Jimmy shrugged. He looked down at the taxi, then back to Harry. ‘What do you want me to do?’
Harry put his hand out. ‘Give me a coupla hundred.’
Jimmy fished a bundle of banknotes out of his pocket. Harry grabbed them and set off down the hill. Tony watched him approach, opened the door and got inside. Harry climbed in beside him.
‘He got no right to do that to me — you owed me, you know?’
Harry gave him an ice-cold stare. ‘I hear the police have been asking you questions. That right, Tony?’
‘Yeah. They been to see my girl, too, and I don’ like it!’
‘Nor do I.’ Harry smiled nastily. ‘So I think you better take a trip, clear off for a few days.’
‘What do you think I am?’
Harry moved fast, reaching over and gripping Tony’s balls hard before he knew what was happening. Tony was in instant agony.
‘You want to hang on to these, you better do as I say, all right?’ Harry snarled.
Tony could only nod.
Harry let go. ‘Here, enjoy yourself!’ He tucked some notes into Tony’s shirt pocket. As he got out of the car, he turned and leaned in close. ‘I don’t wanna see you round for a while, all right?’
Tony hunched over the steering wheel, his face a grimace of pain. Harry slammed the door and walked back up the hill. Jimmy met him on the path and they both watched as the taxi screeched off, raising a cloud of dust in its wake.
‘You shouldn’t have let him go, Harry.’
Harry shrugged. ‘We got enough money to fix me a passport?’
Jimmy nodded. ‘Yeah, I think so.’ He dabbed at his nose, and Harry could smell blood alongside the usual reek of sweat.
‘I need it quick. I’m leaving tonight.’ Harry started down the hill.
Jimmy hurried after him. ‘Maybe we could talk about that bit of business now? D’you wanna take a look at it?’
Harry just wanted to be rid of him. ‘Yeah, yeah, I’ll take a look at it for you.’
Jimmy was all over him. ‘That’s great!’
Harry snapped, ‘Don’t they sell deodorant round here, Jimmy? You stink!’ He stalked off, leaving a crestfallen Jimmy literally stewing in his own juice.
Dolly drove to the convent and parked in the courtyard. Fortunately it was lunchtime, and she was able to get to the lockers, rip off the posters and remove the bags without being seen. They were so heavy, she had to take them to the car one at a time. Just as she closed the boot on the last one, the Mother Superior appeared at her side, as if out of nowhere.
She smiled. ‘Mrs. Rawlins...’
Startled, Dolly whipped round.
‘How nice to have you back.’ The Mother Superior smiled graciously. ‘I hope you enjoyed your holiday.’
Dolly was desperate to get out. Suddenly she spotted a strap from one of the rucksacks sticking out of the boot. The Mother Superior watched as Dolly opened the boot and tucked it back in.
‘I was, er, just collecting a few belongings from the lockers...’ She desperately tried to think of an explanation. ‘For the Brownies.’
‘Oh, then you’ll be seeing Mrs. Gregory.’
Dolly stopped. ‘I’m sorry, who?’
‘Mrs. Gregory — Brown Owl.’
‘Oh... yes,’ Dolly stammered. ‘Yes, of course. I’m collecting these for Mrs. Gregory. I... I really must go.’
The Mother Superior watched Dolly’s little green Fiesta drive out of the main gates, then walked slowly back to the main door.
Strange woman, Mrs. Rawlins, she thought to herself, always seeming to be in a rush. But a good woman, she was sure; a very good woman.
Jimmy’s kitchen was littered with empty beer cans and dirty dishes as usual. Harry ripped the top off a beer can and took a deep pull while Jimmy leafed through an old copy of Vogue magazine Maria had brought back from the hotel where she worked as a cleaner. Harry wanted to get back to London as soon as possible, and the waiting was making him edgy.
Jimmy pushed the magazine over to Harry. ‘Here, Harry, take a look at this.’
Harry looked at the centerfold spread in front of him. Photographed on black velvet were rows and rows of the most exquisite rubies, diamonds and emeralds — necklaces, earrings, tiaras, rings. As Jimmy leaned over him, Harry again caught the stench of his BO.
‘I talked it over with Micky Tesco while he was stayin’ here. You know Micky, don’t you, Harry?’
Harry lit a cigarette with a bored expression and shook his head. He looked at his watch.
‘You sure this passport’s on its way?’
‘Yeah, the guy says he’ll ring soon’s it’s ready.’ Jimmy leaned closer. ‘Look at these babies, Harry. You know how much this lot’s worth? Eight million. That’s eight million quid’s worth right there. Turn over the page.’
Harry looked at his watch again as he flipped the page.
‘Look, Harry, I promise you, you’ll be on the plane. But you just look at the blurb down the side of the picture, there. Look what it says.’
Harry read it. It was advertising a forthcoming charity fashion show being put on at Amanda’s nightclub in three weeks’ time, and all the jewelry on display was lent by Asprey, Garrard, Nijinsky — you name it.
Harry frowned. So what?
Jimmy rummaged through a drawer and came back with a stack of photographs. He grinned at Harry.
‘Micky Tesco, he’s a sharp one. You sure you never heard of him?’
Harry sighed. ‘I told you, I don’t know Micky Tesco.’
‘He was on an embassy job. He’s a clever lad.’ Jimmy riffled through the photographs until he found the one he wanted, and placed it down proudly in front of Harry. It showed Jimmy with his arm round a tall, blond, handsome young man with a mean expression on his face.
Harry gave it a bored look.
‘You see, you gotta have a crack team, Harry. For eight million, it’d be worth forking out a bit for the best.’ He shoved the magazine under Harry’s nose. ‘All those little jewels will be on loan for the night. Look at ’em!’ He picked up the photograph of Micky. ‘He’s a good-looking feller, isn’t he? And he’s sharp, he’s very sharp, Harry.’ He shrugged. ‘But he’s young. He needs the right man with him — someone with your experience, someone who knows the ropes.’ Jimmy was still going on about it when the phone rang.
Harry jerked his head for Jimmy to answer.
As he picked up the phone, Jimmy was saying, ‘I’d go over there myself, Harry, I’d pull it myself, but if I set one foot in London you know what’s gonna happen to me.’
Harry knew only too well. Jimmy’s past history was well known in the business. Jimmy’d always been a loser — he’d pulled that job at the airport, was picked up for it and did eight years. The stash he’d had from it he’d left with his wife, Myra — £22,000. But Myra’s visits had soon stopped, and when poor old Jimmy got out of the nick there was no Myra, and no money. It turned out Myra had been having an affair with one of his closest mates. He had gone off to find him, his wife and his money. He never found his wife or his money, but he found the bloke, and he hit him a little bit too hard. He’d been on the run for two months when Harry had fronted him the money to get out of the country, and Jimmy had been in Rio ever since. Harry watched Jimmy talking on the phone and shook his head sadly. Poor Jimmy, always a loser, and now here he was, living in this shithole, still hustling, still after the big one.
‘Passport’s ready,’ Jimmy announced, putting the phone down. ‘You wanna come along with me and pick it up?’
Harry shook his head. ‘I’ll take a shower, get myself together.’
‘OK by me, Harry. I’ll be about half an hour.’ Halfway out of the door he grinned, paused and pointed a finger at the magazine spread. ‘Whaddya think, Harry? You could set it up, easy. It just needs somebody like you, Harry, to get things organized. It’ll be like taking jam from a baby. Just look at them!’