The telephone rang breaking the silence in the office.
“Aren’t you going to answer it?” asked the Corporal directing the question at ‘his nibs’.
“Arthur,” commanded the bowler hatted gent lounging at the bottom of the room.
Arthur rose to his feet and picked up the receiver and listen to the caller’s news and placed it down sternly. He turned to the Corporal, from her eyes he knew what she has guessed the news.
“The lorry was taken in Tamworth. Some men dressed as road workers had closed the road off to one lane. Then a small ambush overpowered the escorting security guards. No fatalities but a few injured.”
“We’ll send Dr. Webster to tend to them,” answered ‘his nibs’.
“You guys can’t organise a pick up in a brothel,” spat the Corporal. “That is a lorry loaded with two million pounds worth of Silver Bullion, how can you be so calm?”
“Because the really Bullion lorry is in Dover,” answered Arthur. “We dispatched it in an unescorted Brewery Van. This one was a decoy loaded with genetically modified grain to go to the furnaces.”