This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Canadian Cataloguing in Publication Data
Hanson, Michael
CANONSFIELD
ISBN: 978-0-9866697-3-6
This e-book was published with the assistance of www.epubbing.com.
DEDICATION:
These tales are set in the mid 1900’s and the author dedicates them to the present day police officers who have much more difficult and dangerous conditions to deal with.
The everyday use of handguns and the huge increase in crime attributed to drugs create strong differences with police work fifty or sixty years ago but the author does say, "We had our moments."
CHAPTER ONE
The car pulled in to the side of the road, shut off its lights and became one of a long line of parked cars outside the small Parade of shops.
The driver Roberts, looked in his rear view mirror and hissed, "Down!" and the occupants of the car flattened themselves as the lights swept over the car and a police car slowly went by down the road. As the darkness returned they all sat up and Roberts said quietly, "O.K, Squirrel off you go."
One of the occupants slid out of the darkened car. The interior light had been removed before the stolen car had started moving. "Why did you call him "Squirrel?" was the question addressed to the driver.
"His name is Squiller. Now watch the corner of the shops and you will see why."
A figure appeared at the top landing of the stairs which marked the end of the Parade. The pole which marked the corner saw Squiller pull himself up it until the roof edge could be grasped and then with a heave he threw one foot over the edge and was soon kneeling on the flat roof.
He moved crouching towards the centre and Roberts muttered. "I only hope he remembers to cut one wire at a time. If he does them both together it will short out and make the alarm sound."
They waited expectantly to see if there would be the harsh clamour of the alarm system but silence reigned and Squiller hung from the edge of the roof before dropping into the top landing of the stairs.
Roberts nudged his companion, "Come on and bring the sacks."
They left the car and joined Squiller at the corner of the shops, and then moved quickly to the front of a recessed door where the words ‘Blasely Post Office’ could be seen on the glass.
Roberts put the tongue of the large case opener into the door by the handle and leaned in. There was a sharp crack and the door flew open. The glimmer of their torches saw them move quickly to their previously agreed tasks.
Friday was the day that pensioners came in to draw their money and when the cash on hand had to meet their customer’s needs, so on a Thursday night the coffers would be full.
The case opener opened the large drawer under the counter with a squeal of cracking metal and he left the other man to start filling his sack with the postal orders laid out in the drawer. The cash register proved to be more difficult to open but finally the drawer gave access to the cash inside and there was a reserve of bank notes in the counter drawer underneath.
Roberts started filling his own sack and looked round impatiently for Squiller, "Did you get it?" By way of reply Squiller dropped something weighty into the sack but when Roberts demanded, "Get the ink as well?" Squiller was hurriedly going back to pick up the ink pads which had been stored in the drawer with the postal orders.
They were out of the shop a few moments later and after they had regained the car they held their car doors before pulling them shut as the car pulled away down the road and the lights came on. Roberts was driving and said sharply, "Just keep down in the back. One driver in a car at this time of night does not arouse much suspicion. Three is good enough for the Law to pull us over."
The police car was parked at the corner by some bushes and the Observer was leaning against it with a lighted cigarette. The early turn crew would complain if they found that he had been smoking in the car. He straightened up as the car passed and threw the cigarette away in a blaze of sparks.
"That could be the black Zephyr on last night’s list Jock...get going."
The Zephyr driver swore loudly. "We’ve picked up that damn patrol car. Get ready to bail out and I will meet you at the bird’s house if I can lose 'em. Take the sacks with you."
In a street with alleys between the houses Roberts slowed and said, "Go!" hardly pulling to a stop and accelerating away as the nose of the police car appeared.
His passengers scurried into the shelter of one of the alleys, their chests heaving.
The black shape of the police car stayed behind him and his chance came when a bus was lumbering into an intersection and he pulled through almost under its front wheels as the surprised driver slammed on the brakes and the police car swerved to narrowly miss the rear end.
The police car driver had to reverse and pull round to follow and this gave Roberts the time he needed to make several quick turns and shut off the lights. He quickly eyed the interior to make sure nothing was left and then pulled up his coat collar and stuffed the gloves in his pocket to become one more pedestrian as one or two people were appearing on the streets.