The Safe

Sometimes when you read a newspaper story, it is what they don't tell you that is more interesting. This story is based on a true story. More details below. 
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“Stop!” Lockie waved his arms to Wills in the cab, “stop!” He yelled again.

Wills sighed. “What now?” He muttered and then pulled the lever and halted the arm of the excavator in mid-air. He jumped down from his perch to see what the problem was.

“Look,” Lockie pointed to wall that Wills had just been dismantling. There was something grey protruding from the rubble. “I think it’s a bloody bomb.” Lockie said.

Both men edged forward towards the object, carefully watching where they put their feet.
“Why would there be a bomb?” Wills said.

“Second World War left over, you often get them round here.” Lockie was the younger man, but had local knowledge.

“It don’t look like a bomb to me,” Wills said.

“So what is it then?”
The circled it, trying to figure out what it was.

“It looks like a safe,” Wills took a step closer. “It is a bloody safe, hang on.”

Wills darted back to his machinery and started the engine. He prided himself on his skill with the excavator. He used the bucket to prise the safe out of the wall like a mother might tenderly remove a splinter in her child’s thumb. Then he picked it up and moved it to a clear piece of land and laid it down gently.

“What are we gonna do with it?” Lockie said.

“Well we’ll have to call the owner; guess he must have forgotten about it,” Wills replied.

“There isn’t an owner.” Lockie dropped his voice. “It used to belong to Serious Stanley Peters.”

“Who’s he when he’s at home?” Wills asked.

“You’ve never heard of Pork-Pie Peters?” Lockie was still whispering. “He was big back in the day. Ran the protection rackets, ran the girls, ran the drugs, ran the lot.”

“So why are we demolishing his house?” Wills asked.

“Well he got banged up didn’t he, then the Police said they had to destroy the bloody house because it was built with ill-gotten gains.”

“So nobody would miss this safe then,” Wills said. “Obviously the police didn’t know it was here and Pork-Pie Peters is locked up, so…”

Lockie shook his head.

 “I’ll load it onto the back of the lorry, we’ll take it somewhere quiet and we’ll see what’s inside.” Wills continued.

“No, no, we can’t steal from Serious Stanley.” Lockie looked scared.

“You said yourself he’s banged up. What’s he gonna do?”

Lockie looked around to check no one could hear their conversation.

“If there’s anything in there that’s worth something, then he’ll find us. He wasn’t a one man band you know?”

“If there’s something in there worth something he’d have come back to get it.”

The two men stared at each other.

“It’s not worth the risk. Let’s call it in.”

“But if we call the police… we’re being snitches.” Wills reasoned. “C’mon we could be sitting on millions of pounds here.” he bent down and started playing with the combination lock.

“How are we even going to get in it?” Lockie said.

“My cousin knows a thing or two about safes. He could get us in.” WIlls straighten up. “Go on, get the truck.”

“Nah I’m calling the police,” Lockie got out his phone and started playing with it.

Wills turned to walk back to the excavator. He jumped back into his cab and took his anger out on the remaining walls.
From his position in the excavator he could see the police cars coming over the hill. He’d calmed down a bit now; he knew Lockie was probably right, but he knew the police would take the safe off and they’d never know what was in it. It was the not knowing that annoyed him; a lifetime of never knowing what could have been. He smiled to himself, swivelled the arm around and brought the bucket down on the safe. Sparks flew as metal met metal, again and again and then the door flew open. He jumped down from his can and went to look.

Lockie was right to call the police; the safe was empty.

Click here for the original news story. When I read it, I cared more about the dilemma the people who found it had than the fact it had been found. Hence my story.