‘O.K., Lenny. Get shot of the motor," the Guvnor said, taking a cigar from the inside pocket of his leather jacket. ‘Don’t worry about the smocks in the back — they don’t matter now. You can dump it as far away as you like, but don’t be drivin’ around in it too long.’
‘O.K., Guv,’ Lenny said cheerfully. Before he turned on the ignition, the Guvnor poked another cigar through the open car window.
‘ ‘Ere. You done well, boy. See you back ‘ere Wednesday — not before!’
Lenny stuck the cigar into his mouth, grinned, put the car into gear, then moved off.
The front gate was just being opened for him by the same yard worker who’d closed it only minutes before when the police car screeched into the entrance, completely blocking Lenny’s path. Doors flew open and suddenly there were blue uniforms everywhere. Another police car pulled up behind the first and more men in blue poured out.
Lenny was out of the Triumph in a flash, running for the back of the yard, his face white. The Guvnor, who was half-way back to his office when the police arrived, stood transfixed for a few seconds, then turned and bolted towards us. I can only guess that both he and Lenny intended to scale the corrugated-iron fence and make their getaway into the backstreets.
The latter didn’t get as far as the former who, in the end, didn’t get far at all. Lenny was brought down by a flying rugger tackle and was immediately engulfed in blue bodies. He screamed and cursed them but they wouldn’t let him go.
Others gave chase to the Guvnor who had pounded past us now, throwing away his cigar as he went. The police shouted at him to stop, but he wasn’t having any of it. He headed into the maze of wrecked cars.
Rumbo was both alarmed and angry. He didn’t like these blue men: he didn’t like them chasing his Guvnor. He growled at them and ordered them to stop. It did no good though — they weren’t afraid of Rumbo. He jumped up at one and got a good grip on the policeman’s sleeve, tugging and tearing at it with jerks of his body. The man went down and rolled over in the mud, taking Rumbo with him.
‘No, Rumbo, no!’ I cried out. ‘Leave him alone! They’ll hurt you!’
But Rumbo was too angry to listen. This was his territory, and the man they were after was the one he’d chosen to be his master. Another policeman kicked out at him, making him yelp in sudden pain and lose his grip on the uniform’s sleeve. A stout wooden stick cracked across his nose and Rumbo staggered away from the sprawling policeman who immediately scrambled to his feet and joined in the chase after the Guvnor again.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked as I rushed over to Rumbo.
He moaned and his tail dropped between his legs. ‘Get after them! Don’t let them catch him!’ He stumbled around shaking his head in a dazed way.
I dived into the alleyways separating the piles of damaged cars and pursued the pursuers. I could see the Guvnor ahead, climbing on to the bonnet of a car. He was grabbed from behind, but he kicked out with a vicious boot, knocking the unfortunate policeman on to his back. He scrambled up higher on to the roof of the car, then on to the bonnet of the car on top. If he crossed this pile of junk, it would take him close to the surrounding fence and he would be able to jump into the street below. The wreck he was climbing on to was unsteady, and it tottered precariously for a few sickening moments, nearly causing him to slither back down into the yard. He held tight and the car steadied itself. He began to climb again.
Two policemen began the ascent after the Guvnor while others headed in different directions in the hope of cutting him off. I couldn’t just stand by and let them take the Guvnor; Rumbo had a loyalty to him and that meant I had too. I caught the seat of one of the climbing plod’s trousers nicely with my teeth. I bit and pulled and he came tumbling down. He kicked out at me and beat me with his fists, but I was in a fury and hardly felt the blows.
Rumbo came in snarling and snapping, and the struggling policeman was forced to call on his companion for help. The dogs were tearing him to pieces, he screamed.
Well, we were being a bit rough, but we weren’t savages (to tell the truth, it was a bit of a lark at that stage).
The second policeman jumped from the car bonnet into the melee and tried to separate man and dogs, flailing at us with his fists. This only made Rumbo more cross and he diverted his attention to the new assailant. More policemen were arriving by the second and I could see we’d stand no chance against such odds.
‘It’s no good, Rumbo!’ I called out. ‘There’s too many!’
‘Keep fighting, squirt,’ he replied between mouthfuls of flesh and cloth. ‘It’s giving the Guvnor a chance to get away.’
It was no good. I felt a hand grasp my collar and I was yanked off my feet and thrown across the alleyway. I landed heavily against the boot of a car and fell to the ground badly winded. I gasped for breath and saw Rumbo receiving similar treatment. It took two policemen to deal with him, though.
By this time the Guvnor was on the roof of the second car and I could see him looking wildly around. He was being converged upon on all sides by blue uniforms and he yelled down defiantly as the police below began to climb up after him again.
‘Look out!’ one of them shouted. ‘He’s pushing the cars over!’
The policeman scrambled for safety and I saw that the Guvnor had stepped over on to the roof of the next semi-crushed car and was using a foot as a lever against the one he’d just left. It was already dangerously balanced and it didn’t take much to send it toppling. The only thing was, the car the Guvnor was perched on toppled after it.
And worse, Rumbo had dashed forward again to ward off the pursuing policeman.
He couldn’t have known what hit him; that was the only merciful thing about it. One minute he was crouched low, baring his teeth at the police, the next he had disappeared beneath a tumble of crushing metal.
‘Rumbo!’ I screamed, and dashed forward even before the crashing cars had had time to settle. ‘Rumbo! Rumbo!’
I dodged around the twisted metal, trying to see beneath it, trying to find an opening to crawl through, willing my friend to be miraculously alive, refusing to accept the inevitable.
The thin stream of dark-red blood that came from beneath the cars jolted me into the truth of the situation: there was no chance at all for Rumbo.
I howled, the kind of howl you sometimes hear on an empty night from miles away; the cry of an animal at its lowest point of misery. Then I wept.
The Guvnor was in agony, his arm trapped deep between the two wrecks. He was lucky, though: it could have been his whole body.
A hand took me by the collar and dragged me gently away from the metal tomb, and I felt sympathy flowing from the policeman as he led me towards the front of the yard. I was too upset to resist. Rumbo was dead, and for the moment so was my will. I heard one of the officers tell someone to get an ambulance quickly; there was an injured man back there. I saw two men in plainclothes bringing the metal case from the hut and nodding towards another man questioning Lenny. Lenny was angry now, talking beligerently as he was held from behind by two uniformed men.
‘Who done it then?’ he was asking. ‘Who fingered us?’
‘We’ve had our eyes on this place a long time, son,’ the man before him replied. ‘Ever since one of our boys spotted Ronnie Smiley’s car in here awhile back. We all know what Ronnie gets up to, don’t we, so we thought we’d wait awhile and let things run their course. Very interesting when we saw the stolen van coming in, then the car. Even more so when they didn’t come out again — until this morning, that is.’ He laughed at Lenny’s obvious displeasure. ‘Oh don’t worry, it wasn’t only that. We’ve had suspicions about this yard for a long time now. Wondered where your governor got his money from. Now we know, don’t we?’