listening and responded to the conversation.

‘Impossible, I’ve got an officer still monitoring the ramp exit and stairwell. They saw your two go up but no one, I repeat no one, has left the car park.’

Bradfield’s adrenalin was pumping as he radioed the officers in the car park. ‘He’s hiding somewhere, so find him. I’m going into the bank with my team now... All arrest units take up positions now. GO, GO, GO!’

He watched impatiently as a nervous Dunbar fumbled through various keys to open the front doors of the bank. He lit a cigarette to keep himself calm and told Dunbar to get a grip of himself.

Once inside the bank Dunbar deactivated the windows, doors and entry-alarm system and they all headed to the vault room at the back of the premises. Before they could get through to the vault there was a set of iron-grilled doors and Dunbar deactivated the alarm before opening them.

Bradfield, Gibbs, Kath and two detectives stood at the vault door. Dunbar was shaking like a leaf as he whispered to Bradfield.

‘It’s on a time lock so the usual multi-digit code will be useless. I’ll have to use the “duress” code, which will set off a secret alarm signal to Scotland Yard alerting them to a forced-entry condition.’

‘That’s not a problem, just fucking OPEN IT,’ he whispered harshly.

Dunbar began to press in the code but he was shaking and worried about pressing the wrong buttons more than once, which would lock the whole system down, and then no one would be able to get into the vault until it was reset by an expert. Bradfield pushed him aside.

‘Give me the numbers,’ he said impatiently. Dunbar told him the digits and Bradfield entered them into the electronic key pad. Two seconds later they could hear the sound of clicks and whirs as the bolts began to slowly retract.

Inside the vault John was still using the cutting torch on the safe and had one locking bolt to burn through before he could open it. Silas popped his head up and grabbed two more bulging pillowcases on the vault floor next to the hole.

‘We loaded van, John. This is last lot so we need to radio your dad and get de fuck out of here.’

‘Where’s Danny?’

‘In tunnel behind me, getting annoyed waiting,’ Silas said, and handed Danny the pillowcases which he stuffed into a sports bag.

‘I’ve nearly cut through so stay there and help me carry out what’s in the safe and then I’ll call me dad.’

Silas handed Danny another full pillowcase. As John leant over and turned the pressure up on the oxyacetylene tank he noticed the vault door start to open. He knew in an instant what was happening and looking at Silas shouted, ‘Someone’s opening the fucking door! Get out now!’

Dunbar and Gibbs gripped the vault wheel tightly and started to walk backwards, heaving and pulling open the heavy door. Bradfield turned and looked at Kath who was shaking from the adrenalin rush brought on by what they were about to do. He put his hand on her shoulder to reassure her. ‘Best feeling in the world being a detective and nicking a villain on the plot.’

Looking into the vault Bradfield and Kath saw John Bentley. The next few seconds seemed to occur in slow motion as Bentley’s eyes widened in panic and the torch flame gave off an eerie blue light that illuminated his stricken face.

The explosion that followed was like a massive bomb going off. Terrifying screams could be heard as fractured bits of metal and steel became lethal projectiles. The vast fireball had only two ways to go, out of the vault, into the bank and down the tunnel, engulfing and burning everything in its path. The giant fireball travelled across the bank like a massive wave, and as it blew out the front windows the explosion lit up the night sky. Bits of glass and metal debris glistened in the flames as they rained down onto the street.

The officer listening in the basement of the shoe shop felt the building tremble as if there were an earthquake. As he ran to escape bits of the basement ceiling began to crumble and collapse around him.

The officers on the outside arrest teams and in the ops ran instinctively to the front of the bank, fearing for the safety of DCI Bradfield and the officers who were with him.

Clifford had just pulled out from the car park in the stolen car. As he drove past the bank the explosion and flying debris terrified him. He swerved across the road, mounted the pavement and narrowly missed a lamp-post. Some of the glass from the bank windows flew in through the smashed window of the car and caused minor cuts to the right side of his face. As he drove off at speed he didn’t have a clue what had happened, and hoped and prayed that John had escaped. Even if he’d been arrested he knew his son wasn’t a grass. Clifford reached into his jacket pocket and removed the walkie-talkie, thinking briefly about using it to try and make contact with his son. However, now suspecting the police had been listening in, he threw it out of the window and watched in the mirror as it broke into pieces on the street.

Seconds before the explosion Danny Mitcham had managed to get out of the tunnel. He was in the basement when the blast hit him from behind and knocked him flying across the room. He ended up on the floor at the foot of the basement stairs, dazed and wondering what had happened. He knew that the police were on to them and they would have surrounded the back of the café. Looking round at the tunnel he could see the brick wall and wooden supports they’d inserted had collapsed and wondered if Silas and John were trapped under the soil and debris. He didn’t have time to try and help them: self-preservation and escape were his priority now.

Seeing the holdall of money and jewellery at the top of the basement stairs he grabbed it, as well as his donkey jacket which was hanging on the door. Then he ran to the top floor of the building. He looked into the bedrooms and found a chair which he used to stand on. After pushing the loft hatch open he threw the holdall up and pulled himself into the loft. Using his bare hands and feet he ripped and kicked away some of the roof tiles and squeezed through the hole onto the roof of the café. He looked around and could see smoke billowing up from the bank. He couldn’t believe the amount of glass and brick debris that covered the street below. Unseen he ran across the rooftops to the end of the terraced buildings where he shimmied down a cast-iron drainpipe to the ground. He could hear the distant scream of approaching sirens.

Clifford dumped the car a mile from home behind some garages. He set light to it, so as to ensure no trace of his fingerprints could be found. He was in a state of hysteria as he wandered the streets, gasping and trying to calm down, whilst wondering what to do. He had considered going on the run, but had no money, clothes or other means to survive and was too old and heavy now to break into houses. He thought about John and wished he was with him. He knew the police had rumbled them, but wondered if they already knew who was involved, or if they’d been watching the flat as well. Clifford made his mind up: he was going to go home and front it out. If the police started calling he’d say he was at a funeral wake with his wife, or shacked up with his mistress. He knew both of them would back him up for fear of a slap.

It was almost 6 a.m. and daylight when an exhausted Clifford returned to his flat on the Pembridge. He went straight to John’s room to see if he was there, but the reality was he knew he wouldn’t be. He went into the bathroom, undressed and splashed cold water over his face. The small jagged cuts were bleeding and he kept on splashing cold water over them before dabbing them with a white styptic pencil. The aluminium sulphate stung, but he knew it would cause the blood vessels to contract which would help to stop the bleeding.

He then went to his bedroom where Renee was asleep but lying fully clothed across the bed. The smell of alcohol coming from her permeated the room. He nudged her, but she just moaned, so he lifted her feet and repositioned her body to one side before getting into bed. As he lay next to her he stared at the ceiling and for the first time it entered his mind that John might still have been in the bank at the time of the explosion. His heart was pounding as he looked at Renee and wondered what on earth he was going to tell her and David.

Danny Mitcham had the spare key for the lock-up garage John Bentley had rented. When he got there he was shaking from the agonizing pain in his back. He thought maybe he had damaged some vertebrae when the blast from the explosion hit him. It wasn’t until he tried to remove his T-shirt, and it stuck to his back, that he realized he had been badly burned by the fireball, which had also singed the hair on the back of his head. He winced in agony as he eased off his T-shirt and his burnt skin peeled away. Looking over his shoulder Danny could see the bright red weeping blisters on his skin. He knew he needed the wound tended at a hospital, but he couldn’t risk going to one. He decided he would go out late at night and break into a chemist’s for what he needed to treat himself. He would also nick some clothes and food, then after a couple of days of lying low in the garage he’d make his way to Spain.

Danny looked inside the sports holdall and opened the pillowcases. In one there was a large amount of cash, which was all in fivers. In the others there was a little cash but mostly jewellery, items of gold and other valuables. He reckoned he’d done well for himself and smiled even more when he removed the large bags of heroin and cocaine from his trouser pockets. Now these really will make me rich, he thought to himself as he opened a bag of cocaine, put some on his fingers and sniffed it up his nose. He’d never taken any hard drugs, but needs must and he was glad when the cocaine kicked in, numbing the painful burns on his back.