He did as he was told and a green Ford Transit van, with Security Express logos on the side, drove into the yard and reversed into the loading bay. Four men dressed in blue boiler suits and balaclavas got out of the vehicle while the driver, also wearing a balaclava, lay across the front seats. One was carrying a sawn-off shotgun and the other three had handguns. Two of them ran up to the control room and one remained in the downstairs corridor by the entry door. When they arrived, the priest dragged Harry to the toilet, then took off his glasses and put on a balaclava and stayed with him.

The man with the sawn-off pointed it at Archie.

‘When the supervisor arrives to do his check, you let him in, or I’ll blow your fuckin’ brains out,’ he said in an Irish accent.

A terrified Archie nodded repeatedly as he was pushed down into the control desk chair, while the other man held the gun to his head.

‘The keys to the cash vault are locked in the safe and we don’t know the numbers for it,’ Archie said.

The man with the gun slapped the back of his head hard.

‘If yer hand so much as twitches towards that panic button, I will pull the trigger.’ He also had an Irish accent.

Archie folded his arms, squeezed them tight to his chest and began to shake with fear.

At 8.30 a.m. on the dot the supervisor pulled up at the gate, got out of his car and pressed the intercom. The man with the shotgun ran down the stairs and joined his colleague.

‘Morning, Archie.’

‘Morning, boss.’

‘Has Harry not gone home yet?’ the supervisor asked, noticing his car was still in the yard.

Archie felt the gun being pressed hard against his head.

‘Answer him.’

‘He’s just having a cuppa and a chat with me.’

‘OK, make me one, will ya?’

Archie pressed the button to open the gate and before he knew it, he was dragged out of the chair, slammed to the ground face down and a pillowcase was put over his head. He was then tied up with duct tape and dragged to the toilet by the man with the handgun. The priest let the two blindfolded guards know he was with them, so not to bother trying to escape.

As the supervisor opened the ground floor door and stepped into the corridor, he saw the masked man pointing the sawn-off shotgun at him. He wasn’t aware of the other man behind the door, who kicked it shut and stuck a gun in his back.

‘Top of the mornin’ to ya, mister supervisor,’ he said in a deep, calm voice.