Playing Cat And
Mouse
Here - let me
pour you another cup.
Now, where
were we? Oh yes - you asked if I ever
had to be especially devious in some of my visits. Well, a few do come to mind where, as well as
having to be a skilled cat burglar; I also had to play a few little tricks with
the people I came across.
Back in the early
eighties, I was up in the North West, visiting a few places and houses that I
felt would prove lucrative if I was to visit them. One of these was a house in the Chester area,
a lovely old Georgian house set back from the road and surrounded by a wall.
Well, walls
were no problem to me, even then, so I hopped over the back, saw an open window
on the first floor and climbed up the drainpipe to get in. Yes, people still did that then - and still
do now, truth be told.
To my eternal
gratitude, the window actually opened onto the master bedroom, and although I
could hear a couple of kids running round downstairs I knew if I was careful I
would not disturb them. Instead, I
contented myself with rummaging through the drawers and cupboards, locating
with relative ease the not so well hidden jewellery.
As I closed
one particular drawer, I heard feet running up the stairs, so I quietly closed
it and flattened myself against the wall.
The last thing I wanted to do was deal with kids, and as I silently
prayed that would not happen I heard three sets of feet going past the room,
two with high pitched voices laughing and giggling, the third strangely mute.
I slowly
opened the door and watched through the crack as two teenage girls, dressed in
white layered skirts and t-shirts, came out of a side
room and walked back down the corridor, talking to each other. As they passed the door, not noticing it was not
open, I waited until they started to walk down the stairs, but one thing was
bothering me.
Where was the
third person?
As they
reached the bottom of the stairs, I slipped out of the room and went to the
door the other two had come out of.
Opening it, I walked in and was greeted with the sound of “Hthllru?”
There was an
older woman sitting on a bare mattress on a bed, staring back at me through
thick black rimmed glasses. She was
wearing a sleeveless white frilled blouse, with a black bra underneath, a short
tight black skirt, stockings and patent heels.
How did I
know she had a black top on underneath?
Because the two girls had tied her arms so tightly to her side with
ropes, and the ropes went around and between her breasts so well, that the
blouse had been stretched so tightly it was plainly visible underneath. Her legs were bound above her knees, and her
ankles secured together as well.
“Au
Pair?” I said to
her, and she nodded, her eyes wide as she grunted into whatever was under the
wide black scarf that was covering her mouth.
“Well, I’m
your burglar for today,” I said as I reached over and removed the pearl
necklace that was around her neck, “and I don’t want to interrupt any games you
may be playing. I’ll be on my way - have
a good day.”
Kissing her
on the forehead, I stopped at the door and turned, looking at her looking at me
with an expression in her eyes that said “What the hell just happened?”
No, I didn’t
wait for the girls - I wanted to get out of there with a minimum of fuss, and
besides - they had already secured the most likely person to raise the alarm.
Sometimes the
reason you have to be sneaky is because you don’t want to give away everything
you have yet. Let me tell you a story
that illustrates that.
This would be
about 1986, and I was ‘visiting’ a house in Falkirk, looking through the
cupboards in the living room when in walks this middle aged woman, putting her
keys back into her handbag and then looking at me as so many of them do. She had long mousey blonde hair and wore
glasses, and was dressed casually in a v-neck purple top, a denim jacket, black
pants and sandals on her feet.
“Can I help
you,” she said as she looked at me. “Well,
yes you can,” I said as I put my hand in my pocket and pointed something at
her, “you can out your bag down and your hands up.”
No, it wasn’t
a gun, but she wasn’t to know that, was she?
Anyway, she put her handbag on a chair and raised her hands, saying
“What are you going to do with me,” as she did so.
“I guess I’m
going to have to stop your raising the alarm,” I said as I put my other hand in
my other pocket and took out a length of white cord. “Slowly, turn round and put your hands behind
your back.”
“You’ll never
get out of here,” she said as she turned and looked over her shoulder, “My
daughter will be home any minute, and if she walks in on you doing this she’ll
raise the alarm, and you’ll be caught.”
“We’ll see,”
I said as I crossed her wrists and quickly tied them together, making sure it
was tight but not uncomfortable as I cinched the ropes between her arms. There was a large couch in the room, with a
red throw over it, so I guided her to one side and sat her down, before taking
a second length of cord and tightly binding her ankles together over the cuffs
of her pants. It was a simple matter
then to use a third length to fix her wrist to her ankles in a loose hogtie as
she fell slightly to the side.
“You’d better
go now before my daughter gets back,” she said as she tried to twist her arms
round, looking at me the whole time.
“Oh, I think
I may have a few minutes yet,” I said with a smile as I reached into my bag and
pulled out a long white scarf. “Now, why
don’t you open your mouth - I’d hate to have to force you to do that.”
She glared at
me, before opening her mouth and allowing me to pull the scarf in, closing her
lisp round the cloth as I pulled the ends around her head and knotted them over
her hair. As she leaned back, she almost
seemed to be mewling as I walked to the door in a leisurely manner, and left
her alone for a few minutes.
So when I
walked back in, she screamed when she saw who I had with me. She was eighteen, and dressed in a pair of
faded jeans, a white blouse and ropes around her wrists and ankles, not to
mention the scarf between her own lips.
“Your
daughter came home half an hour ago,” I said as I sat her on the opposite end
of the couch and attached her wrists to her ankles, “and she interrupted me as
well. I think you need to have a talk
with each other about security - no matter how muted it may be.”
As you know,
these days as well as antiques I have a little side lien in security
consulting, which has shown up some very interesting possibilities. One particular woman asked me to do a survey
of her offices, to check for areas where security could be tightened, and I did
my usual efficient and professional job.
I handed in the report, and my fee - and then nothing. She had disappeared without paying.
Three months
later, I was at an antiques fair in Coventry when I saw her again, walking
through the aisles with a friend of hers.
She was unmistakable - greying blonde hair, a haughty air about her,
wearing a pinstripe jacket and skirt as she walked up and down the aisles, the
over large collar of her blouse over her jacket. Her friend wasn’t much better - her hair was
red, and she was wearing a green checked jacket with brass buttons and matching
knee length skirt - but they both looked as if they were the king of the walk.
Making sure
they did not see me, I followed them out of the fair and to their car, then to a flat that was part of a terrace of older houses on
the outskirts of town. I watched them
walk into the flat, got out of my car and took a few things out, before walking
into the flats and ringing the front door bell.
It was her
friend who answered, and it was her I gently pushed back in as I held a fake
pistol in front of her. I had a scarf
pulled up over my lower face, and a trilby pulled down on my head so that only
my eyes were showing.
Pushing her into
the front room, it gave me great satisfaction to see my former client stand
slowly up, a shocked expression on her face.
“You,” I said as I pushed her friend towards her, “take one of these and
tie her hands behind her back.”
I handed her
a plastic zip tie - I had some in the car from some work I had been doing clearing
out rubbish, and had grabbed some just in case.
She took it, trembling as she looked at me through her glasses, and
secured her friend’s wrists together. I’[m
not sure if it was the thin plastic or the rasping sound that made her jump,
but either way I was quietly enjoying what was happening.
Wrong of me,
probably, but she owed me money.
“Sit her down
and secure her ankles together,” I said trying not to laugh, but as she pulled
the zip tie tight I almost felt sorry for her friend. Having a look round, I guessed she was the
one who lived here, and the woman binding her was visiting. Bad luck, but we can always pick our friends.
Anyway, she
looked at me through her own glasses as I bound the first woman’s wrists,
turned her round and pushed her down onto the small seat, and then secured her
ankles together. “Don’t move a muscle,”
I said as I left them for a few minutes, having a quick look round the flat and
- well, not taking anything belonging to the friend.
I did find my
former client’s suitcase, however, and in there was a rather nice selection of
jewellery, carefully hidden amongst her underwear. This I pocketed - it was enough to cover my
fee and then some - before going back into the room.
“Found what
you were looking for,” my client said to me in a sarcastic tone, her eyes full
of anger as she spoke.
“Yes thanks,”
I said as I looked at her, her panties showing from between her legs, “and I
found something else as well.” In the room
the friend slept in had been a box, and in the box - well, I showed her the red
and black ball, the straps running through, and said 2Which would you like.”
The look on
her face was priceless as her jaw dropped open, and then she looked to her
friend. She shrugged her shoulders and
said “give her the red one - she need sot shut up for a while anyway.”
I don’t
usually like ball gags, but needs must, so I pushed the red ball between my
former client’s teeth, secured it round her neck, and then used the other one
on her friend. Waving to them, I left
them to their own devices - I had what I needed anyway.
Sometimes it
was less a case of tricking someone, and more a case of making it a game for
the person I was unfortunate enough to meet.
This happened to me one day in the wilds of Devon in about 1985, when I
was visiting an antique fair at a local village and was driving back through
the countryside when I felt the urge to visit a house, unexpectedly.
There was a
large manor house set back from the road, and as I parked in the street and
looked round the walls I had to admit it called to me. I hadn’t quite retired yet, so I walked round
the wall, found a wooden gate at the other side and used a pocket knife to let
myself in.
There was a
vast area of green, and I could see a horse walking round in a paddock some way
off, but it proved to be easy enough to make my way to the rear of the large
house and force open a ground floor window.
Lifting the sash frame up, I slipped in and found myself in a study.
Well, these
can be almost as fruitful as bedrooms, so I started to look round when I heard
footsteps coming. Ducking behind the
large desk, I waited to see what would happen.
The door
opened and this brunette came in - six foot tall and slim build, with long hair
that fell down her back and shoulders.
She was dressed in the “Princess Di” style of the time - a long sleeved
black cardigan buttoned up the front, a flowing knee length skirt which was
black with a coloured print on it, pearls round her neck and black heels. I watched from my hiding place as she closed
the door and walked over to the safe, turning the locks until with a click she
was able to pull the handle down and open the door.
I could see
several boxes inside, but what she took out was a small canvas bag. She walked towards the desk I was at and laid
it on the table, taking something out and looking at it.
Well, I had
no choice really - I stood up and said “Good Afternoon - please don’t scream.”
She didn’t -
she looked at me, her eyes wide, and said “Are you a robber?”
“I am - but
so long as you do as you’re told, I’ll leave you alone.”
Now, as you
know there’s been more than one occasion when I have disturbed someone enjoying
themselves, but it still surprises me when someone like this looks at you and
says ”Goodie - I want to be a hostage.”
I looked at
what she had taken out of the bag - several ten to twelve foot lengths of cord,
a roll of clear tape and a blue rubber ball that had a strap passed through it.
“So you like
to play games?”
She looked at
me as I said this and nodded, before turning round and crossing her wrists
behind her back.
Well, how
could I refuse? As I tied her wrists
together, she told me she was the wife of the owner, who seemed to spend all his
time in London or abroad without her, and she craved excitement.
Nothing wrong
in that, I suppose, but she actually giggled as I cinched the coils around her
wrists. At any rate, I pushed the ball
into her mouth as she opened it, then when she bit down I fastened the straps
around her cheek. She had already told
me what she wanted, so I took the roll of tape and wrapped it round her head,
sealing the ball in as I held her hair up to ensure it was not caught
underneath.
“My payment,”
I said as I unhooked the pearls and put them in my pocket, then
as she watched me I emptied her safe as well.
Satisfied, I helped her to sit on the floor and secured her ankles
together, before getting out of the house the way I came in - through the
window.
You know I
never liked having to deal with kids when I paid a visit in the old days - it
always seemed to cause more problems than it solved.
This would
have been about 1988 - I was still paying early morning visits to houses at
that point, and had not abandoned the night work all together. I was in South London, and looking at the home
of a jewellery shop owner in the Wimbledon town centre. He had a family and kids, but was away on
business, so I was sure I could slip in, get what I wanted and slip out
unnoticed.
You know what
they say about good plans? I slipped
into the kitchen of the house, in my usual jumper, pants, shoes and gloves, and
for some reason I decided I would have a stocking mask on. I wasn’t looking to wake anyone up, but some
sort of instinct told me it would be a good idea.
Always trust
your instincts - I had no sooner closed the kitchen door behind me when the
woman of the house walked in. She was in
her early fifties, with short cut mousey blonde hair, and was wearing long
sleeved white pyjama top and blue bottoms with a pattern on them.
She was
barefoot, which was I had not heard her, but as she turned to start to run I
grabbed her and held her to me, my gloved hand over her mouth. I genuinely do not like manhandling women,
but this time I had to do something quick.
“Stop
struggling,” I whispered into her ear, “or you’ll wake the kids. Do you want me to have to deal with them as
well?”
That made her
stop short, as I felt her say “Mgd” under my hand and
she stopped struggling. I needed
something to keep her quiet a while longer, however,
so I picked up a white linen napkin that was on the kitchen table, folded it
into a roll and took my hand away.
Before she could say anything, I stuffed the roll into her mouth, put my
hand back over her mouth and said “Don’t you dare spit that out, or I’ll fix it
in there and you’ll choke. Come on -
we’re going up to your bedroom.”
I frog
marched her in front of me, my arm holding hers together behind her back, as we
quietly walked up the stairs. “Keep
thinking of the kids,” I whispered as we got to the top of the stairs, and
walked to the bedroom, me closing the door behind us as we went in.
I had some
lengths of cord in my pocket, so I said “Just lie down and put your hands
behind your back. I won’t hurt you or
the kids if you do as I say.” She nodded
as I let her go, watching as she walked over to the bed and lay face down on
top of the pink throw.
I moved her
hands behind her back, placing them so the backs of the hands were next to each
other, and tightly bound them together, listening to her start to quietly sob
as I did so. I hated to do this, but it
was the only way I was going to get out quickly.
Taking a second
length, I lifted her legs up and bound her ankles together, the legs of her
pants trapped underneath as I cinched the coils between her legs. I figured she wasn’t going to be any more
trouble, but I had to be certain she would not try and get away for a little
while, so I used a third might to fix her ankles to her wrists, her legs
perpendicular to the knees when I had finished.
“Now just lie
nice and quietly,” I said as I patted her on the bottom, “and I’m sure the kids
won’t wake up.” She watched me as I
searched the room, finding quite a few choice pieces, and placing them in a
pillow case.
She still had
the cloth stuffed in her mouth, obviously too scared to do anything as she
closed her eyes when I walked over.
“Enjoy your day,” I said as I left her there, walked down the stairs and
left as I heard an alarm clock starting to sound. I figured I had enough time to get back to my
car before either of her kids raised the alarm...
I take
security very seriously - you won’t see them, but there are hidden cameras
everywhere in the shop. I also like to be
sure my staff can cope in the case of a robbery, so when I take on a new staff
member I like to - test them.
Recently,
I’ve taken on a new Saturday assistant by the name of Monica, who is studying
art at the local college. One Friday, I
asked her to drop by the store after five, where I was waiting with Alex, my
assistant. Monica came in, and took off
her denim jacket. She was wearing a
grey-blue t-shirt, black jeans and trainers with white sport socks.
“You wanted
to see me, Mister Jacobs?”
“Yes, Monica
- you may have heard there have been a number of raids at antique shops in the
area, and we want to be sure you know what to do it we are hit, especially if I
am not here?”
“Of course -
I presume we press the hidden alarm?”
“If you can
yes, but criminals today tend to be the ‘get your hands in the air’ type, and
if a gun is pointing at you you may not have the
chance. You need to know how to behave
if your options are - limited.”
“Limited - in
what way?”
“What the
boss is trying to say,” Alex said as she stood up, “is sometimes you may be
tied up, and you need to know how to behave, and what to do and not do in those
circumstances.”
Monica turned
and looked at Alex. “Has it ever
happened to you?”
“Once or
twice,” she said as she ran her fingers through her hair. Alex knew what the plan was, so she was
wearing long sleeved pink top and jogging pants, her lower legs encased in a
pair of mid-length grey suede boots.
“Monica, what
we’re going to do is Mister Jacobs is going to pretend to be a robber, and he
will secure both of us. Watch what I do,
and do the same, all right? I promise you
he won’t hurt us.”
“Has he done
this before?”
“Once or
twice,” I said with a smile as I put some ropes on the desk. “Monica, please put the ‘closed’ sign up and
close the blinds.”
As she walked
over to the front of the shop, Alex crossed her wrists behind her back and
allowed me to start with her. By the
time Monica returned, I had secured her wrist tightly behind her back, and run
some rope around her chest. Above and below her breasts, securing her arms to
her side and cinching the lower band between her body and forearms.
“See,” Alex
said as she turned round, “It’s perfectly safe and does not hurt. You turn now - stand with your back to Mister
Jacobs and put your hands behind your back.”
As I tied her
wrists together, Monica looked over her shoulder and said “that is firm - but
not tight. Howe did you learn to do
that?”
“Boy scouts,”
I said as I wound some rope around her chest, her breasts falling over the
lower band as I tied her the same way I had tied Alex. Monica’s brown hair fell over her shoulders
as she tried twisting round, before I helped both her and Alex to sit on the
floor, facing each other.
I wound some
rope around Alex’s ankles, the cord sinking into the grey suede as I pulled her
ankles together, and then her legs above her knees. Kneeling next to Monica, I did the same, so
that when I stood up both of my assistants were immobilised on the floor. Alex had her legs stretched out, while Monica
had her knees slightly bent, the heels of her trainers on the floor.
“Comfortable,”
I asked as I watched Monica move about.
“Surprisingly,
yes,” she said with a smile, “but I suspect a real burglar may be even
stricter.
I said
nothing, but turned to Alex. “Shall we
complete the exercise?”
She nodded,
and Monica watched as I opened a drawer, took to u a roll of white medical
tape, tore off a strip and stuck it over Alex’s mouth, the tape forming to the
shape of her jaw lien and lips. Turning
to Monica, I said “This is a part of a drill, but if you don’t want this over
your mouth say so now.”
“Will it
hurt?”
“No - they
use this for bandages, so it won’t hurt, but it will stick.”
Monica nodded
and closed her mouth, looking up at me as I smoothed it over her own lips. She tried moving them, but could only say “trlllwrks” through the tape.
“You have
thirty minutes to get free,” I said as I walked to the office, “and then I will
free you.”
Yes, she
enjoyed herself, and yes it has a purpose - when Alex first started, there was
one morning...
But that’s a
tale for another day. Refill?
Return to the Memoirs of The Cat index