Seconds before the explosion Danny Mitcham had managed to get out of the tunnel. He was in the basement when the blast hit him from behind and knocked him flying across the room. He ended up on the floor at the foot of the basement stairs, dazed and wondering what had happened. He knew that the police were on to them and they would have surrounded the back of the café. Looking round at the tunnel he could see the brick wall and wooden supports they’d inserted had collapsed and wondered if Silas and John were trapped under the soil and debris. He didn’t have time to try and help them: self-preservation and escape were his priority now.
Seeing the holdall of money and jewellery at the top of the basement stairs he grabbed it, as well as his donkey jacket which was hanging on the door. Then he ran to the top floor of the building. He looked into the bedrooms and found a chair which he used to stand on. After pushing the loft hatch open he threw the holdall up and pulled himself into the loft. Using his bare hands and feet he ripped and kicked away some of the roof tiles and squeezed through the hole onto the roof of the café. He looked around and could see smoke billowing up from the bank. He couldn’t believe the amount of glass and brick debris that covered the street below. Unseen he ran across the rooftops to the end of the terraced buildings where he shimmied down a cast-iron drainpipe to the ground. He could hear the distant scream of approaching sirens.
Clifford dumped the car a mile from home behind some garages. He set light to it, so as to ensure no trace of his fingerprints could be found. He was in a state of hysteria as he wandered the streets, gasping and trying to calm down, whilst wondering what to do. He had considered going on the run, but had no money, clothes or other means to survive and was too old and heavy now to break into houses. He thought about John and wished he was with him. He knew the police had rumbled them, but wondered if they already knew who was involved, or if they’d been watching the flat as well. Clifford made his mind up: he was going to go home and front it out. If the police started calling he’d say he was at a funeral wake with his wife, or shacked up with his mistress. He knew both of them would back him up for fear of a slap.
It was almost 6 a.m. and daylight when an exhausted Clifford returned to his flat on the Pembridge. He went straight to John’s room to see if he was there, but the reality was he knew he wouldn’t be. He went into the bathroom, undressed and splashed cold water over his face. The small jagged cuts were bleeding and he kept on splashing cold water over them before dabbing them with a white styptic pencil. The aluminium sulphate stung, but he knew it would cause the blood vessels to contract which would help to stop the bleeding.
He then went to his bedroom where Renee was asleep but lying fully clothed across the bed. The smell of alcohol coming from her permeated the room. He nudged her, but she just moaned, so he lifted her feet and repositioned her body to one side before getting into bed. As he lay next to her he stared at the ceiling and for the first time it entered his mind that John might still have been in the bank at the time of the explosion. His heart was pounding as he looked at Renee and wondered what on earth he was going to tell her and David.
Danny Mitcham had the spare key for the lock-up garage John Bentley had rented. When he got there he was shaking from the agonizing pain in his back. He thought maybe he had damaged some vertebrae when the blast from the explosion hit him. It wasn’t until he tried to remove his T-shirt, and it stuck to his back, that he realized he had been badly burned by the fireball, which had also singed the hair on the back of his head. He winced in agony as he eased off his T-shirt and his burnt skin peeled away. Looking over his shoulder Danny could see the bright red weeping blisters on his skin. He knew he needed the wound tended at a hospital, but he couldn’t risk going to one. He decided he would go out late at night and break into a chemist’s for what he needed to treat himself. He would also nick some clothes and food, then after a couple of days of lying low in the garage he’d make his way to Spain.
Danny looked inside the sports holdall and opened the pillowcases. In one there was a large amount of cash, which was all in fivers. In the others there was a little cash but mostly jewellery, items of gold and other valuables. He reckoned he’d done well for himself and smiled even more when he removed the large bags of heroin and cocaine from his trouser pockets. Now these really will make me rich, he thought to himself as he opened a bag of cocaine, put some on his fingers and sniffed it up his nose. He’d never taken any hard drugs, but needs must and he was glad when the cocaine kicked in, numbing the painful burns on his back.
