56
August 2018
Maxim, Alex, Vickey, Leon
According to Greg’s plan, Max was only supposed to meet up with Leon to count the haul from the safety deposit boxes three days after the robbery.
Greg said that they would never meet up again as a group. Greg, having taken his cut and the driver’s share, was supposed to leave town. Max was only supposed to go to Alex’s on the fifth day.
On the second day after the robbery, Alex and Vickey were alone at Alex’s apartment. Leon had said that his mother might start to worry and phone the police, so he went home. Leon had pulled himself together and was behaving normally, so Alex and Vickey were prepared to let him go, although they insisted that he stay in contact.
Vickey was out of work. Alex wasn’t working on any projects either. So no one was waiting for them or trying to find them.
It was about two in the afternoon when someone called Alex’s apartment on the entry phone. Alex quickly went over to the display and saw Max’s face on the little screen.
“Open up, bro!” said Max, looking straight into the camera.
Alex knew Max well enough to understand immediately that Max was drunk. Alex pressed a button on the intercom, hearing the sound of the door clicking open.
Alex left the door to the apartment slightly ajar so that Max could get in.
“Who is it?” came Vickey’s voice from behind him, alarmed.
“It’s Max,” answered Alex. “Stay in the bedroom while we’re talking. I think he’s drunk. I know how to handle him.”
“All right,” said Vickey. There was fear in her eyes. “Just be careful, please.”
“All right, all right,” said Alex. “Wait in the bedroom.”
Vickey went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
A few seconds later, the front door opened wide and Max appeared in the doorway. One look at him was enough to understand that he was wrecked.
“Well, hello, pal,” said Max.
“Hi, Max,” answered Alex. “Come in.”
Max threw off his trainers in the corridor and walked through into the living room.
“Is Vickey home?” he asked.
“Yes,” answered Alex. “She’s asleep in the bedroom. Keep the noise down if you can.”
“Come off it, don’t be a softie,” laughed Max.
Alex decided not to pay attention to Max’s unpleasant behavior. He remembered how badly things had worked out a few times when Max was in this state. Once he even had to ask his former colleagues in the police force to cover up for him when Max got into a serious fight and several people were seriously injured.
“Max, why did you get hammered? This isn’t the best time to lose control of yourself,” said Alex. “You reek of alcohol.”
“Don’t start lecturing me,” Max said, interrupting him rudely. “We’ve got ourselves a wise guy here. You think you’re tough because you’ve done one job? Smacked some fool over the back of the head and that’s it, now you’re Rambo?!?”
Alex was at a loss. He didn’t know what to do. He had to find out what was going on with Greg, when they would get their cut and what they were all going to do next. He stood there, looking at his friend in silence.
“You’d be better off pouring me a drink,” said Max with a commanding tone in his voice as he sat down on one of the chairs.
Max was nothing like his normal self. Not even like his drunken self. Alex decided not to make things any worse. He went up to the shelf of alcohol and took down a bottle of whisky and a couple of glasses. He poured drinks for both of them, put the glasses and the bottle on the table and sat down in front of Max.
Max drained the glass thirstily and then gave a loud sigh.
“So, Al, everything’s changed,” Max said, looking Alex in the eye. “This is the last time we’re ever going to see each other.”
Max looked at Alex. Alex remained silent. He already knew what Max was going to tell him now.
For the last few days, Alex had been paying close attention to the London news on various sites and there had been no word of an injured or killed criminal. All the news wires had reported the audacious bank robbery, that security standards had been low at the Trust Bank branch because it was on the territory of an educational institution, that a policeman had been wounded and later died in hospital, and that another, who’d been hit over the back of the head with a pipe, had survived. They’d also reported that the thieves had got away with about five million pounds.
But there wasn’t a single mention in the mass media of one of the participants in the robbery having been injured or having been killed.
“Basically, it turned out that there was a lot less money than Greg had planned,” said Max. “I read in the news that nowadays they pay everyone online, rather than in cash, the bastards. Credit, debit cards, and all that shit,” sneered Max.
Alex understood where Max was heading with this.
“So I can’t give you the money,” Max smirked angrily. “Whatever’s in the rucksack – that’s for you three. And as far as the rest goes, just sit tight and keep your mouth shut, unless you want Death to pay you a final visit.”
Alex kept silent. He realized that Max had come to tell him that he was keeping all the money for himself.
“On top of all that,” continued Max, “I got rid of Greg.”
He left a pause and, narrowing his eyes to dig his stare into Alex, he added:
“You probably worked it out for yourself that a wounded Greg was the last thing we needed.”
Alex answered by looking back at Max in silence. Inside, Alex was seething with fury and hurt. He listened and didn’t listen to what his former friend was saying, he believed and didn’t believe what he was hearing in those seconds from a person he’d known since childhood and who’d changed in a moment, without warning.
Alex’s breathing went awry, his veins, swelling up, pulsated, a wooden pounding in his head. His thoughts grew confused and he didn’t know what to do. Max’s face turned into a blurred patch.
“Taking out a piece of shit like Greg,” Max continued, “costs a lot. He’d have roped us all into the slammer. He’d have tied us up and dragged us down,” sneered Max. “So I saved the lot of you.”
“The man in the bank, the shooter – he died,” said Alex.
“I know, I know,” said Max, nodding. “I saved you all there too. If it wasn’t for me, we’d all be lying on cold sheets right now! Or in the slammer eating porridge, instead of drinking this delicious whisky." Max smirked and took another gulp. “I took out a sharpshooter! You got it, pal?” Suddenly he looked at Alex, angry. “Now I’m cursed.”
Alex realized that this was a disaster. He realized that Max was about to leave for good, taking Alex’s dreams of money, dreams of a new life with him. There was money in the rucksack, of course. But the real haul had been in those two bags that Max had taken.
Alex didn’t know if Max had met with Leon before he came to the apartment. Another idea shot through his head like a sharp arrow. Max, of course, had hidden the money well, but most likely he’d start drinking a lot, or, rather, he’d already fallen off the wagon and it was by no means a certainty that he’d stick to Greg’s original plan, which was that for the first six months after the job they’d all live their lives normally, keeping the fact that they had a lot of cash quiet. “They’ll spot him, they’ll definitely spot him,” thought Alex, and then he’ll make a deal with the cops so that he, as a former cop, won’t wind up in a cell with the other convicts. And then they’d come for him. And for Vickey.”
Alex’s entire body flinched when he remembered Vickey, and at just that moment he heard her voice.
“Max, it’s not right!” Vickey was standing in the doorway into the living room and looking at Max. “You can’t do that to us. We all took the risk together. You’re Alex’s friend.”
Max turned in Vickey’s direction.
“Who’s this Chatty Kathie we’ve got here?!” Max laughed insultingly. “A sweet little girl who couldn’t hold some drunk students back at the door of the chemist’s? And now she thinks she’s a hardened criminal?!” Max was roaring with laughter now.
Alex got up from behind the table sharply. Max also got up. He went up real close to Alex. A sharp stench of alcohol came off him.
“What is it, mommy’s boy – you got something to say?” Max asked insolently.
The reference to his mother, right at that moment, almost floored him. His breathing wasn’t coping with what was happening. His arms and body were shaking with hatred and helplessness. At his hopes having been killed off in an instant. At the awareness that everything would be as it was before, and that all those sacrifices – his, Vickey’s, those of the two dead men – had all been in vain. All that money would be going to one person, to this drunk wolf in human clothing, his former friend who’d betrayed him, so dirtily, and so cheaply. “Mommy’s boy”. Alex knew what Max was talking about. He was talking about having defended him in the yard when the others were hitting him. “Mommy’s”. His mother’s face flashed up before him. Max, of course, was hinting at the beatings his mother had given him. Alex’s mind began clouding over.
“Beast!” Vickey said loud and clear.
“What?” drawled Max, turning to look at her. “You cheap slut…”
A blow struck Max in the cheek bone right at that moment. Alex didn’t have time to prepare the blow. There was almost no swing to it. He impulsively raised his hand and threw his fist right from his chest. Not to knock Max off his feet. But to protect Vickey. To stand up for her honor.
Max barely managed to stay on his feet – he was rocked, taking a step backwards. Alex, not knowing what to do, carried on attacking Max. He reached forward with his left, trying to grab Max by the neck, and pulled his right back for another punch.
Max stretched his neck backwards. The fingers of Alex’s left hand just scraped his neck and Adam’s apple, and the second punch hit the jaw, glancing off. Max, taking a couple of steps back, managed to stay on his feet.
“Bitch,” Max hissed furiously as he wiped his nose with his sleeve.
“Maybe there’s still a chance,” thought Alex. While Max was coming round from Alex’s two punches. Try and attack him, pin him to the ground, win, and then … Alex didn’t know what would come after that. He understood in that moment, however, that if he didn’t finish him off, Max would simply kill him like he’d killed Greg, like he’d killed the guard in the bank, or the cops would simply come after them because of this scum. Otherwise, it was all finished.
A thought shot through Alex’s mind like lightning: “Vickey’s in the room. She won’t be able to run away in time if I make a break for the street. And what’s out there in the street for her anyway?” Running away from a drunken Max, passersby shouting out, and then their whole can of worms would be opened up. All these thoughts clattered through his mind in an uninterrupted line as he approached Max, having curled up like a tightly wound spring.
Alex spiked his left hand forward, trying to grab his opponent’s head; he tried to get his main hold with his right, just as he’d learned to do as a wrestler. Max dodged it, pulling his head back sharply and crouching a little. Alex’s hand swiped over Max’s head and Alex’s body fell forward slightly. Max, straightening up his body, landed a right in the region of Alex’s liver.
Max knew where he was punching. A vicious pain pierced Alex’s body. He barely managed to stay on his feet. Alex raised his head and looked at Max.
Max stood there getting his breath back. If he hadn’t been blind drunk he would’ve have thrown himself on Alex to finish him off.
“Your mother didn’t use the belt on you enough,” Max said viciously.
Alex emitted a brutal, animal shriek. And suddenly, to his own surprise, he sensed that his fear had disappeared. For perhaps the first time in his life he was no longer afraid. He wasn’t drunk, he wasn’t under the influence of marijuana enveloping his body. He was simply ready to fight.
Max spat on the floor and moved towards Alex.
They came together, trying to hit one another whilst also covering up, like boxers, their fists raised, their forearms protecting them from the blows of their opponents. It seemed to Alex that Max’s left side had opened up, he swung with his right, aiming at Max’s throat, rather than his chin. He’d seen nasty tricks like that in the yard when he fought with the local bullies, he’d seen them aim for the Adam’s apple. If you hit your target, victory was yours. “Smash the Adam’s apple into the throat,” they’d said in the yard.
But Max again managed to dodge out of the way, pulling his head back. Alex’s fist merely slipped along Max’s chest. With a wild grimace full of hatred, Max again hit him with the right. This time he struck him under his ribs. It was a very precise, brutal blow.
Alex, gasping for air, his eyes widening, fell to his knees. Max, sneering angrily, leapt forward and struck Alex on his temple with his fist.
Alex fell to the floor, hitting his head on the ground. Alex felt the living room spinning around him, but he managed to cling on to consciousness. Then there was a wild shriek from Vickey that fully brought him back to reality.
“Shut up, whore!” Max shouted at her and again turned in the direction of Alex who was lying on the floor.
That pause lasting seconds was enough time for Alex to pull both knees up to his chest and prepare to pounce. “If I don’t, he’ll kill her, he’ll kill her,” pounded in his head. Alex looked around for something heavy, but there was nothing close to hand.
Alex saw Max slowly approaching him to finish him off. Max stepped forward with his left leg, pulled his right leg back and then launched it, aiming at Alex’s head. This time, however, Alex pulled his left shoulder back and, fully arching, stuck his heel forward.
He hit Max where he was aiming for, right in the shin. Jackknifing in pain, Max clutched the point that was giving him pain with his hand, balancing on one leg. Alex, still on the floor, kicked Max in the calf of his other leg, knocking him off balance. Max fell right onto Alex. Alex tried to turn away at the last moment but didn’t manage it in time. Falling, Max smacked his forehead into the bridge of Alex’s nose. Alex’s consciousness blurred for an instant and he suddenly felt Max’s powerful hands around his neck.
Max tried to strangle him. Alex grabbed Max’s wrists but it didn’t help. Max’s dirty, sweaty hands dug deeper into his neck. Alex tried to press on Max’s hands with his chin as he pulled his neck back, but nothing was working.
“I don’t like death,” hissed Max, smiling angrily. “It’s got a nasty smell.”
There was less and less oxygen in Alex’s lungs.
“At least before your death, you brat, you became a man,” Max said through gritted teeth, horrible gobs of spit flying out.
With his last remaining strength, Alex tried to lift Max with his left hip in order to hit him in the crotch with his right knee, but again he couldn’t manage it. His consciousness began to blur, but suddenly there was a dull thump. And then another two.
Alex didn’t immediately realize what had happened. Max’s hands were still around his neck, but they’d stopped gripping him. Max collapsed on him.
Alex suddenly saw Vickey. She stood there, her entire body shaking, holding a whiskey bottle to her chest. Alex understood everything. Still trying to catch his breath, he managed to heft Max’s heavy body off himself.
“Have I killed him?” Vickey asked, her whole body shaking.
“I don’t know,” said Alex.
Still getting his breath back after a tough fight, he leant over Max and put his fingers to his throat. Trying to feel for his pulse, he slowly moved his fingers along Max’s neck, but he couldn’t find it. Alex straightened up sharply. He took several deep breaths. Then he took Max’s hand and put his index and middle finger on his wrist. He still couldn’t find the pulse.
“I killed him?” asked Vickey.
Instead of an answer, Alex put his ear to Max’s heart, but again he couldn’t hear anything. He turned Max over onto his stomach and bent his head down over him. At the top of the neck there was a large swelling, a blue-violet patch that looked like it was ready to burst and release a fountain of blood.
Alex placed his fingers on Max’s throat again. He again felt for the pulse. Alex stood up and looked at Vickey.
“We’ve killed him,” he said in a calm voice. He said it so calmly that he even surprised himself. The events of the last few days, months even, had turned him into a different person.
He didn’t feel sorry for Max. Not just because he’d wanted to kill him a few moments before, but also because Max had turned out to be a traitor and now he was dead. And that meant that the last thread linking Vickey, Leon and himself to the crimes and the murders had been cut.
“We need to get rid of the body before Leon comes round,” said Alex.
Vickey was still standing motionless, hugging the whisky bottle.
“Vickey!” Alex said loudly.
Vickey looked at Alex, frightened.
“Everything’s all right,” said Alex. “We were defending ourselves.”
He walked up to her, gently took the bottle, placed it on the table, turned back to her and hugged her. Vickey’s entire body was shaking.
“You saved my life,” said Alex.
His words appeared to bring Vickey back to reality.
“I told you I could kill for you,” she whispered very quietly.
Alex was amazed that he could think calmly and soberly in this situation. What had happened over the last few days and months that made it possible for him to stand over a corpse and calmly consider what should be done next? He was amazed but also, however insane it might sound in these circumstances, overjoyed by his state, the state of a man that has to get out of any situation, even a horrifying one like this one, who has to take care of his woman.
“I’ll phone Leon and say that we’ve been invited to a party and we’re going, so that we carry on behaving as normal, and then in the evening we’ll pick him up on the way back.
Alex remembered everything that happened after Max’s murder as a blur of events following on from one another. As if shots from a black-and-white film were flashing up before his eyes. Not fast, not as people describe the moments just before death, but events slowly taking place, to an even rhythm, as if chess pieces were being slowly moved around the board by an experienced chess master.
Max had once described how, back in the 1990s, his friend had got rid of a corpse. He waited until eleven in the evening, when there were still people out in the street, but not many. The friend had tied the body to himself with a rope, side by side, and tied his right ankle to the corpse’s left ankle, allowing him to walk whilst supporting the dead man – it looked like a sober man was helping his drunk friend to get home. He’d put a raincoat over the corpse with a strip cut out of it to let the rope through.
That is how Alex got Max to a rented car that Vickey drove up to the entrance. Just in case, Alex pretended that he was asking his drunken friend to behave and not to drink any more. They again got lucky and they didn’t meet any of the neighbors inside the building or out in the street.
Vickey rented an inconspicuous, non-descript, generic South Korean car, there are thousands of them in London. She didn’t rent it from a car-sharing service because those cars have GPS trackers fitted and you have to pay with a credit card. Instead, she got it from a standard car-hire firm.
Vickey stayed behind the wheel and Alex sat in the back with Max’s corpse tied to him.
Slowly, without breaking any rules, they drove to East Finchley. Alex knew this neighborhood well because he’d studied these streets for a long time with Leon in the lead-up to robbing the bowling club. Leon had shown Alex the dead zones, the sections of streets that weren’t observed by cameras. Vickey stopped the car a few streets before reaching their destination. She got out and pretended that she was digging around in the trunk – in the process she taped over the number plate. Then she stopped again and taped over the number plate at the front.
Then they drove to the alley they were looking for. It led off the high street. Vickey got out of the car and took a look round. There was no one there. She gave a signal to Alex.
Alex cut through all the ropes that were holding Max’s body to him, opened Max’s mouth and poured some gin in from a small bottle that he’d brought with him especially. Then he splashed some gin on Max’s clothing. He bent over the corpse, opened the door and pushed it out into the street.
It was another trick from the 1990s that Max had told him about. Everything had to look like he’d been hit by a car – he fell on the pavement and cracked his head. “The cops won’t go looking for the relatives of some drunken tramp. And no one is going to report him having gone missing,” Max had said. “There are millions of people in this city, so who’s going to worry about some tramp who’s drunk himself to death? They fill out some form back at the police station and send the paperwork to the archives. And that’ll be the end of it.”
With Leon, everything worked out even easier than Alex had thought. Leon was keeping himself together brilliantly. He’d somehow matured fast and had a very levelheaded take on everything that had happened. There were no signs of panic.
He calmly listened to Alex’s story about what had happened to Max and Greg and, it seemed, wasn’t even surprised. He just shook his head sorrowfully and said “Oh, Max, Max…”
It even seemed to Alex that Leon was relieved at the news.
It turned out that there was a lot more money in the bag from the robbery than Alex had expected. Unexpectedly, it became clear that a lot of Londoners keep cash in various currencies in their safety deposit boxes. In sterling, it worked out at about two million, a third of which was Leon’s cut.
They went to Leon’s father’s old garage in Balham, created a secret hiding place there under the rusting cupboards, and hid the rucksack there. Over the last ten years, nobody had robbed these garages because they’d been lifeless for ages, apart from the rusting of cars that’d been wrecked. The owners of the garages were waiting for them to be demolished so that they could get some compensation. That meant that people rarely went there. Leon shuddered when he saw the old, rusted car that had been the cause of his father’s death. But he quickly pulled himself back together. “The car that changed my life for the worse is now protecting what should get my life back on track,” he said to Alex, and didn’t return to the subject.
Alex asked Leon to get a job where he would be officially paid. At his level, Leon could easily get a monthly wage of five or six thousand pounds, and that would let him get a mortgage, allowing him to buy an apartment without attracting attention. That’s exactly what Leon did. Then he hired a woman – for a small amount of money and a room in the flat she would look after him and his mother.
As he’d promised, Alex helped Vickey to carry out her condition. His old friend Arthur was slightly surprised by their request for help, but he agreed without any qualms or questions. His lawyers helped them make the anonymous donation.
Alex, as he’d planned, sold his apartment in Shoreditch. Firstly, just in case there were any questions as to where the money came from. Secondly, and most importantly, so that he could start a new life.