The Criminal Escapades of Geoffrey Larkin (32 page)

Marco's brother and nephew were following in the footsteps that had been taken by the local Italians who were working for Mr. Brown. They were concentrating their enquiries at the taxi ranks, rail and bus stations between Florence and another main station further down the line called Chuisi.

Marco had assumed that, as the English had been seen twice in the vicinity of Castligion Fiorentino, they must be staying or renting somewhere within that area. From the main railway station at Florence, going in the direction of Rome there was the express which only stopped at several of the main stations between Florence and the main towns of Chusisi. It was in this area that Marco was concentrating his search.

There was also a provincial train that called at all the small local stations on the same route. Neither of the two groups looking for Geoff Larkin and his gang knew at which station the Englishman had departed the train.

The one scrap of information that Marco had, that Mr. Brown didn't in the search for the four young Englishmen, was that there was also in their company two old Germans, one who needed a walking stick. This meant an ordinary taxi could not take all of them, it would need a larger vehicle and this would most likely have had to be booked from a private hire company.

While Marco's brother and nephew did all the legwork, double checking the taxi ranks, Marco was busy on the phone in his room going through all the local directories and contacting all the listed car hire and mini bus firms.

It was while he was going through this list that there was a banging on his bedroom door which interrupted his phone calls.

‘Yes! Who is it? What do you want?' he shouted through the closed door.

‘There's been a development!' was the reply from a voice he recognised as one of Mr. Brown's heavies. ‘Mr. Brown has been trying to contact you for the last half hour but your phone has been busy all the time. He's not a very happy bunny, Marco; you had better come down at once.' Marco groaned inwardly. That would mean another slagging off in front of the other two by Mr. Brown's vindictive, insulting tongue. Still, the excuse was a good one; he was ringing the taxi firms enquiring about the four young Englishmen. He would still omit to mention the involvement of the Germans. That vital piece of information he would keep to himself for the time being.

When Marco entered the hotel's lounge it was empty apart from Mr. Brown and the two heavies who were there waiting for him. Surprisingly, Mr. Brown did not indulge in one of his usual verbally abusive onslaughts. Instead he came straight to the point and the reason for calling the meeting.

‘The organisation which I represent,' he stated, ‘have been recently informed by their contacts that this little pip squeak of a crook, Larkin.' Mr. Brown forced himself to keep calm and not indulge in one of his tantrums about what he would personally do to this Geoff Larkin when he was eventually traced. But this forced calmness did not last long. ‘That this guy, Larkin,' he continued, ‘is trying to buy explosives through a contact in London. Through our organisation's contacts in Eastern Europe we are going to supply Mr. Fucking Larkin with what he has requested then when he goes to collect his goodies we, that is, you gentlemen, will be waiting to pick him up. When we've kicked the shit out of him and his little play mates and we've got what we came over here for we will fasten these explosives to what's left of Mr. Larkin and co. and blow the bastards into the next fucking world!'

The thought of what actions he would take when he eventually caught Geoff and his gang sent Mr. Brown into convulsions of hysterical laughter.

Marco left the hotel lounge with the loud laughter of his boss still ringing in his ears. If he was to trace Geoff Larkin he and his relations would have to move fast. That would mean involving the local Italians much more and disclosing the information about the two Germans. It was a risky strategy but, at least, any information directed for Mr. Brown would first have to come to him. He could possibly delay passing it on for a short while until his brother had been informed and had chance to act. But after weighing up all the pros and cons, Marco decided against going down that road for the moment, that information was his ace and he would keep it to himself and his relations for the time being.

*

It was while Geoff was on the bus travelling back to the terminal where he had left John Bolton and Sooty that his mobile phone rang with a text message. It contained the details of a delivery date and place for the goods requested, as well as, a series of what was obviously serial numbers. This was the information he had requested and needed, which he would have to discuss with Peer and Werner. The response was also very quick, much too quick for the Scot on his own to come up with, which confirmed to him that Jock the Fence was passing everything on to the mob as he had suspected. He could not trust Jock the Fence.

The seeds of an idea were already starting to form in his brain; money was Jock's God; he would sell information about Geoff and his mates as soon as spit. Geoff would try and use Jock the Fence and his newfound associates to his own advantage. He smiled to himself as the details of his plan continued to form in his mind. The more he thought about it, the more he liked it. Whatever they, the heavy mob, may have planned, if they were on the scene at all, which he was sure they were, his little scheme, with a little luck, could possibly outwit them.

There was a problem though. His plan had little chance of success and it could only succeed if Peer Merkel would be prepared to play ball by getting a little deeper involved.

It was after dinner and Peer and Werner had removed themselves to the chairs around the pool, as was becoming their custom, finishing their evening with a brandy and a good cigar. The rest of the lads usually cleared the dinner table, washed all the dishes then set the table for breakfast. ‘Efficiency,' was what Peer called it.

Geoff had decided he might as well be as direct as possible. Time was not to his advantage, he needed a decision quickly.

‘Would you two gentlemen like a drive down the east coast with a couple of us lads and, possibly, take a ferry across to Corfu for a day trip?'

Even though his statement was said in a casual, light hearted manner, he knew the two old soldiers would read what his intentions were, guessing immediately what the purpose of the trip was and also the implications it may have on their safety and wellbeing.

Not a word was spoken as the two men looked at Geoff, absorbing what he had suggested. Meanwhile, he busied himself bringing another chair from the far side of the pool to join them. It was Werner who was the first to reply to Geoff's offer.

‘This excursion that you wish to take us on along one of the most beautiful stretches of coastline in Italy and also the ferry trip across to the Greek island of Corfu is most generous on your part, however, in view of the present situation I think that if Peer and myself were to accompany you and your friends on this journey, our freedom and possibly our future safety, could well be in great danger.'

Geoff's immediate thought was that because the pair of them hadn't completely condemned the idea out of hand, he was still in with a chance of persuading them.

‘There is a risk, I'll give you that,' he replied, ‘but it's no more dangerous than driving around in this area, in fact, it would be much safer as the mob are not looking for us in that part of the country. As far as the authorities there would be concerned, we are simply tourists along with several hundred more travelling from one EU country into another.'

There was a long silence before Werner replied, ‘You give us a little time to talk Geoffrey, then we answer you.'

The two Austrians conversed in their native tongue in what to Geoff seemed like an eternity. In actual fact, it was only several minutes. It was Peer who eventually spoke to Geoff. ‘But documentation that Italiano authorities looking, arrest you border with Greece, clamp in irons, put in jug, throw key in drink, my friend, Werner and me be irons together along your side.'

Geoff could not help smiling to himself as he wondered where Peer Merkel had picked up some of his English expressions, the more excited and agitated he became, the more broken his English became.

‘What I noticed when we arrived in Italy,' said Geoff, ‘was that the authorities did not check our passports electronically like the officers did at the passport desk when we left England. If we look the part, just a small group of tourists, amongst dozens of others there should be no problems.'

It was at this point that Werner also put his views, and spoke about his concerns. ‘Am I to understand, Geoff, that you also intend to collect the shells for the Mark 111 assault gun while on the Greek island of Corfu?'

His answer to Werner's question was a simple, ‘Yes!'

‘Peer and I need to talk some more, Geoff,' said Werner. ‘You have, as the saying goes, dropped a hot potato in our lap. We need a little more time to make a decision.'

Geoff just nodded, rising from his chair, leaving Peer Merkel and his old war comrade finishing their brandy and cigars while discussing his latest proposition.

He took this opportunity to check on the path that the Bolton brothers mentioned before when they had been checking on the area with the bikes. It also gave him the chance to clear his head. It was when he was returning that he was confronted by a growling, little Jack Russell standing in the centre of the narrow path. It was the very same dog that had nearly been run over by the Mercedes. He did not like animals and even a little dog like the one that barred his path frightened him. He could not pluck up courage to walk past the dog and sensing that he was afraid seemed to make it much braver.

It was obvious it had no intention of giving ground from his position in the centre of the path. Still growling, it set him with its beady eyes. It was a standoff.

‘Now, Montgomery, don't you frighten this young man.'

Geoff had been concentrating so much on the dog that he had not noticed the figure standing in the shade of the trees.

‘You're English,' said Geoff as a straight backed figure stepped forward and scooped up the Jack Russell who stopped his growling and concentrated on licking his owner's face.

‘Correct! Captain Delaney. Captain James Delaney retired.' The man held out his hand which was covered in a glove of silky looking material.

Geoff shook the outstretched hand. He noticed during the exchange that the man was quite old with a heavily wrinkled face that at some time had been very severely burned down the right hand side.

‘Glad to meet you, Captain Delaney,' Geoff responded. He stopped himself just in time as he had nearly introduced himself by his proper name. ‘I'm Paul, Paul Jackson. I'm staying at the villa with several of my friends. We're here on holiday. This area is a beautiful part of Italy.'

‘Yes, that is true, Italy is very beautiful. Well you young people enjoy yourselves. Remember, you are only young once.'

There was an embarrassing silence as both Geoff and the retired captain tried to think of something more to say. With a curt ‘Bye Paul!' the man turned quickly and walked back into the woods, still carrying the Jack Russell. Geoff watched as he disappeared into the gloom.

As he slowly made his way back to the villa he had time to ponder on the recent meeting with the ex-army officer, he decided that the captain didn't pose a threat, feeling a pang of pity though that the man had been so badly burned at some point in his life, and was apparently still self-conscious of its effects.

It was an hour later that Geoff again approached the two old men who were still sitting near the pool enjoying the cool of the evening. He thought, as before, it was pointless beating about the bush with niceties, so standing in front of them he came straight out with the question. ‘Good evening gentlemen have you had time to discuss the proposition?'

The two men looked at one another for a few moments; it was Werner who eventually answered. ‘Peer and I have discussed your proposal in great detail. We have agreed to do this thing for you but there are several conditions of which we need to discuss the details.'

Geoff's immediate hidden reaction was.
Great! They are on board
.

‘Fire away!' he said, overjoyed. Then as his knees were shaking uncontrollably he sat down on a spare chair opposite the two Austrians.

‘Well,' said Werner, ‘if there are no problems and we return in one piece, Peer and I immediately take the next train to Austria. Also, whatever arrangements or instructions you have received with regards collection of your goods, I suggest you review these instructions carefully and, if possible, alter them to your advantage. It is dangerous for you and your friends if people know where you will be at a specific time and place.'

‘I thank you for your concern, Werner,' said Geoff, ‘but I have already made alternative arrangements from the instructions I have been given.'

Werner smiled at Geoff's reply. Over the short period of time he had been in this young man's company he had developed a great deal of respect for his initiative, his planning, his grasp of the various difficult situations that had arisen and the decisive actions he had taken. He had shown a level of intelligence that you would only expect of someone much older and much more experienced in these matters of intrigue.

‘Also, when we arrive at the customs post for the ferry we will go through separately.' ‘Certainly!' came back the instant reply. Geoff was glad that it was partially dark and they could not see that though it was quite a cool evening he was sweating like a pig, to use one of Sooty's favourite expressions.

Inwardly, Werner Fisher questioned whether his involvement was contributing to these four young men spending most of their adult lives behind bars. But with this Geoff Larkin in charge of these three loyal friends, he was also beginning to think that what had started out as a hare-brained scheme which didn't have a snowflake in hell's chance of succeeding might, just might, even though it was absurd to even think of it, might be pulled off and, maybe, just maybe they may get away with it!