Sowerbutt's Wink

Her voice muffled by her scarf, Madame Komarovski asked the men in Russian their names. A string of short words answered her. She mouthed, “Expletives” to Sowerbutt who winked at One-Line. The giant man knelt over one of the Russians, clamping his left hand over the man’s mouth. Pushing the strong fingers of his right hand into a point, One-Line began systematically jabbing the Russian’s ribcage, armpits, neck and groin. Sweating profusely, the Russian rolled on the floor in agony, muted screams and grunts could be heard behind One-Line’s huge hand.

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Sowerbutt's Snatch

It had taken seconds for Spaghetti and Tipper to fell the Russians with well-aimed cosh blows; Sowerbutt and One-Line catching the beefy men as they fell and dragging them through the open door into the empty shop. Hands on their shoulder holsters, Cocker and Missionary had kept close watch on the alley-way where the ambush was sprung. Passers-by in the nearby street went about their business without a second glance.
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Sowerbutt's Thoughts

The three men flitted out of the Soviet Embassy grounds as silently as they had entered, dodging a couple of guards enjoying a smoke of evil-smelling cigarettes near the high wall. Before they split up to make their separate ways back to Poplar, Sowerbutt said: “There might be a line in embassies with the war on, information, papers and so on. I bet  Mr Bracken would be interested in what Joe Kennedy is up to over in Grosvenor Square. He’d have a few compromising letters from high-up wives, I bet.”

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Sowerbutt's Generosity

Tipper, a balaclava pulled over his blond crew-cut, sidled up to the edge of the steps to the Soviet Embassy. Pulling a cloth bag from his jacket, he emptied the contents on one of the steps. Two plain gold rings, two wallets with papers but minus several pound notes which were safe in Tipper’s pocket, a miniature Orthodox icon and two bloody thumbs that he had bought from the elderly undertaker at the end of High Bob for two pounds. He froze at the sound of a car door banging outside in Kensington Palace Gardens. “Society set back from a night out on the tiles,” Sowerbutt whispered to Spaghetti. “We’ll pay a visit round here soon, plenty of open windows no doubt. The owners just begging for help with storing their valuables.”

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Sowerbutt's Climb

The three men had brought sacking with them to cover the broken glass as they climbed over the high brick wall surrounding the Soviet Embassy in South Kensington. All three were experienced burglars.

Safely in the extensive grounds, Sowerbutt kept watch on the front of the ornate building, Spaghetti stared at the shadows among the trees and bushes in case the armed patrol returned unexpectedly. All three men carried shooters. Sowerbutt told his two lieutenants: “We don’t want a Shoot-out at the OK Corral, but just in case we have to wave goodbye to one of the guards in a hurry.”
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Sowerbutt's Expedition

 Spaghetti whispered: “Never seen such security - barbed wire, trip wires, electrified wire, broken glass, traps, strips of nails, armed guards. I even spotted a couple of sound detectors, don’t see many of those about. Wonder which of the 20 bedrooms His Gloriousness the Ambassador, Maisky isn’t it, kips in?”

Sowerbutt watched as Tipper, ghost-like, slipped through the shadows on the manicured lawns of the Italianate mansion in South Kensington which housed the Soviet Embassy. He froze, waiting for a couple of armed guards to pass, then picked his way towards the marble steps leading to the imposing entrance.

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Sowerbutt's Visit

The two men had slipped through an unlocked rear door in the Savoy Hotel and found the Spanish businessman’s suite.  Seconds later, Sowerbutt was concealed behind the velvet curtains and Tipper was sitting at the back of a settee; the two men hardly pausing for breath after the lock on the door had succumbed. Through the open door to the bedroom, they could hear regular light snoring.

As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Sowerbutt checked the room for a briefcase.  Was that it by the desk, no. A dark patch on Tipper’s settee, no. A loud banging on the door interrupted Sowerbutt’s chain of thought.
The snoring stopped, a light went on in the bedroom and a ghostly figure in a white robe swept across the room.
“Senor Gonzales, I am so sorry to wake you so early. It is a matter of life and death,” a voice exclaimed.
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Sowerbutt's Mail

“How many mailbags, Spaghetti?”

“We counted 20, guv. They all looked packed full. I suppose the numbers could vary.”
“Some documents perhaps, but still room for a good few notes. This will be a one-off hit, lads. We’ll have to take what’s there,” Sowerbutt said.

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Sowerbutt's Scheme

Sowerbutt picked up his glass of Old Bushmills. “The weakest point, gentlemen, is when the mail bags are in the warehouse. That’s where we hit. The caretaker is in his office and the Post Office lads are away in the terminal, filling their faces. We’ll take some girls with us. An older lady, dressed as a cleaner, to distract the caretaker and two girls, dressed as passengers, for the Post Office lads in the terminal. Nero, find out if the caretaker is still up for a bit. Once his pants are down, he won’t notice what’s happening in the warehouse."

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Sowerbutt's Fortune

Sowerbutt chuckled. “What about the headlines? ‘The Great Plane Robbery’, ‘Thousands Vanish In Mystery Snatch”. Thousands? We’ve tucked away more than a quarter of a million, can you believe. Way more than enough for all of us and we’ll make sure the local families are sorted out when the bombing stops."
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Sowerbutt's Smokes

“Turns out that Brylcreem Boys are flying stuff down from Birmingham. It sounded like those Brummie blokes who bought our smokes the other week," Nero said. "Would you believe the stopper is helping to shift the stuff down here in Croydon and South London. The cheek of it, stoppers are supposed to be honest.”

Sowerbutt smiled: “Dishonest stoppers, well I never.”
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Sowerbutt's TV

"Television was starting to take off in the years before Jimmy disappeared." The retired writer for the East London Pioneer, who still has the notebook from his early 1960s interview with Jimmy Sowerbutt, said: "There was a waiting list for TV sets and money was still tight. Jimmy said he had a cast-iron alibi for the night. But the HMV factory up in Hayes was broken into and TV sets appeared in the East End, particularly in pubs, at a good price. No doubt, others were sold to the nobs in the West End at a much higher price."
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Sowerbutt's Strike

"Jimmy Sorbay made good money in the '47 Docks Strike." The retired writer for the East London Pioneer, who still has the notebook from his early 1960s interview with Jimmy Sowerbutt, said: "Food was starting to go off in the unloaded ships, so Jimmy took a load of his lads in and fought a pitched battle with the union boys and the Reds. Guess who won? He was trucking out food, which sold at a top price, for several days before the Army moved in and broke the strike."
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Sowerbutt's Puzzle

“According to our Zionist friends, with whom the Palestinians have been in touch, they are threatening to deliver Herr General to the Soviets and expose our double-dealing," Brendan Bracken said."Not that we owe anything to the Russians but the propaganda onslaught would not be helpful. The Commons would not be too impressed and it would give the Isolationists across the Atlantic a field day. What the lunatics want is for the British authorities to open the Palestinian borders to the Jewish refugees from Europe. That’s not going to happen, we need the Arab oil for the war effort. Any ideas, Sorbay?”
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Sowerbutt's House

“That’s another thing, James,” Polly said angrily, jabbing her man in the ribs with her fingers, a trick she had learnt from her mother when she ran the brothel. “I haven’t seen your wonderful little house, have I? Has it been painted or is there a single stick of furniture there? Do they have proper bathrooms in Luton, I am not using a lean-to. Nor am I living in a slum. You go off buying these places without talking to your partner - is that what I’m called or not these days?”

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Sowerbutt's Bus Stop

“Talk pleasantries with the Jerry you are escorting, reassure him about his journey, but discuss nothing else," Brendan Bracken said. "One more judgement call for you. Kill him instantly if he tries any nonsense, I’ll take care of the body."

The red trolleybus slowed next to the bus stop at Poplar Rec.
Sowerbutt smiled. “Time to get off, Mr Bracken. I have some urgent arrangements to make.”
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Sowerbutt's Secret

"Last time we met Sorbay, I mentioned the Official Secrets Act of 1911. That still applies, particularly as the gentleman you are escorting is a Jerry who is kindly helping us out with a few matters," Brendan Bracken said.

“You may not repeat what I have just said to a soul, not even to your lady. I cannot save you from a long term of imprisonment if word gets out. And no chance of cooking the beak, as you and your friends say."
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Sowerbutt's Bus

“I hope you are satisfied, Sorbay," Brendan Bracken said. "This is the first time I have been on a trolleybus and I can assure you it will be the last. Are they always this empty? I’ll get onto John Reith, the wastrel. Couldn’t run the BBC and useless as Transport Minister, never understood why the Old Man kept him on in Cabinet.”
“Few passengers on the late night services, apart from the shift workers, Mr Bracken, but you have to get them home somehow. Very busy during the day, no cars around here, are there?” Sowerbutt smiled. http://www.amazon.co.uk/Colour-of-Red-ebook/dp/B00B1CWM5M/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1358353851&sr=1-1