John could hear the doctor saying that it wasn’t pneumonia, but a severe bronchial infection, and David should stay in bed for a couple of days. He wrote out a prescription for some antibiotics and Renee thanked him for coming, before showing him out.
‘I’m going out to get David’s prescription,’ she said, taking her coat down from the hall stand. Clifford shrugged, indifferent, as she picked up her purse.
‘Do you want me to get somethin’ in for your tea?’
‘No, we’ve had ours. And we’re goin’ out to a club,’ Clifford said.
‘But David’s in no fit state to go drinking. You heard what the doc said, didn’t ya?’
‘I meant me and John, you dozy mare. So don’t wait up.’
Renee buttoned up her coat and stared at him accusingly before leaving.
David lay in bed feeling as if his body was on fire. His chest was hurting, as well as his leg and his back, and the headache he had was unbearable. He was annoyed that he wasn’t taking any further part in the robbery for at least two days. But the reality was he knew he was too ill to sit in the cold car park for another night.
John walked in and took the walkie-talkie from David’s bedside drawer. He looked at the profusely sweating face of his brother.
‘We’re off now. You get plenty of rest and take them antibiotics when Mum’s back. We told her we’re off to a club, OK?’
‘I’m sorry, John, but will I lose any of my cut because I can’t go wiv ya?’
‘Course not, you stupid bugger. Family always share, right?’
It was six thirty when Clifford and John left the flat and headed out of the estate to get the van from the lock-up, unaware that their movements were being monitored, and a fleet of surveillance vehicles would be on their tail.
Everything was going smoothly as the surveillance vehicles followed at a distance behind John and Clifford Bentley, who were now in the ‘rung’ van travelling in the direction of Great Eastern Street. Undercover officers were on the number 55 bus tailing Danny Mitcham, who, like the Bentleys, clearly hadn’t got a clue what was going on around him. Bradfield’s hunch about the bell man had been spot on.
Op Three at the shoe shop relayed in code that John and Clifford had just pulled up at the rear of the café and Silas had come out to open the gates, which he had unlocked earlier in anticipation of their arrival.
Five minutes later Danny Mitcham was seen by officers from Op Four, which was the flat belonging to the elderly woman in the derelict building opposite. Mitcham was strolling casually down Great Eastern Street and, stopping in front of the café, he had a quick look around before knocking on the door. As soon as Silas opened it he slipped inside.
Bradfield was still in his office catching up on paperwork, but finding it hard to concentrate as the anticipation of the night ahead ran through his body like adrenalin. He was able to monitor the situation by listening to one of the surveillance radios he had with him, and DS Gibbs was keeping in contact from Op Three by telephone. It was his intention to go to one of the observation points in Great Eastern Street later in the evening.
Gibbs was concerned that the multistorey car park might not be the lookout point for the gang, as John Bentley hadn’t driven in to drop anyone off. Nor had they seen anyone enter with a vehicle to drive up to the top floor, or for that matter even go up on foot. He was about to phone DCI Bradfield when Clifford Bentley was seen exiting the café from the rear. He walked up the alley, across the main road and towards the car park.
‘Fuck off, you stinking bastard,’ Clifford said as he kicked the legs of the drunken tramp lying on some cardboard boxes by the stairwell to the upper floors.
Groaning, the tramp watched Clifford climb up the stairs out of sight before putting his mittened left hand up to his mouth and pressing the transmit button concealed on his wrist, which operated the hidden radio sewn into his coat.
Gibbs breathed a sigh of relief. He rang Bradfield from the secure line they’d installed in the shoe shop, and updated him.
‘Good job, Spence – I heard it on the surveillance radio but didn’t have a code book in front of me so was having to guess some of what was said. What’s it like in the shoe shop?’
‘Bit of a shithole compared to the old lady’s flat, but of course that’s where you decided you’d like to watch from for some reason,’ Spence said cynically.
