Rough Justice Read Free Page A

said.
    ‘I’m relaxed,’ said Simpson.
    Grimshaw twisted around in his seat. ‘Don’t go all soft on me now,’ he said.
    ‘I’m fine,’ said Simpson, defensively. ‘I just don’t like waiting, that’s all.’ He scowled at Maloney. ‘And get your bloody hand off my knee.’
    Grimshaw turned back and took a drink from a pewter hip flask. ‘The waiting’s the key,’ he said. ‘Waiting means we know what we’re doing. Amateurs rush in because they’re all hyped up on adrenalin, and that’s when mistakes are made. I don’t make mistakes, which is why I’ve never been caught.’
    ‘That, and the fact that you’ve got one of the best drivers in the business,’ growled Thompson.
    ‘Yeah, but he was busy tonight, so I had to use you,’ said Grimshaw. He chuckled and checked out the house again through the binoculars. The light went out. ‘Right, here we go,’ he said. He nodded at Thompson. ‘Wagons roll,’ he said, and pointed down the road.
    Thompson started the engine and drove slowly down the hill, then turned left and followed the high wall that ran around the entire estate. They had used satellite photographs on Google Earth to find the best place to go over the wall, well away from any other houses and with large trees that would make it easy to hide from any passing vehicles. Thompson stopped the van as the three passengers put on night-vision goggles and switched them on. ‘All working?’ Simpson and Maloney nodded.
    Grimshaw climbed out. ‘Let’s do it,’ he said. He took out his phone and hit redial. ‘We’re going over the wall, Matt,’ he said. ‘I’ll call you when we’ve secured the house.’
    ‘Roger,’ said Matt Burrowes, at the other end of the line.
    ‘I’ll give him bloody roger,’ said Grimshaw, ending the call. Burrowes was a professional thief and Grimshaw had worked with him more than a dozen times over the years, but he could be careless and had a big mouth. Maloney opened the side of the van and got out, then pulled a pair of aluminium stepladders after him. He jogged over to the wall as Simpson jumped out and slammed the door.
    Maloney opened the ladders as Grimshaw and Simpson ran over. Simpson went first, passing the sawn-off shotgun to Grimshaw before straddling the top of the wall and leaping down. He grunted as he hit the ground and rolled to absorb the impact. He stood up and held out his hands to catch the shotgun. He moved away from the wall while Grimshaw clambered over and, a few seconds later, Maloney.
    As they moved together through the trees towards the stables at the rear of the house, Thompson ran to the wall, retrieved the stepladders, put them back in the van and drove to a nearby lay-by.
    The three men moved quickly, bending low, Simpson cradling the shotgun. They skirted around the stables, following the edge of a paddock and then moving through a small orchard of fruit trees. There was no moon and the sky was cloudy, but the night-vision goggles gave them a perfect view of the house and grounds.
    To the right was a clay tennis court, and beyond it concentric circles of flowerbeds around a fountain in the shape of an angel with outstretched wings.
    They went around the tennis court and headed to the kitchen. There was a door but their inside man had told them it was always locked and bolted from the inside. They crept around the building and reached a conservatory. They kept low, even though it was in darkness, and made for the staff entrance.
    Grimshaw took a key from his pocket. It had been supplied by the technician who had fitted the burglar alarm and worked perfectly. The console began to beep quietly so Grimshaw walked quickly over to it and tapped in the four-digit master code to deactivate it. The beeping stopped.
    Maloney padded across the kitchen as Simpson closed the door. The three men strode quietly along a corridor, past the study and the library, into a large hallway. Two stairways led up to the first floor. Grimshaw reached