Chapter 38

"All packaged Boss and ready to load"

Standing in front of Saim, the drug donkey was a typical henchman. He wasn't the brightest match in the box but, being family and out of pity, Saim put him on the payroll as a driver.

"It is now gone midnight. I want it loaded and out of here by one," Saim demanded

"Yes Boss, Sorry Boss" the donkey stammered

Five past one the donkey and his passenger Max pull out of the warehouse clipping the curb as they turn into the road.

"Why do I bother with family?" Saim asks himself

As the donkey couldn't read, and wrote even less, the passenger relays the directions written on the paper.

"Keep going straight then take the third left"

The blank expression on donkey's face shows he has no idea of numbers either.

"Bloody hell numbskull. Alright, I will tell you when to turn"

"Thank you, it helps"

"The next turn is the one we want. This one, this one, here, HERE" Max shouts as the van skids to a halt.

"Take it slower and you won't miss the next one"

Following the directions through the backstreets, concentrating on every corner, they didn't notice the scooter closely following their every turn.

Sitting in a black van, the call Dan has been waiting for finally came.

"They are turning into the estate now," the mystery voice confirms.

The industrial estate made the best place to hit the van. With only factories and units, it was dark and empty. With no streetlights lit, nobody would see or hear anything.

Looking up the deserted road, Dan sees the headlights coming towards him. He would have to time this perfectly. Putting on his seatbelt, he throws the gears into first and holds the clutch. As the van door comes in line with his bonnet, he slams his foot down on the accelerator pedal. Screeching out of the side road, like a bat out of hell, his timing was spot on. Slamming into the rear wheel arch of the van, it spins. The tire, hitting the curb explodes, sending the van into the air. He could see the two occupants inside being thrown around like rag dolls. Their faces struck with an expression of pure fright. Spinning, the van smashes into a lamppost and crashes to the ground.

Running over to the smashed windscreen, he can see the passenger, thrown through the side window, lay under the van crushed. He didn't intend to seriously injure but, as far as he was concerned, that was collateral damage. The driver, bloodied and bruised, hung by his seatbelt. Forcing open the now twisted back doors, he throws the packets into his own van. The driver, regaining consciousness with a moan, looks out of the windscreen and watches as the blurry, balaclava covered figure approaches.

"Please don't kill me," the crying simpleton pleads

"I'm not going to kill you. I want you to take a message to your Boss"

"Yes, yes okay"

"Tell him, this is for our four new friends. You got that?"

"Four friends, yes"

Out of the side streets, Dan makes his way along the A13 road and towards the docks. The one thing he was never into, and hated with a passion, was drugs. Stopping at the wharf, he picks up each of the life destroying packets in turn. Unfolding his penknife, he makes a slice along the bundles. Taking great pleasure, he tips every grain of powder into the Thames. Rising into the air, like a cloud of smoke from a cannon, the powder settles on the water and then dissolves.