Brutal Revenge (4 page)

“Tell me again about their telephone link
with the mainland,” Parker said.

Maclean smiled.
He was pleased that Parker was showing an interest. The Londoner was a solid
villain with a good track record. He would be a good man to have on board.

“There are only
about forty telephones on the island,” he explained. “These are served by a
small telephone exchange which was recently updated to receive broadband. But
it’s unmanned and nothing more than a concrete shed. All we've got to do is get
inside and fuck up the works. Then the island will be completely cut off. So
there’s no way they can raise the alarm, even if they want to. It means we’ll
be long gone before the cops get wind of what’s happened.”

“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
Hebrides.

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.”