The Criminal Escapades of Geoffrey Larkin (35 page)

Earlier that Sunday evening as Oscar and Georgio were making their way to the villa occupied by Geoff and co. The black Mercedes slipped out of the drive leading from the property, it contained a very sombre, and very quiet group of occupants.

Geoff had double-checked everything against his list, as the other three stacked the contents from one of the outbuildings into the boot of the car.

They all had dark blue boiler suits, black ski masks, matching black linen gloves and goggles, which Werner Fisher had told them they would need because of the possible back flash of the gun, also they should not remove the gloves until after they had completed their mission and were back in the car.

Their other essential equipment was also carefully packed, several torches plus electric lamps with spare batteries and long life bulbs, four short range walkie-talkies, two long and two extra-long crowbars, bolt croppers and most important, the tank's hatch key.

The two international ‘men at work' signs would not fit in the boot so these were placed across the rear seats. Geoff had also purchased a builder's laser level.

The idea was that as the gun's original sights were missing they would place the level on the barrel of the gun and, with the special glasses provided; they would be able to see with great accuracy where the gun barrel was pointing. Hopefully, they would then be able to manually adjust accordingly.

Most important of all, they loaded in the antique, polished, wooden box containing the three 75mm shells alongside the box they placed the firing mechanism for the gun. As they drove down the drive Geoff took a backward glance at the outline of the villa, slowly disappearing and merging into the shadows.

Would his small group of friends ever return to this place, where they for a brief period in their lives had shared so much pleasure between them and their two newfound Austrian friends? Several days previous when Geoff had put his plan to his friends, they had embraced the idea whole-heartedly; to them it was just another scam like all the previous jaunts planned by their leader. But as the day approached, it slowly dawned on the group that this was a much more serious and highly dangerous escapade. They were about to rob a bank.

Geoff noticed a change in their manner; they became irritable and argumentative with one another, something that had never happened previously
.
Geoff's thoughts went back when they had attempted to take the safe, which had turned out to be a disaster. Was this next escapade just another disaster in waiting? But they had never robbed a bank before? A bank in a foreign country, where they were struggling to put more than two words together in a language they could not understand.

As they went through the procedures and the constant rehearsals of assembling the loading mechanism, and the correct way of handling the shells, despite the complaints from their students, it was something the two ex-Austrian soldiers had insisted on.

‘We will be happy when you can complete what we request blindfolded,' was all Werner had said in reply to their grumblings. So the practising continued.

*

It was a very subdued group that made the journey in the Mercedes, all embroiled in their own thoughts, Geoff had to remind John on several occasions to concentrate, as he wandered over to continue driving on the left hand side of the road as if he was back in the UK, also his attempt at light conversation in order to take their minds off the forthcoming escapade was met by stony silence from the rest of the occupants.

They arrived in the car park alongside the German Mark 111 mobile assault gun at 22.15 hours without incident. They surveyed the area from inside the Mercedes.

There were only a few cars parked in the car park. These were all unoccupied and there did not seem to be anyone else in the vicinity, on what would have usually been a very busy Sunday evening. They could hear the sound of the festivities taking place at the far side of the town. Most of the residents would be there either watching the carnival proceedings or dressed in their medieval costumes and involved in the parade through the narrow streets that had taken place earlier in the evening. This would eventually finish in the town's far car park for a spectacular finale and medieval fair.

Carefully they unloaded the contents of the car boot and placed all the articles at the base of the large chestnut tree.

‘This tree's a boon,' whispered Geoff to John Bolton as they unloaded the last of the torches. The car park's system of lighting was a series of large orange lights set on top of tall concrete standards. Fortunately, the lights were too far away to penetrate the deep shadow thrown by the camouflage painted tank or the surrounding area covered by the thick trunk and foliage of the chestnut tree.

Geoff was concerned by John Bolton's state of mind. He had noticed that when they were unloading the car the oldest brother was shaking uncontrollably like a leaf in a high wind. It was he who had been given the job of assembling the firing mechanism of the gun and then firing it.

Geoff looked at his own fingers which had also been shaking uncontrollably in the car on the journey from the villa but now the adrenalin had kicked in and there was not a tremor to be seen.

Although it was not a warm evening he was sweating profusely, his shirt sticking uncomfortably to his back as was happening with all the lads. Derek Bolton seemed quite calm as he concentrated on setting up the laser level on the gun barrel and inserting the battery while Sooty seemed the least concerned of them all, handling the heavy road signs and heavy metal leverage bars with ease.

Everything was set. Geoff gave one last look around the car park; it was all clear. He gave Sooty the nod. Without any noise at all, the modern lock and hasp on the hatch cover, wrapped in a cloth to deaden the sound, was cut by the bolt cutters operated by the big lad Sooty.

More noise was made by John Bolton's shaking hands fumbling to fit the special Allen key in the slot and then dropping it onto the metal plate covering the tracks and then falling onto the concrete below. For several seconds everyone froze as the sound seemed to echo over the quiet, empty Piazza.

Sooty retrieved the key and handed it to Derek Bolton who had quietly left his position alongside the tank's gun barrel and joined his brother near the tank's hatch. Derek inserted the key into the slot and attempted to turn it, nothing happened. John Bolton placed his shaking hands over his brother's and then together both tried to turn the key. Still there was no movement. Geoff could see their faces in the half-light, they were sweating with the tension and effort; it was running off their foreheads in little rivulets.

A faint sobbing sound was coming from the mouth of John Bolton. It was Harry Sutton, who had been quietly watching the two brothers' struggles, that now stepped forward, gently easing the shaking and sobbing John Bolton to one side.

He placed his hefty hands on the key and slightly spreading his legs and hunching his great shoulders he concentrated all his strength on the effort of turning the key.

The noise that made the watching trio jump in the deathly quiet of that corner of the car park was the noise of Harry Sutton's shirt splitting down the shoulder seam underneath his dark boiler suit. The next sound they heard was the high-pitched squeal of metal on tortured metal. Then the lock turned and the hatch clicked partially open. None of the lads moved.

The noise had seemed deafening. Suddenly, a scooter came through the car park. Its headlight on a loose fixing bracket was bobbing up and down as it carried on past the group hidden in the corner.

This was followed by five or six more scooters, their horns intermittingly blaring, obviously a party from the Palio. The scooters then carried on through the open gates and under the great stone archway following the narrow access into the town.

The driver and passengers were shouting to one another above the sound of the scooter's engine and noisy horns. While the others had been watching this spectacle, Sooty had eased the hatch cover of the tank open, the squeaking of the resisting hinges drowned under cover of the scooter's noisy engine and shouting passengers.

Geoff grabbed hold of a still shaking John Bolton's elbow, with a lot of whispering and a little cajoling, he gently but forcefully persuaded and helped the reluctant brother through the hatch and into the dark musty confines of the tank. He then passed him the lamp and a torch along with his little box of tools, taking special care when handing him the firing mechanism. As Derek Bolton leaned over his shoulder, spraying easing fluid on the hinges, Geoff quietly closed the tank's hatch.

While Derek Bolton sat on Sooty's shoulders to clear the canvas muzzle weather cover, then removed the cork plugs that had protected the barrel of the gun, Geoff made his way across the road to the target. The town's Municipal Building.

Werner had told him that the burglar alarm system in the Municipal Building was rather primitive but it had been suitable for the office block prior to the vault being temporarily fitted there. It consisted of alarms fitted to all the doors in the building but there were no room censors fitted on the solid, ground floor, only on the first floor.

The safe was still on its rollers ready to be moved back to the new vault when it was ready; it was attached to the solid floor by several temporary fixings. The door of this portable safe was on a time lock. If it was opened at any other time than was set, an alarm would be activated and a radio signal would automatically be sent to the nearest Carabinieri station, which was less than five minutes away on the far side of the town.

So, on the face of it, they had less than five minutes to move as much bullion as possible from the safe, if they ever managed to force it open. Possibly a few extra minutes if the police could not open the closed gates at that entrance and had to race back to the next nearest gateway leading out of the town. Eight minutes at the most was what Geoff had calculated to be on the safe side and clear of the area.

He was now beginning to have serious second thoughts about the attempt. The stupidity of this was endangering not only his life and freedom but also those of his mates. Could he live with himself if, for instance, Sooty was blown up or John or Derek Bolton should lose an arm or a leg through following him and his hare-brained, crazy scheme? There was still time for him to call it off even at this late stage. Perhaps that was what he should do.

His thoughts were interrupted by Derek who had removed the weather covers and plugs from the end of the gun, then waited while two cars passed along the road before he activated the laser level fixed along the barrel. ‘Geoff! Geoff!' he repeated. Geoff fitted his glasses, from his position he could see where the laser pointed.

‘Derek, it needs lifting, also move it over to the right. Over!' he whispered into the crackling mouth piece of the hand set. A few minutes passed and then the beam slowly traversed to the right.

‘Hold it at that,' he whispered again into the hand set. ‘Now lift it a little. Over!'

Several minutes passed. The beam stayed motionless, still pointing directly at the centre of the metre high, cement rendered, white painted parapet wall that surrounded the building.

The speaker on the hand set crackled.

‘We've got a problem here, Geoff. We can't raise the barrel of the gun; you'd better come over here.' The speaker crackled, went silent then crackled again. ‘Sorry Geoff, over!'

Geoff was already hurrying across the dividing road towards the dark patch under the tree where the moving shadows showed where the rest of the trio were.

Derek and John Bolton were waiting outside the tank. Geoff could hear a faint grunting coming from inside the hatch.

Looking inside by the faint, low light of the lamp he could make out the shape of Sooty squeezed into the gun operator's seat struggling to turn the manually operated elevation wheel for the gun barrel.

‘Won't budge!' he muttered, looking up at the faint outline of Geoff's face peering in through the partially open hatch. ‘What kind of car jack's in the Merc, John? Can we use it to raise the barrel?' he said, turning to face the two brothers, noticing at the same time that the elder Bolton brother had now stopped shaking.

‘I've already thought of that. It's no use, it fits into slots in the car chassis,' replied John glumly.

‘Get the big crowbar. You and John stand on the tank and get either side of the gun barrel,' said Sooty to Geoff, as he struggled out of the hatchway.

‘You Derek, come in here and be ready to wind this barrel elevation wheel.' Both the Bolton brothers looked first at Sooty and then at Geoff, who just hunched his shoulders and grimaced at the usual quiet Sooty suddenly taking over, and issuing instructions with such uncharacteristic authority.

Harry Sutton positioned Geoff and John Bolton, who were both about the same size, on either side the gun with the large crowbar slung under the barrel with them holding each end. ‘Place your foreheads together, you'll get more leverage that way.'

‘How do you know about this, Sooty?' whispered John Bolton.

‘I used to give the landlord at the pub a lift moving his barrels of beer in his cellar and this is how we lifted them on to the wooden still-age,' replied the big lad as he positioned himself on all fours on the tank's main body with the gun barrel resting across his back.

‘Okay, when I say heave, heave!'

Nothing happened for several moments as both Geoff and John Bolton pulled on the ends of the crowbar, their foreheads firmly pressed together, with Sooty forcing his back up against the bottom of the gun barrel, pressing his huge thighs against the body of the tank for extra leverage.

Suddenly in several very jerky movements the barrel of the gun was slowly raised upwards.

‘We'll give that a try,' gasped Geoff as he sank onto the body of the tank along with John Bolton and Sooty each one taking in a great lung full of air. ‘Finish fitting the firing mechanism, John. I'll go across the road and check the laser.' As Geoff slipped off the tank he slapped the still gasping Sooty on the shoulders, ‘Well done, mate.' Sooty just raised his hand in acknowledgement not yet having the breath to reply.