Chapter 23

One week to go.

The gang of four sat listening, as Mazza, looking like some wartime General that you would see on old news reels, now went through every stage of the operation.

The 1961 Consul 375 lowline together with the 1960 white J4 Morris Van both of which after being used were then to be disposed of, now stood in the workshop. Each one had been checked, then checked again, to avoid the risk of any breakdowns.

Tom and Danny were told that after stopping the bullion van, it would then be their responsibility to tie both the driver and his mate to a tree.

Mazza and Sean meanwhile would start unloading the sacks of cash, after which Tom would join in the unloading, while Danny stood watch with the shot gun making sure the men did not move or call out for help. The shotgun now lay on the bench in front of them. Sean leaned forward and caressed the blued steel barrels like you would a lover, then smiled across at his friend, Danny, who frowned back at him.

When finally all the verbal details had been given out, they all piled into the Jaguar, as even the drive down the M1 to the chosen pub had to be timed to the minute. Mazza, it seemed was leaving nothing to chance. They drove first out on to the A5, after which they headed south to meet up with the M1 near Coventry. Danny sat back comfortably in one of the car’s back seats looking out of the window as the houses flew by, noticing that the streetlights were just lighting up as the night drew in.

He now thought back to doing this same trip with his Mum and Dad in their old Hillman Minx, when going to see relatives in London just a few years before. In his mind he wondered what the hell he was doing, sat here, getting mixed up in a major robbery.

As they arrived at the Inn, he saw it was called the ‘Cross keys’. This was situated off the last junction of the M1 motorway before it reached the Watford gap and was a large pub that relied for much of its trade on the passing coaches that travelled between the Midlands and London daily. This was in Mazza’s eyes ideal; not many local busybodies would be there to take too much notice of them.

After having just one drink, they left, Mazza being satisfied that all his planning was paying off. Danny fell asleep on the journey home, not arriving there until late in the evening, so after this both himself and Tom decided to go straight home. This was much to Sean’s annoyance as he wanted them both to join him in visiting the ‘Watersplash’ night club. He ended up going alone in a foul mood, but not before calling both of his friends ‘wimps’.

Easter Saturday dawned bright and sunny, with the weather forecast saying it would remain that way. Two sunny dry days assured that there would be large crowds visiting the race meeting at Stafford.

The workshop that morning looked like a cross between a men’s outfitters and a general store as the clothes they were to change into for the job before they left for the M1 were all hanging on separate hangers. The masks and coveralls were in four neat piles on the bench. Next the petrol tank levels on each of the motors was once more checked until finally at around twelve o’clock all the preparations were complete. Mazza shook each of their hands, after which he told them to piss off. But he warned them all to be back in the workshop at three thirty pm on the dot.

As they all went to leave, he pulled Danny to one side, and grasping his friend’s face in his hands he said, “Do not worry son, I shall make sure everything goes to plan, trust me, okay.”

Danny just smiled, then nodded his head. Words were not needed as he knew what his friend was trying to tell him. Once outside Tom wanted to know what Mazza had said, but Danny just answered that he was just reassuring him.

Tom’s reaction to this was, “Why the fuck just you? I am after all the youngest.”

Danny laughed at his cousin’s reaction but said no more. Three thirty pm finally came, so each of them now took up their positions. The weather, thankfully, was dry and sunny. Danny was told to ride with Sean in the J2 Van. On the journey there he felt sick and after reaching Stafford his stomach was still churning over as they turned into the lane ready for the ambush. He looked at his watch and saw that they were well on time, so they parked up on a piece of scrub land that allowed them to see in the van’s rear-view mirror when the security van would be turning into the lane.

Meanwhile Tom rode in the Consul with Mazza. This, they parked just a little way back from the entrance to the racecourse from where they had a good view of anyone leaving. Both were dressed in dark coveralls and wearing woolly hats which could be pulled down quickly to become a mask with just the eyes and mouth cut out.

As Danny sat in the van waiting, he found he was sweating, partly due to the thick coveralls but mostly with fear, but Sean just sat talking about anything and everything with not a worry in the world, just as if they were out on a picnic outing. He explained to Danny that the shotgun was loaded with heavy duty shot, so that when they fired it into the van’s radiator this would cause it to burst open immediately filling the cab of the van with steam. Danny asked if this was wise in case it harmed the two men inside. At this Sean laughed before calling his friend a little worrier, which Danny readily admitted he was.

Five, forty five, this being exactly one hour after the last race had finished, meaning that most of the day’s crowds had already departed. The sun by now was beginning to set when Mazza pointed to the entrance of the racecourse. Where they now saw a dark blue Morris van with the logo, Chase Security painted on its side, had pulled out into the light traffic before heading south on the A513 towards Lichfield.

Mazza pulled away, keeping at least two cars behind the van until they had moved into the countryside, leaving the last urban area of Stafford behind. It was a warm evening for April, so they had both car windows wound down. After a few miles they saw the sign saying ‘Milford’ come into view, then as soon as they had passed through this small village, Mazza called out, “Here we go son.”

They saw that the left indicator on the van had begun to flash, as it slowed down before turning into the lane. The Consul followed them into the lane, then stopped. After jumping out of the car they quickly pulled the “Road Closed Ahead” sign across, blocking the lane’s entrance. Then they jumped back into the car to follow the van which they could see was just disappearing around a bend.

Further along the lane Sean had seen the van come into sight, so he quickly pulled out to block the lane. Danny and Sean pulled down the masks as, looking in the mirror, they watched as the van came to a halt behind them. They both jumped out and came around to face the front of the van. They could see the man in the passenger seat frantically pointing at them while shouting at his mate who then tried to reverse, but he could see in his mirror that a Consul saloon had stopped behind him blocking his way.

Sean now pointed to the driver telling him to open his window, but this instruction was ignored, so shaking his head he pointed the shot gun at the van’s radiator and fired. Two things happened almost simultaneously - firstly the radiator seemed to explode as steam and water flew everywhere including inside the van’s cab, secondly both doors now opened as both men jumped out holding their hands in the air. The passenger who was by now shaking like a shitting dog called out, ‘Don’t shoot. We will do whatever you want.”

By this time Mazza had appeared, so he immediately took charge by calling out in a broad Irish accent, “Open the fecking rear doors, ya prossie bastards.”

This they did in an instant, after which both men were now told to sit with their backs to the trunk of a small tree, as Sean and Danny tied them up, then stuffed a gag in their mouths.

The security van was now moved on to the scrub land. After this its contents were quickly thrown into the back of the Morris J2 Van. All this was done inside of ten minutes, after which both motors were now driven away at a steady speed towards Lichfield, ironically to drive past the headquarters of Chase Security, who no doubt were at this time waiting for the imminent arrival of their van.

Once back at the workshop with both motors safely stored inside, the four of them had no time to celebrate, as Mazza ordered them to quickly change into the clothes hanging up in the workshop. All made sure they were still wearing their thin surgical gloves. The money was now emptied without even counting it, into the pit, the floorboards to cover it were then carefully replaced.

Now the next phase of the operation was put into action. First Tom and Danny drove the Morris J2 van with its original plates back in place, to a backstreet carpark in Bloxwich. On the way they stopped at the Atlas pool, into which they dropped the empty cash bags, together with their coveralls and masks. These being weighed down with house bricks soon sank into its one hundred feet depth.

Mazza and Sean drove the Ford Consul to another small car park this time on the outskirts of Walsall, where after parking it up they transferred to Mazza’s white Jaguar which they had previously parked there. After leaving Walsall the Jaguar stopped for a few minutes in Bloxwich high street to pick up Danny and Tom, just as the nearby church clock stuck seven fifteen.

Now after picking up a late edition of the Express and Star, they made their way quickly towards Birmingham and the M1. The Express and Star told them the result they were looking for, Arsenal 0 West Bromwich Albion 2, with Derek Kevan getting both of Albion’s goals.

It was now just eight thirty as Mazza pulled onto the south bound lane of the M1 motorway, where thankfully the traffic was light, so he soon had the big Jaguar up past the one hundred miles per hour. At 9.45 they pulled into the Cross Keys’ car park. This was a little later than they had planned, so they were relieved to see a row of coaches bearing the names, Dawson’s, Don Everall, and Central coaches were still there, all these being the names of Black Country coach companies. The boys now entered the pub one at a time, so as not to be noticed until they were inside.

Once at the bar and having now been served with their drinks, a drunken baggies’ fan with his blue and white scarf wrapped around his neck put his arms around Danny. Possibly this was because he was the smallest, before he then called out in his Black Country accent. ‘Whad yo think of that result then? Me od cock. Bloody brill eh!”

Danny agreed with him and moved farther along the bar to where he found Tom chatting to a young barmaid. On seeing his cousin, Tom asked him to confirm to her that he had no girlfriend back in the Midlands. He asked her for her address, which she gave him on a slip of paper. After this her boss appeared telling her in a tone that was not too friendly that there were other customers in need of serving.

Mazza meanwhile was chatting to an older man who it turned out was a Catholic priest from West Bromwich, so once more if they did ever need an alibi, a man of God was the best witness they could have. Another hour passed before the coach parties began to leave, so the boys having secured their alibis, returned at a more leisurely pace back to the Black Country.