One Last Blag

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

Terry Mitchell is on the wrong side of 60, and banged up in the toughest jail in England. His glory days of armed blags appear to be over - that is, until one day when he is approached by a member of the notorious East End mob he used to command. With a chance to be free again, and to profit millions, it's an opportunnity too good to miss. But their final blag will be the biggest ever - can they really pull it off? The odds are stacked against them, as they fight against a rival South London firm, with both gangs being pitted against each other by a devious and callous lawyer who plans to re-ignite a turf war between the mobs whilst taking the loot for himself. Can Terry rise to the challenge?

Table of Contents

BANGED UP

Cold. Foggy. Belmarsh Prison, London.   The prison was huge.   It dominated the surrounding area, with it's... Read Chapter

THE VISITOR

  The next day brought company.   After another seemingly restless night, the usual knock on the door came; it ... Read Chapter

MADE IN DAGENHAM

Jack Hearn was at best, an unreliable character.   Born in Dagenham in the the early 80s, he had a talent for football a... Read Chapter

COLD CALLER


TWENTY YEARS LATER...........


Jack Hearn pulled up onto the driveway of the large Edwardian house, just off Kingsland Park Road. It was in Dalston, just a mile or two north of Hackney. It wasn’t proper East End; it was too
northerly for that. But this was where they were at. He pulled in the Mercedes E-Class coupe. It had cost him for sure, but money wasn’t an issue for him. He was wearing his Canada Goose jacket and
a pair of Ray bans, even though it was a relatively crisp winter day. He turned off the radio, and got himself out of the car, as he combed his hair back, trying to find the keys in his pocket. He
found them. He turned them into the door, and opened. This wasn’t his property. It was used by a few people. Paul was here, and so was Tom. The first person he encountered though was Ralph. Ralph
Hunter. “Cor dear, here is he at last. So did you see the old geeza then?” he asked. Ralph was about 5’11, with massive shoulders and was just a general hard nut. “He’s in” Jack grinned. “So now
all we gotta do is spring the old fucker” Tom said, downing a glass of lager, as he clanked it down onto the table top in the open plan kitchen. “I must say this pad is swanky. How long we here
for?” Jack asked. “Couple of weeks” Paul said, coming over. Paul was now in his mid fifties. He was still fully in the game though, and he had not lost his ruthlessness one bit. Some said he was
crazy. He had killed many times before and he was like teflon; nothing stuck to him. Well, what did you expect when he had half a dozen coppers in his pocket? A DC here, superintendent there. The
latest word on the street was that he had the head of the NCA, the National Crime Agency, in his pocket, although he never confirmed or denied any allegations put to him, even by his own men. He
didn’t trust anyone in all honesty. “Why are we going to all this effort just to spring this guy? He’s like, a pensioner or something. He’s a liability” Tom said. “What did you say?” Paul said. “I
said..” he began, but he didn’t finished; Paul grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him up against the wall. “Do you mind repeating that?” “Terry Mitchell a fucking liability? Do you know who the
fuck you’re talking about?” he began, furiously, spit flying everywhere. Paul always had that nasty snarl plastered all over his face. His teeth were all pristine, apart from a gold filling in the
far left corner. “Terry Mitchell might be old school, but he’s a fucking moody geezer, and a mate of mine at that, so no one goes fucking slagging him off, you understand me?” he said. Tom nodded
eagerly, as Paul released him, sending him to the floor. “That goes for you too, Ralph. I ain’t having you lot chat shit about my mate” he said. “It’s all good guv. He’s just obviously concerned
about how we’re gonna pull it off. I mean breaking into Belmarsh! It’s bigger than the blag itself” he said, as he adjusted his jacket. “It is no small feat” Paul said, stroking his chin. “Jack,
have we got anyone in there we can use?” he asked. Jack sighed. “Slight problem on that front guv” he said. “Problem?” he asked. “The screw we had who was on the take. He died of a heart attack a
week ago” he said. “You are joking intcha?” Paul asked. “Great” he sighed. “Look” Ralph said, getting out a notebook computer, as he opened it up, revealing a document of faces and text. “There’s
about 100 odd screws. We’ve got some background info too” he said. “Look for the ones with any kind of debt, gambling, addictions you name it, I want to know. They’re our best hope” Paul said.
“Won’t Terry have his own screw? Like I’m pretty sure they keep him on a tight leash” Tom said. “Hang on he’s right. Jack, do you recognise the screw Terry was with?” Paul asked. “Let’s see” Jack
said, as he walked over, leaning forward in front of the screen, as Ralph scrolled through the list. “That’s him” he said after a few seconds. “Collin Davies” Jack said. “Any thing we can use
against him?” Paul asked. “He looks kosher guv. Clean as a whistle” Ralph said, scratching his chin. “What nothing?” Tom asked. “Nothing” Ralph replied. “Right” Paul said. “I take it we’ve got his
address?” he asked. “Yes guv. 33 Heaton Grange, Peckham” he said. “Peckham? Great, that’s Arif turf. Sod that...” he said. “Guv, are we going or not?” Ralph asked, frustrated. His patience was
wearing thin. He had put a lot of time into acquiring the details of every single screw who worked in that sodding nick, and his guvnor was apprehensive about going onto another firm’s turf!
Unbelievable. Paul sighed. “What time does he clock off Ralphy?” he asked. Ralph sighed. “5PM guv” he said. “Right” Paul said, getting up. “We’ll wait for him outside. Get the van. Looks like we’ll
be needing it” he said ominously.


****************************************************************


It was about half three when the van turned up. A white, relatively generic looking Mercedes Sprinter. The reg was changed as soon as it pulled up on the driveway. “Are you ready for this?” Tom
asked Jack. “Ready for it? I’ve been waiting for this all day. I mean don’t get me wrong, I’d rather go in hard and fast but if it takes someone on the inside to get Terry out, then that’s what it
takes” he avowed. “Right, is the van all kosher?” Ralph asked, putting a coat on. “Well it works” Tom stated. “You fucking idiot. I mean it’s not just been nicked or something that’s gonna get us
pulled over, you muppet!” Ralph scorned. “Nah, it's all clean. I’ve changed the reg. It’s all legit” Tom cajoled. “Good. Paul’s waiting. We need to get tooled up” he said.


They headed back into the house, as Paul laid out an assortment of weapons ont he table. “I want you all to be carrying” he said, laying out three pistols; one was a Sig Sauer P226, one was a Glock
19, and the third was a CZ75. All high quality, high grade weapons. These weren’t particularly common amongst British gangs. Not street ones anyway. Most in London relied on converted replicas or
blank firing models that were more likely to shoot your own hand off rather than someone. “Now you’re not to fire any of these unless you have to. I don’t even think we’ll need them, but I’m not
taking any chances” he said, as he strapped his own Smith and Wesson 9 into his holster, which was neatly concealed under his suit. Jack inserted a 15 round magazine into the Glock, although it
only had 7 rounds. High quality ammunition was increasingly hard to find in the UK, and although the Dalston Street Mob could afford to pay out for it, it would be highly inconvenient to wait for
an illegal shipment to come in. Old timers like Terry Mitchell rarely used guns, and almost certainly never shot coppers. But over time, firms had hardened; guns were a way of life. To real
gangsters like Paul Roberts and Ralph Hunter, your pistol was an extension of your arm. To Jack, guns were more of a novelty, and he carried his infrequently. But he still felt a buzz, testosterone
racing through his body as he felt the cold, hard metal of the CZ-75. It was a lean, mean killing machine. He put a pair of black, leather gloves on before grabbing the firearm and sliding it into
his holster. Meanwhile, Ralph took the Glock, whilst Tom took the Smith and Wesson. “Right. Let’s get this show on the road eh?” Paul snarled. They headed out of the house, locking the door behind
them. It was dark now, and cold. Tom got in the front of the van, into the driver’s seat, as Ralph sat next to him. “Look’s like we’re in the back” Paul said, as he opened up the door for himself
and Jack to get in, before he slammed it behind. “Take one of these” he instructed, chucking him a balaclava. The van’s engine fired up; but in the back it was so dark they couldn’t see anything.
“Do you think this screw’s gonna be of much use?” Jack asked Paul. “I hope so” he sighed. “One screw is better than no screw. We need building plans, fire escapes etc, and we obviously need him to
get Terry to somewhere where we can get him out. I’m finalising the details, but there’s plenty of ways to leave in style” he grinned. “Oh yeah”? Jack asked. “See it's not even a kilomtre from the
Thames” Paul said. “We can speed him away in a car, get him down to the river, onto a boat, and down to the estuary. Problem is the traffic between there and the river is still likely to mean we’ll
get caught by the old bill” he said. “Helicopter?” Jack suggested. “I’m not gonna lie to you, I have thought about using a chopper. Trouble is it’s a built up area - I mean for fuck’s sake it's
London - so we’d struggle to land it” he mooted. “Guv where we going?” Ralph asked. “127 Parkmead Road, West Norwood” he said. “I thought we were going to the prison?” Jack asked. “We are - but we
need to show our hand first” he said, grinning.


The van pulled up outside 127; it was a typical 1930s semi detached property. They were found all over London, they more or less looked the same and had the same layouts inside. On the driveway,
which was a little overgrown with weeds, there was an old car, a Nissan Prima from about 2002, and a green bin with the branding of Lambeth Borough Council on it. “This is Mr and Mrs Davies
address” he said. “Collin’s old folks” he said. “How old are they? Collin looked about 60 himself?” Jack enquired. “I think Mr James Davies is about 82, and his wife, Eleanor, is 78” Paul replied.
“How we getting in boss”? Ralph asked. “We’ll try the softly-softly approach” Paul said, handing each man an ID card. “Council - social services” he replied at their confused look. “Do I look like
I’m from social services?” Jack asked, disgruntled. Paul rolled his eyes and knocked on the door. “Mr and Mrs Davies? It’s the council. Can you open up please?” he asked, banging on the door
repeatedly. From the outside, they could hear muffled noises, something that resembled, “I’m coming!”. Eventually, after several painful minutes, the door opened. A very frail looking James Davies
opened the door. “Hello?” he asked. He could be no taller than 5 foot 5, had a walking frame and his face was pock marked and wrinkled, with silver framed spectacles. “Mr Davies? We’re from Lambeth
Council” Paul said, speaking ridiculously loudly. “Can we come in?” he said. “Well I don’t-” he began. “Thank you!” Tom said, pushing his way past, as Paul, Ralph and Jack followed. “James? What’s
going on?” croaked what was presumably Eleanor Davies. “It’s the council” James said. “They don’t look like the council” Eleanor said from her armchair, as the four men walked in. Eleanor was in
better shape than her frail husband; she had white hair, fair skin and brown eyes, and was wearing a pink knitted cardigan. Jack looked around. On the TV, BBC news. A few photographs on the walls
that were covered in yellow wallpaper that looked like it had been there since the seventies. The room smelled of damp, and indeed, blotches of an ominous looking black hue could be seen inhabiting
the corners of the ceiling and the skirting board that was more yellow than white. The carpet was stained with brown, perhaps someone had spilt some tea. There was a fireplace, but it was devoid of
any fire. “You’re not from the council!” she said, stating the obvious. Paul reached in to his jacket and pulled out a gun, pointing it in their faces. Jack felt uncomfortable with this, but he
didn’t play up. It seemed slightly unnecessary to threaten an extremely elderly couple who were clearly in no position to resist them. “No. We’re not” Paul said, before taking a seat. “What do you
thugs want?” James trembled. “We’re not giving you anything. We’ve got nothing to give you” Eleanor added hastily. “We don’t want anything, Mr and Mrs Davies. We’re here about your son” he said.
“Collin?” she said. “All we need you to do is to stay here” Ralph said. “Get the cameras Tom. You go with him, Jack” Paul ordered. “On it guv” Tom replied.


Tom and Jack headed out of the house to the van. “You knew about this?” Jack asked. “Why wasn’t I told?”. “Look” Tom said. “Don’t sweat it. I didnt’t know up until we were halfway there anyway” he
said. “Same here. What the hell is going on?” he asked. Tom shrugged, as he opened up a blue toolbox and searched it for the cameras; he retrieved them. They were similar to webcams, and there were
two of them. “What are they for then?” Jack asked.


“Blackmail” Tom replied.


They headed back into the house. “Where are we putting the cameras?” Ralph asked. Paul looked around. “Put one here on the fireplace” he said. “There’s a socket down there” he added. “On it” Ralph
replied, as he hooked up the first camera. “Second one can go on that shelf over there” Paul pointed out. “You do that one Jack” Paul said, chucking him the other camera, as Jack caught it. He
looked at the shelf; it was painted white and there were a few ornaments, and a picture of Collin Davies with his parents. It must have been about ten years old he guessed. Jack hesitantly put the
camera on the shelf before extending the wire and plug into the socket below, before flicking ont he switch; a red light began blinking on the camera, before it turned green. The same happened to
the other camera. “I think we’re live guv” Ralph said. “Well let’s test it out first” Paul said, pulling out his phone. He opened an app that he had already installed, before flipping his phone
into landscape mode. He could see the view from the cameras - HD - as they focused on James and Eleanor Davies. “Perfect” he said, as he turned off the phone and stuffed it back into his pocket.
“Right” he said. “Jack, stay here with Tom. Me and Ralph will be off to the prison” he said. “Prison? What are you going to do with my son?” Eleanor asked. “Just be quiet. He won’t come to any
harm” Paul said. “Mask up you two as well” Ralph prompted, as Tom slipped his balaclava on over his face, followed by Jack. “We’ll be back soon” Paul said seriously, as the two of them made their
way out into the hallway, before slamming the door shut.


Collin Davies had just clocked off his 8 hour shift. Prison work was hard. That said, at times it was less stressful than the police force, and he did at least feel like he got some reward from
interacting with the prisoners and seeing them (albeit few) try and change their ways for the better. He had just ripped off his uniform and placed it into his duffel bag; a white shirt, black tie
and trousers, duty belt and an earpiece, and of course, his radio. He had got changed into a set of jeans, a dark red jumper, and a black coat. He didn’t get to see much of the outside world from
the walls of the prison, but had checked the weather with the app on his phone. Showers were expected in a few minutes; fortunately he had brought his umbrella. He would be walking to the bus stop
today, before getting the bus back home. Maybe he’d stop off in the pub on the way back. He lived alone, but he found his own company enough to keep him busy. Yes. He cleaned his glasses, before
putting them back on, as he made his way through the reception era. “Collin when are you back on?” the duty officer, Dale, asked. “I’m not back until Monday guv. I’ve got leave” he said. “Right.
See you then” he said, as he closed the log book he was crawling through. “See you” he said, as he scanned his card on the pad by the door to allow him out.


Outside the prison, a black van had turned up. It was a Mercedes. Ralph and Paul were in the front. “Is that him?” Paul asked, as a prison officer left the building. Ralph looked at the window
through a pair of binoculars. “Don’t think so guvnor” he replied. “Shit. How long is he taking?” Paul cursed. This was frustrating. They had been sat outside Belmarsh for nearly half an hour now,
and this poxy prison officer still hadn’t clocked off. If they remained here much longer, someone might start to be suspicious. “Turn the engine off” Paul ordered Ralph; he followed. “Keep looking”
Paul demanded. “We can’t have missed him”. Ralph spotted a figure emerging from the double doors, walking towards the pavement. “Guv. Think we might have him” he said. “Give me those” Paul said
hurriedly, snatching the binoculars out of Ralph’s hands. “That’s him!” Paul said, as Ralph fired up the engine of the van. He drove it out of the parking bay and towards the pavement. “Let’s not
jump him yet. We’re too close” he said. “He’ll get suspicious if we just tail him!” Ralph shouted. “Just do it” Paul said, as the van crept along the unassuming road, as they reached the junction
with the main dual carriageway, leaving the prison grounds. “Oh so we’re not gonna snatch him outside the prison but we’re gonna snatch him on a dual carriageway in sight of everyone to see”? Ralph
scorned. “Pull over” Paul ordered, as they pulled into the bus stop where Collin Davies was walking by. “Masks on” he ordered. “Go!” Paul shouted, as they jumped out of the van. Collin was
oblivious to what was happening, but before he knew it, he felt someone hold his shoulders and put a hand over his mouth, before he felt the cold, hard metal of a gun. “Stay still, not a word” Paul
ordered, as Ralph opened the door of the van, before Paul marched him over and pushed him in, as he hit the hard floor. “What’s going on?” he shouted. “Shut it” Paul ordered, as he slammed the
doors shut. “Let’s go” Ralph said, as they got back in the front, and sped off. “That was close” Paul admitted. “We should have got him outside the prison” Ralph said, shaking his head. “We’ll pull
into the next side road and change the reg” Paul said, confidently. “Then we’ll get Jack to get the cameras rolling” he said.


The van pulled into a residential road, mostly empty apart from one or two people braving the rain and wind to walk down, their umbrellas struggling to stay up against the force of the wind and
rain that pelted the pavements below. “Oi!” came a voice, and bangign from the back. “It’s time” Paul said. Ralph grabbed two false plates - one for the front and one for the back - and exited the
driver’s seat. He whipped off the front plate, replacing it, and did the same for the back, as Paul got the keys to unlock the back. “I’m coming in. Don’t move or I’ll shoot” he instructed.
Silence. Paul opened the door, as Ralph got in, followed by himself. “What’s going on? Who are you”? Collin asked, perplexed. “Collin” Paul began. “I’m going to show you a video. I want your full
attention” Paul said. Ralph sent a text to Jack.


Jack’s phone vibrated in his pocket. It was from Ralph. “We’re on” Jack said to Tom. “The cameras are live. Get your mask on” he said, as Jack donned his mask. Tom grabbed his gun and pointed it
against Eleanor’s head. “Go on, get your gun!” Tom barked. Jack was hesitant; it was moments like this that somehow made him question his choice of career. It was moments like this that questioned
his very humanity. In the end though - he had no choice. He grabbed his gun and pointed it against the head of James Davies. “Gorn son. You gonna shoot me or what?” he said. “Shut up” Jack hissed.


“We’re good to go guv” Ralph said. “Right” Paul replied, turning his phone around. Confusion was soon replaced with horror as Collin watched the video; two masked gangsters, with their guns against
his parents. His mother looked stoic - but he could sense some worry in her eyes, whilst his father looked his usual, stubborn self. “What have you done!” Collin cried. “Nothing” Ralph said. “Yet”
Paul added. “You see we need a favour” Ralph began. “And you’re the only one who can help us” Paul finished off the sentence. It was almost as if their words had been perfectly orchestrated. Like
it had been rehearsed well in advance. “You see” Paul began. “One of our mates is currently banged up. The problem is - we need him out. And obviously, we’re gonna need an inside man. You see where
I’m coming from?” Paul asked. “Who is it?” Collin asked, outright. He had dealings with a lot of disgruntled cons and their families. Abuse - yes. The odd threat here and there. But being kidnapped
and subsequent blackmail - his parents held against their will? This was crazy! Well, it was Belmarsh. Perhaps he should have stuck to a Category C prison after all rather than going in at the deep
end. “Terry Mitchell” Paul said. Those two words would send the shivers down even many a hardened gangster, but to Collin - Terry was almost a friend. They had at the very least, a mutual
understanding of each other. Terry was - unlike his captors - a reasonable bloke. He held nothing against him; Collin hadn’t banged up Terry personally. Collin was just doing a job. And Collin knew
that in a weird, and definitely highly illegal way, Terry was just doing his. After all, it was that all he, and a lot of his generation, knew. “Terry’ arranged this?” Collin asked. He was
disheartened. “He’s agreed to it” Paul said - well that was something at least. It wasn’t as if Terry had been scheming against him since the very start. “What do I need to do?” he sighed. “Now
we’re talking” Ralph chirped. “We need you to help him get out, in a nut shell” Paul said. Collin laughed. “You do realise this is Belmarsh right?” he began. “You’d need more than one guy to get
anyone out of there, least of all Terry Mitchell” he said. “There must be a way” Paul began. “We’ve got our men to help from the outside. All you need to do is get Terry somewhere we can get him.
How close can you get him to the prison gates?” he enquired. “Well” Collin sighed. “I guess we could get him to the ambulance bay. The only way of getting him out would be to feign some kind of
illness” he said. “How tight are they with that sort of thing?” Ralph asked. “About as tight as you can get” Collin replied, raising his eyebrows. “I’m not even sure that would work. There’d be at
least one other guard. Honestly, I’d help guys but I’m not sure if I can” he began. “Remember what’s on the line here” Paul threatened, with that menacing look in his eyes. “You don’t get him out,
and they get it. You understand me?” he said. “For fuck’s sake, I do! I just not sure if I can pull it off” he cursed. “Alright” Ralph soothed. “You wear bodycams these days don’t you?” Paul asked.
“Yep” Collin nodded. “We can give you one of our ones. You all use more or less the same model don’t you? Let me show you a picture” Paul said, bringing out his phone again, and opening the photo
gallery, before showing him a photo of a bodycam on a table. “Yep, that looks kosher. I don’t know how I’d get in though, they search even us” he replied. “Maybe say you forgot to hand it in” he
said. “I could - but it's risky” he said. “This whole plan is risky” Paul scoffed. “If you wear that - and we’ll give you an earpiece that you can hide anyway - we can give you all the instructions
you need. We can see where you’re going and give the orders. It’ll be like we’re there with you” he said. “Doesn’t exactly feel me with confidence. My pensions on the line here!” he said. “Yeah,
well your old man’s and ma’s life is on the line too, so don’t fucking forget that bit either” Ralph retorted. “How could I?” Collin replied meekly. “What we need you to do first - tomorrow - is to
just walk around the prison. Basically everywhere. That way we can write up some plans and get an idea of what we’re dealing with” Paul explained. “I can’t” Collin sighed. “Why the fuck not?” Paul
asked. “I’m on leave til Monday!” Collin answered. “Cancel it. Tell em’ you changed your mind. My guys aren’t leaving your parents gaff til this is pulled off. They’re very impulsive. Maybe they
might get bored and just decide to” “Alright, alright, I’ll phone in!” he said. “Do it now” Paul said, prodding him with the gun. Collin sighed, getting the antiquated Android smartphone out of his
pocket. “My skipper’s on speed dial” he explained, as he just pressed a button on his mobile and went straight through. “Yeah alright guv” he said. “Yeah listen. About that leave...yeah cancel it.
Why? Well, I just thought I might be needed and my holiday’s just be cancelled. Something about a flood. Yeah. It’s alright - I know when I’m needed! Alright. See you tomorrow guv. Tada” he said
jovially, before putting down the phone. “It’s all kosher” he said. “Good” Paul snarled. Ralph gave him a generic looking bodycam and an earpiece. The moment you click that button, we’ll be able to
see everything” Ralph said. “Here’s a mobile as well just to keep in touch” he said, handing him a Nokia burner phone. “When do you release them”? He asked. “As soon as he’s out” he replied.
“Realistically, when is that gonna be?” he asked. “As soon as you’ve done a reccee and we’ve devised a final plan - then it will be. It’ll all be over before the end of the week if you don’t cock
things up. And don’t even think about going to the old bill - all I need is a sniff of the police and the only thing they’ll find is two dead bodies, and a third if I find you, you understand me?”
he said. “Crystal” Collin nodded. “Good” Paul replied. “Now get out” he said. Collin looked around. He couldn’t get out of the van fast enough. As soon as he got out, the van sped off down the
road. Fucking hell Collin. What have you gotten yourself into this time?
Read Chapter

ON THE TAKE

  Jack and Tom were still in the house the next morning. They had taken turns to sleep on the sofa. It was hard and their back... Read Chapter

BREAKOUT

One day later, things were starting to fall into place.   Ralph was true to his word and had indeed acquired an ambulanc... Read Chapter

THE LAWYER

  The helicopter touched down at a private airfield just around 20 miles outside of Southend.    The precipi... Read Chapter

A BRUSH WITH THE LAW

It was nearing ever closer to six PM. The four men had all returned back to Dalston in the car. It had taken them a good hour and a bit... Read Chapter

BODY DISPOSAL

It took them half an hour to get out of London.   They were heading east - along the A13, out towards Pitsea. Even the n... Read Chapter

COUNCIL HOUSED AND VIOLENT

The Harrisons were the arch nemesis to the Dalston mob.   Whilst the Dalston Mob may have been far more sophisticated th... Read Chapter

TRAINING

  Training had begun.   The Romford Road gym had welcomed Jack with open arms as he got to work. This was his fir... Read Chapter

RIVAL

Likewise with Hearn, Mike was also getting ready for the big day. He spent most days in the ring at the gym - some place in a back alley ... Read Chapter

FIGHT NIGHT

  The night had come.   It was 8PM on a Friday evening and the Dalston mob were rearing to go. They had been hiding... Read Chapter

SORE LOSER

  Paul had anticipated the night ending in either one or two ways: either Jack won, and they got their money to use to bribe t... Read Chapter

EVIDENCE

Harry had decided to hang around the industrial estate until the punters had all gone home. He knew he would be needed; he had tried to... Read Chapter

THE YARD

The next morning, Harry got out of the black cab that had taken him to the front of New Scotland Yard. There had been less snowfall in ... Read Chapter

FATHER AND SON

  The Harrisons had returned to their humble south London home. But there was tension in the air. There was anger. It was rele... Read Chapter

ON THE TRAIL

ON THE TRAIL   DCI Burnside and his men had arrived down the dirt track road that led to what had once been a farm ba... Read Chapter

ANTICIPATION

“We’ve got the doors covered” Paul began.   “We go in when we get the signal” Frank” explained.   ... Read Chapter

ONE LAST BLAG

  The London Diamond Convention was one of the biggest diamond events in the capital in recent years.   It was go... Read Chapter

FALLOUT

The Dalston mob crept down the stairs, reaching the ground floor. They arrived at a set of double doors. Ralph tried to push them open,... Read Chapter

A NEAR MISS

Frank and his family had arrived at a property in Bermondsey, south of the river. It was a rough street. All the properties were owned ... Read Chapter

retribution

Danny woke up to two police officers standing by his bedside. There was a massive bandage on his arm, and he was connected to an array ... Read Chapter

GRIEF AND GUNS

It was four PM by the time they returned.   What had once been the snooker club was now an empty shell. The firefighters... Read Chapter

DECISION TIME

“We can’t go to the old bill” Ralph said.   “We’ve got no choice, son. This is what we’ll do” Terry began.... Read Chapter

A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL

  It was a cold, dark, and eerie night.   The black Sprinter creeped down the tree lined avenue, like a hunter ... Read Chapter

THE TOWER

Riverside Tower was a new-ish apartment block that appeared to resemble an office skyscraper rather than somewhere that was home to sev... Read Chapter

THE DEALER

Terry Mitchell was naturally well connected. He had associates and associates of associates across London and the southeast. One of the... Read Chapter

MOVING ON


Jack looked up from his phone, in the back of the taxi. He saw the £25 million enter his account. Terry and Ralph had also taken the same amount. They decided it was only fair in the end, with Paul
dead, and Harry no longer with them. Inevitably, they had also had to pay the £5 million as promised to Chief Superintendent Beech, to keep him quiet. Ralph sat alongside him in the back of the
cab. “I’ve got the money” he said. “Me too” Jack replied, quietly. “How long, guvnor”? Ralph asked the cab driver. “Five minutes mate” he answered. They were heading over Tower Bridge now. Jack
looked out across towards Docklands, with Canary Wharf in the distance. Some people went to work every day, only to earn a pittance, and end up repeating that cycle for the rest of their lives. The
people at Canary Wharf went to work most days, only to earn a fortune, repeating that cycle for most of their lives, whilst still not being contented. Others, like Jack, did neither. Their work was
not legal, it was unconventional, but it entailed very little, and yielded big results. Was he content with his earnings? Twenty five million was enough to set him - or anyone else for that matter
- up for life. They turned off Tower Bridge, through the murky streets of southeast London. He thought about what his dad, lying prematurely in his grave, would think. Did he care? Everyone had an
opinion, only opinions didn’t seem to matter to Jack. The cab pulled up at their destination. Ralph was the first to get out, handing the driver his fare. Jack followed him, as they headed down the
street. This was the one. Greendale Road. And they were at number 83. Just the one they were looking for.


Ralph edged over to the door, and knocked. Three hard knocks in short succession. Ralph could hear heavy footsteps. The door swung open. It was Frank Harrison. “Hello Frank” Ralph said, blasting
him in the head with his desert eagle. Jack took a shot at Danny, who had heard the shots, and had come to investigate. Danny hit the floor, bleeding out. “Dad!” Mike shouted. “Alright son” Ralph
said, taking aim at him too. Steve had also been shot in the chaos, but Jack decided to finish him off; he looked away, before shooting him in the head. Blood and brain matter was splattered all
over the walls and carpet. It was a grisly scene. “Let’s get out of here” Jack said, feeling like he was about to vomit. Ralph slammed the front door shut, and they managed to flag down another
cab. “Dalston,” Ralph told the driver, as they jumped in the back.


Meanwhile, Terry Mitchell walked out onto the runway at the Stapleford Aerodrome in Essex. He checked his watch. The small, private jet was about to leave. He climbed up the short flight of stairs,
and entered into the plane. G-K008 was the number inscribed on the tail end of the jet. It was heading for the Costa Del Sol. Brighter times awaited him, as the seat belt fasten sign lit up, and
Terry closed his eyes shut; as the engines roared into life, and within minutes, they were in the air, as a new life on the continent awaited him.


THE END
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS There are many sources of inspiration for this novel. It is not a lengthy novel, and that owes to the fact I w... Read Chapter

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Book / Mystery and Crime