Blood Money (chapters thirteen and fourteen.) (standard:Suspense, 3520 words) [7/18] show all parts
Author: Hulsey	Added: Sep 22 2011	Views/Reads: 2225/1821	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Continued.

13 

Five days had past since the robbery had occurred and various scenarios
had been conjured up by the media. O'Hara had been interviewed on a 
live chat show and did not take too kindly, when the presenter 
mentioned the rumours that the Irishman may have staged the robbery 
himself. 

Manaf, Mukhtar and Kannellakis had returned home after extensive
questioning by CID, and O'Hara had promised the trio that when the 
money was recovered it would be forwarded to them. 

The Renault Trafic van used in the robbery was found burnt out in a
disused garage close to Victoria train station. Derelict warehouses 
were searched within a twenty miles span of central London without 
success. Although all the docks in the area were checked, it was 
believed that the money was now probably out of the country. 

The serial numbers of the three million pounds that was made up of fifty
and twenty-pound notes had not been recorded, such was the confidence 
of O'Hara. After all, who would dare to rob him? 

Chaplin, on his way to a meeting with Schofield and Pepper had driven
around Camden Town at least four times, checking his mirror for 
unwanted surveillance. He had now become a paranoid wreck, believing 
that the police had checked out his financial status, and he was 
convinced that either O'Hara or the law was following him. Parking two 
streets from his brother in law's flat, the suspicious solicitor walked 
to his rendezvous, viewing every pedestrian as a potential policeman or 
terrorist. 

Schofield and Pepper were waiting for him when he finally arrived, some
forty minutes late. Schofield, as usual was clutching a glass of his 
beloved Jack Daniels, even though it was just after eight-forty am. 

“Glad you could make it, Sam,” said Schofield, with a hint of sarcasm in
his voice. 

Chaplin edged towards the window and peered through the dirty window. “I
shouldn't have come.” 

“And why not?” asked Pepper, joining his host in a glass of whiskey. 

“Someone is following me.” 

Pepper joined him at the window. “Shit, Sam, are you sure? I mean
who?..” 

“I don't know. The bloody police, or maybe one of O'Hara's thugs.” 

“Aren't you being just a little cautious, Sam?” asked Schofield, topping
up his drink. 

“No, I am not... The police, I'm certain think I had something to do
with the robbery, and God knows what O'Hara thinks. I only pray that he 
did stage the whole fiasco.” 

“I knew I shouldn't have come here,” fretted Pepper. “I can't believe
that I let you talk me into this hair-brained scheme, Deano... Remember 
our agreement? You leave me out of this.” 

Chaplin settled down in an armchair, lit up a cigarette and held his
aching head in his hands. “Forget the bloody scheme, Jack, that's the 
last of our worries.” 

“Our worries?” probed the redheaded journalist. “Surely, they can't
really suspect you of masterminding that robbery. I mean...” 

“Shut up the both of you,” ordered Schofield. “I think you're both
missing the point here... Somebody has stolen our money. Yes, our 
money, but who?... Pardon me for my boldness, Sam, but I agree that you 
wouldn't have the balls to set up this robbery; after all, it was your 
money too. I don't buy the story that O'Hara is behind this either, and 
that is our main concern.” 



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