The Train Robbery

Part 3

In a clear calm and composed tone, Captain Adams said "We are going to a small house on the outskirts of Edinburgh. Don't worry; I'll give you a lot more money than Mr King promised you." He smirked. It was not a good look. Before he had looked commanding; now he looked positively evil.

I drove as directed along the narrow winding road, my mind racing. "How much more money?" I asked, playing for time.

"Twice as much. The old bugger, Mr King, was going to make a fortune, just give us the leftovers."

He suddenly seemed willing to chat. He had lost his officer bearing and was now a nervous garrulous man. "Half a million," he said. "I have been offered two hundred thousand for it in used notes. He was going to take the lion's share, leave us with a pittance."

Ten thousand was more than a pittance to me. More like unimaginable wealth. But then I wasn't from the officer class. I kept him talking. "What are you going to do with it?" All the time, driving as directed. My mind was racing. This was unexpected, I had thought the whole thing was done and dusted.

"Get out of this country. I hate the place! Grey buildings, grey people, grey weather. It's France for me. Not the bits we were in during the war. The south. I was there as a student, before the war. Cheap houses, cheap wine. Sunshine!" I could see the attraction. A huge house, sunshine, wine. But it was all at a cost to the others. They needed this chance. This bugger was betraying everyone.

I knew he wouldn't give me more money. I'd be lucky to get out of this alive. The only reason I didn't have a hole in my head the size of a grapefruit was, I suspected, that he couldn't drive. He could probably ride any horse like one of Buffalo Bill's cowboys my father used to talk about – but driving was too dirty and messy for him. He needed a driver. S I was safe for now.

I thought about the rest of the lads. Billy and the others. They had risked their lives in the war for nothing and now they were going to be cheated again.

I could feel a cold calculating anger growing within me. But I drove normally, listening to Captain Adam's complaints about all the work had done, preparing for the robbery. I nodded occasionally.

I needed to concentrate on my driving. It was dark and the roads were unmetalled; dirt tracks really. I was used to driving in the city, not in these rural backwaters. We were driving along a particularly narrow country road when I saw my chance. There was a thick hedge to the left hand side of the road. I checked the gun. The Webley was now in Captian Adam's lap, loosely held in his right hand. A Mark VI, judging by the grip. I accelerated slightly, braced myself, and then steered into the verge, hitting the hedge. The van came to an abrupt halt. Captain Adams fell forward, banging his head on the screen. I grabbed the gun and hit him as hard as I could. My brother had always mocked my punches when we fought as kids, but this was a good one. Maybe it was the weight of the revolver. I enjoyed the feeling even though it hurt my hand. I hit him again. The first punch was from anger; the second was just for my enjoyment. He was definitely out for the count. There was a tow rope in the back of the van. All sensible drivers took them in those days. I tied him up, and gagged him with an oily rag. Just in case he tried to tempt me with more offers of money. I threw him in the back of the van. Then I drove to the arranged rendezvous. It was a remote abandoned farm, but I had studied the route well enough. There were two white stones marking the long winding track to the farm. No wonder it was abandoned. I couldn't imagine living out here in the wilds. The farm was derelict; just an abandoned farm house and a tumbling down barn. Mr King was standing outside the farm house, looking impatient.

"You're late," Mr King started. "Was there a problem?"

I nodded, "Captain Adams had another plan. But I persuaded him to come back here." I nodded at the van. "He's tied up in the back." I'd rehearsed the line while driving.

"He was going to betray us? So that's why he wanted to go with you in the van. He said it was in case you couldn't find this place." He shouted in to the others, "Get the van unloaded." Then to me. "We'll deal with Captain Adams later." He waved over to a couple of the men. He ordered them to carry the dazed Captain Adams into the barn. They did so without too much consideration for his comfort.

Billy was relishing the role of being an NCO and supervised the loading of the sacks of money into waterproof bags, then into half empty beer barrels. This was another of Mr King's ploys. The money was to be transported in a beer delivery van. And if stopped, there was beer in the barrels. The van had been borrowed from a brewery near by – together with its driver and his mate. This was the last leg. The barrels were to be delivered to a house south of Edinburgh and stored untouched until the hue and cry died down.

The van was loaded and drove off. I asked Mr King if the driver could be trusted. He gave me a rueful grin. "I hope so," he replied. "I know their addresses and those of their families. But then I trusted Captain Adams."

I drove the furniture van into the barn. Hopefully it wouldn't be found for a while. I saw Captain Adams on the ground, slowly stirring. I resisted the temptation to hit him again

Mr King met me outside the barn. "What should we do with Captain Adams?"

I was uncertain. He was a traitor, yes. My first instinct was that of military justice. A bullet. But this was peace time. Then a sudden thought. "Do you know how to contact the men from the other car? The railway workers?"

He stroked his chin. It was several hours since he had shaved. "No, the Captain dealt with them. He handpicked them; I didn't want to know the details. Security."

I grimaced. "We need him then. We need to pay them."

He scratched his head. "We need to pay them," he echoed. "I blame myself. I should have kept details of everyone. I became over keen to preserve security." He shook his head in remorse.

He gathered everyone together in among the clutter of what had once been the kitchen of the farm house "Just one more toy to put back in its box," Mr King started, addressing us all. "Captain Adams. What will we do about him?"