The Criminal Escapades of Geoffrey Larkin (13 page)

Jock was a very careful and very observant individual, that's why he had been in the business he was in for so long without being prosecuted by the authorities.

‘I recognise ye,' came back the guarded reply from the man behind the counter as he casually scratched his beard. ‘Larkin? Geoff Larkin!'

There was a sparkle in the man's eyes as he spoke the name. ‘And what can I do for you, Mr. Larkin?' enquired the shopkeeper.

‘It's what I can do for you Jock,' said Geoff confidently. They had been talking for over half an hour but Geoff felt he was not getting anywhere very fast. He had outlined his plan to Jock. He was reluctant to provide the funds for a van and a driver for a scheme put together by someone so young, even though he had made good profits on the previous exchange all these details had been finalised over the phone, this was a much bigger operation.

He'd known this youngster when he was an adolescent in short pants selling him rubbishy goods that he had stolen from passengers at the railway station. All that had been many years ago, but now this teenager was obviously moving up the ladder in the stolen commodity market.

‘I'm afraid I canna help you this time, Mr. Larkin, from what you say it's a wee bit bigger than I usually deal with. What I can do for yea is give you a phone number of someone who may be interested. No promises mind yea, you being new to the game like.'

He passed a small piece of grubby paper to Geoff along with a short stub of a pencil. Leaning over the counter he whispered the number into his ear. Geoff wrote the number down and then gave the pencil back to Jock, who in turn reached over to the radio which he'd turned up very loud during the conversation, fiddling with the loose knobs on the antique equipment, causing a load screeching, before he eventually turned it off.

He must have thought I was bugged,
Geoff thought as he left the shop, making his way back towards the railway station, watched by Jock peering from his open doorway.

*

It was the following Tuesday lunchtime before Geoff had the opportunity to use the phone in the office. Bob Parker had gone with the rest of the depot staff to ‘The Swan'. ‘Alice in Wonderland' had an appointment at the dentists, leaving Geoff alone. The phone seemed to ring for a long time before it was answered; the accent of the person on the other end was, he thought, Asian.

‘Yes, what do you want?' asked the voice.

‘Jock, the shop keeper, gave me this telephone number. He said you may be able to help me.'

‘I don't know anyone called Jock,' said the voice at the other end of the phone. There was a long silence while Geoff thought about what he could say.

‘I have a proposition to put to you,' he continued. ‘It could be to your advantage.' There was another long silence.

‘At the end of your depot there is a park. I will meet you there at six o'clock tonight. Come alone!' said the voice, then the phone went dead.

Geoff thought all afternoon about the telephone conversation, dissecting every sentence, jumping from one conclusion to another to try and asses the character of the person with whom he had spoken too on the phone. The person at the other end of the line obviously knew about the park and he was also aware of the depot. If he had all this information he also knew that he worked there. Jock must have given them all this information, they were expecting his phone call. They were also very careful about disclosing their identity. Geoff realised he was no longer dealing with amateurs, he was dealing with people higher up the criminal ladder, he was now dealing with the big boys.

At six o'clock he was at the entrance to the park. It was very dark as he left the lights of the street, following the unlit tarmac path that wound itself between the small coppices of mature trees interplanted with thick clumps of bushes.

The voice on the phone had not said where to go in the park so he decided that he would walk to the far end of the path, turn around and walk back to the entrance. If no one arrived or approached him he would go back to his digs. It was quite scary walking along the corridor through the bushes and overhang branches; his footsteps seemed to echo in the still night air.

Geoff looked behind him on several occasions having a feeling someone was following, but it was only the wind rustling in the bushes and tall trees. There seemed to be shadows everywhere. He quickened his pace as he returned to the open gates of the park entrance.

His heart missed a beat as a figure emerged from the light of the street lamps and came towards him. ‘Did you see anyone else in the park young man?' Geoff relaxed a little as he realised it was the park attendant waiting to lock the large iron gates at the park entrance.

‘No! I saw no one else in the park,' he stammered, carrying on walking, relieved to be out of the shadows and in the light of the street lamps again.

It was as he was passing a telephone kiosk, deep in thought about the lost opportunity, that a voice spoke from the far side, the speaker hidden from the street lamps by the kiosk. ‘Geoff, Geoffrey Larkin?'

‘Yes! That's me,' he replied, straining to look into the shadows.

The man was wearing a bobble hat pulled over his ears, a pair of glasses, a scarf which covered the bottom half of his face, a bulky, padded, black ski jacket, dark coloured trousers and black gloves.

‘I believe you are in a position to remove some of the merchandise from the warehouse.'

‘Yes! That's right,' answered Geoff, the adrenalin rushing through his body at all this intrigue.

‘I understand that you require a van and a driver,' continued the voice with the strong foreign accent.

‘Yes, for a week on Friday, at 12.20pm precisely, the van will be filled with a selection of new electrical goods, all boxed. At 1.40pm it will be able to leave the depot with £60,000 worth of new equipment. I want £20,000 cash for delivering these goods to you.' There was a long silence. Geoff was forcing himself not to shake, to keep calm, managing to restrain himself from bolting. Surely this man would be able to hear his heart pounding. He must have also sensed his nervousness as he blurted out his demands.

‘The price you want is much too high. We only want computers and mobile phones and those are the only goods we will require.'

‘No!' replied Geoff emphatically, ‘That's not possible. I have to cover my position, the loss of so many computers and mobile phones will be noticed too soon.'

‘Then you can only expect to receive £5000 maximum for your efforts,' replied the voice.

‘£15,000 is my minimum,' countered Geoff.

‘Not possible,' came back the instant response from the shadows. Geoff turned and started to walk away from the kiosk. ‘£8000 is my best offer,' came the voice from the shadows. ‘And only after we've inspected and valued the load.'

Geoff carried on walking, trying to look as natural as possible but there didn't seem to be any strength in his legs, they were shaking uncontrollably.

Perhaps he was pushing too hard, he should accept the £8000. He'd put in so much work and effort to reach this point.

‘I could possibly stretch to ten grand,' the voice suddenly added.

Geoff stopped. He couldn't control his legs any more. ‘OK! I'll settle for that,' he said trying to sound very reluctant but, at the same time, smiling to himself. He would have settled for eight at a pinch. ‘Make sure the van and driver are there a week on Friday at 12.20pm prompt,' he said looking over his shoulder at the shadowy form at the side of the telephone kiosk.

‘We will have the van there; you have been recommended by a mutual friend so make sure you do not let him or yourself down, we do not like wasting our time!'

The answer from the shadows had an unmistakable hint of a threat, which left him feeling very uneasy, he would have to make doubly sure there were no hiccups, he was very vulnerable and the consequences didn't bear thinking about.

Geoff continued walking down the road, but only for a short while. His legs were still shaking and felt like jelly; he didn't think they would carry him any further. He was forced to stop and lean against the iron fencing for support. He could feel his heart beating ten to the dozen. He took several long deep breaths and suddenly realised that he'd done it, he'd pulled it off. He took a new, white handkerchief from his trouser pocket; it smelt slightly of perfume. He used it to wipe the sweat from his forehead and around his collar then he threw it over the fence into the park. There were plenty more where those came from, Little Miss. Alice seemed to have an obsession for white handkerchiefs, her office desk drawer was full of them.

During the rest of his time at the depot prior to the agreed Friday, he concentrated on making sure that when they received deliveries, the goods he required were unloaded near the entrance to the warehouse so that he would be in a position to load the van as quickly as possible when it arrived on the Friday lunchtime.

He also took every opportunity, when Miss. Alice was away from the office, to add items to the list of damaged goods that the depot manager, Bob Parker, had provided for his secretary to file.

He had a restless Thursday night and did not fall asleep until the early hours of Friday morning. He subsequently overslept, missing his breakfast, and was forced to run all the way to the depot so as not to be late for work, arriving breathless just seconds before Bob Parker pulled up in his old saloon car. During the morning the queue of lorries and vans seemed to be endless. They were all waiting to be loaded with the contents from the enormous warehouse. Geoff was working himself ragged in an effort to clear the backlog of vans; it seemed the faster he worked the other men seemed to go at a slower pace, the last thing he wanted was a line of delivery vehicles in front of his van when it arrived at 12.20pm.

He worked right through his morning break helping the loaders to fill the vans. He could feel the panic beginning to rise in the pit of his stomach at the thought of what might happen to him if he could not fulfil his obligations to the man he had met in the shadows.

He was in the office making sure there was no hold-up with the paperwork, cursing Miss. ‘Alice in Wonderland' under his breath, as she took her time checking the lists before signing the driver's dockets.

Assistance came from an unexpected quarter with the appearance of Bob Parker entering the room, his face beetroot red and gasping for breath after his hurried climb up the steep flight of stairs. ‘What's the hold-up Alice? The vans are backing up and the drivers say they can't get away because they have not received all their documents. There are two of you in this office so what's the bloody problem?' Bob Parker was really agitated. He could see that if he was not careful he would be stuck in the depot over the lunch break and that could mean he would risk being fiddled when they did the share out in ‘The Swan'.

With this week being so close to Christmas they had negotiated some really good prices for the selected goods they had pilfered, and the depot manager was coming under some heavy pressure to reduce his gambling debts so he needed a good payout this week.

Bob Parker's secretary was quite taken aback by her boss's outburst; he had never spoken to her like that before, it sent her all of a fluster.

‘It's all in order, Mr. Parker. All the paperwork is here and Geoff is taking it down now, just give us a few more minutes please.' Alice was badly shaken. As Bob Parker went back down the staircase she turned to Geoff, who was standing by her desk holding a handful of papers.

‘Are those the drivers' invoices?' she said sharply, holding out her hand.

‘Yes, Miss. Alice,' said Geoff, as he passed them over.

‘Have they all been checked?' she replied.

‘Yes, ma'am,' he replied, smiling.

‘Take these to the drivers as quickly as possible,' she ordered, handing Geoff the invoices as fast as she could sign them. ‘I'll check them out this afternoon when I have more time. I hate this Christmas period, it's all rush, rush, rush!' And then more rush.

Geoff took the invoices to the drivers who were all sitting in their cabs with engines running, their vans all in a line waiting to leave. He then went into the centre of the road waving the fully loaded vans through, holding up the traffic on the road in the process and ignoring the honking of horns from the frustrated line of vehicles that built up behind him. Just as the last van had cleared the depot and the traffic on the road had returned to normal, the van that he had been looking out for arrived. With a great sigh of relief he waved it in, just as Bob Parker and the rest of the loaders made their way to the main entrance.

‘That vehicle will have to be locked in until we return!' he shouted to Geoff, as he locked the gates that had been pulled together by the loaders.

‘Yes, sir!' he shouted back in return, watching the group of men joking and laughing together as they walked down the road in the direction of ‘The Swan' with Bob Parker, as usual, struggling to keep up at the rear.

Miss. Alice was going in the opposite direction towards the bus stop, the backlog of invoices would have to wait until she returned, she had more important things on her mind, she was off to do some Christmas shopping in her lunch break.

Geoff directed the van as it reversed into the opening of the warehouse. He was already impatiently sitting on the fork lift truck with a full load of cardboard cartons stacked on wooden pallets ready to offload into the rear of the vehicle. When the driver sauntered around to the back of the van to open the rear doors – as their eyes met, Geoff's heart missed a beat; they recognised one another immediately; it was Sidney Locket, the bully from school.

He looked even bigger and heavier than when Geoff had last seen him.

‘So this is where you ended up,' he shouted across at Geoff who was still sitting on the stacker truck. ‘I wondered what had become of you. You little bastard! You've really come up in the world!' he sneered.