The Stealers (2 page)

Crane took a cab from Southend to Canford; which was a small village nestling between Rochford and Canewdon. He lived in a picturesque cottage, Bramble View; a low, red-brick and wood-boarded dwelling with neat white Georgian windows and, at this time of year, September, its fences were covered in small roses and the paths were strewn with their fallen petals. The cottage was situated near the far end of a lane known as Palmers Rise and it was one of only two properties in this rustic setting. The other cottage in the lane was unoccupied for most of the year. The entrance to the lane, off of Alders Hill, could easily be mistaken for a gap in the hedge. It was an unmade road with tufts of weed and grass sprouting through its cinder track. The lane rose steadily for half a mile with high unmanaged swathes of blackthorn, hawthorn and bramble on either side.

Within half an hour, and with a wedge of a hurriedly prepared cheese sandwich rammed between his teeth, Crane was driving his old Ford Transit van from the cottage. He was on the way back to Denisons Lane, beyond the boundary of Stambridge. It was pitch dark when Crane turned the van into the narrow road; the few dim streetlights, that were sparsely scattered, merely denoted the road's existence. The Transit's headlamps shimmered brightly as they stabbed into the dark recesses of the surrounding area. They revealed a sparsely populated road with no more than half a dozen expensive looking houses, spaced well apart and no doubt each one nestling in a sizable piece of land. Beyond their boundaries lay acres of farmland on either side. The road looped round in a crescent and re-joined the main Southend road after a half mile.

Crane parked the van at the deserted unlit end of the road, but within sight of the house. He checked his watch; it was nine pm, almost two hours since the theft. Leaning over the steering wheel, he adjusted a small pair of infrared night glasses; a legacy from his army days, and waited for signs of movement. There were none.

At around midnight, it was time for action. The sparsely lit road suited Crane's purpose well. Most of the lights in the surrounding properties were switched off and number one was in total darkness. Aware of the automatic floodlights, Crane dropped to the ground and inched his way, crawling across the front lawn, until he reached the front wall of the house. Using a pair of long-reach pruning shears, he snipped the power cable of the security lights. Feeling satisfied, he delved into his pockets and pulled out a pencil-beam torch and a set of skeleton keys. He twisted and turned a suitable probe, until he heard a faint audible click as the tumblers released the latch. Slowly, he pushed the front door forward and aimed the beam of his torch inside until it located the power switch to the garage door. Crane's hand reached out and thumbed the button. Immediately, he heard an imperceptible whirr and the garage door began to rise. Crane quietly closed the front door and entered the garage; a dim pilot light showed it was still empty. Crane's eyes scanned the work benches and array of tools. Nothing seemed to be amiss, and yet he knew his car had entered this place. He bent down by the entrance and rolled up a section of the floor covering. The dim light revealed nothing.

Crane straightened up when he heard footsteps and the creak of a door opening at the far end of the garage and he switched off his torch. A woman's voice called out, ‘Is that you, Trevor?'

Crane flattened himself against the wall near the door and grunted an assent hoping it may bring her further into the garage. It worked. She flicked on the lights as she stepped inside. Crane pushed firmly on the door, slamming it shut and pressed his shoulders hard against it. The woman, wearing a dressing gown, stood mouth agape facing Crane. Fear spread across her face as she stammered, ‘What… what do you want?' A large black and white cat had followed her into the garage and it sprang up into her arms. She stroked the cat's head and said quietly, ‘It's alright, Felix,' at the same time trying to regain her composure.

Crane's steel-blue eyes locked onto her as he replied calmly, ‘I want my car; where is it?'

Gaining her composure she said, ‘I don't know what you're talking about – you'd better leave now or I'll call the police!'

Crane's face hardened as he replied menacingly, ‘They'll never get here in time.'

Her edginess returned; she looked anxious. ‘What do you mean?'

‘What I say;
you
figure it out.'

The woman bit her lower lip and her eyes wandered around the garage as if they were no longer willing to meet his cold, icy stare. Crane continued in a soft, menacing voice, ‘I recognised you, despite your change of hair and manner. I followed my car here, and I'm a very dangerous man to mess with. And I want to know where I can find the two guys you were with?'

She suddenly looked drained and said with resignation, ‘Okay. There was only one man that brought your car here. After garaging it down below, he left. The house is built on a slope. The lift takes a car to the lower level; there's a garage underneath the house. There's also a driveway where my own car is parked. There is room for several vehicles. It's not so apparent in the dark. From the drive at the rear, there is an access to a resident's service road.'

The woman looked down, sighed heavily and said, ‘We'd better go in the house.'

Crane moved towards the door and opening it, said, ‘You'd better not try anything.'

‘I won't. I've seen you in action, remember?'

They stepped into the spacious hallway and, after closing the door, she walked up to a small picture on the wall, pushed it to one side and revealed a switch. She flicked the switch up and a faint whirring noise seemed to emanate from below. After a few moments the noise stopped and she walked back to the door and opened it. It was a whole new room. Together they stepped inside and Crane's Mustang was in full view. The woman looked at Crane and said, ‘You'd better take it and go quickly.'

Crane shook his head, ‘I think the police will be interested in this little setup.'

The woman looked at him pleadingly, ‘Please, please don't inform the police.'

Crane looked at her astounded. ‘What! And let you and your friends carry on stealing cars?'

She bit her lower lip and said, ‘They are no friends of mine. I think I'd better explain things from the beginning. I wanted no part of this – believe me. Jean, my sister – after her husband died – met a man, who called himself Bradley. He seemed very nice at first. He would take her to places, the cinema, the theatre and buy her flowers and so on, and then after a month or so she introduced him to me. We talked; as you do, and he told me he was in the export business. He seemed genuinely interested when I told him that I belonged to an amateur dramatics repertoire company; it didn't take long to find out why. About three months ago, my sister disappeared. Her new boyfriend, who turned out to be her abductor, said if I ever wanted to see her again, I would have to live in this house and help him in his export business. I was expected to pretend to be in trouble while they stole the cars. He said it would only last for a couple of months and then he would bring her back. I know they are holding my sister against her will because she would never leave her little boy, Andrew; the one you saw when the police called.'

‘Is this Bradley the man with the gun?'

‘No; I haven't seen him since this whole thing started. He only gets in touch by phone.'

‘Why didn't you report all this to the police?'

‘Why do you think? I took his threats seriously. I have no idea where my sister is being held. They have what they call, ‘A client base'; people actually waiting for the cars they steal to order. They don't always bring the cars back here. I expect your car would have been taken to someone by tomorrow evening. Look, I just want my sister back safe and sound; so, please don't go to the police.'

It was a plausible story, but Crane was uncertain. ‘You were expecting someone; Trevor. Who's he, one of your accomplices?'

‘No!' she replied with some fervour, ‘he's my brother. Apart from you, Trevor is the only person who knows about this.'

‘Why is he coming here so late?'

‘He's an accountant and works in the city. Sometimes he stays on late to complete a job for his clients. Like me, he is worried sick about my involvement and our missing sister, Jean, ever since this whole thing erupted.'

Crane was still not entirely convinced. He had already experienced her acting abilities in the car park. ‘I think I would like to meet your brother, so if you don't mind I'll hang around till he arrives.'

The woman seemed unfazed by this and said, ‘Would you care for a coffee while we wait?'

Crane accepted the offer and followed her back into the house. The sound of a car pulling into the drive caught their attention, followed by a key turning in the lock of the front door. Footsteps echoed on the hard wooden flooring before Trevor poked his head around the door of the lounge, and upon seeing his sister with a man said, ‘Oh, you've got company, I won't disturb… '

‘Come in,' Crane interrupted. ‘We were just having a chat about your sister.'

Trevor stepped smartly into the room, looking from one to the other as he entered and stood still for a moment. A bespectacled thirty-year-old, he was about five feet ten inches with a willowy hunched-up frame and sallow complexion. His face brightened as he enquired, ‘Any news?'

The woman looked at him and said in a rush, ‘I helped steal this man's car. He's tracked it down and he wants to report it to the police. I've told him the whole story.'

Trevor rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, let out a sigh and readily confirmed everything that the woman said. ‘It had to happen sooner or later,' he said and as he looked at Crane said, ‘Penny and I are at our wits end; if it was you caught up in all this, what would you do Mr erm… '

‘Name's Crane, Jack Crane. It seems as though I'm already drawn in, by getting this far.'

A noise interrupted them and a face peered around the open door. It was the little boy. He looked around the room, rubbing his eyes and said sleepily, ‘Is Mummy back now Auntie Penny?'

Penny smiled and hurried over to him, ‘No, not yet Andrew, it's late, you should try and get some sleep.'

She scooped him up and took him back upstairs to bed. ‘The boy's been so good considering he hasn't seen his mother for some weeks; he'll be five years old in a couple of months time.' Trevor sighed and continued. ‘We hate having to string him along like this.'

Crane drained his coffee and after a few moments, Penny re-entered the room and they all sat down.

Crane stared long and hard at the pair for a moment and decided to believe their story.

‘Okay, I won't go to the police, but I'll try and help get your sister back.'

Trevor and Penny looked at each other and turned to Crane with a mixture of relief and fear showing in their faces. They remained quiet as Crane continued.

‘Do you know how many men are involved?'

‘Not really; I've seen four different men and that doesn't include the one called Bradley; the man that got Jean and me into all of this.' Penny hesitated; her eyes were suddenly wide with fear. ‘If they find out that I've involved anyone… '

‘They won't,' Crane interrupted, ‘and don't worry, I won't show my hand or implicate either of you. How many cars do they steal in say… a week?'

‘They are very careful not to overdo things, only two.'

Trevor leant forward in his chair and said, ‘Who are you Mr Crane? And what makes you think you can help?'

‘I wondered when you would ask; let's just say that I have a wide experience dealing with all kinds of situations.'

‘But… but some of them carry guns,' Penny stammered.

Crane frowned and said, ‘I haven't forgotten; if they had been unarmed we would not be talking here right now; I would have had the pair of them. You might call it good old army training. By the way, do they know about the police coming here?'

‘No, the one that brought your car here left straight away by the back door and into the narrow rear service road; it's unlit.'

‘So that's why I didn't see him leave,' Crane remarked.

Some of Crane's confidence seemed to have filtered through to Penny and Trevor, and they enthused with, ‘How do you propose to start?'

‘I'm working on that. Tell me, how do they usually collect the vehicles that are left here?'

Penny ran her well-manicured hands through her hair as she began, ‘I get a phone call half an hour before two men arrive in a large dark-coloured removal van. They park outside; always around dusk, when no one is about, and usually within twenty-four hours of the theft. I press the button and the car rises up from the basement, all ready for them. They spend very little time here. One of them heads straight for the garage whilst the other places a pair of ramps at the back of the van. Within minutes, the car is driven out straight into the back of the van. As I've already mentioned, it's not always the same two men. I expect they will come and collect your car tomorrow.'

Crane leant back in his chair, tented his hands and thought for a moment before saying, ‘I'll leave my phone number with you. If anything changes give me a call. In any event the first thing I'm going to do is steal my car back.

After Crane had left the house, Penny threw a worried glance at Trevor and said, ‘Do you think he can really be of help?'

‘I wish I knew. At least he's not involving us with getting his car back.'

Trevor pursed his lips before saying, ‘Do you think we can trust him? I mean would he jeopardise our chances of getting our sister, Jean, back?'

Penny shrugged and looked pensive. ‘He seems to know what he's about, but if they connect him with us in any way, I suppose we can always say we were threatened.'

The pair sat quietly for a moment until Trevor said, ‘It's a wait-and-see scenario then.'

*

The following day, Crane sat in his van as dusk crept over the far end of the unlit area of Denisons Lane. Although the area was steeped in shadows, he had a clear view of Penny's house from his vehicle, as the removal van, an old Bedford with a Luton body, slowly backed around the corner from the main road and settled outside the garage. Within minutes, his Mustang appeared and its driver skilfully manoeuvred the car up a ramp and into the back of the Bedford van. With a stiff rattle, the van's shutter came down and the vehicle lumbered off towards the direction of Southend.

Crane followed the van as it veered onto the A127 Arterial Road towards Basildon. After several miles the van slowed down and pulled into a roadside cafe. He followed it slowly into the dimly-lit parking area; laying up his Transit van on the opposite side and could not believe his luck when the pair leapt out and entered the building. As soon as they disappeared inside, Crane ran across the yard and, standing at the edge of a wash of light from the cafe, looked through the window. The two men were seated and a waitress appeared to be taking an order. Crane surreptitiously made his way to their Luton van, which he unlocked using his skeleton keys. He gingerly pushed up the shutter; gritting his teeth as it grated noisily to the top. He paused, now and again, to look towards the cafe entrance for signs of movement from the two thieves; there were none. He placed the ramps from inside the van into position and, using a spare set of keys to start the engine, he drove his Mustang out of the back of the Luton van. He crossed the yard towards the rear of his Transit van, where he connected the Mustang up to a tow dolly at the back of his van. He glanced again towards the cafe and noted the pair of thieves were still seated, no doubt enjoying their supper. Returning stealthily to the Luton van, Crane replaced the ramps, pulled down the shutter and re-locked it. Then with a great deal of satisfaction, he pulled his Transit van out of the car park with his Mustang in tow and headed for Canford; and home.

*

Penny had spent some time lying awake in bed; her brain whirling around recent events. She took deep breaths – in a fashion remembered from past yoga classes – counting three to slowly inhale and four to slowly exhale. She thought Crane an extraordinary ally, but could he really help? Uncertainty began to creep through her. She had just about made the sleep mode when, at around two am the urgent bleep of the telephone resounded throughout her bedroom. Her weary arm stretched out and groped at the cordless handset. The voice at the other end of the line made her whole body shudder.

‘It's me, Bradley.' The gruff introduction was unnecessary and he continued, ‘Has anyone been around?'

Penny's heart thumped wildly as she hesitated; has something gone wrong? For her sister's sake, should she tell him about Crane?

Bradley was getting impatient at the lack of response. ‘You still there? I asked you a question.'

Penny's brain raced; she seemed to reply automatically, ‘I've, erm, just woken up.'

Bradley repeated his question and added, ‘The Mustang was taken from the van whilst my two idiots were stuffing their fat faces in a Little Chef on the A127.'

Penny put a hand to her mouth; stifling a nervous grin and thinking about Crane,
‘He's done it.'

A gruff, ‘Well?' broke the silence and Penny said haltingly, ‘I've seen nobody hanging around hereabouts, if that's what you mean?'

She was about to enquire after her sister when the phone went dead. Penny held on to the phone for some while; expecting it to ring again, before replacing it in its cradle and settling down once more into an uneasy sleep.

In the dead of night, Crane drove his van into a quiet side road in Southend where he off-loaded the Mustang from the tow dolly at the rear, and then drove the car back onto the main road. After covering a short distance along Victoria Avenue, he parked it alongside Southend Court House, adjacent to the police station. He quickly deflated a front tyre by unscrewing a tyre valve to make it appear as though it had been abandoned because of a flat tyre, then hurried back to his van and sped off in the direction of his home in Canford. He figured that any suspicion the thieves may have would be allayed by this move. He was right. In the next edition of the
Southend Echo,
a local newspaper, there was a report concerning a stolen car being recovered by the police and then returned to its rightful owner. Penny spotted this article and mentioned it to a disgruntled Bradley the next day, when he contacted her by telephone. This seemed to satisfy him that the house in Denisons Lane had not been under observation of any kind.

Six long days passed by, before Bradley contacted Penny again. Her brief was that she would drive to a supermarket car park at the nearby town of Hadleigh. Her role would be to distract the owner of a new model Mercedes Benz. As soon as she learned of this, Penny phoned Crane and put him in the picture. It was Crane's intention to follow the thieves to their lair and, when he was satisfied that Penny's sister was safely released, he intended to expose the whole affair to the police.

*

At ten am on the appointed day, Crane leant back in the driver's seat of his Transit van, a newspaper, which he appeared to be reading, was splayed across the steering wheel. Earlier, by chance, he had seen a large Luton van which he recognised as the one that had been used to commandeer his Mustang. It had been parked in a side road roughly a quarter of a mile away from where he was now parked. He figured that it would most likely be used again on this occasion.

The car park was quiet at this time of day; it was almost empty. Crane saw Penny arrive in a bright red Mini Cooper; Andrew was strapped in the back seat. She remained in the car waiting for Bradley's pair of thieves to turn up. Crane, peering above the newspaper, continually scanned the car park for signs of action. Nearby, he saw a round-faced man in a dark blue Ford Mondeo eating a sandwich and drinking from a thermos flask.

The thieves' target car; a new model silver Mercedes Benz, swept majestically into the car park and its owner – a balding man in his sixties – walked nonchalantly away, leaving the automatic locking device to secure the vehicle as he departed and made his way towards one of the adjacent offices.

Penny checked her watch, opened the door of her car and flicked a meaningful glance at Crane as she strolled across the car park towards a set of noticeboards. She looked back in the direction of Andrew – who seemed to be fidgeting with his seat belt – and gave him a short wave of her hand. Another movement caught Crane's attention. It was one of Bradley's men. He strolled across the car park towards Penny and fell in line behind her as she headed towards the offices. Penny disappeared into the office entrance hall.

Suddenly, Crane noticed that Andrew had let himself out of Penny's car, then, in no time at all, he began chasing around the car park playing with a toy gun; aiming here and there at imaginary targets. Immediately a new development attracted Crane's attention; the chubby man seated in the Mondeo got out of his car and approached the little boy. Crouching down, he began talking to him. Crane's attention flicked back to the man who had been following Penny; he too had disappeared through the office door.

Crane stared at the office door, then his eyes darted back towards Andrew. It appeared to Crane that the overweight man, whose clothes billowed scruffily around him, and who was talking to young Andrew, was a complete stranger to the boy. He saw the child's eyes widen in nervous anticipation. The stranger had extended his arm, he had something in his hand; a bag, and it was being offered to the boy. Crane's attention went back to the office door and then returned to the boy. The child's eyes were locked onto a bag of sweets. Andrew's hand wavered slightly and inched towards the stranger's hand, but the child's feet remained firm. Suddenly, the stranger grabbed hold of the boy's wrist, pulled him off his feet and cradling him with one arm, hurried a short distance across the car park to his Mondeo. Crane felt tormented –
two crimes at once!
Andrew's toy pistol cluttered to the ground as the stranger tossed the boy, whose face had now begun to show signs of distress, into the back seat of the Mondeo. By the time Crane had leapt out of his van, running towards the scene, the fat man's Mondeo had sped out of the car park and onto the main road. It had all taken place in seconds. Crane made an instant decision; he would go after the boy. At the same time, the car thief ran over to the Mercedes, jumped inside and the car roared off. Crane stood briefly; glancing at the car park exit, then immediately scooped up the toy pistol the boy had dropped. He looked up and shrugged his shoulders to a confused Penny, who had just reappeared from the offices. There was no time for explanation; he jumped back into his Transit van and headed off in hot pursuit of the Mondeo.