backwards and forwards twice.
The second time, Midge grabbed the opening and pulled himself in. Stan shinned up after him and I followed. I felt the rope burning my hands, and my lungs were panting as I was pulled in through
the open door. But my arms felt good and strong; my workouts at Les’s gym were paying off.
Cyril was already on his way up. He did a bad pantomime of Tarzan swinging on his liana. I reached out and dragged him in before he started to beat his chest. We freed our cudgels from our belts
and tiptoed into the darkness of the warehouse.
I heard the cart trundling nearer. We settled into the dark, against the wall and part-hidden by wood pillars. We waited. Gradually shapes took on definition as my eyes adjusted. The big room
seemed to stretch forever into the blackness, with beams in serried ranks. The cart was coming from our left but I couldn’t make it out yet.
Suddenly there was a noise from the right. It was the same sound of wheels creaking. We were facing two teams. I should have waited longer to see what was happening before sending us over the
top. I tried to be positive. Maybe it was just the two of them, with one man per cart? Maybe they would roll over and not fight. We still had surprise. I couldn’t contact the others now but I
knew they would have heard and understood. I saw small waves from each of them.
The cart from the left took shape, and I could see two heads pushing it. Damn! Turning, I was in time to see the one from the right come into view. I signalled to Midge and Cyril to take the
left one; Stan and I would attack the right. We waited and waited, until both carts were within twenty paces. Surely they would see us? Closer, closer, then I acted. I gave a great roar and ran at
the right hand truck. My voice was echoed by three others as the lads went in.
The two behind our cart looked stunned. But my man’s reflexes were still working; he ducked my club and I caught him a glancing blow on his shoulder. I followed through with a tackle that
brought him down. He was wriggling and kicking like a lassoed bullock. Stank like one too. I’d lost the club, and we fought in silence until I could hold his arm and get a clean punch in. I
got him on the side of the head and drew blood over his eye. It slowed him. I hit him again and his head fell back with a crack on to the floor. He lay still. One down.
I got to my feet; Stan was standing panting over the flattened body of his man, ready to hit him again if he moved. He didn’t look like he was going to any time soon. I dragged my bloke
over to Stan and told him to guard them both. I ran over to the others. Midge had nailed his man, but Cyril was lying flat on the floor. There was no sign of the other. Bugger! We pulled off
Cyril’s balaclava. He gave a groan and stirred, and we helped him sit up. We all removed our masks. It was good to scratch.
“You big jessie,” I said. “You all right?”
“Yeah, skip. Sorry. He ducked. I didn’t.” Cyril touched his head and came away with blood. I pulled a hankie from my pocket and gave it to him.
“What do we do?” hissed Midge.
“Nothing. We’ll never find him in this rat run. Forget him. This is a good haul. Tie them up and bring them over to the door. We’ll sit it out till Tommy gets here in the
morning.”
“What about the bint?” asked Stan.
“I’ll go get her and bring her up here. We’ll leave the other one where he is. He’s not going anywhere.”
Shortly we had the three of them trussed up and moaning gently by the doorway. I reached out, grabbed the rope and slid down to the barge. I checked the man we’d left; he was well held.
And awake; he glowered at me over his gag. I glanced over and saw Eve watching me. I walked over and gave her my hands. She clambered up swiftly and neatly. I held the rope and watched in
admiration as she hauled herself up to the door. All that swimming must have developed her arms. One of the boys pulled her in and I
The second time, Midge grabbed the opening and pulled himself in. Stan shinned up after him and I followed. I felt the rope burning my hands, and my lungs were panting as I was pulled in through
the open door. But my arms felt good and strong; my workouts at Les’s gym were paying off.
Cyril was already on his way up. He did a bad pantomime of Tarzan swinging on his liana. I reached out and dragged him in before he started to beat his chest. We freed our cudgels from our belts
and tiptoed into the darkness of the warehouse.
I heard the cart trundling nearer. We settled into the dark, against the wall and part-hidden by wood pillars. We waited. Gradually shapes took on definition as my eyes adjusted. The big room
seemed to stretch forever into the blackness, with beams in serried ranks. The cart was coming from our left but I couldn’t make it out yet.
Suddenly there was a noise from the right. It was the same sound of wheels creaking. We were facing two teams. I should have waited longer to see what was happening before sending us over the
top. I tried to be positive. Maybe it was just the two of them, with one man per cart? Maybe they would roll over and not fight. We still had surprise. I couldn’t contact the others now but I
knew they would have heard and understood. I saw small waves from each of them.
The cart from the left took shape, and I could see two heads pushing it. Damn! Turning, I was in time to see the one from the right come into view. I signalled to Midge and Cyril to take the
left one; Stan and I would attack the right. We waited and waited, until both carts were within twenty paces. Surely they would see us? Closer, closer, then I acted. I gave a great roar and ran at
the right hand truck. My voice was echoed by three others as the lads went in.
The two behind our cart looked stunned. But my man’s reflexes were still working; he ducked my club and I caught him a glancing blow on his shoulder. I followed through with a tackle that
brought him down. He was wriggling and kicking like a lassoed bullock. Stank like one too. I’d lost the club, and we fought in silence until I could hold his arm and get a clean punch in. I
got him on the side of the head and drew blood over his eye. It slowed him. I hit him again and his head fell back with a crack on to the floor. He lay still. One down.
I got to my feet; Stan was standing panting over the flattened body of his man, ready to hit him again if he moved. He didn’t look like he was going to any time soon. I dragged my bloke
over to Stan and told him to guard them both. I ran over to the others. Midge had nailed his man, but Cyril was lying flat on the floor. There was no sign of the other. Bugger! We pulled off
Cyril’s balaclava. He gave a groan and stirred, and we helped him sit up. We all removed our masks. It was good to scratch.
“You big jessie,” I said. “You all right?”
“Yeah, skip. Sorry. He ducked. I didn’t.” Cyril touched his head and came away with blood. I pulled a hankie from my pocket and gave it to him.
“What do we do?” hissed Midge.
“Nothing. We’ll never find him in this rat run. Forget him. This is a good haul. Tie them up and bring them over to the door. We’ll sit it out till Tommy gets here in the
morning.”
“What about the bint?” asked Stan.
“I’ll go get her and bring her up here. We’ll leave the other one where he is. He’s not going anywhere.”
Shortly we had the three of them trussed up and moaning gently by the doorway. I reached out, grabbed the rope and slid down to the barge. I checked the man we’d left; he was well held.
And awake; he glowered at me over his gag. I glanced over and saw Eve watching me. I walked over and gave her my hands. She clambered up swiftly and neatly. I held the rope and watched in
admiration as she hauled herself up to the door. All that swimming must have developed her arms. One of the boys pulled her in and I
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