You can’t run and you can’t hide

“He’s a strange one that kid,” Harry said of their new boss, “Don’t know what to make of him.”

 

“He’s got the smarts,” Alex said, “Online security – he can crack any system. Very impressive.”

 

Harry nodded, he’d heard the same stories, alarm systems switched off, police and security running around chasing false leads, the kid and his gang strolling in, filling bags with swag and strolling out, not so much as a blip from the alarms.

 

“Still, he’s not one of us, is he?” Harry said. “Half our age for one thing. I’ll expect he’ll make changes.”

 

“Oh yes, I’m sure he will,” Alex agreed.

 

“You were with him at the meeting, what did he say?”

 

“Well he does want to try some new things.”

 

“Thought so,” Harry said, “Old guys like me are past it, bring in the new. I mean, I can understand, the kid’s probably right.”

 

“No, no, that’s not what I meant at all. He wants to keep the old gang; he just thinks we need to be fitter.” Alex paused while trying to find the best way to break the news. “He wants us to take up running.”

 

“What, jogging, at my age? With my body?” he patted his swelling belly.

 

“I think it’s the age and the belly he’s worried about. “If you can’t run you can’t hide,” the kid said.” In fact, he’d said it to Alex, prodding his stomach and lecturing him about fitness. “The kid says there’s a job he’s planning but we need to be fit to pull it off.”

 

“What’s the job, picking Mo Farrah’s pocket?”

 

“There’s a security firm, he’s hacked their system, knows the security codes and details for all the firms they work for. He wants to pull of five jobs in a night to make the most of the information.”

 

“Five in a night! Jesus, is he serious?”

 

“Very. Which is why I’ve brought you these.” Alex held out a shopping bag.

 

“What are they?”

 

“Running shoes. Operation ‘Lose Your Tum’ starts today.

 

xxx

 

“Guess who I saw running by the river?” Sergeant Earnest Feathers asked his DCI a few days later.

 

“Dunno, Mo Farrah? A duck?”

 

“No, Harry Gee.”

 

“Old Harry, but he must be 60 if he’s a day.”

 

“Not just Harry, he was with Alex Jennings.”

 

“Good god, they’ve set up The Old Man’s Running Club.”

 

“It’s suspicious though, they must be planning something don’t you think?”

 

“Well, if they’re planning a job that involves a getaway on foot I don’t think we have to worry too much.”

 

“You don’t think we should look into it?”

 

“What some old men out for a run. Oh, okay, I’ll get a couple of officers to follow them, see if they overhear anything suspicious. Frankly though, it’s a waste of time. They’re probably going through a belated mid-life crisis.”

 

xxx

 

“Hello Harry, Alex, Carter,” said Randall, “Never thought we’d meet like this.” Randall, like the others, was wearing trainers, jogging top and tracksuit bottoms, all designed for someone approximately 46 years younger than he was, and about 86 years younger than he felt.

 

“Morning Randall, morning Dirk,” said Alex. “We all ready to set off?”

 

This latest adventure was another other of The Kid’s ideas – team-building runs. He didn’t take part himself, he preferred to play a behind-the-scenes role, but he didn’t just want the old gang to run, he wanted them to do it together, to share the experience.

 

“Right,” said Alex, taking charge (the others had already taken note that The Kid was passing his orders through Alex these days), “A gentle 5k run along the river. Try not to frighten the ducks.”

 

“5k – what’s that in English?” asked Randall.

 

“About 3 miles in old money, grandad,” Alex said. “1½ miles along the river, then back again.

 

“How’ll we know when to turn round?” asked Carter. Carter always asked the right questions. “We wouldn’t want to run too far.”

 

“I’ve got an app,” said Alex. “I’m tracking our steps. It’s very sophisticated, I can even send you a congratulatory email when we’ve finished showing where we’ve run.”

 

“Great, maybe they can put the route on our tombstones when our hearts give out,” said Randall, not the fattest nor the oldest, but by a long way the most cynical of the crew.
xxx

 

“Is that them?” asked PC Mosser, nodding towards a group of elderly, overweight men jogging slowly along the river.”

 

“Yeah, the town’s elite criminal gang. Makes you wonder how anything manages to get stolen, doesn’t it?” agreed PC McWarbler.

 

“What do you think they’re up to? You think they’re planning a job?”

 

McWarbler wasn’t impressed by his colleague’s keenness. “Maybe a rival gang trying to bump them off by challenging them to a race.”

 

“We should go after them. We might overhear them say something.”

 

“Yeah, we’ll probably hear all five of them muttering ‘I’m too old for this’.”

 

“It’s worth trying, it’d be a big catch.”

 

McWarbler sighed. There was no arguing with a kid like this. Mosser was keen, that was his problem. Ambitious. Not ambitious in the ‘work hard, study hard, earn promotion the hard way’ ambitious, but ambitious in the ‘let’s follow some wild goose chase and hope it leads to instant glory’ sense of ambitious. The ‘let’s jog behind these five old farts and maybe they’ll let slip their plans for the heist of the century’ ambitious.

 

Still, thought McWarbler, it would show willing. They could hardly tell Feathers they’d been given the slip, not five old geezers like that, they’d never live it down.

 

“Oh go on then, but take it steady, they’re barely waddling at walking pace, keep it nice and slow.”

 

xxx

 

“There’s cops,” said Randall. “We’re being followed.”

 

“Cops!” said Alex, incredulous. “You’re kidding me right.” He turned his head slightly to look. “Just a couple of runners,” he said, “I think this exercise is doing things to your brain.”

 

“Yeah,” said Randall, undaunted, “a couple of runners half our age, plodding along no faster than we are. They’ve been there five minutes now, made no effort to overtake.”

 

“They are running slowly,” said Harry, “and they look quite fit.”

 

“Okay,” said Alex, “Let’s stop to take on water, see what they do.”

 

“Take on water?” said Randall. “What, you mean fight it?”

 

“I mean drink it Randall, the English language has become less confrontational during your absence at her majesty’s pleasure.”

 

The five men stopped to take out their water bottles and ‘give this water a fucking kickin’, as Randall put it. Without seeming to, they watched the two men behind them, who, coincidentally, also stopped to take on water.

 

“See,” said Randall, as they resumed jogging.

 

“But why?” said Harry, “who’d follow five old codgers out jogging?”

 

“They must suspect we’re up to something,” said Alex.  “Right, change of plan, we won’t turn round, we’ll carry on to the next village.”

 

“How far’s the next village?” asked Carter. Carter always asked the right questions.

 

“Five miles from where we set off,” said Alex.

 

“But we were only supposed to do 5k,” said Randall.

 

“I thought you preferred miles, weren’t you complaining about going metric.”

 

“But what happens when we get to the village?” asked Carter.

 

“No problem, I’ll phone the kid, get him to arrange a pick-up.”

 

xxx

 

“Unbelievable,” said Mosser, “How are they still doing it? It’s been miles.”

 

“They must be fitter than we thought. Perhaps they’ve been running for a while and we’ve only just noticed.”

 

“Hang on, they’re turning off.”

 

“They’re heading to the village. Maybe they’re getting a bus back.”

 

“Well, I’d be happy to get the bus with them. I’m spent.”

 

The two PCs followed the men up the path into the village, but when they came to the main road there was no sign of them.

 

“They must have got the bus without us,” said Mosser.

 

“Or a lift.”

 

“So what do we do? Call Feathers and get picked up.”

 

“Are you nuts? We’d be the laughing stock of the whole station. We run back.”

 

“Back, but that’s miles.”

 

“Well if those old codgers can manage it there’s no reason we can’t. Come on, the quicker we leave the quicker we get back.”