Brutal Revenge Page 3

  “Don’t the islanders have mobile phones?” Stewart asked.

  Maclean shook his head. “That’s the beauty of it. There’s no reception on Stack. It’s been a bone of contention for years but investment has dried up so it’s unlikely they’ll get a signal for a few years yet.”

  “How long will they be cut off from the outside world if we disable the telephone exchange?” Parker asked.

  “At least a day and a night. The ferries come out from Oban three times a week. So if we do the job, say, late on a Monday there'd be no communication between the mainland and the island until the Wednesday. By then we'd be long gone. That’s the beauty of this gig. We get clean away even before they raise the fucking alarm.”

  “Couldn't they simply cross to the mainland in a boat? There must be some fishing boats out there.”

  Maclean nodded. “There are three to be exact. I’ve counted them. But we’ll put those out of commission along with the phones.”

  “So how do we get there and back?”

  “We hire our own boat,” Maclean said, glancing at Stewart. “That's where Bob comes in. He's a dab hand with boats.”

  Parker thought about it some more, then said, “How do we know they won't move the treasure before we get there?”

  “I plan to go to the island a day or two earlier with news about the sale of some of their coins. That way I can keep an eye on the stuff, and when you come in after dark I'll be there waiting.”

  Parker was impressed by Maclean's thoroughness, but then it had always been one of his trademarks.

  “So where exactly do we go in?” he asked.

  Maclean leant forward and fingered a point on the map. “That's a disused jetty. I've checked it out and nobody lives near it. We tie the boat there at high tide and leave it unattended. It'll be quite safe.”

  “And what happens to the stuff once we've got it?” Parker said.

  “We get rid of it straight away,” Maclean said. “The dealers are lined up to take it. They’re based in London. I’ve arranged for transport to take us from Oban.”

  “What about afterwards,” Parker said. “The islanders are bound to guess you're the culprit. Won't they be after your blood?”

  Maclean shrugged. “They'll have to find me first. I've been planning to sell the business for some time and move on. With the cash from this I can just up and leave. Glasgow and me will be a thing of the past by the time the blag's over.”

  Hodge said, “And the most beautiful part of it all is that those twerps out there probably won’t even go screaming to the Old Bill. If they do then they’ll have to explain what they were doing with the treasure in the first place.”

  Maclean went into the other room for some more beers and while he was gone the others remained silent. Each of them went over the plan in his own mind, trying to picture how the raid would happen and what all that treasure would look like. Parker had never been on a blag like it and the idea appealed to his sense of adventure. It seemed like real easy money. There was a low level of risk and little prospect of anyone getting seriously hurt. Jobs like this did not come along very often.

  When Maclean came back and was seated, Stewart said, “You haven't told Parker about the girl yet, Andy.”

  “I was coming to that,” Maclean said.

  Parker felt his heart skip a beat.

  “What's this then?” he asked.

  Maclean shrugged as if it wasn't important. “Her name's Bella and she lives on the island. She's an old girlfriend. We had a thing when we were teens and when I went back to the island, well, we got it together again.”

  “What's she got to do with the blag?”

  “I've told her about it.”

  “You've what?” Parker was stunned. “For Christ's sake man, why?”

  “Blimey, Phil, don't split a seam. She's all right. You can take my word for it.”

  “But I don't get it. Why did she have to know?”

  “I needed someone on the inside. I'd forgotten what the place even looked like.”

  “But surely you're on the inside yourself?”

  He shook his head. “That's where you're wrong. Like I said, although they were willing to let me get rid of the stuff for them and to see the treasure, they weren't prepared to tell me where it's being kept. That piece of info came from Bella. As well as other useful bits like the disused jetty being there and details about the telephone exchange.”

  “And she went along with your idea for taking it?”

  Parker couldn't believe that this could be so.

  “Of course she did.”

  “But that doesn't make sense,” Parker said. “What about her family, friends? They must all live on the island.”

  “She’s single, alone and still in love with me,” Maclean said. “She’s also desperate to leave the island. So in return for her help I’ve promised her a new life.”

  “Jesus,” Parker said. “Are you kidding? She could jeopardize the whole frigging operation.”

  “She won’t,” Maclean said, his voice high and confident. “She knows exactly what she’s getting into and she’s up for it. She’s been waiting all her life for a chance like this.”

  Parker frowned and the lines in his forehead bunched tight. “You sure you can trust her?”

  “One hundred per cent,” Maclean said. “She’s besotted with me and I guarantee that she won’t let me down.”

  “So you’re actually serious about this lass?” Stewart said.

  “Indeed I am,” Maclean replied. “In fact I wouldn’t be stupid enough to take her into my confidence if I didn’t intend to follow through with my promises to her.”

  There was a long, awkward silence. Maclean sat back in his chair and lit a cigarette. He had a fixed, impenetrable expression on his face.

  Eventually, Parker said, “Okay, so we take your word for it that we need the girl and she can be trusted. But no way does she get told our names or anything about us.”

  “That goes without saying,” Maclean said.

  Parker looked at the others. They both shrugged.

  He issued a long, audible sigh and said, “Now what about weapons? Do you plan for us to go in tooled up?”

  “Too bloody right,” Hodge piped up. “Put the fear of God in the fuckers right at the start and they won't make trouble.”

  “Where do we get the pieces?” Stewart asked.

  “That'll be my department,” Hodge said. “Has anyone any objection to carrying a shotgun?”

  There were no objections and Hodge nodded.

  “Leave it to me then,” he said. “When do you want them by?”

  Maclean finished his beer and looked at Parker.

  “First of all I have to know if you're in or out, Phil?” he said.

  Parker pressed his lips together and thought about it. He liked the set-up, as well as the prospect of getting a share of all that treasure at a time when the price of gold was sky high. His only concern was the girl, but from the sound of it she was an integral part of the package.

  “Count me in then,” he said finally. “But make sure you keep a tight rein on the girl.”

  Maclean grinned. “I knew you'd never turn down a blinder like this in a million years. And don’t fret over Bella. Consider her one of us.”

  “So when do we move?” Hodge asked.

  Maclean studied his long manicured fingernails for a moment, then looked up. “One week from today,” he said. “That'll give me time to arrange the hire of the boat and fix things up for the immediate distribution of the treasure. We meet in Oban on January fourteen.”

  SIX

  Oban is everything the guide books say it is, Parker discovered. A town in an enviable position in the Scottish Highlands, overlooking a beautiful bay with a fine view of Kerrera and the mountains of Mull to the west. It is often referred to as the 'Gateway to the Isles' because the famous Caledonian MacBrayne steamers ferry people and cars regularly from there to a number of islands in both the Inner and Outer H
ebrides.

  In summer the tourists converge and the narrow streets are thronged with garishly dressed adventure seekers, many of whom are weighted down with ridiculously heavy packs containing, among other things, tents, sleeping bags, primus stoves and climbing boots.

  Parker was thankful it was January and the town was enjoying a tranquil existence. It was cold but clear which made a change. On his three previous visits to Scotland it had rained incessantly and the sun had failed to make an appearance.

  On the last occasion the weather had been so bad that he hadn’t left his hotel for two days.

  He was enjoying a morning cup of coffee in the restaurant of the hotel on George Street. From the window he could see the quaint little harbour with its crowd of little fishing boats and cantankerous sea birds.

  He’d been the first to arrive in the town and he intended hanging around the hotel all day to greet the others when they arrived. He’d been thinking about his accomplices quite a lot during the past week. Maclean, he'd decided, hadn't changed a bit. He was as cunning and as clever as he was three years ago.

  But Parker continued to have reservations about the girl, which made him wonder about Maclean’s judgement. It was all very well having a contact on the inside, but not best practice to be emotionally involved with that person, as the Scot so obviously was.

  Parker had given a lot of thought to this and would most certainly have backed out if it hadn’t been for the fact that the job appeared to be such a sure thing. So long as Maclean made sure that the girl didn’t blab before the raid then it would be okay. At least that’s what he told himself.

  Parker had done some checking up on Stewart and it turned out he was a more than competent villain with an impressive record of successes, mostly high end burglaries and hold-ups. According to Parker’s contacts Stewart was well respected and well liked within the criminal fraternity both north and south of the border. He was married with three grown-up children and two grand-children.

  It was generally assumed that he was now looking for a big score to aid an early retirement. Apparently he was some kind of boat freak and wanted to start up his own charter business abroad.

  Hodge was the only one Parker had his doubts about. He didn't like to work with cranks and by all accounts Hodge was a right one for losing his temper. But by the same token he was also known to be a good blagger with a long string of successful jobs to his credit.

  Not much was known about the guy’s private life, but it was believed he was single and lived by himself in Liverpool. He’d served a three-year stretch in Parkhurst for GBH after causing serious damage to a bloke’s face with a glass. The bloke had apparently made the mistake of arguing with him in a pub.

  Parker would have preferred to work with someone less volatile, but it wasn’t his call. So he sought comfort in the knowledge that this was to all intense and purposes going to be a simple, straightforward raid. Therefore, no reason for Hodge to cause mayhem.

  *

  At eleven that morning Maclean arrived at the hotel and joined Parker in the bar.

  Maclean was dressed to the part of a weekend sailor in white deck shoes and a light blue windcheater. His cheeks were flushed red and his hair was windswept.

  Parker ordered him a whisky and when it was poured they sat at a corner table out of earshot of the only other customer in the place.

  Maclean said, “You been here long?”

  “Few hours.”

  “So what do you think of the place?”

  “Pretty, but boring.”

  Maclean laughed out loud. “The trouble is you’re wedded to the big city. The slower pace rankles. I feel the same.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Parker said. “Though I reckon I could get accustomed to it. Life in the smoke is not what it used to be. That’s why I fuck off to Spain whenever I can. I have an apartment there. On a golf course.”

  “Nice for some,” Maclean said. Then he looked pensively out the window and when he next spoke his voice was almost a whisper. “You know, I used to think that this town was a huge fucking metropolis. Compared to the island it was. My mum used to bring me here about once a month to do some shopping. It was a big thing in those days to come across to the mainland.”

  “What was it like living out there?” Parker enquired.

  Maclean pulled a face and sipped at his whisky. “For me it was bloody awful. Too cut off from everything. Not enough happening. Looking back on it now the best thing I ever did was leave. The place was killing me.”

  “Would you have left if your parents hadn't died?” Parker asked.

  “Oh, sure. There was no future for me there. At least not one that was particularly appealing. I’d have ended up digging peat bogs for the rest of my life.”

  They chatted on about inconsequential things for a few minutes and then Parker asked him how things had gone.

  Maclean leaned forward and lowered his voice to a steely whisper. “We’ve got a boat. It's out there in the harbour. There — you can see it through the window.”

  Maclean pointed. Parker saw a smart white-hulled cabin cruiser that appeared to be making overtures to a small, squat lobster boat moored next to it. Though Parker did not profess to know much about boats, he did think the cruiser would have been more at home on the Norfolk Broads than at sea.

  “You sure that will get us there?” he said. “It doesn’t look that big to me.”

  Maclean nodded. “Stewart gave it the once over. He reckons it’s okay. There’s plenty of room in the cabin and on the decks for the treasure.”

  “How much is it costing?”

  “Couple of grand. I hired it for a week so we'd have it ready and waiting when we decide to go in. And don’t worry. It was all organized with a dodgy ID.”

  “Are we still on for tomorrow?”

  Maclean shook his head. “The weather will be against us. They expect gale force winds and rough seas. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't trust Stewart on anything but a dead calm sea.”

  “That’s a pain.”

  “I agree, but they do forecast better weather on Wednesday. We’ll go then.”

  “Have you been back to the island this past week?” Parker asked.

  “I just returned from there. The treasure is still at Mor's place. I had to give Mor five big ones so it looks like I'm making efforts on their behalf. But the good thing is the treasure has already whetted the appetites of the dealers I’m working with. They’re having orgasms at the prospect of getting their hands on the rest. From what they’re telling me I’m beginning to think we’ll get around five million. Maybe more.”

  Parker whistled through his teeth. “So what would the market value be?” he said.

  Maclean shrugged. “It depends how they offload the stuff. They’ll want to sell it on without attracting too much publicity. But there’ll be plenty of eager buyers. Even if they melt the gold down they’ll cover their investment. But the rare artifacts will almost certainly be snapped up by collectors who won’t care where they came from. It could push the total haul to well over ten million.”

  “Wow. So we could be looking at over a million each for a night’s work.”

  Maclean grinned. “Exactly.”

  Parker swigged back a mouthful of whisky as a bolt of adrenaline rushed through his body.

  “So when are you going back to the island?” he asked.

  “On Wednesday,” Maclean said. “I've told them I'll return soon so they won't be surprised to see me again. I'll go back on the ferry and when you come across later I'll be waiting.”

  “Has the girl been keeping her trap shut?”

  “Like a clam. By the way, you'll be meeting her later. She came over with me.”

  *

  They waited in the hotel bar until the other two arrived. Hodge came in from the airport at noon. He looked worn out and it was Parker's guess that the outcome of a hectic night on the booze still tormented him.

  He said very little, just listened moodil
y as Maclean brought him up to date with events. He did express his annoyance, though, when he learned that they would be holding up in Oban for two nights.

  “That's something I didn't bank on,” he said.

  ”Don’t sweat it,” Maclean told him. “We can't help the weather,”

  “S'pose not. It's just that I don't like waiting around. It gives me the jitters.”

  “Too bad,” Maclean said. “We’ve got no choice. I’ve booked rooms in this place. I’ll open a tab at the bar and we can all sit back and relax. The time will fly past.”

  Stewart arrived in the late afternoon by train from Edinburgh. He was still his same gregarious self and bored everyone to tears over drinks with his repertoire of corny jokes about dim Irishmen and tight-fisted Scotsmen.

  It was Stewart, however, who made the biggest impression on Bella.

  She arrived at six after visiting friends on the outskirts of Oban and was introduced to everyone by Maclean, who was careful not to use their names. Bella was aged about thirty-five and rather attractive in an old fashioned sort of way.

  She wore a grey polo sweater under a heavy green anorak. Her jeans were tight and her long, dark hair hung loose about her shoulders.

  The guys were wary of her at first and the conversation was stilted. But the drink eventually eased the tension and even allowed Parker to overcome his strong reservations about involving her at all. He actually found himself warming to her. She had a natural charm and a gentle smile. When Hodge came right out and asked her why she was getting involved, she said, “I should have thought that was obvious. I believe that Andy and I were always meant to be together. I let him get away once, but I won’t let it happen again. I realize it will mean shedding all ties with the island. But I can live with that. My parents are dead and I have no relatives there. I’ll miss my friends but I can make new ones.”