Widows

Joe walked back up the quarry. In one hand he carried his ‘irons’ in a long black wooden case lined with red felt; in the other he carried a dead pheasant. Terry watched as Joe went over to his Lancia and placed the gun case and bird in the boot. Joe was tall, six-three, maybe more, with dark Italian looks, and he was obsessed with physical fitness. He was lean, with a chiseled face, and those odd-colored eyes — hazel, maybe? He was a tough man, and Terry was glad they were on the same side.

Terry signaled to Joe and the two men checked their watches before checking out the dummy security van. Harry Rawlins liked everything to be ready before his arrival, and Joe and Terry carefully went over every detail: the money sacks were weighted; the vehicles’ positions exactly measured to reflect where they’d be for the raid itself. After the rehearsal, it would be their job to clean the cars and bread truck and take them back to the lock-up.

The bread truck now sounded as if its engine was running smoothly. Jimmy got out of the driving seat and gave the thumbs up to Joe and Terry over by the dummy van. They made him nervous — well, Joe scared him more than Terry. He didn’t know exactly what the job was yet, and he was aware he was still on trial, but he admired Harry Rawlins and wanted to be in on his team.

Harry’s silver Merc was so quiet it seemed to float over the gravel road. No one heard it arriving, but as soon as Terry and Joe saw it pull up and Harry get out they almost stood to attention, like troops about to be inspected by their commanding officer. With his fawn cashmere coat hanging over his shoulders, his immaculately tailored navy suit, his black briefcase and his dark glasses, Harry Rawlins looked more like a city banker than a man about to rehearse a security raid. He went over to Joe and Terry.

‘He’s got the bread van purring like a kitten. It’ll be no bother now,’ said Terry.

Harry looked over at the BMW getaway car and nodded at Jimmy.

This was Jimmy’s big chance. He ran to the BMW, jumped in, started her up and, with a screeching smoking wheel spin, accelerated round the quarry at an incredible speed, sweating as the car screamed up and down. Speeding past the three men, he pulled on the handbrake, did a one-eighty turn and accelerated away again. In his rearview mirror, he saw Terry grinning and giving him the thumbs up.