The Train Robbery Money

 

By Bill Wilkinson

 

It was on a Friday morning, October the 20th 1967; I was busy with emergency dental treatments on needy citizens of the island of Jersey in the Channel Islands. An instantly recognisable acquaintance walked into the waiting room. This was Ken England, a flying colleague. Ken had a permanently scruffy appearance; he always had unshaven stubble on his face and a total lack of dress sense

 

He was the owner of a very expensive aircraft, an Aero Commander. I had borrowed his aircraft a couple of weeks earlier to get my Twin Rating on to my flying license. I had been trained as a pilot in the RNZAF. Ken had no regular job and apart from the occasional hiring out of his aeroplane, no regular income. He quickly got to the point,

 

"Are you doing anything this afternoon, Bill?" He asked.

 

"No." I replied.

 

"How would you like to take the Commander down to Portugal?"

 

The thought of flying Ken's powerful, glamorous plane down to Portugal was instant temptation, "Is there room for Inga?"I asked. I was anxious for my Swedish wife to enjoy any freebees going.

 

"We have six passengers, one of them is yet to arrive on the midday Flight from London, and if he doesn't make it I am sure there will be room. I will ring you at 12.30. We hope to depart shortly after 1.00 pm."

 

I was having lunch at home; I had not mentioned anything to Inga for fear of disappointing her.

 

The phone rang, it was Ken saying that passenger number six had not arrived and Inga could come. I put the phone down and turned to my wife, "Are you doing anything this afternoon, Darling?" I asked.

 

"I am getting the bread and picking up the dry cleaning.' She replied.

 

"Wouldn't you rather come down to Portugal? We have to be ready in twenty minutes."

 

It was a mad scramble getting the overnight bags packed and driving out to the airport.

 

We walked over to the aircraft. Two of the passengers were already waiting; there were three very large suitcases beside them

 

One of them I thought I recognised but I could not remember his name. I thought he might have been a patient at some time. I apologised for not remembering his name.

 

"I don't think we have met, my name is Alfie Hinds." He said

 

The penny dropped. His photograph had been in every English newspaper as "The man no jail can hold". The Daily Mirror had carried a larger than life size portrait of him on the front page. He had sued the police for wrongful arrest and had won his case, receiving a large sum of money in recompense.

 

He introduced his friend, "Meet Tony Maffia. My pal."

 

The hairs on the back of my neck were now standing at attention.

 

We loaded the cases into the baggage compartment and climbed aboard.

 

The Aero Commander was a joy to fly and we quickly climbed to cruising height. I set course for Dinard. It was mid-afternoon when we crossed Brittany at Vannes. We crossed the Bay of Biscay against a stiff head wind. There was Cu-nim activity forecast for Spain and I did not feel like looking for trouble. We entered into the Spanish Airspace west of Bilbao. I was anxious to cross the Pyrenees at a safe height, I asked Ken for his map of Spain.

 

"Haven't got it, Bill." He replied.

 

This should be interesting I thought to myself. Night was falling fast as we gained height to cross the Pyrenees. Ken was clutching an Aerad map; heights are not given on these maps. I turned around to the passengers and asked them to look for Spanish/ European maps in the glove pockets. Nothing was found.

 

Inga rummaged in her handbag. She found that her diary had a map of Europe on the inside cover. I took it as an additional referral item.

 

Flashes of lightning were now lighting up our way. I carefully manoeuvred around the towering cumulo-nimbus clouds.

 

In the back Tony Maffia was starting to panic. Inga who did not like flying through thunderstorms herself did her best to calm him. Alfie remained unperturbed throughout the flight.

 

Using the ADF and the VOR I could pinpoint our position with reasonable certainty. I gave my estimated position to Ken. He thought it best to cut across the Airways and fly over Portugal. We changed course to cross the Spanish-Portuguese border.

 

After a few minutes the Spanish Area controller noticed our change of direction. There followed some very aggressive questioning. British-Spanish relations were not good at the time due to disputes over the sovereignty of Gibraltar and he withheld permission for our leaving Spanish airspace. We flew on.

 

The head wind was persisting and we were running very late and there was no possibility of our landing at Faro before the closing time of the airport. This did not worry Ken.

 

After six and three quarter hours flying from Jersey we were touching down at Faro.

 

The terminal was in darkness and there was one solitary official to greet us. Ken was full of apologies and passed over a couple of bottles of scotch by way of compensation. Tony and Alfie removed their bulky suitcases from the aircraft and loaded them straight into a waiting cab and quickly drove off.

 

I felt uncomfortable with Ken bribing the Airport official and the fact that no one was stamping our passports. "Don't worry, Bill, let us get a bite to eat at the hotel. "was his reassurance.

 

The following day Inga and I decided to do some sightseeing. We hired a little VW and set off for Lagos, a popular British holiday destination.

 

We were trundling along when we came across a tragic accident; a cyclist had been knocked off his bicycle and killed. The traffic had come to a complete halt.

 

We suddenly realized that the car in front of us was being driven by Alfie with Tony as passenger. We waved at them but they were not looking in our direction.

 

The traffic started moving again and we followed them for a few miles towards Lagos. Suddenly they turned right heading down a little track going up into the mountains.

 

We were thoroughly mystified. There were no tourist attractions in the direction they were going.

 

We had lunch at Lagos and returned to Faro in time for the Feria, the local holiday festival.

 

That evening we visited the Feria and toured all of the stalls. I bought a large flask of wine in a wicker basket. A sudden rain shower stopped the proceedings and we were drenched. A dash back to the hotel and we decided a drink in the hotel was what was needed. As I queued at the bar Tony arrived and stood next to me. I noticed that he wore a very peculiar tie. It showed the scales of justice but out of balance. I reported these facts to Inga and expressed the thought that Tony was a crook. She thought that I was too imaginative. She never thought badly of anyone.

 

I went over to Tony later and asked him about his tie, he said that he owned a company called Justice Car Sales.

 

The following day Ken, Inga and I flew the Aero Commander to Gibraltar. We wined and dined at the Rock Hotel and left to return to Jersey the following day

 

The Spaniards would not accept flight plans from Gibraltar. We submitted a VFR flight plan at Gibraltar and set off, flying offshore along the east coast of Spain.

 

North of Barcelona we set course for Bordeaux and then for Jersey. We flew across the Bay of Biscay as night was falling. When we approached Lorient a Mirage fighter took off. He climbed vertically immediately in front of us. Ken wanted me to turn the navigation lights off. I refused Five hours after leaving Gibraltar we were landing at Jersey.

 

Post Script:

Two months after our flight to Portugal Tony Maffia was murdered by an East-end criminal.

 

When the police opened up his safety deposit boxes they found a treasure trove of stolen goods. They called him the Number One Fence of the UK

 

Early in the following January I opened the Sunday Times to read about our trip to Portugal. Tony and Alfie had gone there to buy a copper mine in the mountains of the Algarve. All of the details of the flight were there. How the reporters unearthed the information I can't imagine. We had not said a word to anyone. They confirmed that the suitcases contained some of the train robbery money and that was used to purchase the copper mine.

 

When I thought back to the events of the time it all fitted together. They needed some one with an IFR license and flying experience as well as having twin engined aircraft time. There was no one else in Jersey with my flying qualifications immediately available. That is how I became involved

 

If there had been any reason to land at either France or Spain our baggage would have been inspected. It was essential that the journey from Jersey to Portugal been without any possibility of the money being found.