THE ATTACK ON THE FERRIS WHEEL

By Michael Owino

The British seaside town Brighton, located in the south of England, was in 1979 targeted by a series of robberies mainly aimed against tourists. The crimes were committed by a group of young lads from the area. As the gang performs their heist one night, everything goes wrong. The city's main attraction,

• Language: English
• Publisher: MichaelOwino
• Release date: Mar 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9788794430043

Book preview

1

The Attack on the Ferris wheel

Translation by Oskar Andersen

Chapter 1

Brighton Pier 1979

Janokovic and his gang are positioned where the pier stops, on the opposite side of the boardwalk and the sea, on the narrow passage leading into the city centre. In front of the sidewalk, they have spread out an old plastic bag, where they have placed a battery-powered doll, which depicts a thick man in a suit with a high hat and red nose. The doll cradles back and forth with it’s hand stretched out, and with a robotic voice that goes:

Thank you.

Do any of you know the guy who controls the Ferris wheel? Asks Janokovic.

Why? Says Eik with a sceptical look on his face.

I want to know more about him.

What’s so interesting about him? Eik’s tone is slightly arrogant this time.

No, I’d just like to know something about how the wheel works, Janokovic replies, biting his lip; not revealing his plan yet at all costs. He is kind of the leader of the gang, the one that the others look up to; there is a rumour that he almost stabbed a boy to death with a knife once.

Most people are surprised when they meet him, because he looks pretty normal, almost a bit shy with his big, black, curly hair, his narrow face and his friendly brown eyes. He is slightly smaller than Matt and Eik, but taller than little George. He is built pretty normal, neither thick nor thin, and he always wears a T-shirt with prints of various cartoon characters.

Suddenly, Matt, who previously seemed absent, starts to laugh.

Do you intend to take his job?

Matt is currently scouting for wallets that are sticking out of pockets and bags. He is the oldest one in the gang, and over the past few weeks he has acquired a small, downy moustache that he constantly touches, his voice is also darker than the others because he has hit puberty. He is dreadfully thin, and his limbs appear far too long compared to his head, which is relatively small and round with little, grey eyes. His hair is light blonde, longish, it stops slightly below the ears and tends to curl when it gets wet. He is wearing a green T-shirt with the print of a big yellow face smiling. The T-shirt is obviously too short just as his cowboy pants are too short, and on his feet he wears a pair of worn out blue Adidas shoes.

No, but I have an idea that for once can make us rich, Janokovic replies.

Rich! Matt growls. How?

If you have a plan, why don't you just say it? Eik adds, looking at him suspiciously.

It's too dangerous, it's not achievable yet. I talk about it when I’ve been home, eating, Janokovic replies.

Of the five tourist-coaches that used to stop in the parking lot in front of the First Brighton hotel, only one is left. The bus guide stands in front of the bus and sweats. Her face is small and round, surrounded by a bushy mane of thick, brown pageboy. She is dressed in a uniform consisting of a white shirt, small blue vest and skirt - matching colours. She is waving a sign with the capital letters LONDON.

Please hurry up, the bus will leave in ten minutes, she cries impatiently to the sleepy crowd of elderly people, the travel company consists of.

At the same time, there is a howl from the 32 gondolas in the city's main attraction: the Ferris wheel.

We are leaving now, yells the charioteer, sitting in a small cabin next to them. He pulls hard in one of the two metal handles placed on the primitive control panel in front of him. As the Ferris wheel starts to run, he presses the tape recorder. Abba’s Mama Mia roars out in the tiny amusement park from a tactically well-placed speaker, everyone around the park can get the experience of being in the Ferris wheel, music wise at least. There are loud howls and squeals from the 32 gondolas that are filled to the breaking point with passengers. Each ride takes five minutes and during that time it is impossible to have a normal conversation in and near the small park where the Ferris wheel is located.

The guide knows this, and she instead starts flailing heavily with the sign. If her group of 50 retirees does not get on the bus before 5pm, they risk getting stuck in traffic jams on the highway. The pensioners do not seem to respond to her efforts, nor do they bother to set the up pace because of the heat. They stop and talk, look at postcards and souvenirs, at the many street vendors lined up along the boardwalk, or snatches photographs for the photo album.

When the guide and her band of elders leaves, it will take some hours before the bus stop is filled with tourist buses again. There is a much-needed break at the seafront between 17:00 and 19:00. The city-guests return to their respective lodgings to rest, love, bathe and change into more appropriate evening dresses. From 7pm it all starts again - the human crowd, the queues at the restaurants and not least at the main attraction, the Ferris wheel, which will be illuminated with hundreds of lamps. From the top of the wheel you have a view of a radius of at least forty kilometres.

Eik looks impatiently across the square. Then he takes the mechanical doll, turns it off and counts the coins thrown on the bag for a total of 3 pounds and 8 shillings.

I'll save the money and buy some beers for when we get back. There is nothing left for us to do in the next couple of hours, let's go home and eat.

Eik is the dense, solid type, as if he were carved in stone. The face is square with two always-flickering eyes, and his black hair is styled to look like John Travolta, who is his big idol. He is wearing a white T-shirt, blue, worn denim jeans and a pair of ragged rubber shoes on his feet.

George! He calls out. Are you going home to The Painter to eat, or are you going with me to help me drag items to my parents’ house? I have to do it today. You can dine with us.

Then I'll call dad once we get to your place.

George's father, The Painter with whom he’s been living with - alone, hasn’t even noticed that George has turned ten, and in many ways, is still treated like a little boy.

George, come here. We'll share the money my dad gives us. See you in a couple of hours, Eik says, and George and he start walking along the boardwalk in the opposite direction - away from the tourist area.

See ya, says the malnourished Matt, disappearing into the crowd with the plastic bag and the doll under his arm.

At the exclusive Hilton Metropolis hotel not far from here, Richard Hove and his young Jamaican wife Jeanett Hove and their ten-year-old son Tom are finishing the late afternoon swim in the hotel's exclusive, and not least calm, swimming pool, far away from the city’s hustle and bustle on a Saturday afternoon during the summer holidays.

You're getting big now, Richard says, smiling while towelling his grey moustache and stroking his grey hair back. His face is sunburnt and ambitious, with big smiley wrinkles around those friendly grey-green eyes, his body sporty and slender, few believe him when he tells them his age - 60.

Tom swims closer and closer towards his father. When he is completely beside him, he dives underwater and clutches Richard's legs. With a quick grab, Richard snatches the boy, lifts him out of the water, sets off with his feet off the edge of the pool and swims out into the middle of the pool, where he treads water while holding Tom as high as he can above his head with both arms. Tom howls an enthusiastically.

Are you ready? Richard says, continuing to swing Tom around.

Tom doesn't answer, but laughs instead.

Hey, you two, don't you think it’s time to relax?

Jeanett sits on the edge of the pool with her feet in the water and a towel wrapped around her shoulders.

At the same time Richard unties his grip and drops Tom, he hangs in the air for a few second and then lands with a big splash, legs first an arm's length from Richard and disappears into the water for a few seconds. As he returns to the surface, he yells:

One more time, Dad! Again!

It’s over for today, boys. You have to play tomorrow. Jeanett stands up, giving Tom signs with her arms that he needs to get up.

Break for today, says Richard.

Tom, we're going out and celebrating your birthday at a nice restaurant, and you’ll get your present from mom and me, and afterwards we go to Tivoli and try the big Ferris wheel, Richard says, and climbs out of the pool, goes to Jeanett and presses a kiss on her forehead while his hands is caressing her slender, ebony-coloured back.

Janokovic takes the last drag of his cigarette and spits; it's a habit he has. For a moment he stands as if he has to pull himself together. He ends the cigarette carefully under his rubber boot and begins to move in the opposite direction than the other three through the city. First through the tourist area with hotels and pubs, then along The Lanes up to St. Edward Hall, where he jumps on the bus and goes for a trip to White Hawks, from there he goes the final stretch to Manor Hill number 43. As he walks down the small garden path leading into the townhouse, he can hear the TV roaring from inside the living room. He can't look directly in, but he knows Mom is sitting right by the window in the worn red sofa. He turns around and looks from side to side to see if there is anyone. None; not even Jack's white Ford Transit is there.

He puts the key in the door and enters. The mother's voice sounds loud, as it bounces through the house.

Why? She shouts on the phone.

He’s guessing that she's talking to Jack as usual. He walks past the room where the noisy television is on, and down the narrow corridor; the light in the hallway consists of a single bulb, that hangs in a short cord without lampshade in the middle of the hallway. Jack has put moving boxes along the narrow corridor, so he has to walk sideways to not bump into them. There are boxes of antiques, as Jack and Mom call it. Jack is selling it this weekend.

The small two-storey townhouse has a sour smell of moisture, slightly burnt food, ketchup, mixed with a pungent smell of synthetic washing powder and the constant odour of a million cigarettes.

Why should I go over there? He can hear Mom say inside the living room. Her bright voice, which in a second, can turn into an almost peeping voice, that mice would have in old cartoons. Mom is unique compared to the other women on the road she always wears nail polish and high heel shoes - whatever the weather, just as she insists on drinking sherry every day.

A real Croatian woman does that. It keeps sickness away, as she always say.

Hey, is that you, Jano? Yells Mom, and for a moment she lets the phone rest on her shoulder. She had heard him come in, though he tried to slip as silently through the doorway as he could.

Yes, he shouts back.

Curry House is a dump, she continues on the phone. She doesn't wait for an answer from him; instead she keeps talking to Jack on the phone.

At the end of the hallway there is a small staircase leading up to the 1st floor. He walks the stairs in four quick steps and positions himself on the landing. The first floor consists of three small rooms; one is his, the other two are a toilet and his mother's bedroom. She calls it that, even though it is really just a small room with an old bed in the middle that serves as a storage room, filled with boxes of old clothes, porcelain, made curtains and a lot of other rubbish that nobody in the house bothers with. The only thing her mother uses in the room is the little ironing board that is packed right inside the door, as well as a new iron that Jack has given her.

The door to Jano's room opens in the one hinge it hangs, pushing it open. Jack had promised to repair it over a year ago. Jano throws himself on the bed, fumbles after a cigarette in his pocket of his jacket, finds one and turns it on.

Do you want to join us for Curry House, me and Jack?

Mom’s voice cuts through the thin walls of the house to muffle the television noise. She wants to be sure that he can hear her, so she has to shout extra loudly. It's a habit they have; they shout to each other through the house.

Jano gets up on his elbow and shouts back as high as he can:

No, I don't want to go over there. I’ll eat here.

It's so typical you. Then you have to eat some of the Spam cans I've picked up. You know how to fry it. You’ve done it before. Mom shouts back.

Well, I’ll go with Jack. At least he’s inviting.

Shortly afterwards, Jano heard the television being switched off and the front door slammed.

As soon as she's gone, he goes downstairs, into the kitchen, opens the fridge and pulls out a can of Spam and starts making a couple of sandwiches, which he brings upstairs with a glass of milk.

After eating the two toasts, he sits on the bedside. He puts the plate aside on the floor and dives under the bed to make sure his bottle of methylated spirits is still there, he also finds a few cartoons he wants to read. With a few copies of Batman, he lies down on the bed and begins to read, but after reading a few pages, he gives up. Instead, he takes a cigarette from the pack, lights it and lays back, thinking his plan through. The wristwatch shows 18, the bottle of ignition liquid is where it ought to be, hidden between the comics, wrapped in a brown paper bag. It will be an hour before the rest of the gang is back on the pier. He knows that the guards patrolling the pier, the boardwalk and the small fairgrounds, they usually arrive around 7pm and 8pm, but it differs where they choose to start.

One team starts by going out to the dock and takes a break and ends at the Ferris wheel at about 20.00, while the other team starts at the fairgrounds and ends the round at the dock. He bets that is the team that ends at the funfair today. He has made great efforts to find out if there is a pattern in their way of patrolling. It has been impossible for him to find a pattern and there are constantly different guards. If he’s unlucky it’s the guards who starts their patrol at the fairgrounds. His plan will fail if that’s the case.

If they catch them, they would be brought the guards' car, then driven out of town to a deserted place, and lastly given such a beating that they have to make an extended holiday in the infirmary. The guards are former criminals who love kicking the shit out people for a minor detail. The company have granted them a second chance in life. Everyone in the city, plus the surrounding areas, knows that they are extraordinarily efficient catching gypsies, pickpockets or drunkards making trouble, either on the street or at the city's pubs and discos.

Jano always said that he wants to be like his father - a rebel and activist. His only memory of his father is from before his parents divorced; it's been nine years since he last saw him. He remembers his father, Ivan, always spoke with a very loudly and eagerly voice, he always wore old green military shirts with straps on his shoulders, and his big black beard scratched and tickled him. Ivan always gave him comics instead of real gifts. It was comics that were about Yugoslavia in ancient wars, about men who fought for the fatherland and saved the beautiful heroine from evil rulers and foreign lands.

He’s been in prison for most of his life and is probably still in there. I should never have been attracted to him

This is what his mother usually says when they sit alone at dinner and she feels bad. She always feels bad when Jack isn't there to take care of her. Jack usually makes her relax; he is older than Mother and most people think he is her father and Janokovic's grandfather. Calm down, Petra, which is Mother’s name,

Let the past be the past, Jack usually says soothingly to her. The only thing that can make the thick, good-natured Jack mad is when people don't call him by his title the Antique Dealer; he refuses to be called a haggler, collector, scrap dealer, or whatever else people might think of calling him. And as most people find out, since what he sells is mostly something he collects at the landfill, or once every blue moon, from the estates of deceased.

I am an antique dealer. Often he has refused to trade with a customer if they have wrongly titled him.

Tonight Jano will present the gang his new idea, and if they are in on it and succeed, will make them the most feared gang in Brighton. He exults from inside; they will love it, he is sure of it.

Jano sits comfortably on the bed with one arm under his head and smokes a cigarette. The only thing that’s illuminating the room is an old, moss-green architectural lamp that flashes regularly because the socket is loose. He has tried to repair it with a piece of tape. The lamp flickers less now than it did before, but he has given up doing anything about it. Jack has promised him a new one. Instead, he has put stickers with footballers and pop stars on it. Not because he is interested in football or music, but he has nonetheless put them there.

He shuts the cigarette on the plate, rolls back on the bed and curls up. With a crab-like motion he gets the quilt halfway over him. He looks at his wristwatch and presses one of the three little buttons and sets the alarm to wake him in half an hour and tries to sleep. He wakes up when the watch howls, picks up, takes his pocketknife; a small folding knife, and the bottle of spirit that he sticks under his jacket, and walks out of the house.

It’s slightly colder now outside. Janokovic pats his jacket and presses his arm tightly around the bottle, which he keeps inside.

Yes, it's still here. He mutters to himself. Though nobody can hear him; this is what he does when he gets nervous. He starts walking a little faster. After ten minutes approximately, he is at the bus stop. The bus arrives shortly after he does, and twenty minutes later he is on the pier again.

They are already there, in their usual place next to the alley leading up to The Lanes. He can see that George is already begging; his little head disappears and then emerges again among the thousands of humans on the street. Matt acts lookout, and like a vulture he watches people who have purses in their back pockets. Along the wall stands a bag of beer that Eik immediately offers to him as he arrives.

Do you want a beer from the bag? He asks. He bends over and opens a can, which he bequeaths Janokovic.

He whistles, and George and Matt come to them. Janokovic looks out over the area to see if the patrol is to be seen anywhere, but the darkness and the sea of tourists that’s on the promenade now, makes it hard for him to get any kind of overview of the situation.

Let’s drive!, it roars out from the park next door.

Listen to me, I said I had a plan, and now you need to know what it is. But we're in a hurry to make it happen within the next half hour. We need some money, don't we? He says, as he looks at his watch.

You know, the Ferris wheel - I'll try to stop it, and it’s just about to happen.

To stop it! And then what? Says Matt, looking at him baffled.

When the wheel stops, people panic, and then I empty the box in the ticket door, while others steal purses and bags. Are you in? Janokovic says excitedly.

Clever. You cheeky fucker.

Well, how do we stop it? Eik asks.

Janokovic pats on his jacket so they all can see the bulge.

We'll see, Says George, completing the sentence for him.

We have exactly half an hour from now, Janokovic eagerly says

and continues: We meet at Curry House at 8pm. My mom and Jack went there a couple of hours ago. They usually go to the pub and drink beer after eating, so they are definitely gone when we come.

Janokovic sets off towards the Ferris wheel and disappears in the crowd. The closer he gets, the more overwhelming it seems - was there anything to it being England's biggest Ferris wheel?

The queue for the wheel is long; it curves around for about 20 meters from the ticket door. He continues to grind through the crowd towards the wheel. It is from there that he can orient himself to where the control cabinet is.

You must have a ticket if you are to stand here, says a hoarse voice behind him. A tall guy in red uniform shirt stands behind him and pats him on the shoulder.

Uhhh, what?

Janokovic is shocked. It is one of the two cabin-drivers; a tall guy with a long, narrow face, dark brown strait hair and two close-fitting eyes. Terry is the youngest one of the two cabin-drivers. He looks stressed and tired. Tired of telling guests the same thing over and over again; where the queue starts, where the queue ends and so on.

Can't you read? He jokes.

Look at the bloody sign over there! You need a ticket, otherwise you have to go out, and get behind the plastic fence. Why do you think it's there? READ the sign! It says: Only ticket access, Terry grunts, looking disapprovingly at the skinny brat in front of him.

Well, I didn’t see it.

Go to the ticket booth and buy a ticket just like everyone else, or maybe that will mess with the cash, huh? Terry waving his hand angrily as a sign that he should go away.

Janokovic slowly begins to pull away from the area. He looks around to locate the control cabinet, but the darkness, the noise, the flashing lights make it difficult to remember exactly where the cabinet is. Finally. Just by the wheel to the right, approximately 20 meters away, he sees it. He immediately starts walking towards it, dodging the many human bodies on his way. As he approaches the cabinet, he stands discreetly in front of it and bends down as if he's about to tie his shoe; at the same time, he looks around to see if anyone is looking at him, but there is none. The dark, the flashing lights - people are way too busy with everything else but looking for a lousy teenager. Security? He looks around - still nobody. With a quick move he gets up and disappears behind the bush next to the electric cabinet. He grabs the can with liquid and his pocketknife. He can see that the Ferris wheel is down; he'll have to wait for Terry to put it back on again. His heart thumps; if the guards catch him now, he’s officially done.

Finally, Terry's voice in the microphone sounds:

Has everyone closed the doors?

Yes, the guests shout back at him.

Then let’s get ready to rumble. With the sound of a loud drum the music starts and at the same time the wheel starts again Voulez vous... Abba fills the air, the lights flash, and the guests start to scream. Janokovic yanks the knife with full force in right next to it the cabinet lock. He pulls the knife out and repeats the manoeuvre; after the third attempt, the lock begins to give way. The Ferris wheel is now in full motion and people are moaning and blaring. Janokovic takes a short break. He looks around to see if anyone has noticed him, but no one has. The music is buzzing, as the guests get louder. Now, there’s only two wheel-rides left, the speakers say. Janokovic stands in front of cabinet. With a swift motion, he opens up the bottle and empties the content on the wires. He strikes a match and throws it into the control cabinet. There is a loud bang, and two large flames shoots out of the closet. With a trembling sound, all the lights disappear and the music stops. It is completely dark; the streetlights out in front of the park are off, all lights on the pier are gone. Instant panic erupts around the wheel; he notices how people start running away from the amusement park and onto the street. Car-horns roar in the night.

Stay seated! Stay seated, stay in the carts!

The driver lights a powerful flashlight against the wheel while shouting and waving with his arms like crazy.

Janokovic can't see anything, but he remembers – or faintly glimpses - where the ticket door is. He runs to the door, brutally pushes the door open, fumbling around in the dark.

The two cabin-drivers are both fully occupied at the Ferris wheel. Terry's voice overwhelms the panicked guests.

Stay calm! In a moment the light will be back on. This time he sounds desperate.

Then there is a loud scream followed by dump sounds as a female body hits the metal bars on the Ferris wheel's arms before she hits the ground.

Stooop! Stay in the wagons!

Deep silence, a scream, again the same sound of body against metal, followed by a hollow, dump sound. Yet another person has leapt.

Janokovic does the job quickly. For a brief second, he turns on his lighter, just enough time for him to orient himself. He can see the cash register; it is slightly open. He puts his hand into it; there is plenty of money. He fumbles around - banknotes, lots of notes. He empties the cash register, fills his trouser- and jacket-pockets, as well as sticking a lot of banknotes in his underpants. There is more money than he had expected. There are two bags of coins. He takes it all and escapes the wheelhouse and runs out through the park. Everything is chaos now; there are sirens everywhere; he starts to run away. Although there are many flashlights, they are all aimed at the Ferris wheel. No one notices the gang fleeing the scene.

The generator, turn on the generator! A voice shouts out. Janokovic can hear police sirens.

Turn on the emergency generator!

There is a bang, like when someone blasts a firecracker, and suddenly the place is lit. Janokovic has come a long way in the distance that those standing on and around the wheel and the other rides do not notice anything suspicious about him. There are several violent screams, and