Danny laughed. ‘Yeah, maybe a bit bigger then, but we’ll need more wood to shore the tunnel up, and we can dig under the other iron security bars on the right-angle wall of the bank’s basement. Once we’re a little way under the vault we drill through the concrete floor. It should be easy street from there on in.’
John was pleased, realizing the job might be completed sooner than he had initially thought. He said he had more wood in the lock-up garage. He pulled on his overalls as Danny handed the pieces of cut iron bar and bricks through the hole to Silas, who put them into a rubble sack.
David stared down at the dark street below. Once more he was glad that the height of the concrete wall of the car park was low enough to allow him to sit in his wheelchair, as he would have been in intense pain if he had had to stand throughout the night.
He raised the binoculars and began to scan the streets surrounding the café. He felt increasingly tired as the hours passed, and only a few cars, buses and black cabs moved up and down the otherwise empty roads. He figured it was so quiet because the location bordered on the City of London with its banking and financial offices, which were all closed at night, and there was little residential housing in the area.
It was 3 a.m. when he was suddenly woken by the sound of raised voices and glass breaking down below in the car park, directly opposite the café. Due to the angle he couldn’t see who was making the noise, unless he leaned over the car-park wall.
He cursed himself for dozing off as he pressed the button on the walkie-talkie. He was about to say ‘David to John’ when he remembered they weren’t supposed to use names, but John had not said anything about coded call signs so he improvised on the spot.
‘Eagle to Brushstroke… Eagle to Brushstroke, over,’ he said, released the talk button and waited for a reply.
In the basement John and the others were taking turns digging, and filling sacks with soil. When they heard David on the radio they looked at each other with bemusement.
‘What the fuck is he on about?’ John exclaimed angrily as he grabbed his walkie-talkie and indicated for Danny and Silas to stop working so he could speak with David.
‘I said no contact unless urgent.’
‘It is, persons opposite you, over.’
‘Who?’
‘Don’t know, can’t see them.’
‘Well, get in a position you can!’
David sighed as he hated heights and certainly didn’t fancy leaning further over the wall, which was nearly fifty feet from the ground. He slowly raised himself out of the wheelchair. He felt dizzy as he bent over the wall and looked down to see a silver bulbous rose which he recognized straightaway as being the top of a policeman’s helmet. The officer was remonstrating with a drunk vagrant who had obviously, from the wet stream on the pavement, been having a piss up against the car-park wall. David could see brown glass from a broken beer bottle glistening in the street light. He assumed the vagrant had dropped or thrown the bottle. He watched as the officer gave him a slap round the head and told him he was nicked.
David crouched down, pressed the talk switch and whispered, ‘Stay quiet, it’s a rozzer nicking a pissed-up tramp.’
There was a crackle and David was unsure if he’d got through.
‘Do you read me? Keep the noise down – he’s right opposite the front of the café, over.’
‘Make contact when you have the all-clear, over,’ John answered, knowing that a paddy wagon would probably be on the way to pick up the arrested vagrant.
He whispered to Silas and Danny that they would have to stop work and remain totally silent for as long as it took for the drunk to be carted off.
David stayed crouched down and a few minutes later heard the sound of the policeman’s radio, but not what was being said. He peeked over the wall and saw the officer lift the vagrant by the scruff of the neck and drag him across the road towards the café. His heart began to beat rapidly and his mouth went dry as he wondered whether or not to make further contact with John. As the officer turned and looked up the street David ducked down and he could feel himself shaking with nerves, and although cold he began to sweat as he called John.
‘Stay quiet, he’s outside the café now.’
As John pressed the received button, Silas dropped the brick he had been holding straight onto a large tin of paint, sending a loud reverberating clang echoing around the room, which came through on David’s radio.
Shit, shit, shit! David thought to himself as he watched the officer, who was now peering in through the café window. His mind was racing. He was panicking and wondered if he should scarper in his wheelchair, but he knew his brother would beat him black and blue if he did. He pressed the talk button.
‘For Christ’s sake what’s going on in there? The copper’s lookin’ in the window now.’
Below in the basement the men froze and John glared at Silas for his blundering stupidity.
