Archive for April, 2008

Traffic 2

Tuesday, April 15th, 2008

I had a job like this before that had almost gone tits up on me, so I knew before I went to Bromley that this was not  going to be a one man job and my meeting with Mr & Mrs B only confirmed this.  Fortunately I had followed my gut feeling on this and had already flagged Cyclops up and had a team together who were on standby.

Shortly after leaving Mr & Mrs B I spoke to Cyclops again and gave him the address for Danny that I was heading to.  He confirmed that the team, vehicles and kit were ready to deploy.  For the purpose of this little job we had hired one small van, two large  vans (Both the vans were white and were the ones with double crew cabs and with the panelled backs and one non descript mid size  car for short term surveillance.

It was the same team we had used in Nigeria for the hostage job last year.   No we did not expect to run into heavy arms fire, but if I was to amble up to Danny’s gaff right this very minute there was a good chance I would encounter fierce amateur resistance from at least one geezer , but probably more.  No doubt these lad would think of themselves as well ‘ard and the scene would be most unpleasant and would be an unnecessary risk and complication.  Far better to go in mob handed knowing as much about your opponents as possible. This way we would gain the maximum advantage from being trained, disciplined, fit, strong, experienced, well equipped dirty fuckers who know that you cannot win every fight.  However the elements of planning and surprise would be our biggest strengths.

A full briefing was arranged for 17.00 at McDonalds in Catford.

Why McDonalds I hear you cry, well who is going to take a second look at a group of likely looking geezers at tea time at a McDonalds in South London?.  Besides which it is warm as is the grub.  Yeah yeah I know there was that geezer who lived on McDonalds for a month and grew a second head or something, but he wouldn’t have been any better off if he tried just eating lettuce for every meal for a month.  I don’t particularly like McDonalds, but I have been so hungry at times in my life that I am thankful for any reasonable meal.  Needs must.

I was on my way to SE6 to have a ganders at the address and to see if I could get a visual on the opposition.  I was lucky and got a cab heading into town and was up near Danny’s address fairly smartish.

Danny’s address turned out to be a low level block of what looked like council flats. There were a few people about but it was not busy busy.   I established that Danny’s flat was on the first floor.  There were two mortice locks and a yale on the front door but the frame didn’t look as if it was braced.  Looking up from the street you could see black sheets or clothes were pinned up at the windows.  The car was parked up in the street.  It was a flash scroates car and spoke volumes about it’s owner.  This was his baby, touch it and he toucha ya face! to quote the bumper stickers that used to abound.

I ambled past the car and started to cross the road.  As I passed the car I gave it a good rock as I did –  WHOOOOWA WHOOOOWA WHOOOOWA –  the alarm screeched into life.  I was across the other side of the road and just looked over my shoulder tres nonchalant like at the car and  carried on walking.  One of the sheets at the flat window was pulled back and a young white man of about 20 looked out into the street.  I could see his bare bony shoulders and he was either having a bad hair day or he was still kipping despite the time of day.  I reckoned that was Danny boy he looked agitated.  Somebody ‘ad touched his wheels like, and he were goin’ to sort ’em

About half a nano second later he was in the street with a thick set black lad with a serious swagger who thought he was the dogs nadgers.  Danny was ready to protect his wheels cos he was ‘ard.  Boy could that black dude swagger.  Another young lad appeared at the window.  He also looked as if he had just been woken up.  I wondered if he might be Gavin but I was distracted when he was joined by a girl.  I didn’t get a good look at her but it was definitely not Sam, but probably about the same age.  The lad pushed her away from the exposed window.

In the meantime Danny had opened the car and reset the alarm and both he and his black mate were going to dislocate their necks looking up and down the street for who was responsible.  They saw me, a fifty year old fairly smartly dressed bloke,  but didn’t see anything to cause them alarm so they relaxed.

“Oi mate did ya see anyone mucking wid ma wheels” He called to me

“No sorry I didn’t,  I think it just went off” I shouted back and carried on walking

“You sure?” called the black lad

“Yes I am sure” and just walked on.

They chatted to each other and looked up and down the street and were happy that they didn’t see anyone in the street they knew or whom fell into the category of posing a threat, but looks can be deceptive.  Our two boyos assumed, wrongly, that there was nobody there who knew them or was looking at them or intended them harm.  Little did they know just hoe wrong they were.   Danny walked back to the flats whilst his black mate swaggered along beside him.  Even without knowing him I knew that Danny was a thug and that the black dude was a hot head and a violent piece of shit.

What a couple of tossers.  I didn’t like either of them and knew that even without discussing it,  my feelings would be shared by the others.

Still, this little exercise had done what I wanted it to.  I had seen who I thought was Danny or at least somebody who would be able to point me in the direction of Danny and Sam.  It also told me that there was a good chance of their being at least four people in the flat when we called and that if we were not careful they would be up for a bundle.  I waited about 15 minutes and then walked  back past the car and neatly dropped down and stuck a tracker underneath the passenger sill before heading off.  This particular tracker is a little more sophisticated than the ones I use when actually following a vehicle and can be monitored from further away.

I rang Cyclops and updated him on what we had.  He said he was monitoring the tracker now.

In an ideal world it is worth watching your prey for as long as you can, but we don’t live in an ideal world and I really had bad vibes about Sam’s safety and having seen the other girls I wondered about the full extent of what was going on with these herberts.  We would keep tabs on the car for the next few hours and when the time was right for us we would pop in for a chat with Danny and hopefully find Sam and remove her and anyone else who needed our assistance.

Of course Sam may not be there, but I was in no doubt that if she wasn’t, the lads would be more than happy to tell us where she was, but I doubted we would be offered a chocolate hobnob or a cuppa.  Still can’t have it all ways can you?

Traffic 1

Sunday, April 6th, 2008

My journey to Bromley from Hammersmith was not that straight forward and it didn’t help that winter had arrived late and it was king cold and snowy.  It didn’t help that the people I was going to see were under mega stress and were desperately trying to keep their family and professional lives operating normally.

They had lost their daughter.  No she wasn’t dead, in fact she was still very much alive only they didn’t know where and even if they did,  it wouldn’t make much difference.

The papers are full of stories of sex trafficking.  Papers like The Daily Torygraph and The Daily Wail usually pump out bilge about Eastern Europeans and foreign johnnies being the ones entirely responsible for the countries ills.  I wonder who did all the naughtiness before these Eastern Europeans landed up.  Here’s another thought who or what did we blame for fuck ups before computers.

I digress.

Mr & Mrs Bromley are a professional, upper middle class English couple but they had experienced the horror of seeing their daughter become a victim of sex trafficking.

Up until a few months before they contacted me their daughter who I will call Sam was a happy 13-year-old who enjoyed doing all the things girls of that age normally enjoy.  In her case Sam was a good dancer and fairly nifty on a horse.  Unlike your author who rides a horse with the same dexterity as a kipper plays golf and you REALLY don’t want to see me dance!

That changed almost over night, Sam that is, not my riding or dancing abilities.

Mrs B poured me a cup of tea and offered me chocolate hobnob. Both she and her husband looked ill.  They were tired and had big bags under their eyes.  If you didn’t know better you would say they both had cancer and were undergoing chemo.

“I am so sorry to bother you, but a friend said you would do your best to help us and that if you couldn’t help you would say so” said Mr B

I nodded

“I have seen your website and heard of some of your jobs and we are just frightened this is too small for you to bother with, but we are desperate!”

“It has been three months of hell,” said Mrs B

“What happened?” I asked

“Well about four or five months ago, Sam came home one night and said she had a boyfriend.  Well of course we assumed it was a boy from school. She didn’t say too much and you know how girls can be at that age, so you know we asked a few discreet questions so as to seem interested but not pushy.”

“Nothing too intrusive” added Mr B

Mrs B continued “We were quite pleased as she got more confident and outgoing, which was good because she was a little immature.  She had been bullied a bit at school, nothing really serious more heavy teasing, but she had been a bit, how can I put it, withdrawn.  Maybe that’s too strong, timid would be better, and we just thought she had she’d got some “Street cred” having a boyfriend.”  she did the quotation thingy with her fingers.  Gawd that gets right on my tits.

“Then shortly afterwards she came home and said she had another boyfriend.  I said something like “Oh did you split up with the first boy” and she sneered at me and said “Noooah what’s it to you anyway”. I was stunned.  Sam had never spoken to us like that and her whole demeanour had changed.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, she was like that Vicky Pollard on television for a start and she had stopped showering ever day, but kids do that and I thought she was coming home later.  I didn’t know for sure because we don’t get home till about 6, but I always ring at about 4 just to see how the day has gone.  She would always be in, but she had not answered and when I had asked her where she was or what she was doing she had snapped at me saying I had rung off too quickly or she had not been able to get to the phone.  I actually asked her why she couldn’t get to the phone and she shouted at me ” Cos I was having a shit if you really must know”.  That was bad enough but later that evening I went into the toilet and she had… well… you know”

Yep I knew

“And I know my daughter and she goes once a day.  I knew she had been lying” persisted Mrs B just in case I wasn’t on the right track.  I can’t help looking more stupid than I really am.

Mr B chipped in “It was at this time that it really started going wrong.  We started getting phone calls at odd hours, which to start with we thought were wrong numbers and then cars started parking outside the house with men in them.  These were men not boys and they just sat outside and then she started missing school.  It has gone rapidly down hill from there.”

Mrs B started to cry and her husband put his arm round her. “Soon after meeting her second “boyfriend”, Sam started going missing for longer periods during the day.  Then she started staying out overnight. She would come home smelling of Alcohol and was dishevelled.” He said

Mrs B managed to whisper through her tears “Every night we thought she was going to turn up dead. At times, we really didn’t think we would get her back.”

“Where is she now, do you know?” I asked tentatively.

They shook their heads Mr B managed to say “Not for certain”

I sat there like a big lemon watching two people hearts breaking. I let them regain their composure and after a few minutes started the painful business of dragging information from them.

“The first boyfriend, you said you thought was someone from school, I take it from that remark he wasn’t from school.”

Mrs B shook her head “He was called Gavin and is about 19 or 20”

“And the second boyfriend?”

“Danny.  He is 20 and drives a Renault 21 car.  We have the registration” she passed me a bit of paper with the number on.

“Any descriptions?”

“They are both white and I think Gavin is quite tall and thin with a freckled face.  Danny is about 5 foot 10 slightly stocky, sandy coloured her and a cocky sneery grin.  They are both quite trendy dressers and as I said Danny has a dark metallic blue Renault 21.

“How did she meet these blokes then?”

“At school, I have found out that young men hang round outside schools waiting to pick up girls.  It happens all over the place the girls were attracted to them and genuinely think they are boyfriends.”

“What else do you know about them?”

Mr B shook his head and looked dejected ” Not a lot.  Even before she became really difficult, any time we would raise the boyfriend issue she would fly off the handle.  And when she started staying out every time we tried to question her about it she got angry and aggressive and said she was “chillin wid er mates”. I later found out she’d been drinking with these men and they’d been having sex with her.”

“Did she tell you that?”

Mrs B shook her head and her face contorted and the sobs came from way down.  She gasped and cried and then said in very fragmented sentences which I don’t think I can properly capture here ” She…came home and was drunk…..she went into her room… and was falling over…..I heard her being sick in her bedroom and I went into help her and see if she was all right…(big big sobs) she was…..she was …lying flat on her back…..(big sobs) her skirt was up round her waist and her ….her … va. vagina was…. all red and swollen aaaannnnd  she was leaking ….and…. and… and …I could smell …….I could smell…..sperm….she was leaking sperm (sob sob sob) lots of sperm”  That was it she was done in and I cant say I blamed her.

Mr B was only a little better but at least he could speak “I would lie awake at night and a car horn would go outside at one in the morning and she would just go. One time, another girl actually called for her well past midnight while the men waited in the car outside. I tried to follow to find out where they were going but they spotted me. By the time I got home someone had put a brick through the rear window of my wife’s car. ”

“so there is more than one lot of blokes” I said

“How do you mean?” said MrB

“Well if you followed the Renault and your wife’s car was damaged at the same time the men in the Renault can’t be in two places at once can they?” I said

“No I suppose not I hadn’t thought about that.  Its obvious really but I know I am not thinking straight”

“Did you report this to the police?”

“Oh yes we told the police all about it before the damage.  They came round the night the car was damaged and were sympathetic, but they said there was no evidence to prove it was these “boyfriends.”

“Didn’t they do anything about the under age sex?” I asked

“The police said she had gone with the men of their own volition and that there was no evidence that the men they were with now were responsible for having sex with her before.  The other thing was they didn’t know where they were.”

“That was useful then” I said rather sarcastically. “I don’t know why they bothered turning up”

“Well actually some good came of it” said Mr B “And I can’t be sure they weren’t being more helpful than they seemed”

“How’s that then?” I asked

“Well you see they did a check on the registration number of the car.  When they had gone there was ascribbled note on a piece of blank paper which just said Renault 21 Daniel Smith and gave the address of Baxxxxy Road SE6.  I know that is confidential information do you think we should use it?”

I wanted to shout “Use it! of course we should friggin use it, what the fuck do you think I am going to do with it? send it to my Gran for Christmas”  I didn’t say that of course because the poor bloke was under stress but I knew somebody in SE6 who was about to be fucking stressed and very soon if I had anything to do with it.

“Catford, not a million miles away.  You’re not going to use that information I am” is what I actually said. “Of course this young man may not be implicated in these recent events, but I am sure if he knows anything he will be more than happy to tell us.  People are pretty good like that”  I didn’t add the bit about how if they weren’t willing to chat we would “persuade them”, but I think maybe they guessed that bit.

“Does that mean you will help us?”

“There was never any doubt that I would try to help you Mrs B, the only question was how easy it would be to track them down and get Sam back home, but I think we have just been handed a very nice short cut.”  I said.

They smiled and started thanking me.  I held my hand up and stopped them.  “Look let me be honest here, I don’t intend to sit round on this and will do whatever is necessary to get your daughter back, but having got her back is only half the problem.  She will need support and care. I have heard of some organisations but will need to look into that aspect.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” said Mrs B looking a lot happier.

“Indeed there is, do you think I could have another cup of tea and a hobnob please whilst I ring an associate to get a few things sorted out”

The Train, My Cock and the Petite Anglaise

Friday, April 4th, 2008

My last couple of posts have touched on the issue of where for one reason or another the cyber world crosses the real world and in some cases become intertwined so that it is hard to tell one from the other.  I want you to read on with that thought in the back of your mind.

There have been a couple of posts by Stratford Girl recently which inspired me to relate a couple of incidents.  At first they might seem totally unconnected BUT I hope by the end you will see how they fit together.

You get on a train or a plane and you are surrounded by people.  Every now and then you bump into somebody you know, but by in large they are total strangers. Who are they? what do they do? why are they there?  Some are good people, some are bad, some are perverts, some you could trust with your life and others would slit your throat and leave you for dead.

The things is you just don’t know.

Are you sitting next to a terrorist or the geezer who will neutralise the terrorist?

The fact that you don’t know anyone on the train doesn’t mean to say they don’t know you does it?

When I first got involved in surveillance work I felt like I had a neon light in the shape of an arrow pointing at me and that every one could see it.  Most people don’t and see the arrow, but it is there if you know where and how to look for it.  It always struck me as surreal that the people under surveillance would be up to all sorts of mischief and hardly ever knew that their every move was being watched.

Most of the time we stumble about on our journeys hardly paying any attention to any one else.  In fact most of the time people don’t look at anyone else, they avoid eye contact and lordy if they should make eye contact it is a case of “Oh shit I looked at him/her I hope they didn’t notice”

If I am on a surveillance job this is a great asset if the person is not surveillance conscious.  If they are clued in then their little eyes will be darting around the carriage or cabin like a ferrets which helps us know if the target is up to something.

Every time you are on a train or plane take a look at who you are travelling with and see if you can discern anything about them just from watching.  A bit Sherlock Holmes but it does work, the only trouble is that after a while this little past time becomes compulsive.

Now I need to tell you about my cock.

My cock is big and hard with a purple red head and is quite magnificent, if i may say so myself.

That’s not just me being vain, anytime a woman sees it she has to run her hands over it slowly caressing the magnificent chap and remarking on what a lovely cock I have.

However its not all fun having a big cock I can tell you.  First off, you have to be careful about how you handle it, how you use it and where you put it.  On several occasions it has been put somewhere inappropriate usually when I have had a bit too much to drink, but maturity has taught me to be more careful.  If you don’t handle it carefully it can cause pain and on a coupe of occasions has caused quite nasty injuries.

When I am at home I tend to be a very casual dresser and when visitors come to my flat the woman always notice my cock and its the first thing they comment on.  Its only later do they remark on the view across the River Thames.

Funnily enough blokes never seem to mention it – and if the do its sort of in hushed tones and things like “Shit Norm what a big cock where did you get it?”. Of course I can’t remember not having it, I remember being about 3 and sitting in my bed looking at this monster cock and thinking I wonder if other kids have one as big as this.  Of course they didn’t.

However as time has gone by,  the novelty of having a big cock has worn off and I don’t think L is too keen on it.  Having said that, it was she who suggested leaving it at her entrance to keep it open.

So why is looking at who you travel with on a train and my cock related?  Well normally they aren’t but the world being a small place and coincidence make them inextricably linked for a brief moment added to this another post by Stratford Girl made me feel compelled to tell you my book story.

Are sitting comfortably then let me explain.

At the start of March I was on a job in the North of England and took the train from Leeds to York.  Initrially I was lost in the world of MP3 when I was aware of a young woman sitting adjacent to me who was none other than my old Cyber pal Catherine Sanderson AKA Petite Anglaise.  Pal might not be quite the right word as regular readers will recall Ms Sanderson took umbrage at a comment I made on her blog last year.  Mind you, she dedicated a post to me and called me a shit, I was quite touched.  This was a first,  because nobody had ever dedicated a post to me or called me a shit. Cunt, wanker, twat, thug, tosser, murdering bastard and several other things but never a shit, but that’s all ancient history.

So anyway there she was chugging along minding her own business not realising that the bloke who caused her and her followers so much heart ache was sitting within slapping distance.  I was tempted to amble over and introduce myself, for a bit of a laugh.  I didn’t because I could see she was seriously stressed.  How did I know that? well the bitten nails and cuticles were a basic give away, then there was hands which never stopped moving and she chewed her bottom lip non stop.  That would have been enough, but she kept interfering with her hair and looking at her watch and breathing out very heavily.  When the train arrived in York she was up and off like a whippet out of a trap.  Now then I know I am a nice bloke, but I am told that I don’t look it.  I don’t have anything against PA and so decided to sit still and say nowt. The point is that there was this poor lass stressed out of her mind, sitting on a train,  minding her own business and only a few feet away from her was someone who caused her to get seriously upset and throw a tantrum.  I don’t suppose she will read this and so I don’t suppose she will ever know, but that in itself is spooky and shows how people can be so unaware of who is watching them.

Now then to tie PA to my cock if you will excuse the expression.

L recently hurt herself quite badly on my cock and said I had to do something about it.  The question was what.? I mean yes it’s big but it did a good job and like most blokes I was reluctant to replace it, beside which that wouldn’t b easy.

Well the solution came from Petite Anglaise funnily enough and this also goes back to how peoples on line lives and real life can collide head on.  Let me explain.  PA worked as a secretary for an English Firm in Paris and landed herself a book deal following her being sacked for blogging at work.  Amongst other things she was not too complimentary about some of the people she worked for and admitted on her blog that she had slopped off to have a shag.  Unfortunately for Ms Sanderson at the time the consequences were pretty dire, although I have to say although I think she was naive in some of the things she said her firm were heavy handed in the way they dealt with her.  But, this is another example of how cyber life intruded into real life wit unfortunate consequences for MsSanderson and her little girl.  Despite our differences I am pleased for her that things worked out well and that she landed on her feet with her book deal, but like the Dawn saga, it could have been so different.

So to go back to PA and my cock.  Her first book was published recently and some comedian knowing of my cyber spat sent me a copy.  Very funny Billy.  As a book it really is not my cup of tea at all, but as soon as I opened the package and saw it I knew that PA could relieve my cock.  I grabbed my cock with both hands and slipped in PA and L was happy.

Actually I should say I slipped PA’s book under the living room door and man handled the 19th centuary cast Iron French Cockerel out on to the balcony.  The door stayed open.  Hurrah! now L wont run the risk of breaking her toe again.

So there you have it