What a Country

by Paul Kirby

  Inside the militant Islamic camp, the atmosphere was a little different. Three members of the group were planning on being reunited with the creator himself and they weren’t planning on doing it on a clear head. Crack cocaine was going to be their flying carpet and who better to serve it up to them than Gerry Funnel?

  Gerry had become a major player in this business and the poor bloke didn’t have a clue. All he thought he was doing was earning himself a few quid, but he was right in the thick of things and playing a great game as far as Tommy Butler was concerned. Gerry didn’t get released for nothing. Butler couldn’t have written the script better if he’d tried. Gerry was going to be there to the death, as he was going to take a left turn instead of a right in the very near future. Nonetheless, he was still going to be the asset Butler intended him to be.

  Dell had had plenty of time that afternoon to get his house in order and now felt comfortable enough to join the others for a relaxing drink in full knowledge he couldn’t do any more than he’d done to keep himself and his trusted firm safe from harm and to make sure they collected their reward.

  The DSTC on the other hand believed they were totally untouchable and had the freedom of West London to carry out their evil plan unhindered and undetected. They certainly did not suspect they could well be about to be upstaged by the Godfather of West London and his cohorts. Who would be first to the punch? Only time would tell and that was fast running out for all sides.

  “Fail to prepare or prepare to fail” was the appropriate saying in this particular situation. Mullins’ superiors thought he’d prepared well enough and told him to rejoin surveillance, where his experience would be better used in the final preparations for the showdown. He would relay details of movements, times, and the whereabouts of the DSTC.

  Mullins therefore said his goodbyes and left Butler and the others socialising in the bar. Dell could have left with his two henchmen if he felt like it, as there was nothing to stop them sneaking off at any chosen time, but once he’d committed, that was it. He’d see the job through.

  So they looked forward to evening and to dinner and as the food was first class, they couldn’t wait. A sort of last supper was looming. No one knew one hundred percent how this would all end exactly. The boys intended to enjoy what potentially could be their last meal, and that’s exactly what they did before turning in early so each man could make his final preparations.

  Mentally, they were three very strong men who knew mental preparation was just as important as anything else and each individual achieved this in his own preferred way. But one thing you could guarantee was all three of them would be playing tomorrow’s events over and over in their heads, each one playing out his role and using his training and his own experience to achieve what he would consider perfection.

  Were any of the trio worried about what lay ahead of them? Very doubtful, considering their history and that each one knew the element of surprise was always a surefire winner. Were the opposition nervous? That too was doubtful, as they were going to be doing God’s work and as that particular job wasn’t until Sunday, they were very relaxed.

  Dell was checking and rechecking that he’d prepared properly. The right people had the right information, which included his old mate Albert Kinsley and his trusted brief, Petey Doyle. But there was another man that was probably the most important at the moment and that was Paul the pilot. He was vital to Dell’s last-minute arrangements and once he was satisfied all was in place, he could rest easy. This was one job they couldn’t get nicked for, but on the other hand there was a possibility they could all die. Dell felt that he’d got that covered too.

  Tommy Butler experienced a sleepless night. It seemed his conscience was now getting the better of him as from the very start he’d opted to betray Dell and the others. But as they’d started to work well together and he had spent so much time with his old adversary, he was now very much regretting his suggestion of putting the case to bed on completion once and for all. Butler had wrongly assumed that Dell had had something to do with the death of a colleague of his back in the late nineties. At the time Butler couldn’t prove Dell even knew the culprit, yet he’d had a bee in his bonnet about that case ever since. Now he was starting to grow a little bit fond of Dell as a person and as Dell and his team were good to work with, Butler was wondering if he could somehow reverse the finale, although it must surely be too late for that now.

  Dell may of course have saved Butler his sleepless night if everything went according to his plan and as he was always an early riser, he’d arranged to meet Richards and Funnel for breakfast.

  Chapter 40

  “Morning, boys. Sleep well?” asked Dell.

  “Yeah, alright, thanks. You?” was the general reply.

  Dell rubbed his hands together with excitement. “Big day today, boys. Get this out the way and we can get on with the rest of our lives.”

  “Do you think we’re sailing a bit close to the wind?” asked Funnel in concern.

  ”No, why do you say that? You’re not having second thoughts, are you, Tel?” asked Dell.

  “No, no. It’s just … well, I’ve never had anything to do with terrorists before.”

  Dell looked at Richards and the pair exchanged a look of disappointment.

  “This is just like any other job we’ve done, only this one is almost fool proof,” explained Dell.

  “Are you not a little bit concerned about the outcome, Joe?” asked Funnel.

  “Not where the terrorists are concerned, I’m not. As I’ve said before, it’s the other lot that concern me more,” said Dell.

  “What, Butler’s mob?” asked Funnel.

  “Yeah, and MI5, but like I said, I’ve got our insurance sorted out. So don’t worry,” retorted Dell, patting the iPad that was hanging across his shoulder and had been more or less all the time since they’d been at the hotel. In fact, you could say it had become part of his dress code, as had been the poppy a couple of weeks back.

  “Now, let’s enjoy our breakfast. We need to keep our strength up,” said Dell as he grabbed the menu from their table.

  Butler may have had trouble sleeping and it certainly showed, but two people definitely sleeping well were the two remaining Durleys. Bart was still in his coma and Rita was still under sedation. It can be great to be in your own little world without having to face up to reality.

  “Morning, Tommy. Rough night, was it?” quipped Dell.

  “You could say that. You lot look like you slept well. What you having for breakfast?”

  “We’ve already eaten, mate. Got a long day in front of us,” Dell replied.

  “Yeah, you can say that again. Nothing seems to bother you lot too much, does it?”

  “Not really. Just another day at the office. Don’t tell me your bottle’s gone, Mr. Butler,” said Dell, giving him a friendly nudge.

  “Don’t be daft, Joe. Just can’t get on with that bed. Plays my back up.”

  “As long as that’s all it is, mate.”

  “By the way, that Dick Durley topped himself the other day,” said Butler, trying to change the subject.

  “Cor, that’s a big loss to the world,” said Dell sarcastically.

  “Yeah, well I think the Force are getting a bit sick of that lot. They’ve made themselves very busy of late and all in the wrong way, I might add.”

  “Yeah, you’re not wrong. I s’pose they’ll be flying that stupid flag outside his house at half mast,” joked Funnel.

  “I wouldn’t put it past ‘em.”

  Butler ordered a pot of coffee in an attempt to pick himself up a bit as he looked at his recruits in amazement at how relaxed and unworried they looked. “Hope you lot are up for it later. You look like you’ve just had relaxation therapy,” commented Butler.

  “May I remind you, Tommy, my old mate, we ain’t up for anything until we have seen the dough,” remi
nded Dell.

  “Yes, I know that, Joe, and everything will be taken care of this morning, when you will get everything you need for your meeting. And that includes the money,” explained a weary Butler.

  “Good! Anyway, where’s your oppo this morning?” inquired Dell.

  “He thinks he’s on bleedin’ holiday. Sleep for England,” replied Butler, sipping his coffee.

  Wilson hadn’t been told the full story. He knew only the basics and didn’t know all the ins and outs like Butler did. He had nothing to keep him up at night and right now Butler wished he didn’t either. Taking another gulp of coffee, Butler swallowed and then said to Dell and the others who were all sitting at the table next to him, “And we should know the time of your meeting by midday.”

  “Well, as long as the money’s all there, there won’t be any problems, will there? ‘Cause it’s nothin’ personal with us lot, it’s business,” explained Dell.

  “I know that. You’re good boys,” said Butler, now unable to look them in the eye. How he wished he hadn’t suggested the double-cross. It was too late. The plan was already in place. He’d started to think he’d messed up. He wasn’t to know one man had outthought him. It’s the same old story, over and over. Fail to prepare or prepare to fail. Only one man had done the latter. To be fair, Butler was as good as his word. When he said everything would be in place by midmorning it was. Other than that, he looked very dispirited as he knew he had made a wrong move. He started to worry about himself and his family. Maybe he should have turned left instead of right.

  As promised, four men arrived at just after eleven. They were all armed and they also came bearing gifts. The money was all there and was placed in the boot of Richards’ car, all £1 million of it, as an armed man stood guard over it. This pleased Dell and his firm as they knew now it was game on. The given time for the big meet was two thirty precisely and final details were discussed out there in the car park. Every man was very clear on his role. Dell’s mob didn’t know if these men were police or MI5, but it didn’t matter. All they knew was they’d delivered the goods and dished out information and orders.

  Gerry Funnel had also arranged a meeting at two thirty, at the headquarters of the DSTC, and this was the very reason Dell’s firm had been told to go there at that time. Gerry was vital to the plan, although neither he nor Dell’s lot knew it. He was the reason the eavesdropping team couldn’t give an exact time until they knew when Gerry was due to arrive with his package of drugs.

  Dell kept his iPad over his shoulder as he would for the rest of the mission and when asked why, he would simply answer, “Insurance.” They were all set and ready. It was just a matter of waiting, which sounds easier than it actually was. Everyone was raring to go and couldn’t wait to get the job started and finished, for that matter.

  At the lockup in Park Royal, Badini and Dasti had arrived to put the finishing touches on the Astra Ifty and Rita had so kindly dropped to them. When they’d finished that, they were going to have a look for a bag for Cairo, which would also be converted into an explosive device. Not too long now before London’s streets were paved with the blood of infidels.

  Two armed officers were to drive Richards’ vehicle, loaded with the cash, back into London to the rendezvous point, while Dell’s firm drove the undercover police car with a virtual police escort almost to the door of the terrorists’ lair. Dell’s thoughts kept drifting between the job at hand and the safety of his son, who he knew was due in London at some point that day with his mum and grandparents. They’d certainly change their opinion of him if they were ever to learn what he and his pals had done to make sure their precious memorial service went off without problems.

  News came through from the surveillance team that all four terrorists were at the lockup in Park Royal and that it was time to hit the road. The three-car convoy headed into London with Butler and Wilson having left earlier. Excitement was high in their vehicle as Dell delivered his “England expects every man to do his duty” speech. They were loving every minute of this and they were on schedule for a two thirty arrival.

  Gerry Funnel had also hit the road and he too was on time.

  Dell’s firm’s move wasn’t a comeback job. Theirs was a prevention move and prevention was the intention. No one was going to get one over on Dell’s firm. “Fuck ‘em” was the attitude.

  Gerry, much to his obvious annoyance, was pulled over by an unmarked police car. They’d told him the reason for the pull was that he was driving an uninsured vehicle, which of course he wasn’t. His car was perfectly legal in every way, but the police insisted it came up on their system that the car had no insurance whatsoever. It didn’t matter how much he protested, the police were having none of it. Gerry was forced to abandon the car by the side of the road and told to pick it up from the compound at a later date when the matter had been sorted out.

  This whole charade of course was to delay Gerry from making his appointment. He would have to walk the rest of the way, which would make him about twenty-five minutes late. This was enough time for Dell’s firm to pay their visit and make their exit. The whole thing had worked like a dream.

  As the three-car escort drove into the industrial estate, the first car turned off to the left with the car in the middle carrying on straight and the third car taking the same left turn as the first. Those two cars headed for the empty warehouse Butler and Wilson had unlocked a while earlier. This was where they had arranged to do the swap once the mission had been accomplished.

  A few minutes before Dell’s firm’s arrival, the phone Butler had given him for this job rang. Butler informed him the gang were all there and that there was definitely firearms on the premises, but most probably hidden in a safe place and it was highly unlikely they would actually be armed. After all, it was Friday and they liked to say a prayer or two on a Friday and God knows, they were going to need one.

  Butler’s last words to Dell were: “Don’t leave any man, or woman for that matter, alive. Make sure you take them all, the bastards! You have enough ammunition, make sure you use it. Good luck and we’ll see you at the other place. Remember, you’re doing your country a service.”

  Dell looked at the phone and said, “Don’t worry, we don’t intend to.”

  The mood quickly turned very serious as they approached their target and adrenaline started to pump. In front of the unit, they saw the Astra. Richards pulled their motor around the side, out of sight from the unit, and parked.

  Terry Funnel was wearing a baseball cap identical to one his brother often wore and also sported a rugged, unshaven look as Gerry often did. To the untrained eye, this could be Gerry as Terry hadn’t added the usual gel to his hair that day. All three men put on latex gloves and Dell handed out the police issue black 9 mm semiautomatic pistols, each holding fifteen rounds in the magazine. Each man had a couple of spare ones just in case they needed more bullets.

  This trio was in fully trained assassin mode as they got out of the car and walked the short distance to the terrorists’ lair. Each man completely focused on what they had to do. Dell and Richards held back a bit, just enough to keep out of sight from whoever was going to answer the door to who was expected to be, Gerry Funnel.

  Terry approached the door that led to the small reception area and then into the main workshop. He paused for a short moment as he reassuringly felt the gun tucked into the back of his jeans. He then gave the door a good knock. This was it. There was no turning back, and in a few short moments the whole assignment would all be over—with a bit of luck, of course.

  Hussain Dasti heard the knock, but he’d been expecting Gerry anyway. He stood behind the door and asked, “Who is it?”

  “Gerry,” replied Terry.

  “Password, Gerry,” said Dasti as a precaution before he opened up.

  Terry swallowed hard as nervous tension started to grip him.

  “Three-legged dog,” said Terry, pr
epared for action. To his surprise, Dasti opened the door just enough to catch a glimpse of him and satisfied with what he’d seen, walked away, leaving Terry to let himself and the other two in. This seemed too easy. Had they no idea whatsoever that their world was about to come crashing down? Obviously not.

  The three assassins walked into the reception area and encountered no opposition whatsoever. They followed the now out of sight Dasti into the workshop area, where they could hear voices talking. The information they’d received from surveillance so far was pretty good. Surely it couldn’t be this easy. Dell and Richards followed a few paces behind Terry as he turned left into the main part of the unit. Sure enough, the four militants were all there and none seemed bothered at Terry’s presence.

  Dasti then pulled an envelope from his back pocket and threw it on to a worktop. He said to Terry, “Have you got it?”

  Terry couldn’t believe it. No one else bothered to look up at him. They remained seated, talking to each other, and there wasn’t a firearm in sight. But this was their cue. Terry reached for the gun tucked in his waistband as he said, “Yeah, I got it, you cunt!”

  At this point, the other two burst into the room with guns drawn. Terry fired the first shot, hitting Dasti straight in the middle of his head. It exploded like a melon, brain matter and blood flying everywhere. The other two simultaneously opened fire as the three remaining terrorists jumped out of their chairs with horrified looks, and gunfire exploded all around them. They’d been caught totally unawares and were like sacrificial lambs being led to slaughter.