Chapter Sixty-Five

Noel and Jamsie were nervous. They had arranged this sure in the knowledge that they would arrive at the Communion in time for the service and the clock was ticking. As they sat in the white Transit van with the Daly brothers, they were sweating with apprehension and anticipation. Noel kept his hand on the pump-action shotgun purchased especially for this occasion. He liked the feel of it, the knowledge that he had it close by. Powerful guns were like expensive cars – they said something about you personally, made you feel good about yourself. He glanced at his brother and they exchanged uncertain smiles.

They were at the top of Green Lane and, at any moment, a Securicor van stuffed full of bank notes would be travelling towards them. It was the monthly run from the Bank of England. The van carried used notes that were on their way to be burned. They were old, tattered, too long in circulation. Only this time, if they pulled it off, the notes would be legal tender once again.

It was a fucking doddle. The only real problem would be getting the doors of the van open, and that was it. The Dalys had a high-velocity rifle that would easily penetrate the windshield and then they’d rip it out with crowbars. The men inside would open the back doors without a second’s thought! Any heroes would be despatched easily enough – no one would be shot fatally, but a shattered kneecap was normally enough to ensure everyone’s co-operation. At least that was what the Daly brothers had assured them.

The radio was on low, and Queen were singing ‘We Are The Champions’. Jamsie grinned. It was a fitting song, considering what they were about to do.

It was a beautiful day, and Jamsie was glad; he wanted his little sister’s big day to go well for her. They had lived and breathed this fucking Communion for weeks now. He was feeling sick with excitement, knowing that what they were about to do could easily cause them serious trouble but, like Noel, he needed to prove to everyone that they were capable of doing things on their own.

Gerry Daly put on his balaclava, and they immediately followed suit. Paddy Daly pulled the Transit van out from the kerb and into the path of the Securicor van quickly and expertly.

There was a screeching of tyres and then all hell broke loose.

Chapter Sixty-Six