The Speedy ( Part 1)

In 1969, two men were the first humans to walk on the moon. Their names were Neil Armstrong and Edwin Eugene Aldrin, also known as Buzz. The story begins...

 

February 1970. Washington DC.

Lenny Watkins opened the door of Jack Shits pawnshop, walked up to the counter and handed over a small brown paper bag.

A short, bespectacled, grey-haired man smoking on a Marlboro Red, opened the bag and spread the contents out before him. There were two cigarette lighters, a watch and a string of pearls. He looked up and spoke, the cigarette never once leaving his lips.

“You been robbing mail vans again Lenny?”

His question was ignored. Lenny would rather have taken the bag somewhere else, but Jack Shits is where you go if you want to sell something you’ve acquired through dubious means. No paperwork, no I.D. and no questions asked. The owner, Manny Salzburg, was discreet and had a reputation for keeping his mouth shut if questioned by the authorities.

He looked at the items one by one, then shrugged his shoulders.

“The pearls are fake, the lighters are steel and not silver and the watch is…”

Lenny interrupted.

“It’s one of those fancy Omega watches.”

Manny just smiled. Lenny knew what was coming and braced himself to hear the two words that gave the shop its nickname.

“Is it a Rolex? No. Is it gold? No. So guess what it’s worth. Jack Shit is what it’s worth. Twenty bucks the lot. Take it or leave it.”

Lenny’s heart sank. He was hoping for at least fifty. He desperately needed the money. His rent was overdue, and he had a raging thirst that only cheap liquor would satisfy.

“Ah come on Manny. Give me thirty?”

Manny was already putting the stuff back into the bag. He stopped and stared at Lenny.

“Twenty-five and I’m being generous.”

Lenny held out his hand.

“Okay, okay, I’ll take it.”

Manny gave him the cash and Lenny swiftly made his way to the liquor store.

 

 

September 1986.

Manny closed the door of the shop for the very last time. At seventy-two years of age it was time to retire. Over forty years of smoking a hundred cigarettes a day had taken its toll and Manny was no longer a healthy man. The doctor had given his condition a fancy name but all Manny was concerned about was how long he had left. The news wasn’t good, a year at most. With treatment, he could possibly last another two or three years but the cost was huge and Manny was never one for health insurance. Besides, he’d promised his wife Dora that they’d retire to Florida and he was determined to keep that promise. She was completely unaware of his condition and he had no intention of telling her. The shop was sold and a nice condo was waiting for him and Dora in Orlando. All he had to do now was get rid of the vast amount of stock that he’d accumulated over the years.

His friend Amos had turned up to help out.

“What’s in these drawers, Manny?”

Amos was standing beside an old wooden chest of drawers. Manny smiled.

“Watches. Must be over a hundred of them. Some of them been in there for the best part of twenty years. All old-fashioned wind-up watches. No one wants them these days. It’s all Quartz and batteries now. Can’t give them away.”

Amos opened one of the drawers and took out a handful of watches of various makes, models and sizes.

“I’ve got a contact in London, England, who buys all these old things. He’s got a little watch shop and sells and repairs them for the city gents. I could give him a call?”

Manny nodded.

“Sounds good to me. Everythings gotta go.”

He coughed the last few words and held up a handkercheif to his mouth. What he saw on the small linen cloth confirmed his worst fears.

 

 

August 2003. Farringdon Road. London.

The stock was piling up. Some boxes hadn’t been opened since they arrived years ago. Benjamin Jacob’s passion, for collecting, repairing and selling old watches had now become an obsession. An obsession he couldn’t afford. If he saw old watches for sale he’d buy them. And this new computer site called eBay wasn’t helping his addiction. Some weeks he’d sell five or six watches, but buy twenty. Money was becoming a problem. His savings were gone and the banks were no longer being helpful. He didn’t own the freehold on the shop, just the leasehold and that was due for renewal next year. Where he’d get the money from he had no idea.

But today he was feeling positive. Today he’d start a stock take, find out exactly what he had and what it was worth. Or at least he’d try! It was time to put some order back into his life.

He dusted off one of the unopened boxes and looked at the labels. It was from America. He couldn’t remember when it came in or where he bought it from. Inside was an old cloth bag containing dozens of old watches. One immediately caught his eye. It was an Omega Speedmaster. He turned the winder a few times. The second hand started moving, it worked. It wasn’t the sort of watch that his city gents would wear but he liked it. He’d keep this one for himself and wear it from time to time. He put it on his wrist and fastened the clasp of the steel bracelet. He smiled, today would be a good day.

 

 

October 2006. 10.20 pm Thames Estuary 2 miles east of Sheerness.

Benjamin Jacobs body sank quickly to the bottom of the Thames Estuary. The two concrete breezeblocks tied to his ankles helped the speed of the descent.

The men responsible for his demise and subsequent deep-sea dive were Davey Boone and Tommy Reynolds. Employees of a notorious London crime family. Davey opened up two cans of Stella and handed one to Tommy.

“So, remind me what the poor old sod did that demanded he take a late-night swim?”

Tommy chuckled.

“He borrowed a five-figure sum of money from the guvnor, promised to pay it back in six months but never did and hasn’t got a pot to piss in. So he’s paid the consequences.”

Davey was intrigued.

“So what did he do with the dosh? Gambling?”

Tommy shook his head.

“Nope. Renewed the lease on his poxy little shop in Farringdon. Now, of course, it’s the bosses little shop. I think he’s gonna turn it into a sandwich bar.”

They both laughed and finished their cans of Stella. Then there was a few moments of silence before Tommy spoke again. This time his voice was more serious.

“You gonna throw the watch in as well?”

Davey looked guilty.

“What watch?”

Tommy couldn’t resist a chuckle.

“The fucking watch you took off the dead guy. When we put him on the boat he was wearing a watch, when we chucked him over the side he wasn’t. Come on Davey you know the rules, everything goes in. No trophies. That’s how people get caught!”

Davey was disappointed. He put his hand in his coat pocket but instead of the watch, he pulled out his old penknife and quickly threw it into the water. All Tommy saw was something shiny flying through the night sky and then a splash.

“Well done mate. You know it makes sense. Now let’s get this boat back before anyone notices it’s missing. There’s a pub about five miles away that’s open till midnight. We’ll stop there for last orders before heading back to London.”

Davey agreed and started pulling up the anchor, all the time thinking what he was going to do with the watch. He couldn’t wear it because Tommy would see it and then there’d be hell to pay, he couldn’t sell it in case it was traced back to the owner and questions would be asked. He decided to keep it tucked away for a while and then perhaps give it to his son for his twenty-first birthday.