The Job: Part Eight

This is the eighth part of a fiction serial, in 734 words. It may contain some swear words.

Back at Gloria’s, Alan sat in the kitchen with a notebook while Gloria heated up the dinner he had arrived home too late for. She knew better than to ask him anything about where he had been, or what he was doing.

It might be too much money. Not too much to handle physically, or to get laundered into other currencies. He still knew people who could manage that for around twenty percent, no questions asked. But the sheer amount of cash was going to attract attention, and everyone would be on the job like flies on a fresh turd. Worse still, he would have to sit on the money for a long time, until the investigation and frantic search subsided.

That meant having to trust people he didn’t know, like Graham. And some people he did know. Like Old Reg, and some fixers he would need to use later.

Alan didn’t trust anyone. Except Gloria.

In the small notebook, he jotted down some ideas. It was good to get them down on paper and look at them, seemed to make more sense. Later on, he would burn the pages in Gloria’s kitchen sink.

If he was going to do this job, he might as well go for broke. Two vans would mean three guys per van, so he had to find himself five useful blokes who would keep a cool head, and not blab about it after. Not easy, when you have been away so long. His old mate Little Alan was off the cast list. Gloria had told Alan the news about him when he had come back for that short trip years earlier.

After the airport job, he had gone cowboy, raiding banks and security vans, firing guns in the street, all sorts of crazy stuff. Then he had made a much bigger mistake. Frankie Toland had sent for him, wanting to know where his tribute money was from all the jobs. Little Alan had fronted him up, acted flash, told him he was old school, and that he could fuck off. Frankie said nothing. The next day, Little Alan disappeared. After two weeks, his girlfriend moved out of their flat and went back to live with her mum.

Chances are that Little Alan’s body was in some concrete on a new motorway bridge. Toland didn’t mess around.

The vans used for the job would have to be stolen, and have genuine plates relating to that type of vehicle. He would need to find somewhere in plain sight to store the cash. The cops would search any rural locations, outbuildings, farms, that kind of thing. So it would be best to get it into the city, where there was just too much to search. They would all need shooters, to make the driver and co-driver scared enough not to resist.

He had asked Gloria if Rupert Pennington still had his antique shop in Camden Passage, and he did. Rupert had to be seventy at least now, but he was the most reliable contact for firearms that Alan had ever used. An ex-Army officer, outwardly straight and honest, he had used his military contacts around the world to source all kinds of good stuff, most of which was shipped to his place stashed inside antique furniture. He had never had his collar felt by the cops, and was so respectable, Gloria said he had been on an antiques valuation programme on telly.

Rupert would be getting a visit soon.

First priority was to make sure Frankie Toland didn’t hear about it. No way was he going to take a small percentage from a job that big. He would stitch them up and take the lot. He had the muscle and manpower, as well as eyes and ears in every pub in the borough. As soon as the job made the news, Frankie would know. He would realise why Alan had stayed on after the funeral, put two and two together, and make five. Then he would come after Alan. Gloria would have to skip with him this time, like it or not. She couldn’t be left behind for Toland to use as a hostage.

When he had eaten the congealed dinner, Alan burned the notebook pages, then ran the tap to flush the ashes down the sink.

Tomorrow, he would have to arrange a second meet with Graham.

34 thoughts on “The Job: Part Eight

  1. Getting interesting, Pete…one thing about the likes of the Krays my Alan always said they were the worst but women and children could safely walk the streets…off to read a few chapters and catch up…Have a great weekend, Pete ๐Ÿ™‚ x

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I spent my youth surrounded by people like them, and socialising with them in pubs in my teens. Some of my schoolfriends also became ‘associated’ with that sort of ‘business’, Jennie. ๐Ÿ™‚
      Best wishes, Pete.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. What a pleasure to return to the blog world and find you are well into a new serial. I used your instructions from earlier in the year to catch up and just finished reading the first eight segments. You are back in rare form. Once again the characters are well delineated and the details of real life are appropriately inserted now and then(the change in the neighborhood, the cameras everywhere, the ability to handle booze.) Glad to read so far.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. (1) Alan figured that Andrรฉ Delambre and Seth Brundle would be on the job like flies on a fresh turd.
    (2) If the police ever confiscate Gloria’s belongings, they’ll take everything but the kitchen sink. That means Alan’s burnt notes will never make it to forensics!
    (3) Last night, my camera acted flash.
    (4) Bad citation: “Chances are that Little Alan has moved in with Jimmy Hoffa.”
    (5) Bad citation: “Rupert Pennington was the most reliable contact for firearms that Alan had ever used. An ex-Army officer, he had used his military contacts around the world to source muskets and flintlocks, most of which were shipped inside antique furniture.”
    (6) Pennington had never had his collar felt by the cops. They preferred to feel his underwear.
    (7) Mr. Potato Head had eyes and ears in every store in the borough. He had other body parts in them as well.
    (8) Frankie Toland put two and two together and made five. He’d never been good at math.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Well there’s lots to go wrong here, and he needs a lot of reliable people who also won’t talk about it, especially to Toland. I somehow think that’s going to be a big problem down the line.

    Liked by 1 person

All comments welcome

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.