BigSaltyDog

Chapter 5 The hideout was an old, disused boathouse on the banks of the Grand Canal. It smelled of damp timber, diesel fumes, and the lukewarm takeaway fish and chips Dannyboy had insisted on picking up on the way back. The heavy mahogany chest rested in the centre of a battered wooden table. Under the harsh glare of a single overhead bulb, the diamonds and antique jewelry practically blinded everyone in the room. Ye Olde Large Lad leaned over the loot, poking a massive ruby brooch with the tip of his iron bar. “Right then. What’s the split? I reckon I get an extra five percent for lugging this box through the rain.” “You did five yards of carrying and three minutes of complaining, Large Lad,” McFinleyyy said, wiping his glasses with a microfibre cloth. “The heavy lifting was done by my diagnostic tablet.” “Excuse me?” Dannyboy chimed in, leaning against the doorframe with a chip hanging out of his mouth. “Who slipped the knock-out drops into the guards’ Earl Grey? I practi...