The Dirty Dozen

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It was a rainy and overcast April morning as the brown 1976 Mark 4 Ford Cortina sedan parked up on the offside of Aylmer Road, a few meters down from the junction with Leytonstone High Road. The four men in the vehicle sat in silence as the engine slowly ticked over and the windscreen wipers swept away the rain. The men were dressed in blue coveralls, heavy black donkey jackets and leather driving gloves. The heat from their bodies was making the windows mist up and the musty odor of sweat filled the car. The man in the back opened his window a couple of inches and the two men in the front used their jacket sleeves to wipe the condensation off the windscreen, so they could get a better view of Barclays Bank on the far side of the High Road. The bank manager was holding an umbrella as he opened the large wooden front doors for business at 9:30. Smartly dressed in a three-piece gray pinstripe suit, white shirt, and tie, he stood to one side to let two customers in, and looked up the High Road, which was quieter than usual for a Thursday morning due to the bad weather.

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