This is the seventh part of a fiction serial, in 727 words. It may contain some swear-words.
A Meeting Is Arranged.
When Alan told Gloria the next morning that he intended to stay on for a while, he wasn’t specific about how long. She couldn’t hide her delight at having her brother home, and told him he could stay as long as he wanted. After breakfast, he walked up to Holloway Road and used an Internet Cafe to send Rosa an email telling her not to expect him back as arranged.
Old Reg came round at lunchtime, and Alan spoke to him outside the flat. The less Gloria heard, the better.
“Alan, I have set up a meeting with Duke for tonight. He will meet us outside Euston Station, on the forecourt, around seven. We can hang around near the bus stops, look as if we’re waiting for a bus. That okay with you?” Alan lit a cigarette, then nodded. “I take it he knows who I am? Reg shrugged. “Course he does, I had to let him know you were a pro who could pull this off. He doesn’t know about Spain, the airport job, or whatever though. Do you want me to pick you up, Al?”
Shaking his head, Alan replied rather sharply. “No I don’t, Reg. I don’t want to be seen in any cars with anyone from the old days. This place has more CCTV than you can shake a stick at, and I am betting your motor is well known to the coppers”. Reg looked miffed. “I ain’t been in trouble for almost forty years mate. The Old Bill couldn’t care less about me”. Flicking the butt of his cigarette onto the shabby grass outside, Alan turned to head back into the small block. “I’ll get a cab, Reg. See you there”.
It was easy enough to wave down a cab. Alan had walked down to the new Arsenal Football Ground that they now called The Emirates Stadium. It was very different from the old Highbury Ground he had known as a boy. He arrived early, and stood next to a coffee place that was in a kind of caravan outside the station. The area was nice and busy, hundreds of commuters rushing past him to get trains home to the home counties. If Reg was driving his car down, he was going to have a mare finding somewhere to park.
Just before seven, he walked across the front of the station to where all the buses pulled in. He could see Reg at the end of one of the stops, talking to a tall bloke who looked older than Alan had expected. Acting as if he didn’t know them, he walked over and stood nearby, waiting until a bus arrived and everyone else got on. Then they were the only three there, but Alan still stood with his back to them, as if they were strangers. “So you’re Graham? I’m not calling you Duke, I will use your real name. How many security are we talking about? How much can reasonably be expected to be there, and what’s the situation with alarms and that?” Despite the ‘No Smoking’ sign, he lit a cigarette as he waited for the reply.
The bloke was respectful. Reg had obviously had a word with him. “I don’t think it’s possible in the depot, Mister Gill. I was thinking you could hijack one of the lorries. They are pretty big, and most runs have fifty mill or much more in each truck”. Alan choked as he inhaled on the cigarette. He hadn’t had a clue they would be talking about such a sum. Graham carried on speaking. “Not a good idea to take that much though. You could just use a good-sized van, and still get ten mill in easy. They are all twenties at the moment, and you would be surprised what a small pile a mill in twenties is”.
Trying to sound casual, Alan nodded as he spoke. “What about the trucks? Alarms, trackers, radio? All that I suppose”. Graham nodded. “Yes Mister Gill, but I will be able to tell you how to get around all that”. Without turning, Alan spoke to Reg. “Okay Reg, the job is on. I will be in touch”.
He walked straight across Euston Road at the traffic lights and headed into a pub.
Time for a large Scotch.