Two men in twenty

Cain lowered his voice. I've got connections at Smithfield,' he said. 'Meat for nothing, nearly. And I've got a butcher who'll buy it. With that hole right through, I can get a side of beef in there.'

Archie nodded, making no further comment. Whether or not Cain was telling the truth, Cain would never, never mention Archie's name if he and his car were picked up by the police.

Coggan got into the driver's seat and took the Austin on a short test run. Cain and Archie went into the office to settle the finances of the deaclass="underline" £150 down, and £250 in a month's time. The car was a bargain. For Archie it was even a better bargain. He had paid £50 to the boy who stole it for him, and it had cost him less than £30 to disguise it. The registration book and licence which went with the new car had cost £20. It carried no insurance. Cain had to take his own risks in all matters pertaining to insurance.

Coggan returned with the car and pronounced it roadworthy. He and Cain rode away to the lock-up garage which Cain had rented under a pseudonym from a stranger.

* * * * *

The following day Coggan drove Cain, France, and Husker to a small house in a crumbling terrace at Hammersmith, where they met a man called Sailor Jolly. Jolly was in his sixties; small, thickset, and humorous. Like Husker, he was a north countryman, and years in London, and in prison, had not changed his accent much.

'I'll brew some tea,' he said, when his visitors were seated around the poor room which was his home. He moved towards a built-in cupboard in the corner.

'Don't bother. Sailor. Just bring us the cups,' Cain said. He produced two flat half-bottles of whisky, one from each side pocket of his coat.

An assortment of cups and glasses was put on the table with a jug of water. Whisky was poured. The five men uttered their various toasts, and drank.

'Ah,' said Jolly with a satisfied sigh. That tastes good.'

Cain nodded. 'Things quiet with you?' he probed.

'Quiet enough,' was the candid admission. 'I can't afford spirits.'

'We've come with a proposition.'

It was Jolly's turn to nod. But he said: 'If it's gelignite, count me out. My last job wi' Clapper Coyle nearly blew us both to hell. He made a proper charley of it. We didn't get a damn thing. It fed me on gel.'

'It's not gelignite. It's XXC.'

'Oh.' Jolly raised his eyebrows. His glance settled on Husker, the only man who was a stranger to him. 'A bit old-fashioned, isn't it?'

'We shall be going for old-fashioned safes. We're leaving the Bank of England alone this time.'

Jolly was still looking at Husker. 'He your boy?' he asked.

'He's the one. He can get the stuff, and he's done it for a living.'

'What? Safe-cuttin'?'

'No. Cutting steel.'

'He's never opened a safe?'

'No. At least he says not. He knows nothing about safes.'

'Safemakers use resistant alloys these days.'

Cain lost a little of his patience. 'Who's talking about these days? We're going to do safes he can cut.'

'What do you want me for, then?'

'I know a bit about a safe. Jimmy the Gent here knows a bit more. You know more than both of us.'

'Ah,' said Jolly.

'And there's another thing. Leo says if he comes up against a thickish plate of hard steel he may need a hole drilling before he can start his cut.'

Jolly spoke to Husker for the first time. 'How big a hole?'

'As narrow as you like, as long as it goes through the plate.'

'That makes it easier,' Jolly admitted. 'Now give me the whole set-up.'

Cain explained his plans for picking up a thousand or two here and there, instead of attempting one big robbery which would excite public interest. Jolly asked about the division of spoils. Cain told him.

'Ten per cent for me?' Jolly remonstrated. 'An' everybody else gettin' fifteen an' twenty? No dice.'

Cain had anticipated that difficulty. He had wrestled with it ever since he had realized that the fifth man would have to be an experienced peterman, and not just a helper or handyman. The way he saw it, Jolly would be there because Husker was an XXC operator only, and otherwise a novice. Therefore Husker ought to contribute towards the cost of hiring Jolly. The trouble, easily foreseen, would be to make Husker perceive the justice of this. To avoid such trouble, Cain had worked out his proposed new terms in fractions. The terms looked better that way. They looked so much better that he hoped to have no trouble at all.

'I guessed you'd say that, Sailor,' he said. 'So I've worked out new shares. I'm putting up the money, and I take six twentieths. The Gent here is a founder member, and he's the best man we could have. He gets four twentieths. That's one twentieth more than you three, that is, Leo, Sailor, and Bill. You get three twentieths each. So that leaves only one twentieth for the girls.'

There was silence as each man did an exercise in mental arithmetic. Watching their faces, Cain saw that three of them quickly perceived that the terms were unchanged, except that Jolly would receive five per cent more and Husker five per cent less. They became aware of this while Husker was still trying to decide precisely where the difference lay.

'That's fair enough,' Coggan said. 'The Gent is worth a bob or two extra.'

'I'll accept them terms,' Jolly agreed with a perfectly blank face.

France did not speak. He merely nodded when Cain looked at him in inquiry.

Husker had worked out the sum. 'You're givin' this feller one twentieth out o' my share,' he said indignantly.

'Well,' said Cain, still seeking to confuse the issue, 'what's a twentieth of what you're going to make? Everybody is agreeable. We're all friends here, and we're not going to argue over trifles.'

Husker nodded towards France. 'Why should he get more nor me?'

'You'll see when we get cracking. He's the real expert here.'

'I've got to get the XXC, an' do the cuttin'.'

'And who's going to show you where to cut? He might be able to tell you, if Sailor and me can't. Suppose you come across a peter with four safety bars, or six? How will you be able to tell?'

Husker was silent. His scowling gaze moved briefly to France, and away.

France perceived the real cause of Husker's resentment. Husker hated the idea of a man he disliked being rated higher than himself. There was no way of turning the dislike into friendship, because it was a natural antipathy, heartily returned. But Husker's feeling that he had been treated unfairly was another matter. It could lead him to think that he would 'get his own back' some day. In the event of catastrophe, always possible, that attitude of mind could send France to a cell in Parkhurst or Wormwood Scrubs.

'We'll have no bother,' he said. 'I'll take three twentieths like the others. The odd twentieth can go to the girls.'

There was a stupefied silence. Cain was the first to recover. 'Well!' he exclaimed. 'I'll say that's damned decent of you, old man. It'll make the girls keener. They'll work better for us.'

France did not reply. He was watching Husker, who still looked suspicious though his astonishment was passing. He saw Husker appraising his concession, looking for the trick. Eventually suspicion faded, too. 'That seems fair enough,' the man admitted reluctantly.

'We don't want any bad blood in this mob,' France said. 'If there's anybody here who thinks he can't get on with me, let him say so now, and I'll stand down. You can soon get somebody else.'

'Oh, I'm sure there's no hard feelings,' Cain protested. 'Is there, boys?'

Coggan and Jolly concurred unreservedly. Husker hesitated as he sought in his mind for the right thing to say. He said at last: 'I've no hard feelin's for nobody if I'm treated fair.'