Traffic 3

I got a call from the Scouse Git to say that he and one of the surveillance lads had made good time and were now in Danny’s road with a good view of the flat and our boys jam jar.  Their job was to keep tabs on Danny for the next few hours whilst the rest of the team got sorted and had a briefing update. Five minutes later I got another call to say that Danny was on the move.  With both Danny and Cyclops monitoring the tracker it was going to be hard to loose him and the Scouser could afford to cut the target some slack rather than driving around south east London up the chuff of Dannys car.  He knew what to do and was to follow Danny around and just see what what was what.

I carried on to make the RV with a Big Mac and the other members of the team.

I was taking a good mouthfull of Big mac (if you will excuse the expression) when I got another call from the Scouser.  You probably don’t need to know this, but in an effort to answer the phone half the lettuce and my dill pickle dropped out of my burger splatting mayo and stuff all over the place which caused much hilarity amongst the others.  Anyway the Scouse Git told me that Danny had been to a school a couple of miles away from his gaff and had “chatted” to a girl aged about 13 or 14.

I need to tell you that our little teams have been doing a lot of work with residents associations in order to obtain ASBOs against certain little shit bags.  For his part the Scouse Git has been doing a lot of work in his native Liverpool and his accent gets stronger.  If you are from Merseyside then please don’t take this too personally but the accent gets right on my fucking tits.  There I’ve said and if you’re offended well – sorry like whack.

“I have to be honest boss and say she looks sort of geeky kid like” quipped Scouser.

“How do you mean?” I asked

“Well she didn’t look the sort of bird who would hang around with a scroate like our boy, but she was all over him like a fucking rash like.  I thought she was gonna shag ‘im in the street on the bonnet of his fookin car like”

“I see” I said

“Oh yeah all her mates were there an all like and he was givin’ her plenty of smelly finger like and they were all well impressed woz the others like”.  Smelly finger, what a quaint turn of phrase, still, say what you like about him but he is succinct and I was left in no doubt about what had been going on.


“Yeah her mates like”

“And this was in broad daylight outside the school?” I asked rather surprised.

“Oh yeah”

“What about teachers?”

“What about them like,  outside school time outside school property, they just wanted to fuck off ‘ome like”

“Where are they now?”

“The geeky bird and ‘im are back at his place”

The pre op briefing had already been done yesterday.  All members of the team knew the basic story and all I had to do was fill them in on the details of who was who and where we were going.  The objective of this job was always very simple, find the girl as quickly as possible and return her to her parents.  If we could not find her then find someone who would probably be able to lead us to her and either follow them to her or persuade them to tell us where she is.

The basic plan was for the address and car to be watched and for Scouse Git and Obo1.  Obo1 being a 100% surveillance bod would get photos or video and any other support we might need.  Should Danny leave then they would follow them off. Support for the obo team would be given by Benny the Boat, BF, Skinny Bob and Andy G who would be in one van and were car three zero.

Myself, Boris, Dave H and Obo2 would then take over the obo on Dannys flat and were  car three one.  Scouse Git (SG) and Obo1 were inn the car and would be Car sixty nine.  Why sixty nine? Well if the truth be known at some stage during the op we are bound to say “Car sixty nine where are you?”  Chortle chortle.  I know, its juvenile but its a tradition and makes us happy, so what the fuck.

Danny would be referred to as the punter and Sam as the fare.

The reason for these call signs was so that when using radios should anyone over hear the transmissions they would simply think we were mini cabs.  For example if Danny moved off and had Sam on board the message would be “Hello three zero, six nine here just leaving the last address with the fare onboard”  If she wasn’t with him the message would be something like “Hello three zero, six nine here I have the punter but he’s not sure of the address”

We hoped that Sam was with Danny at his flat, but if she wasn’t the surveillance should give us some leads as to where she was.

Being winter it was dark early which meant we would have the cover of darkness in which to move less conspicuously, but it was frigging freezing and it is no joke sitting about in a car or van for long periods with no heating going.

At about 19.30 Car 69 called in “Hello three zero, six nine here I have the punter and his black friend and two girls on board but they are not sure of the address”

“Thanks six nine keep us posted”

Boris punted our van from where we were on holding and parked up in Dannys street where we could see the flat.  From where we were we could see there was a light on in the flat.  Scouse Git had said that Danny and the black lad had left with two girls.  I had seen one girl at the window earlier in the afternoon and there was the one that Danny had picked up from school.  I had no reason to believe that there was another girl in there, but it was safe to assume that the other lad – Gavin was still in.

five minutes later the phone rang, it was BF to say that they were in Stanstead Road heading towards Forest Hill.  I told BF that we thought Gavin was still in the flat and that we were going to pop up for a chat and to let us know pronto if the others should start heading back our way.

It was time to get ready.  The youths we were dealing with were a bit of an unknown quantity, but we had no doubt that they were likely to be handy which is why this was a good time to be wearing body armour.   The others had theirs on, but I had to change in the back of the van.  I use a lightweight covert item which offers a high level of protection without being too heavy.  A costly item at £560 but well worth it.  However there is a danger that people can think they are invincible just because they are wearing body armour.  There is no substitute for not letting anyone get that close to you in the first instance and for not allowing a situation to get out of hand.  Its all about controlling the play.  Haviong said that there are times when you cock it up and it all goes Pete Tong.

Five minutes later and I was standing outside Danny’s front door with Andy G and Boris standing to my right out of sight.  I could hear music from inside the flat and tried ringing the door bell.  Nothing happened.  I rang it again and still nothing.  Maybe it’s broken rang again and also knocked on the door when I hear “Keep your fucking hair on I’m coming” and the door was flung open by the youth I had seen at the window and I believed to be Gavin

“Who are you, what the fuck do you want” He barked in a trong south London accent

“Are you Gavin?” I asked.  He was visibly taken aback

“Who are you?” he sneered back and I detected something in his voice.  Actually it was his accent, it was not quite so London and more than a hint of posh home counties.

“I’m Uncle Norman” I said quietly and firmly

He looked dumbfounded “But I don’t have an Uncle Norman”

My right hand drove into his throat as if to crab him but instead of grabbing I pushed through,  whilst at the same time my right leg went behind his legs.  The force of the blow to the throat caused Gavin to shoot backwards and trip over my leg.  He hit the floor like a sack of shit and in one movement I was in kneeling on his head.  Andy G and Boris were in the door was closed and they were into the flat checking to see who else was there.  The force of the blow to the throat, the shock and the pain of having a 105kilo chap kneel on the side of your head meant that Gavin really didn’t feel like fighting.  However there is no pint loosing an advantage and as I said it’s all about control.  I rolled him on to his front and yanked his hand behind his back and restrained them using two cable ties as handcuffs.  There are handcuffs made from this material but for legal reasons we don’t use them.

Boris and Andy were back and confirmed the flat was clear.

Poor Old Gavin was gibbering by this stage and kept saying “You’ve made a dreadful mistake sir, You’ve made a dreadful mistake”  There was no mistaking the public school accent now.

I took hold of the hair on the top of Gavin’s head and pulled him none to gently to his feet and pushed him face first against the hall wall with a hefty thud

“Please don’t hurt me you have made a mistake you have the wrong person”

I spun him round so his back was to the wall

“And just why have I made a mistake Gavin” I asked quietly

“Because I told you I don’t have an Uncle Norman”

I patted him gently on the side of the face.

“You do now my old son”

2 Responses to “Traffic 3”

  1. dl says:

    Looks like Gavin’s goiong to get a little talking to…

    More great stuff!


  2. JH says:

    smelly finger! God its been awhile since I heard that lovely expression.

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