What a Country

by Paul Kirby

  “No, but I’m not sure how I can help you, Mr. Butler.”

  “I’m sure you can, Gerry, and I’m pretty sure you know you can as well, don’t you?”

  “Well, you might be a bit disappointed as all I can tell you about Dell is his Swedish move,” said Gerry limply.

  “Swedish move! What do you mean, Swedish move? What, as a family man? I didn’t even know he had kids, let alone a bleedin’ family, and now you’re tellin’ me he’s moving to Sweden. Don’t take me for a cunt Funnel, or you are a fuckin’ goner!” screamed Butler.

  Now it was back to Funnel. Bloody hell, the Ol’ Bill were so fickle. He was makin’ me tea a minute ago! thought Gerry.

  “No, no, I didn’t mean he was moving to Sweden. It’s a move he’s got going on in Sweden. He exports cocaine over there!”

  “You better not be tellin’ me porkies, Funnel. But before we get into that, what’s all this about Joey Dell wantin’ to be a family man? I think you’re lying to me already, young Mr. Funnel,” said Butler, curious about what had been said earlier.

  “Mr. Butler, you must know Dell has a young boy with a girl called Christine Hathaway, surely? Everyone knows that. And now he wants to keep his nose clean in order to see his chavy,” said Gerry in utmost seriousness.

  “No, I didn’t know that. Just in case it’s escaped your memory, I’m no longer local plod. I work at the big office now. Did you know that, you little prick?” Butler puffed out his chest like he was some sort of heavyweight champion.

  “Yes, of course I did. You won’t let us forget it, will ya!” exclaimed Gerry.

  “Hathaway, you say? Sounds a little bit posh for a Joey Dell bird, don’t you think?”

  “Well, yeah, maybe, but how the hell should I know? All I know is my ol’ man knows her old man from over the Legion,” said Gerry.

  “What Legion?” asked Butler.

  “You know, the big one over at Greenford,” said Gerry in complete innocence.

  “Greenford British Legion! Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me, Gerry?” asked Butler.

  “No, why would I? I didn’t realise them boys that fought two world wars were a threat to our community.”

  “No, I don’t think they are. And your old man drinks over there, does he?”

  “Yeah, has for years. Why?” asked Gerry.

  “Well, Gerald, my old son, if what you’re tellin’ me is the truth, we can be in business. Let me think about this for a while. You could be of a lot more help to me than you actually realise,” said Butler excitedly.

  “Really? Why’s that then?”

  Butler got up and asked Gerry if he’d like another cup of tea, which Gerry was greatly appreciative of, but he couldn’t work out why Butler was so excited about the fact that his dad and Dell’s former father-in-law used the Legion. This was all too much for Gerry. What was the significance?

  Butler returned shortly with two cups of tea. “Well, forget about the Legion, Gerry. Now you tell me all about this Swedish thing, because in case you’ve forgotten, you’re still in a bit of bother.”

  “I thought we had a deal and we’d both agreed on it.”

  “Yeah, well, we have. Now, you just keep talkin’ my son, ‘cause I want you as a pawn in my game,” replied Butler.

  Gerry continued to tell Butler everything he knew about the move to Sweden. How they took a big chunk of cocaine out there from here concealed in the panels of a car and then delivered it to a man called Sven in Stockholm, and that no cash was exchanged on delivery as it was paid to the firm via other means, which Gerry had no knowledge of. Gerry even told Butler a black man named David Lightfoot was now in charge of the delivery operation and the reason he knew this was because he once did the drive himself. In fact it was that regular that Gerry considered it a full-time job.

  Butler was half interested in Gerry’s story and took notes on the subject, but by his reckoning, Gerry might have already given him the most important information of all. The only problem was that it wouldn’t be enough to convince Gerry he’d given up enough information, so Butler had to follow due process, listening to Gerry trying to spill even more beans about Dell and his boys.

  Finally Butler decided he’d heard enough. “I think we might have enough for now. Thank you, Gerry. What I’m going to do now is put you back in a cell while I get your bail sheet typed up.”

  “Mr. Butler, please, not the cell,” pleaded Gerry again.

  “Look, you’re gonna get bail, you lucky little git, and this will all be kept hush-hush for now. But from now on you’re mine, so just consider yourself lucky and report back to me in one week. Now go back to your cell until all the formalities are done.”

  “Okay, Mr. Butler, but …”

  “No buts. Just shut up and do what you’re told and I don’t want to hear no more about it,” said Butler, passing Gerry over to the officer who had let him out in the first place.

  Gerry knew he was having a result for the time being, but it couldn’t be that simple, surely. What more information might Butler want from him? Gerry knew full well this wasn’t the end of it. No way.

  As Butler typed up the bail sheet, he too thought about the result he was having. At that moment Wilson knocked on his door and asked Butler what they were to do with the two parcels of cocaine. As this was a covert arrest and everything was to be hushed up, it hadn’t been logged. So now in the station were two kilos of cocaine no one had actually claimed responsibility for. Butler sat for a few moments and then said, “Get hold of it and bring it to me and let me have a think. I don’t want uniform or the Drug Squad getting’ hold of it.”

  “Okay, Tom, leave it to me,” said Wilson.

  Chapter 29

  Cairo spent a couple of hours that evening being seen and forcing herself to acknowledge various people in their targeted Legion in Greenford, West London. She played her role perfectly and was back to plain old Karen once more. She mainly kept to herself and sat alone, but she spoke and was polite whenever she was spoken to. Only sipping on soft drinks with the odd bag of crisps here and there, she took her job very seriously indeed. She scanned the place and imagined the attack that would engulf it. These thoughts always put a sick evil little grin on her face.

  The Ayatollah couldn’t have been happier with his team. The boys had raised enough money to buy bomb-making equipment and a couple of firearms, including terrorists’ mandatory AK-47. He was in an Islamic heaven right now, dreaming of historical notoriety amongst his equals. But one of his team’s dreams was more evil and vindictive than all the rest of them put together.

  Cairo had been tormenting herself at the servicemen’s club looking at all the military honours and paintings from various wars on display. These put an end to any compassion she might have once felt. As she plotted her mission, her mind’s eye was playing out the events of Sunday, November 11, 2018. It was like watching a film as many, many people she was looking at right then were slaughtered by her and her beloved cell of killers. This was going to be bigger and better than 7/7, and she would forever be remembered by her extremist brothers and sisters. She herself would become a legend, going down in history as the most evil and best mastermind killer ever to work on British soil. She would be the hero honoured on walls around the country, maybe even around the world. These unknown faces on canvas that she saw on the walls around her weren’t heroes or soldiers; they were just morons taking orders. To hell with their armies, to hell with their families and children. She would become the hero she deserved to be, a soldier fighting against the bullies of this world. These people had ruined her life, but now she’d gotten her purpose back, thanks to Allah the Great. People must pay and they were going to suffer for what she had been put through. They must all die and she was the one elected by Allah to carry out this much-needed cleansing.

  This woman may have been a victim of circumstance, a perfect candidate for brainwash
ing, an easy target. No one in the Legion would ever have guessed this innocent and lonely little thing was possibly one of the most evil and hateful women who ever walked the planet’s surface. Even the brothers in the DSTC had no idea how vile and calculated she could be. She was a walking time bomb likely to explode at any moment.

  She watched the standard-bearers practicing for the service. Her blood boiled, but she showed no signs of anger whatsoever. In fact, if she had had a gun with her at that moment, she would have put a stop to their little game there and then. But she had to wait. The big day was only a few weeks away. She had to be patient.

  Chapter 30

  Dell had been thinking about his conversation with Tommy Butler and decided he should go and pay his solicitor, Petey Doyle, a visit. Dell had a plan, a trick up his sleeve, and he wanted the opinion of his man in the legal profession who had given much sensible advice over many years. The two of them had become good friends. Petey was one of the best in the game and Dell felt he could tell him anything. He was a very trustworthy man, sharp as a razor, and highly respected by Dell and all his associates. You could say he was in the firm. He was a large man with a full head of white hair, immaculately dressed like Dell with a red polka dot silk handkerchief in the breast pocket of his recently pressed pinstriped suit.

  They sipped a nice French brandy, which always warmed the heart and sharpened the brain. They exchanged the usual pleasantries.

  “How can I be of help today, then, Joe?” Pete finally got around to asking in his assertive voice.

  “Well, Petey, it’s like this,” said Dell and he went on to explain the situation with Butler and how he didn’t have the slightest inkling as to what he wanted to discuss. Dell told Petey about his tactics for when he met Butler and asked if he should go ahead. As Petey knew Butler probably even better than Dell, he agreed and said he thought it a great idea and that he should use this approach at every future meeting he and Butler had from now on. Dell thanked Petey for his advice and left feeling more confident of his forthcoming date with Butler.

  Butler meanwhile had released Gerry back into the community as quickly as he could, but not without conditions, hoping people had not noticed his absence. One minute Gerry looked like he would do a long stretch and the next he looked like a man who had just won the lottery. This only came to be as Butler had received an order from MI5 telling him what should be done with Gerry. They didn’t want to rock the boat. Gerry was now in their pockets, even though he had absolutely no idea of what was actually going on. Everything seemed to be going to plan, so now it was essential to have that meeting with the big fella.

  Dell was enjoying a nice jolly drink with a good few of the boys and this included David Lightfoot, as Terry had told him the Swedish job had been brought forward a bit and they just wanted to make sure this was alright with him. It was, so now everyone was happy and it was nice to relax. Everyone was happy. Well, almost everyone. Gerry, over on the other side of the pub, looked at Lightfoot. It’s right on you, you cunt. I’ve put you right in it. But the jolly atmosphere soon changed as the dreaded duo walked in.

  “Ah, for fuck’s sake,” said Mickey as he looked at Dell and the boys and the nice crowd he’d got in, who he expected would leave now that Butler and Co. were in the house.

  Dell looked up and saw Butler and Wilson. “Fuck him. We’re all enjoying ourselves. Don’t no one go anywhere. Don’t worry about them pricks. It’s me they wanna pester. They can fuck off.”

  As the pair approached Dell’s crowd, they sensed the hostility and decided to tread carefully.

  “Evening, gentlemen,” said Butler, looking around at the faces in front of him. One or two nodded and one or two just glared at them as if to tell them to fuck off.

  “Is this a bad moment, or are you lot holding a wake?”

  “Mr. Butler, a wake or not, it’s never a good time for a visit from you or any of your mob. What do you want?”

  Time was running out for Butler and his cause, but he now felt uneasy around Dell’s firm as they made him and his partner feel very unwelcome. Butler, for his part, didn’t quite know how to approach Dell. He was desperate to talk to him and start arrangements, but Dell was enjoying himself and looked at him in a way that made Butler feel very uncomfortable. For once in his life, he didn’t quite know how to handle the situation. He needed Dell now more than ever, but Dell strangely didn’t feel the same. He just wanted Butler out of the way.

  Dell was holding court and enjoying the company of his boys and Butler was a commodity he could well do without. Eventually Dell turned to Butler as he stood there trying to fit in. “Yes, Mr. Butler, what can I do for you? You obviously want something, so spit it out.”

  “Err, err, it’s probably not the right time, Joe,” replied Butler, realising he had arrived at just the wrong moment.

  “Correct. How very observant of you.”

  “I really do need to speak to you, but only when it’s convenient with you, of course.”

  “But as you’re here, would you like a soft drink and a packet of crisps, mate? Oh, and what about your fuckin’ monkey? The same for him, or would he prefer some peanuts?” goaded Dell.

  “Thank you, Joe, but I think we’ll pass for now,” said a humiliated Butler.

  What were they going to do? The clock was ticking and Butler needed Dell and his boys on his side and quickly. He’d cut it a bit fine, but he was still confident he’d get Dell on his side once he got to chat to him. But it wasn’t going to be today.

  Butler turned around and left the band of brigands, as he referred to them. On the way out, he passed Gerry. “Is the black one Lightfoot?”

  “Yeah, that’s him.”

  Butler walked out of the Country with Wilson, more than a little disappointed with his visit. Once out of sight Butler threw a temper tantrum just like a little kid. He knew time was against him now and he hadn’t got his timing right with Dell. He was going to be putty in his hands if he wasn’t careful.

  “What’s all that about, Joe?” asked one of the boys.

  “Fuck knows!” said Dell and he didn’t really care. He could see Butler was under pressure and as far as he was concerned, it wasn’t his problem—for now.

  Tail between his legs for the time being, Butler had to ponder his next move.

  * * *

  Time was also running out for Dick Durley. His past had caught up with him and his wife had left him in his darkest hour and he couldn’t cope with it. Bart was okay. He had once again managed to pull the wool over Seb’s eyes. She liked the lifestyle Bart provided and was more than happy to appear oblivious. Pretending was just as easy for her as it was for her husband.

  Rita on the other hand was making herself comfortable with her lover and had gotten her feet nicely under his table.

  * * *

  Butler, having received orders to let Gerry resume business and keep up the flow of crack going to the DSTC, had explained to Gerry he could continue to earn, but on the understanding that the majority of the money he received from the two kilos, which had been returned to him, was to be paid to Butler so he could use it as blood money. This arrangement suited Gerry, but he knew he had to keep his mouth shut and hold up his end of the bargain. He would have his freedom and no one would be any the wiser about his arrest.

  All Butler needed to do now was arrange a meeting and get Dell’s boys on his side. Then Operation Desert Storm could become a successful prototype mission. He therefore set out with Wilson, hoping to bump into Dell and get this meeting set up by trawling a few of his usual haunts. They started off down at the Sopranos’ Café at around nine thirty in the morning. Both had a full English washed down with several cups of tea while they read the newspaper from cover to cover. But there was no sign of Dell or his cronies Funnel and Richards. But there were plenty of uneasy faces that weren’t too happy having to start their day breakfasting in the same establis
hment as Butler and his sidekick. No one eating there that morning would ever come close to Dell and his firm’s capabilities. Butler required the assistance of numero uno and he’d set out his stall to make sure he got him and get him he would.

  Chapter 31

  While Butler and Wilson hung around like a bad smell down at the café, making most of the patrons extremely uncomfortable, Dell, Richards, and Funnel were at Dell’s apartment preparing the final arrangements for Lightfoot and his brother to go to work in Sweden. Dell was on the phone to their Dutch connection, making sure what they required would be ready and waiting for the brothers to pick up on their arrival in Holland. As this was confirmed, they could now give Lightfoot the nod to leave the following morning and head to a place an hour south of Amsterdam, where Dell’s old mate “the witch doctor” or just “Doc” for short now conducted his business.

  Doc was a one-time drug dealer from West London who had worked with Dell in the past, but had now set up in Holland, helping out a lot of his old London pals in the narcotics trade from his base in Utrecht. He got his nickname for (1) dishing out drugs and (2) because his family were from the Dominican Republic in the Caribbean. The Lightfoots might well know him once they met up, but Dell didn’t mention who they were to meet.

  Funnel spoke to both Lightfoot and Sven to let them know everything was in place and that Sven should expect a delivery in about a week. Everything was set to go and if all went well, there would be another nice payday for all involved.

  As the trio had a coffee and a chat, Richards was looking out of Dell’s first floor window. He watched a car pull up to the gated entrance of the apartment complex and a man got out. His passenger remained in the car. The man walked up to the gates and looked at the keypad on the wall that had the numbers of each resident. It was Butler.

  “Joe, I think we’ve got a visitor,” said Richards.