R.I.P Robbie Silva Read online

  'Why?' I didn't want to sit.

  'I think it would be better.'

  I knew now why he was telling me to sit, but I was too young then to get the picture. He sat beside me on the bed, then turned to face me. I tried to face him but my mind was on the screws and what they were up to. I didn't want to be jumped by them. I thought it unlikely with Mr Parker – Old Nosey they called him – around but you couldn't be too sure.

  'What is it?' I said.

  'I'm afraid we've had some bad news today.'

  I shrugged; I wasn't following him.

  'Yes, some bad news ...' I smelt aftershave off him he was so close. Years later I found out it was called Tabac and came in little white bottles; I've never liked it since. He went on, 'I'm sorry to have to tell you that your sister, Jody, has died.'

  The words hit me like a boot to the gut; I swear I doubled over. 'No. It's not true,' I said.

  'I'm very sorry. They found her this morning, there's no doubt.' He stood up. I felt his hand on my back for a second but I pulled away. The screws moved in at that point but Old Nosey flagged them down.

  'How?' It didn't make sense; she was younger than me.

  He hesitated; I watched him remove his glasses and rub at his eyes. 'Your sister ... your sister took her own life.' He put on his specs again. 'I am dreadfully sorry, Jed.'

  As I started to cry they left me alone.

  My memory of this time is patchy now, always has been, but I can still recall rocking to and fro on the bed for ages, the springs squeaking and squeaking. At some stage I must have fallen asleep and I awoke in the middle of the night. It was a clear night and I saw the moon in the sky through the bars on the window. I thought about Jody and then I couldn't look at the sky anymore. As I pulled my gaze away, it fell on the light-bulb dangling above my bed and I rose and unscrewed it.

  The glass bulb smashed easily as I tapped it against the wall. I selected the largest shard and stuck it into my wrist; the blood flowed freely and I repeated the process with my other wrist.

  As the blood spilled I wanted to get away from it; I didn't want to have any of my father's blood in me. It was foul, tainted.

  'You killed her, you bastard.' I said this over and over to myself. I wanted him back, so I could kill him myself. If I had killed him, it might have saved Jody; I knew she blamed herself for his suicide and she just couldn't live with it. I could have got by with her hating me for killing him, but I couldn't get by with her hating herself.

  When I woke my wrists were bandaged and they had me in a straitjacket; I was pumped full of tranquillisers. I felt gutted to be alive.

  * * * *

  The flop was a deserted farmhouse on the edge of Midlothian. The place looked like it hadn't been lived in for years. Silva seemed quite pleased with himself to have found it, but Gentle Ben was shivering and snivelling, complaining about the cold and Gail was complaining about the smell.

  'What is it? I've never smelt anything like it!' said Gail.

  'It's the smell of fucking poverty, gel,' said Silva. 'And the reason you haven't come across it before now is I've fucking silver-spooned you.'

  I looked away. Ben was poking at the grate in the fireplace. 'I think I'll get a fire on.'

  'Think again, cuntybaws,' I said. 'You want to send a smoke signal to the filth, do you?'

  He threw down the poker and stomped out the room.

  Silva was sparking up a tab, running his fingers through his Brylcreemed hair.

  'We need to have a little chat,' I said. He looked nervous; I didn't need anyone nervous on this job.

  'Yeah, yeah ... all right, through here.' He nodded me through to the next room, the kitchen. On the table was a large Lotto sports bag. He walked over to it, unzipped. 'Take a look in there.'

  I wandered over to the table, stuck a hand in the bag. I saw the wooden handle of a gun. As I reached for it I saw there were two more of the same. I took out the shooter; it was an old hammer-cock shotgun. It looked ancient. 'The fuck is this?'

  Silva looked scoobied. 'Guns, innit?'

  'I said I wanted decent shooters ...' I held up the hunting weapon; it had a single barrel that looked about three-foot long. 'How the fuck are we going to manoeuvre with these?' I had visions of Gentle Ben tripping on his at the moment of truth.

  'Hang about.' He reached in the bag, removed a small handgun; it was a snub-nose Colt. 'I got this for the girlie. We'll be mustard.'

  I shook my head in disbelief. 'We can't use these shooters. They're a fucking joke.'

  Silva stirred, pointed a finger. 'Now look.'

  'Don't fucking look me – you'll have to saw the stocks off.'

  'We haven't got fucking time, or a fucking saw.'

  I opened the gun; it was empty; I threw it on the table. I knew a bloke in Leith that would hire you old shooters for a ton-a-time. They were manky old things held together with gaffer tape but I'd have sooner had them on the job than this lot.

  'Let me call a pal.'

  'No!' Silva roared. 'Not on my job!'

  I tilted my head. 'I thought this was my job.'

  'I said you could plan it.'

  He'd changed his tune, but it was too late to argue. 'Well I'm planning to have different guns.'

  He seemed to find some calm. 'Look, I know these guns like the back of my hand, and so do the kids – I taught them how to shoot with them. They're mustard! Trust me.'

  I felt time ticking along, I sensed this was not a battle I was going to win, said, 'I'm not happy with this.'

  'The guns look the part, that's all that matters ... they're for putting a scare out.'

  I took a deep breath, picked up the shooter and put it in the happy bag. 'Call the others.'

  Silva nodded, went to the door and summoned Gail and Ben. They trotted through like sullen teenagers a few seconds later. As we stood round the table I told them how I wanted the job to go, what their roles were and who they took their orders from.

  Ben huffed.

  'You got a problem?' I said to him.

  His huff turned into a sneer. 'No.'

  'Good.'

  Silva started another tab. He was smoking like a fucking lum.

  I tapped a finger on the table. 'This should be a simple job, if you all do what you're told, when you're told. I've got it timed to six minutes and I'll be clocking it at that. If we go over the six minutes I want all of us to pull back. Got that?'

  Silva nodded first, then the others.

  I continued, 'Now, this is a heavy bit of work, and we know that, so it has to go like clockwork or we're fucked. Gail, you're gonna be our bag man – I want the money bagged and booted fast as you can.'

  'Okay. Got that,' she said.

  'Now, the old fella is gonna stay in the car, soon as the doors shut – you boot it.'

  'Got ya,' said Silva.

  'Ben, you and me are doing the frightners. That means noising up the security guards, shaking them up. But remember – first and foremost – get them to open those boxes. There'll be bangers and dye packs in there and you have to get them to take them out ...' His eyes wandered. 'You hearing me?'

  'Yeah, yeah ... only bag the money, no other shit.'

  'Right ...' I scanned the group. They were fuck-all but I knew my own abilities and figured I could hold this together. 'Now, one last thing. Do not fire off those shooters.'

  'What?' said Ben.

  'You fucking heard, I've not been on a job yet that needed gunfire and I'm not fucking starting now.'

  'But what if they try it on?' said Ben.

  I locked him down. 'Leave it to me. No fucking shots, right. You start firing off rounds and the filth will be on us quicker than a fucking rat up a drainpipe. We need all the time we can muster to get back to the flop and I don't want to be playing dodgems with plod.'

  Silva started to nod and the others followed suit.

  I checked my watch. 'We've got an hour and a half before we go. Be ready.'

  * * * *

  As we were ge
tting into the Toyota that Silva had sourced, Gail leaned over and placed a little kiss on my cheek.

  'What was that for?' I said.

  'Luck, or something.'

  'I'd sooner something ... we don't want to be relying on luck.'

  Gail winked. 'Well, go for something, then.'

  We drove out of the farmstead. The road was rough and ready but the car cleared it no trouble. Silva had a tab in the fingers of his rope-backed gloves. I kept an eye on him; he was nervy, but I think he was more worried about the rest of us than himself. My main concern was how Ben would go; Gail, I had experience of and I think she had learnt her lesson, but this gimp was a mystery to me and I didn't like unknown factors on any of my jobs.

  The day was clear, not exactly sunshine but as close as you get in Scotland. There was a low cloud covering but I didn't expect rain. That was good, making a getaway on wet roads was not a great idea. Tyres spin and cars lose control.

  At the by-pass Silva flicked his tab out the window. The others were quiet. I could feel my pulse calming as we got onto the M8; I knew I was readying myself for the job. Some people, they get edgy; me, I get fucking Zen. I'm never calmer than when I'm on a bit of work.

  As we cruised along the road, no-one spoke. It was getting hot in the car and Gail opened her window a little. I felt a few spots of rain coming in now, but it was nothing to worry about – didn't even require the wipers on.

  'There she is,' said Silva. He'd spotted the service station up ahead.

  'Ease off the peddle,' I said. I looked out to see if I could spot the security van but there was no sign. One or two cars were parked out the front of the Little Chef but there was no sign of the wagon we'd come to target.

  'Where the fuck is it?' said Ben. His voice whined and grated. I felt like giving him a backhander.

  'Easy. We're ahead of schedule,' I said.

  'But they should be here, surely.'

  'Not necessarily ... might have been heavy on the roads.'

  Silva put on the blinkers and pulled the motor up at the edge of the carpark, facing the exit junction.

  When the car came to a halt, Gail spoke. 'What now?'

  'We wait.'

  'For how long?'

  'Long as it takes.'

  It didn't take too long. I'd no sooner uttered the words than the big dark van pulled in. It was a heavily-armoured job. I couldn't see the driver's face but he drove cautiously, passing a spot at the front of the Little Chef and reversing into another one at the side.

  'This their routine?' I said.

  Silva was fiddling with the strap on his gloves. 'Yeah, yeah ... hang about, you'll see the bloke in the driver's side come out first.'

  The driver's door of the security van opened. He was a short bloke, squat. He walked to the back of the van, stretched a bit and then did a 180 and tapped on the side as he walked back towards the front.

  Silva stirred, went to grab the keys in the ignition.

  'Wait!' I said. 'Not until the other one's out.'

  The second door of the van opened up and a slimmer figure got out. It was a woman. I could tell by the shape. She had long red hair coming out the sides of her helmet. This looked like bad luck to me, but it was too late to back away.

  'Right, masks on! Gun the engine!'

  * * * *

  There's cons on the inside will tell you, looking back, these things happen in slow motion. Not for me they didn't. It was all happening at 100 mph.

  The tyres of the Toyota screeched to a halt as the two guards headed for the Little Chef. It had all gone to plan. We were between them and the van; they had nowhere to run.

  I was first out. Had the pair in my sights as I stared over the long barrel. 'Get your fucking hands up!' I sensed Ben and Gail running beside me but my vision was blurred through the ski-mask.

  'Fucking move it, you cunts!' Ben had come from nowhere. He pointed the gun at the woman's head. He was close enough to blow her fucking nut right off, helmet and all. She started to scream.

  'Shut your fucking hole!' roared Ben. He was side-stepping, dancing on his toes. The woman kept spinning. The whole scene made me dizzy.

  'You. Get the fucking van open.' I grabbed the stout bloke by the collar and marched him back to the van. He rattled keys as he went.

  'Fucking move, faster.'

  Gail kept at my rear as we went. We left Ben with the other guard but she was screaming her head off. I turned to Gail. 'Shut her the fuck up.'

  As I glanced back I saw Gail turn and look at her brother. He was slapping the redhead about. His gun was pushed right up in her helmet now.

  I roared at Gail again. 'Fucking hell ... sort that out!' She looked back at me and didn't seem to know what to do. The stocky bloke stood at the back of the van; he dropped the keys. I knew it was all delaying tactics. I pushed the gun into his gut. 'What are you fucking playing at?'

  'You haven't thought about this, have you?' he said.

  'What?'

  'You'll do thirty years.'

  I gave him a slap, bust his nose; it started to bleed. 'You'll not see another fucking day if you don't open that fucking van and get the money on the street.'

  He wiped the blood away from his face and kneeled down to retrieve the keys. I looked at my watch; we'd already wasted three of our six minutes. 'Hurry the fuck up!'

  'What's going on up there?' shouted Silva.

  It was chaos.

  The redhead was still screaming.

  Silva was revving the engine.

  I kicked the guard in the gut. 'Fucking move it!'

  'I'm looking for the keys.'

  I saw the keys on the ground; he'd shoved them out of his reach. I grabbed him by the collar and yanked him up. Gail was back at my side; she bent down and got the keys and gave them to me.

  The van door had a pin-combination pad and a lock. As the guard stood there contemplating the situation, he said, 'You don't want to do this.'

  'Fucking open it or I'll put your brain across the tarmac. Don't fucking test me on that.'

  Silva revved again; he was in a panic. 'Come on ... get the fucking thing open.'

  I turned to see Silva but my attention was grabbed by Ben. He had the redhead in a head lock and was dragging her to the back of the van. The gun was pointed in the air as he pushed on with his awkward load. 'What the fuck's going on up there?' he yelled out. 'Where's the fucking money?'

  He was level with us before I could speak again. The redhead was white with terror, whimpering and crying. When the other guard saw her it was like a bolt of bravery shot through him.

  'Now, look here, leave the woman alone!' he said.

  Ben stared at this fat fuck like he was ready to put a bullet in him. I knew things were spiralling out of control. I stepped in, grabbed the guard again. 'You stupid fucking cunt, open this door and get the money on the street or I will put a fucking bullet in your head sure as I fucking stand here.'

  He froze. Looked at the crying, whimpering woman. 'I can't do it.'

  I didn't believe this was happening. We'd turned up the one guard in the world who was prepared to duke it out with armed robbers.

  I looked at my watch again: we had hit five minutes. We didn't have enough time to unload the van. I turned towards the car. 'Right. Let's go!'

  Gail trooped beside me, but Ben stayed.

  'What the fuck are you doing?' he yelled.

  'Get in the fucking car. Now!' I beckoned him back but he was twitching and jumping like a lunatic. The idea of missing out on his take was high on his mind. I knew there was no chance of him listening to me. I was ready to dump him but as I turned to Silva I knew the chances of him leaving his boy behind were nil.

  'Get in the fucking car.' I yelled at him again, but it had no impact. I knew I'd have to drag him. As I turned tail, headed for Ben, he got even jumpier and started to wave the gun about.

  'Get back!' he said.

  'What? ... Put the fucking gun down.' I held out my hand to him, but he was gone and I
knew it. I kept walking towards him. He sensed I was almost on him when the gun went off.

  The redhead fell in a heap.

  A pool of dark red blood spilled out from beneath her head.

  'What have you done?' I said. The words seemed meaningless.

  I felt a rush at my back and saw Silva had got out of the car. He raced towards the scene and took it in. Ben had turned from us all and had the gun on the second guard now.

  'No, don't!' I said.

  'Okay. Okay ... I'll open it, I'll open it,' said the guard as Ben forced his shooter into the back of his neck.

  * * * *

  How we made it back to the flop, I have no idea.

  When we ditched the Toyota and got into the changeover car there were sirens wailing all over the shop.

  We'd fucked up, and I knew what that meant but the others had no idea.

  Silva had taken Ben into the back room as soon as we got to the farmhouse. I stayed in the front with Gail. She looked shaken.

  'You okay?' I said.

  She didn't answer at first, just stared at her fingers, then, 'Did you see all that blood? ... I've never seen blood like that.'

  I put an arm round her shoulder.

  'He's an animal,' she said.

  I presumed she was talking about her half-brother. 'What do you mean?'

  Gail started to cry. 'How could he do something like that?'

  I grabbed her tighter. All the while I was wondering how long we had before the filth started trawling for us. We were in serious shit now. I wanted to take my share of the money and get moving, but I didn't want to leave Gail behind.

  'Look, things haven't turned out right,' I said.

  'No kidding.'

  'We can't stay here now, it's not safe. I know someone who can help us, he's a friend and ...'

  She wasn't listening. As the door from the back room was opened and Ben strolled out, she got up and started to beat on his chest.

  'You fucking arsehole, you fucking idiot!' Gail slung punches and slaps as Ben ducked; Silva appeared at her back and dragged her to the sofa, dumped her.

  'You fucking stupid bitch!' yelled Ben. He had scratch marks running down the side of his face. I was ready to add to them.