‘They got me back to London Airport right enough. Easy. There was a hire car waiting for us. All according to plan. When it comes to organisation, those boys are second to none.’
‘They should run the country,’ I said ironically.
‘They do, Michael, they do, believe me. Anyway, we steamed onto the M4 and I pondered on the fate they had in store for me. My imagination wasn’t up to it, though my expectations kept tormenting me. What those lads can do to you don’t bear thinking about, but they try the sophisticated way first by locking you in for a couple of days with Dr Anderson. It usually works. Not a mark on you. But if it doesn’t (and it wouldn’t with me) out comes the tool kit. I was just about ready to be sick, but keeping a good face on it, when the car slows, to curses from the driver. A car in front had braked and we were too close to swerve out and overtake, so had to brake with it. Another car behind homed in. We were topped and tailed, the oldest manoeuvre in the book. My brain clicked into action. When I’m not using my brain I think it’s turning into a cabbage and that I’m a walking case of senile decay. I can’t remember anything at times, or think through the simplest problem. But when it’s a matter of being in peril, a time when action is needed, I’m as clear as tissue paper and as quick as a snake.
‘The two cars were from Moggerhanger Limited, and I knew they wanted me safe in their manor because I was worth close to a hundred thousand when they got me. This was the hijack. The Green Toe Gang hadn’t known that Moggerhanger had suborned me, so clearly they didn’t expect it. Kenny Dukes got out of one car with three of his pals. One of them was Ron Cottapilly, the other was Paul Pindarry and the third I’d never seen before. Cottapilly had once been on footpad duty nicking wallets and jewellery after midnight in the West End. He held me up once with a knife — a terrible mistake for him, because I punched him so hard all round the clock and up and down the compass that he ended up pleading for his life. Him and Pindarry worked for Jack Leningrad, remember? Now they’re going straight, being employed by Moggerhanger.
‘Three blokes got out of the other car. One was Toffeebottle, one was Jericho Jim, and the other I didn’t know. All of them had claw hammers, and Kenny had a shooter. While the others smashed the windows, Kenny shot the tyres. Two of the blokes came for me, but I hit one, kneed the other, and was up the bank with more bullets whizzing at my brain box than I’d heard since Normandy. I zig-zagged. Do you know, Michael, every chap should do military service. A stint with the Old Stubborns is absolutely vital, because there’s bound to be some time in your life when you need the expertise, either to defend your country, or to defend yourself from it. It don’t matter which. But the old infantry training’s saved my life more times than I care to think about. Breaks my heart to see fat young chaps riding about on motorbikes or lounging on street corners. They should be learning unarmed combat, weapons handling, fieldcraft, marksmanship — basic training for life.’
My scornful look stopped him. ‘I’ve had none of that, and I can take care of myself.’
‘Ah, happen so, Michael, but you’d take care of yourself a lot better with it. Anyway, you’re different. But to cut a long story short, one of ’em chased me up that bank, but at the top I turned and kicked him so smartly under the chin he went rolling right back onto the hard shoulder. I don’t know what they feed people on these days, honest I don’t, because the others down by the cars, instead of coming up after me, just watched me kick this bloke as if they was at the theatre and we was actors on the stage. Honest to God, I thought they were going to clap. I’d have waited if I hadn’t seen Kenny Dukes reloading his shooter. Then I was off towards some houses in the distance.
‘It was afternoon and would soon be dark, so I had to get my bearings and reach civilisation. I tell you, Michael, I felt like an escaped prisoner of war, because listen to the state I was in. After landing and getting through the customs, while we were in the car park, they took my wallet and passport and my shoes as well. Would you believe it? I’m surprised in a way they didn’t give me the needle to keep me quiet till I got to a dungeon under Westminster Abbey or the London Mosque. They didn’t think the expense was justified, I suppose. Even so, they were taking no chances, though an ambush wasn’t expected.
‘Another thing was that when I shinned up that bank I didn’t realise I’d got no shoes on. Such was my impulse to get away I’d have run through hot coals and broken bottles. As for no money, a mere trifle. Identification papers had never bothered me. I’d never known who I was anyway, except that I was myself, and that’s all that mattered. If you know who you are, other people can get at you, and we don’t want that, do we? I can see those questions burning behind your eyes. Well, I’m in a right mess, I thought as I came to a lane. Luckily I’d done a bunk just beyond Junction Three, the London side, so the next exit for eastbound traffic wasn’t till Gunnersbury, about six miles away. It would take them fifteen minutes at the soonest to turn round, come back to Junction Three and swing north to try and head me off. In that time I could do at least a mile and lose myself in the streets of Ealing. I’d driven so much around London I’d got an A to Z in my head — of the main roads and districts anyway.
‘But money was the problem. It always is. It was what got me into the mess in the first place, and now it would have to get me out. I’d a few Swiss francs in coins in one pocket, and the equivalent of ten bob in the other — very useful for a bloke on the run, though not much cop for the likes of me. I had to think fast. I was walking so quick that in about twenty minutes — they hadn’t taken my watch — I got to Southall station. The sodium lights glowed, and I skulked along as if wanted by every police force or outlaw gang in the world. This wasn’t how I was feeling, Michael. It was tactical. I was really out of my mind with happiness at having got away. I knew that if they were looking for me they’d be expecting to spot an over-confident tall thinnish fellow walking along as if he owned the world — barefoot or not. So I pulled up the collar of my hundred guinea bespoke suit, fastened all three buttons, pulled my tie off and looped it round my waist, and sloped along in the shadows like a wino who’d just been given a talking-to by a do-gooder from Eel Pie Island. And as for that railway station, don’t think I would go into it in my present physical state. Not on your big soft cock. If they swung off that Gunnersbury roundabout and looked at the map that’s the first place their eyes would light on. They could be as tactical as I was when they’d been thwarted. I hope this tale’s something you’re learning a bit from, Michael. It’s a bit cautionary, like, in more ways than one.’
I gave him a nod.
‘Well, thank goodness the district was more like Bombay than Blighty, because I found an Indian Allsort store where I knew I could do a little trading, and went in out of the cold and dark. They had everything for sale, from cheap wristwatches and Russian junk radios to a second-hand clothes department behind a curtain. The chap who ran it was tall, very handsome and wore a turban. A couple of kids played on the floor, and his wife sat by the checkout.’
‘“What can I do for you?” he asked me.
‘“I’m in trouble,” I told him. You have to come straight out with it at such times. I have an instinct, Michael. I can always spot a face that’s going to help me. I knew he wouldn’t panic, or turn me in after offering me a cup of strong tea with all the sugar I want, like your average Englishman — or anyone else, come to that. I laid my case straight in front of him. “I’ve been robbed, and this is how they left me. I’d just got off the plane after two years in the States, and these white thugs stuck me up at gunpoint, bundled me into a car, took everything I’d got and threw me on the motorway. Can you help me?”