Chapter 8

As I drove home, I began to think about how to get a million pounds changed from notes and into my bank. Then I thought more about it. I had to get it into an offshore account. I was also worried about any backlash from the Gangs and how the people Crumble worked for would react to the massacre on the beach.

As I drove back, I called the Estate Agents in Hereford, they told me the sale of the house had gone through and I could pick up the keys whenever I was ready.

I drove to the house in Birmingham and left the Glock and the sports bags full of cash with the girls. They were pleased to see me, there were hugs all around. I gave the girls the good news about the house, and they danced with joy. I had things to do. then we would move...

I took a shower and had a coffee. I told them I would be back in a few hours.

Then I took the four-by-four back to Crumble’s warehouse.

He came down to meet me, took the keys off me, tossed them to one of his minions and told him to get it crushed.

He led me into his office before he said anything.

“Sorry about Curly mate!” he said, pulling a bottle of whisky from his desk drawer and pouring us good measures.

We clinked glasses.

“So, we put the feelers out and it seems you were right the gang in Manchester did want their cake and to eat it, they gave Burhaam the loan but were going to mug him for the drugs and the cash,”

“Well, they paid highly for it!” I said and sipped in the whisky. it was a single malt packed full of vibrant fruit, spice, and a subtle salty note. I must buy a bottle I thought to myself.

“So, what did you do with Curly?” he asked as he lit a cigarette.

“I put him on the boat, set fire to it, and let it drift out to sea,” I said.

“There was nothing else you could do pal!!”

I let those words wash over me. We were both SAS troopers, we had discussed the ambush before we went to the bay and agreed to go. I had nothing to blame myself for. But I still had a nagging feeling that there was more to this than Crumble was letting on.

Crumbles second in command came in and more Whisky was poured. I was asked about the ambush. I gave them nearly all I knew, and I threw in two red herrings.

After an hour or two of chit-chat, I made my excuses. I headed out of the warehouse. I walked down the street and did some anti-surveillance manoeuvres. A bus passed the end of the road, its indicators telling me it was about to stop.