TALES OF THE BOONDOCKER - UPDATED 24/01/2022

TALES OF THE BOONDOCKER - (A GRIPPING NOVELLA FROM THE PEN OF THE HORSINGTON SMYTHE AND  LOAFINGTON SMYTHE.) updated 24/01/2022

Young Johnny Boondocker was the son of an Albanian peasant and a Navajo Indian. He grew up on a reservation in South Dakota until the age of 10,    when he moved to Albania with his parents. By the age of eight Boondocker was a Gambling addict with a drinking problem. The move to Albania only exasperating the adolescents drunken and alcoholic behaviour.

After being taken in to care by the local authorities, Johnny soon absconded and ran away to make his way across Europe to Calais, eventually hiding in the back of a lorry and entering England via the docks at Dover.

Soon he was in London and sleeping rough on the streets of Wealdstone, one of the poorest and shittiest places in Britain. Present Wealdstone had been a creation of the Railways and had sprung up as a small town in the 1840's, when the first intermediate stop on the Euston to Birmingham railway was opened at what is now known as "Harrow and Wealdstone Station".

The location was the closest that the line came to "Harrow on the Hill" which was a wealthy small town at the summit of a hill, made famous by its Private School and church, whose spire could be seen from the city of London on a clear day. The area was prosperous for many years, and the adjacent villages of Greenhill, Harrow Weald and Hatch End grew in to a sprawling area of 1930 "Metro Land" housing, made popular by the then Poet Laureate "John Betjeman.

However the area was now bordering on being a slum, mainly due to the huge  unregulated influx of foreign nationals, mainly from East Africa, India and Pakistan, but also from Afghanistan, Somalia, Bosnia, Poland, Turkey and just about every country in there world.

When walking through Wealdstone or Harrow you will hear a Babble of foreign Languages, but struggle to hear English. In fact if you do hear our mother tongue being spoken, it will probably be with an Irish accent or a Pikey lilt. 

It was in to this unsavoury area that Johnny Boondocker moved to, and he was soon learning how to obtain funding from the Government and how to fleece local people of their hard earned cash. Boondocker wasted no time in setting up his own "Mafioso" and moved about town with a gang of east European henchmen extracting funding from local shops Betting shops and pubs.

Boondocker soon frequented "Bunny Schniedersnap" who was close friends with "Lord Curlington of the Arcade" and his side kick Jean-Paul "Racey" Micklethwaite.

Bunny was already facing a charge of Solenoid abuse, and his Somnambulist ennui was destabilising the tight knit unit.

Johnny Boondocker had known Bunny Schniedersnap since they shared a cell in Dover after being busted by the ports border guards. However, he did not yet know the fading self styled aristocrat, Lord Curlington of the Arcade or the dangerous Jean-Paul "Racey" Micklethwaite, who was known to be a violent criminal of the first order. 

Lord Curlington of the arcade was a wanted man the length and breadth of Europe from Trieste to the Caucuses, and had succumbed to the lure of the opium pipe whilst trading in Jade and opium during the Boxer rebellion.

It was widely suspected that he had supplied the weapon that killed Archduke Ferdinand but it was never proved, he was certainly persona non grata at all but the lowliest dives of Europe, but he still cut quite a dash though, with his aristocratic air and undefinable sense of mystery.

Women loved him and those that didn't he simply raped. He was last seen in Monte Carlo stealing chips from the tables.

His associate, Jean Paul Micklethwaite was the product of a liaison between a Yorkshire boilermaker called Seth Micklethwaite and a young French can-can dancer named Evangeline Decour, brought up by his mother in La Rochelle in Western France after Seth absconded with a bottle of Absinthe. He was a lonely child prone to animal torture and wet dreams.

Posing as a racing driver whereby he attracted the nickname "Racey", he fell in with a louche crowd of ne'er do wells in the south of France meeting the man who would become his mentor and greatest friend Lord Curlington of the Arcade.

Indeed, according to the journals of the Hon Chippy Montford it was in the summer of 1923 that the infamous Bunny Schniedersnap first appeared on the Cote d`Azure ,he had been bringing in small quantities of aromatic gum from the Kif Mountains of Morocco via Marseilles to sell to the bright young things of Cannes and Nice.

It was inevitable that he would meet Lord Curlington of the Arcade and his sidekick Jean Paul" Racey" Micklethwaite as they were always on the fringes of the seedier side of this sparkling social scene but it was Bunny who would drag them deeper and deeper into the mire.

When Johnny Boondocker first met Bunny Schniedersnap in Dover nick, they were introduced to close friends and associates of the Hon Chippy Montford, who went by the names of "Sebastian Fassbender of Nantucket" and "Quincy Throgmorton".

Quincy was of course married to "Tallulah Camden-Smyth", the famous socialite who had an infamous lesbian affair with Felicity Martini, herself a fading call girl from Kilburn.

As mentioned earlier, Lord Curlington and Racey were unknown to Boondocker at this time.

However, it was not long before Johnny Boondocker, Bunny Schniedersnap, Lord Curlington, Racey Micklethwaite, Sebastian Fassbender and Quincy Throgmorton had formed the shadowy group that came to be known as the "Zoot Gang".

In direct competition were the North London Gang headed by Vernon Cruickshank and his gay lover Jock "the snide" Jenkins, known as the "Hacienda Boys" after there late founding father "Hercule Hacienda. 

Also prominent in this rival group was the dangerous ex professional Boxer "Large" Larry Beaumont and Moses McBeth who used to run a run down casino in Marrakesh before loosing everything in a poker game with his sworn enemy "Fishy Carmichael.

Although the Hacienda boys were indeed a rival gang it was rumoured that Bunny on one of his hashish expeditions in Morocco had run into Large Larry and Moses McBeth in Marrakesh and had done a spot of business with them but it is right to say that there was no love lost between them.

Marrakesh was and still is to some degree a haven for the unnatural practices of the sodomite and on more than a few occasions Jock " the Snide" and Vernon Cruikshank would spend a few days down there indulging in their god forsaken hobbies.
                                                   

The Zoot gang always considered the Hacienda boys as jumped up Proles , the cachet and kudos of having an Honourable and an albeit fading Lord in the gang always made them feel somewhat superior.

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Recently released documents from The Moscow State Archive allegedly prove positive that two nefarious characters named Peter P Pederson and Blodwyn Omaha ( thought to be aliases) were smuggling diamonds up from South Africa ,via their base in Tanganyika and thence into Germany.

Through necessity rather than choice these diamonds were then fenced by a Jewish dealer named Ziggy Bubbner based in Amsterdam.

It was these diamonds that came to the attention of Johnny Boondocker. Soon an elaborate sting operation would be implemented by the Zoot Gang that would reverberate through London crime for decades to come.

The documents prove positive that P P Pederson and Blodwyn were introduced to the Zoot Gang by there close friend and confident "Marmalade Atkins".
Marmalade had spent many years in Tanganyika dealing in the slave trade and narcotics. He was known to move in the same circles as East Africa's most dangerous Arms dealer "Ivan Terrablanche", who had moved up from The Cape many years earlier so as to escape from "Mickey Mangtoute" and his cut throat gang of extortionists and murderers.

Indeed Marmalade Atkins and Ivan Terrablanche had recently almost run in to Mangtoute on a trip to Stone Town in Zanzibar, but had managed to keep their presence secrete by garroting Lucinda Motanga, the seedy ex call girl that travelled with mangtoute's entourage, looking after their more unsavoury sexual predilections.

It seems certain that Marmalade Atkins was instrumental in the bringing together as it were of Pederson and Blodwyn into the circle.

It appears the diamonds on that fateful shipment fenced by Ziggy Bubbner were very good fakes, it is almost certain that Pederson and Blodwyn knew this and were operating some form of double bluff.

Boondocker and Quincy Throgmorton visited Ziggy's premises in Amsterdam dressed as Hassidic Jews from Hatton Garden, London, and according to the Dutch Police reports of the time, although Ziggy Bubbner was beaten and tied up, whether Boondocker and Throgmorton knew the gems were fake is open to speculation.

Regardless of the authenticity of the diamonds which we now know is uncertain, it is known their intended destination was to be Vernon Cruickshank of the Hacienda Boys, whether Pederson and Omaha intended to defraud Cruickshank with the help of Ziggy Bubbner is purely academic as the stones were now in the possession of Boondocker and his associates.

By accounts of the time we know that Cruickshank was furious and ordered an underworld hit on Boondocker.

The man chosen to carry out the task was a one legged sous chef from Matabeleland called "Hopalong Matumbe" who specialised in filo pastry. He entered the country disguised as an Ashanti pogo stick salesman but only got as far as Ashford in Kent before falling under a train drunk on duty free and hashish.

Boondocker was well aware of the situation that he now found himself in. Although Hopalong had jumped his last hop, Boondocker was certain that Vernon would have sent additional cover to complete the assassination if the Hopalong failed. And he was of course correct.

A few hours after Matumbe entered the country he was followed by Roscoe Lafayette, a Quebecker scumbag that had left Canada after a sex case involving underage gibbons in Quebec Zoo, and was a man that was a proven killer.

His first murder was accomplished with the help of Bobby "Quebec" Quimby, an ex strip club doorman who was embroiled in a three way sex scandal with an aging Yugoslav gynecologist and a Ukrainian male gymnast.

The murder target was Renarta Lomax, believed to be for no other reason than she had a strange name.

After here murder, Roscoe Lafayette and Bobby "Quebec Quimby had stolen aboard a tramp steamer and had found there way to Cape Town via stays in St Helena, Tristan De Cunha and the Ascension Islands.

Leaving Cape Town, they travelled up the coast to Port Elizabeth, East London and finally Durban. 

In Durban they both made use of the local Indian populace, and soon set up shop smuggling spices and Red Colobus monkeys from Zanzibar. 

It was during these operations that the unsavoury duo first made contact with "Ivan Terrablanche" and Marmalade Atkins. What exactly happened then is not known, as the South African National Guard have not yet opened the relevant files, for fear that it would provoke bloodshed on an unparalleled scale. Indeed Nelson Mandela has spoken in hushed tones of this time, but his lips remained tightly sealed with regards to this despicable era.
 

A leaked document alluding to possible Broderbund activity named Ivan Terrablanche and Marmalade Atkins as being virtually the "bank-rollers" behind the whole South African regime.

Although only one photograph of them is known to exist ,these shadowy figures have had their greedy hands in every nefarious activity on the African continent since before the war.

Slaves to Arabia, drugs, Spices and pygmy prostitution to name but a few of their endeavours.

Apartheid was natural to them as they considered themselves better than

It is believed that their only serious rivals on the dark continent of crime were Pederson and Omaha.



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Roscoe Lafayette was now in England and moving silently through the still night as he approached Johnny Boondockers current residence. 

Vernon Cruickshank had hedged his bets as always ,unsure of the untried but enthusiastic Matumbe he had also enlisted the services of " Roscoe Lafayette" as a backup which as it transpired was a wise move indeed.

After a brief meeting with Jock "the Snide" at which he was presented with the dossier on Boondocker, Lafayette rented a small room off the Marylebone Road behind Baker Street Station.

A a fairly central location he thought and of course easy access to Regents Park Zoological Gardens where he might obtain the kind of recreation that was his penchant.

It was in this fetid bedsit and the occasional stroll round the Gibbon house that Roscoe Lafayette had planed the "hit" on Boondocker.

 


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Meanwhile, a recently unearthed newspaper clipping from a small local paper "The North Allerton Echo" had displayed the headline "Earl in naked pitch and putt scandal".

It transpires that "Lord Curlington of the Arcade" had been invited to a weekend country house party; he took as his guest Tallulah Camden-Smyth the wife of Quincy Throgmorton, this extra marital liaison took place on the weekend Throgmorton and Boondocker were in Amsterdam fleecing "Ziggy Bubbner".

Although Tallulah had Sapphic tendencies she was still not averse to a weekend of gaiety and champagne with a Lord of the realm.

The weekend was a hedonistic orgy of cocaine and champagne and Charleston , the flappers were flapping and the slappers were slapping.

Curlington was discovered naked from the waist down on Northallerton municipal pitch and putt course with a dead sheep and a putting wedge. After a sizeable amount of money was thrown around, Curlington was never named ,only the mysterious by-line "Earl in naked Scandal" remained.

On their return to London they were met by Boondocker and Throgmorton and a meeting was arranged with Bunny and Jean-Paul to discuss the diamond situation.

It was obvious to them that The Hacienda Boys would plot some form of revenge.

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Back in Amsterdam, Holland, Ziggy Bubbner felt the blood trickle into his mouth from his flattened nose, his left eye was closing and his head was throbbing like his groin used to when he was younger.

It all happened so quickly he thought, he was expecting the two Englishmen, not these two Hassidic, but they looked ok he said to himself as he let them in.

But they spoke in soft upper class English accents as they beat the shit out of him, and what for ?

He knew the gems were fake, it was a scam Pederson and Omaha had set up, it had worked before but this time these two fake Jews had got there before the two intended customers.

Tied to the chair and bleeding there was nothing he could do but wait for the police, it was Pederson and Omaha he was worried about not the tolerant and liberal Dutch Gemeeniepolitie.

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Unaware of Roscoe Lafayette's presence outside his premises, Johnny Boondocker stirred from sleep, and waking with a start ,looked over at the two Ukrainian whores lying beside him, scratched his balls and swung out of the bed. The room stank of sweat and sex and stale alcohol. the small mound of cocaine lay scattered across the bedside cabinet.

 He pulled open the drapes and looked out over the square ,just for a second he thought he could make out a figure in the gardens, he looked again and it had gone, he rubbed his eyes not knowing if he had imagined it or not.

Roscoe Lafayette had woken early that morning, armed with a high powered automatic rifle and an espresso to go he had been waiting for four hours with his gaze unaverted at the bedroom window of Boondockers apartment.

Boondocker moved towards the window as Lafayette's finger twitched on the trigger of his high velocity rifle.

Johnny Boondocker stopped in his tracks as the phone began to ring in the next room. He rocked on the ball of his right foot and turned towards the phone. At exactly the same moment, unheard and unseen, a specially designed high velocity bullet smashed in to the sofa directly behind where Boondocker had been standing.

Seconds later he lifted the phone to "Rabid" Ray Rawlings an ex Pub landlord and Racketeer from Rotherhithe.

" Hello !!" was the retort from the scrawny south London villain.

Ray had been known by Johnny for many years and was originally introduced by Modesty Boondocker, Johnny estranged wife.

"High, want do you want you old wanker" said Johnny not knowing that Rabid Ray had just saved his life.

Ray was known to many of the Zoot Gang from the days when they all used to congregate in his pub every Friday night.

In his Rays younger days he liked to travel all over Africa and Europe and it was on his travels that he met Thaddeus Bassie, a distant relative of the great musical Count, who hailed from Boise Idaho, and spent most of his time engage in searching for ancient Israeli artifacts.

Rabid Ray spoke swiftly and quietly in to the receiver and was soon advising Boondocker that he had heard on the grapevine, that a hit had been placed on him. Boondocker swivelled the phone in his giant hand and asked Rabid where he got the information. Rabid quickly retorted that he had been to visit " Fragile Frankie" who'd had a breakdown in the Scrubbs, and that "Fragile" had picked up the info whilst overhearing Ron "the surgeon" Hardcastle in the exercise yard. 

Ron "the surgeon" was known to Boondocker from his days working out of Egypt and he was a man that could be trusted. Many a bullet had been extracted from his body by the eagle eyed leather worker who had adapted to the surgeons knife with a fanatical zeal.

However, how did Ron know of the Hit ?, and why was the hit arranged ?. This troubled Boondocker and he swiftly thanked Rabid and put the phone down.

Boondocker motioned for them to leave and pulled his smoking jacket from the wardrobe and wrapped it around his body. Soon a cravat was around his neck and as he puffed on a black cheroot, his thoughts turned to Lord Curlington and Bunny Shniedersnap wondering why he had not been informed of the hit by them.

All this time, Roscoe Lafayette was straining to get another shot at his target. He had reloaded his handcrafted rifle with another round, and his tobacco stained finger twitched on the trigger. 

The rifle had been manufactured for him by "Spook Coltrain" and was disguised as a golf club.

Spook was a trusted munition who learnt his trade in Egypt whilst working for the Diamond smuggling outfit who imported their merchandise from South Africa via Zanzibar and Kenya.

It was therefore inevitable that he knew Ivan Terrablanche and his band of henchmen and crackpots. 



                                           ---------------------------------------------- 

As Boondocker wrestled with his thoughts regarding the "hit", and Roscoe Lafayette gazed at the target through his highly magnified sight, Vernon Cruikshank exited the Tube station and move towards the prearranged rendezvous with Berthoud Landougc, a French drug smuggler from Provence.

With Landougc was Linus Goldsmidt, a dangerous hypochondriac who was born in St Louis USA to a Flemish Huguenot mother and Prussian Jewish father who haled from the former Prussian port of Konigsberg.

Linus Goldsmidt was a diamond dealer who specialises in exotic stones from the Sahel region of Africa. He also dealt with opium and pygmy slaves, but preferred the trade in blood diamonds.

Vernon was planning to combine the lucrative trade in Diamonds with narcotics and this meeting was going to set the scene for future trade between South Africa and the UK.



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Outside Boondockers residence, the cheese wire cut so quick and so sharp that Lafayette felt nothing , a thin line across his throat and all hell poured down his front.

Racey Micklethwaite loved this sort of job . A killer born, he loved the sight of blood and always kept a used tampon in his wallet.

He picked up the rifle and casually walked away leaving the dead but still pumping Lafayette half concealed in the bushes.

He walked to the other side of the square and unlocked his car, threw the rifle on the back seat and drove away listening to an early Frank Sinatra recording in BBC radio two.


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Lord Curlington of the Arcade had gotten wind of the upcoming hit on Boondocker from an unlikely source.

He had been trying to infiltrate The Hacienda Boys for some time but couldn't find a way in.

A small time petty crook and sometime rent boy named Joe "the Gobble" Rodriguez proved to be Curlington's entry as it were.

Knowing of Jock The Snides penchant for rough trade he paid Joe the Gobble to seduce Jock and in the throes of flagrante delecto, Jock let a few things slip about the hit.

Curlington immediately dispatched Racey Micklethwaite to stake out Boondockers apartment. Micklethwaite had been staking out in the square for two days until his chance came.

As Jean-Paul "Racey" Micklethwaite drove away from the kill in the white rented open- top triumph, his thoughts turned to Vernon Cruickshank and the sure knowledge that he would be after his blood for the assassination of Roscoe Lafayette.

Racey pulled the car in to a seedy looking hotel and entered the reception and asked for the telephone. 

Racey picked up the phone and dialed the twelve digit number from memory. Six thousand miles away in South Africa Ivan Terrablanche picked up the receiver and in a heavy Afrikaans accent greeted Racey with a hearty roar. Racey quickly explained the recent events and it was soon clear that Terrablanche and Marmalade Atkins would be returning to the UK on the next available plane.

Johnny Boondocker was now fully dressed and on his way to see Bunny Shniedersnap, still unaware of the recent bullet that had missed his temple by an inch and still lay embedded in his settee.

He had phoned Bunny as soon as his flat was empty and arranged to meet him at the pub formerly owned by Rabid Ray Rawlings so that they could discuss the recent news Boondocker had received from " Fragile Frankie", regarding the hit on him, and also to mull over Zoot Gang business, in particular the Diamond run from Cape Town to London via East Africa.

Boondocker entered the "Cock and Pig" and looked across to the bar scanning the scene for evidence that Bunny was there. Sure enough Bunny was seated on a bar stool with a double gin and tonic in his hand and a pint of Guinness on the bar. Bunny gestured to Boondocker to come towards him. Minutes later Boondocker was sipping from his pint glass listening to Bunny and wincing at what he told him.

Bunny had had a call from Lord Curlington of the Arcade a few hours earlier and he had explained the proposed hit on Boondocker and the fact that Lafayette had been "taken out" by "Racey" whist making a further attempt on Boondockers life.

Apparently as soon as Curlington had got wind of the hit, he had tried to call Boondocker at least twenty times, but the phone was not answered.


 Boondockers thoughts moved back towards earlier that morning when he lay in bed with the two Ukrainian whores wondering who the fuck was ringing so many times at that time of the morning. The phone rang unanswered as Johnny was pre occupied with improving relations with the former eastern block and was stuffed full of cocaine.

The pair ordered two more drinks and were talking shop when the door of the "Cock and pig" burst open and Thaddeus Bassie walked over to them holding a worn but locked briefcase. 


As he moved to sit down next to them the door again burst open and the masked figure of "Large " Larry Buemont motioned towards them. They all stood up with a start, but stood stark still as "Large" Larry pointed a revolver at them.




                                                ----------------------------------------------- 

In South Africa, a black Mercedes pulled up almost silently outside the VIP entrance to Kaapstad Internasionale Lughawe or Cape Town International Airport as we non Afrikaans know it. The imposing form of the chauffeur "Ebenezer "Ebby" Ghanzah got out and opened the door for his two occupants.

Terrablanche and Atkins stepped out into the bright sunlight and surveyed the scene , the international terminal was undergoing vast modernisation in preparation for the Football World Cup, indeed the pair of them had already heavily invested in the infrastructure and building projects associated with it. They walked to the Executive check-in followed by Ghanzah pushing a trolley with one hand whilst his other gently cradled the gun in his jacket pocket.

Quickly checked in as befits their station ,they retired to the First class lounge ,ordered two Scotches and waited for the flight.

This would be their first time in London for almost twenty years , it was not something they were particularly looking forward to , but business was business.

Marmalade Atkins read the London Times to familiarise himself with UK current affairs whilst Ivan Terrablanche scowled at the expensively dressed and obviously well to do Black travellers.

"jumped up Blix" he thought, "look at them, thinking their bloody white Man"

London was going to be a massive culture shock for Terrablanche.

As Terrablanche and Marmalade sipped their scotches in the well appointed lounge, Mickey Mangtoute was completing his passage through passport control under the assumed name of "Cyrus Fassbender", one of his many aliases used on such occasions.

Mangtoute was the sworn enemy of Terrablanche and his contact at the Cape Town airport had immediately contacted him by mobile phone when he became aware of the presence of Terrablanche and Marmalade after scrutinising the flights passenger list.

Mangtoute was soon outside the first class lounge and a casual look through the door whilst wearing his dark sunglasses and false beard, confirmed the presence of his arch nemesis.

Terrablanche had been a thorn in the side of Mangtoute for many years, and he was intrigued by his sudden return to the UK and was determined to find out what was happening, as he was sure it would have some relevance on his home trade of extortion and murder.

Mangtoute, satisfied that his prey were available to stalk, settled in to his seat in the "Kaffe Kulture" coffee shop and looked around for his side kick, a huge black Zulu woman whose name was Mwamgo Asanti. He looked relieved as she turned the corner and sat down next to him. Mangtoute had always had a predilection for large black woman, and the fact that Mwamgo was also a trained killer heightened his anticipation of the ten hour flight seated tightly against her large black body.

Mangtoute was well aware of Terrablanche's apartheid views and knew that he would be disgusted by his choice of companion. 

The airport announcement binged in to action and Mangtoute and Mwamgo rose in unison and motioned towards the gate.

At the same time Terrablanche and Marmalade swallowed the last of their eighth whiskies, and waited for the small black boy dressed in the airways uniform to escort them to there plane seats, totally unaware of the presence of there enigmatic enemy aboard the same plane.

Settled comfortably in their spacious first class seats ,scotch and champagne in hand Terrablanche hungrily eyed the young stewardess as she stretched up to the overhanging locker.

Atkins popped open his briefcase and carried on reading his newspaper.

Back in economy Mangtoute and Mwamgo Asanti were cursing the cramped conditions of travelling "cattle class".

The seats were just not designed for a huge Zulu woman and Mangtoute false beard was starting to itch but it was a necessary subterfuge, they couldn't take the chance of being in first class with Terrablanche and Atkins.

Terrablanche had first run into Mangtoute almost 25 years ago ,when they were both smuggling Pygmies through Djibouti to the colonies of French Indochina.

Apparently the tiny Pygmy prostitutes were a welcome change to the French Plantation owners of Vietnam. Terrablanche had undercut a shipment of Pygmies to Mangtoutes buyers by 20% and from then on Mangtoute considered the vulgar Afrikaner his enemy.

                                          --------------------------------------------------

Back in the UK, Vernon Cruikshank, Berthoud Landougc, and Linus Goldsmidt walked down Hatton Garden and turned in to the small alley way that led to the "Mitre" pub.

Vernon's plan to combine the lucrative trades in Diamonds and narcotics from South Africa was coming to fruition but his mind was on Large Larry Beaumont and the little job he had sent him to do. 

Vernon entered the Mitre and gestured for Landougc and Goldsmidt to be seated at the corner table. Vern passed across the room and stood at the bar. He asked the barman for the phone and dialed 999. He requested the police and hurriedly whispered that a drugs deal was going down at the "Cock and Pig" and that a substantial amount of cocaine would be found in the presence of a certain Johnny Boondocker and a few of his cronies.

Meanwhile at the Cock and Pig, Large Larry lowered the gun and was explaining that Vernon Cruikshank was not behind the earlier attempted hit, and that to show his good will, he was willing to share a recent dope deal with the Zoot gang.

As they all sat down, Large Larry opened his coat and passed a package to Johnny indicating that he opened the bundle to check the contents. This Johnny did and after a couple of muffled comments, Boondocker nodded back to Larry and the huge punch drunk Jamaican rose to his feet and left the pub.

Back at Hatton Garden Vernon Cruickshank returned to the table with three pints of Best Bitter, and sat down with a gleaming smile on his face. " Now lets do business cockers !" he retorted, as Landougc and Goldsmidt lifted their pint pots and sipped the froth topping their warm beer. 

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Meanwhile, En transit to the UK and 35,000 feet above the great African continent, Marmalade Atkins put down his paper ,stretched out his long legs in the even longer first class seat ,took a large gulp of his scotch, closed his eyes and thought back to the first time he had met his partner Ivan Terrablanche.

Marmalade was actually his real name, christened by his schizophrenic Father, a Hampstead fishmonger with a predilection for preserved fruit.

Atkins senior had done very well post war by importing the largely inedible South African Snoek, due to wartime rationing this foresight seems to have set him up with a chain of retail fishmongers and a large import/ export company.

On his 18th birthday, Atkins senior had sent young Marmalade out to Cape Town to oversee the business there, but Marmalade immediately took off and had never seen his family again. Making his way north, he had ended up in Djibouti, drunk and stoned and longing for some Pygmy action , he wandered into a bar and fell into conversation with a young coarse Afrikaner named Ivan Terrablanche.

The two men though polar opposites seemed to hit it off immediately , both seeing in each other the qualities they individually lacked.

Ivan being direct and open and brutally honest in his opinions and Atkins being more cautious and thoughtful , they formed a partnership that has served them both well.

Buying anything cheap and selling it for more ,pure and simple economics they eventually graduated to drugs, prostitution, extortion and diamonds.

Their investment portfolio now encompassed huge swathes of South Africa and indeed propped up to a large extent the Apartheid regime.

But this London trip was something else, Atkins was unsure , he had a feeling in his stomach something wasn't right.

He opened his eyes, looked across at Terrablanche and ordered another couple of scotches.

Mangtoute was staring out of the window ,squashed up against his lover and companion Mwamgo Asanti , this was normally enough to get him aroused but his mind was on other things , not least this damn false beard. Asanti was reading the in-flight magazine and taking sips from a diet coke , as if the no sugar drink was going to make any difference to her bulk.

This was a spur of the moment decision to follow Terrablanche and Atkins after receiving the phone call from their airport contact they booked the only available seats they could.

It was so unusual and out of character for Terrablanche and Atkins to not only leave South Africa but to leave the African continent at all, that Mangtoute felt that he had to follow.

His star had been on the wane of late, whilst Ivan and Marmalade had been feted by Politicians and Dignitary, he had been relegated to local extortion and the odd "hit". This could be my way back he thought, reclaiming the respect he thought he deserved.

Asanti only the day before had shot a young drug dealer through the head in an altercation over turf and the trip to London would be a chance to lie low and to spend some time with her diminutive lover.


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Back in London, Detective Inspector "Happy" Harry Marshall strolled nonchalantly into the Cock and Pig , Boondocker beckoned him over and he sat down opposite him.

"how do Happy" said Boondocker "awright"

"cant complain" replied the D.I. "picked up Large Larry outside" he added.

"good. bastard tried to stitch me up" said Boondocker.

"he's too thick for that" said Marshall ,"probably Cruickshank" he added.

"my thoughts exactly" replied Boondocker.

The barmaid brought over a fresh round, Marshall lit a cigarette oblivious to the smoking ban and the lack of an ashtray.

Boondocker passed the Policeman the package of cocaine that Larry had given to him and a further envelope with a grand inside.

"Find out what you can" he said.

Marshall knocked back his malt , stood up ,pocketed the cash ,threw the cigarette in the empty glass and with a wink to Boondocker left the pub.


                                               ---------------------------------------------

Whilst things progressed in London and en-route from South Africa, in the South of France Sebastian Fassbender and Quincey Throgmorton sipped on their Long Island Iced Teas and watched the women walk by , the sun beat down gently and their only concern was what to choose for lunch.

La Claire Fontaine was a small lively bar that they jointly owned on the promenade in Nice, France. They both exuded the easy charm of the rich English at play but their frequent trips down the coast to Marseilles showed them in their true light, overseeing shipments of Heroin through the port, sometimes with brutal and violent efficiency .

But today was a leisurely day with business far from their minds, Fassbender lit a Monte Cristo cigar and beckoned over the waitress.

A small olive skinned man sat down at the table nearest to them and ordered a coffee, in front of him on the table was a copy of The Bible and a recent edition of Archaeology Today, a specialist publication with little circulation outside of academic circles.

He fanned himself with his panama and positioned the magazine in such a way as it faced Fassbender, and sipped his coffee.

Rabid" Ray Rawlings checked his watch, twelve midday, 1pm in France, picked up his phone and dialed.

Less than a minute later the phone vibrated on a small table in the south of France.

"Raymond" said Quincey expectantly.

"there should be a small Jewish looking geezer sitting near you" replied Ray.

"There is indeed" answered Quincey.

"he's the one" said Ray, "I'll talk to you later" he added, then rang off.

Quincey nodded to Sebastian who beckoned the little chap to join them.

Morry Lieberwitz sat down with some unease, this was not something he was particularly familiar with, it all smacked of spy novels as far he was concerned, but he understood the need for caution.

"drink ?" said Fassbender 

"no thanks" replied Lieberwitz stretching over to his previous table and retrieving his coffee and books.

"So you're an associate of Theodore Basie" stated Quincey.

"I act as one of his middle men shall we say" answered Lieberwitz.

"and what are you in the middle of"? questioned Fassbender

Morry thought he was in the middle of a heap of trouble but kept his cool and his tongue.

"Mr Basie has some artefacts that he thought you gentlemen may be interested in"

"such as"? said Quincey taking a sip on his drink.

                                          ----------------------------------------------------

Across the Mediterranean sea, in the North of the huge continent of Africa and five miles from Cairo, the capital of Egypt, the Jeep braked sharply and "Silas Fairchild" thudded against the seat in front of him.

Silas was an orphan from York who was brought up by a misogynous bi sexual monk who had been excluded from the Minster, for an unknown reason. 

Only Canterbury and Rome knew the reason. Seated next to him was Joachim Bilespitter, a German brewer who settled in Bosnia after the 2nd world war, and was a known Muslim sympathiser.

The jeep was now stationery and the driver apologised for the emergency braking.

Silas and Joachim squinted at the silhouette of the Great Pyramid and gestured for the driver to continue.


                                        --------------------------------------------------

Back at Hatton Garden, London, Vernon Cruickshank, Landougc and Goldsmidt sipped there drinks and Cruickshank started to explain to the others that he had sent two of his associates to Egypt to follow up a possible deal regarding ancient artefacts supposedly recently discovered by the Pyramids.

The artifacts were rumoured to encrusted with diamonds and were at least four thousand years old.

Vernon explained that his men in Egypt were to meet an Arab at the Giza later that day, and that he was expecting a call when contact had been established.

Cruickshank had no interest in the historical value of the artefact and was only interested in destroying it so that he could release the diamonds, for which he had a buyer lined up in Pretoria.

Cruickshank then explained to Goldsmidt that he wanted him to fly to Cairo and inspect the diamonds when they became available, and ensure that they were genuine, and not part of a scam.

Landougc was to also travel with him as a large contingent of Hashish was being shipped across from Morocco and Landogc was to handle this part of the deal, exchanging a marginal part of the shipment for the diamonds removed from the ancient artefact.

A few moments later all shook hands and the three shady characters left the pub and disappeared in the streets of London. 

                                               --------------------------------

In Giza, Egypt, Silas and Joachim moved towards a huge, crooked nosed Arab, standing in the corner of a refreshment tent.

                                               --------------------------------

Back in England the flight from Cape Town was approaching Heathrow airport and preparing to land. Ivan Terrablanche and Marmalade Atkins had tightened their seat belts after downing yet another double scotch.

 Meanwhile at the back of the plane, Mangtoute was sweating profusely as he repositioned himself closer to his companion Mwamgo Asanti, his fear of flying finally getting the best of him.

He closed his eyes and tightly squeezed the lower body of Asanti as his blood pressure rose to dangerous levels. Asanti gently placed his hand in her lap and moved her seat in to an upright position.

Further forward in first class Terrablanche was making a mental check list of the things he was to complete during the duration of his trip, and in particular thinking of "Johnny Boondocker" whom he planned to call on unannounced.

"Cross check to cabin crew" 

was announced across the in-flight communication system, and the flight attendants scuttled back to there seats, just as the huge back wheels of the plane thudded against the wet tarmac of the runway.

Soon the plane had taxied across to the docking station, and the doors opened for the first class passengers to disembark. Terrablanche and Atkins rose from there seats and proceeded towards the exit without any knowledge that Mangtoute was at the rear of the plane being sick and being comforted by his willing assistant Asanti.

Ivan Terrablanche smiled at the diminutive Asian face seated at immigration control as he showed his South African passport , and laughed smugly as he thought of the once mighty British Empire. As he waited for Marmalade Atkins to complete the procedure his mobile phone buzzed in his inside pocket and he swiftly answered it. It was "Lorenzo Carlisle" an old acquaintance from Cape Town, who Terrablanche had told of his impending visit.

Lorenzo Carlisle had worked in the Theatre for many years and had contacts throughout London's Theatre Land and had previously met Ivan Terrablanche when he had played the Cape Town Apollo in a production of Mac Beth.

Terrablanche had asked Carlisle to check up on the whereabouts of Boondocker and to let him know as soon as possible. A couple of minutes later the appropriate number was installed in his phone and he was making a further call when he heard a commotion coming from the reclaimed baggage conveyor belts . Marmalade Atkins was shouting at an elderly black man who was wearing a large Rastafarian bobble hat and drinking from a bottle of rum. 

"Give me my case you blick bastard" shouted the enraged Marmalade,

"Knoooow way mannnn" shouted the Rasta. 

Just as marmalade was about to smack the elderly man in the face, Terrablanche shouted that he was on the wrong carousal, and that there bags weren't coming through yet.

Marmalade stood back and pushed the Rasta hard in the chest and shouted "have your fucking black bag back, you blick juice head ", and moved towards Ivan Terrablanche who was now laughing out loud. He thought "what kind of fucked up country is this, first I am allowed access by a colonial coolie from India and now Marmalade if fighting a drink sozzeled blick Rastafarians from Jamaica when trying to get his bag ".

After moving to the correct carousel, they both collected there baggage and exited the airport in to a black cab that was to take them to there hotel in Wembley.

At the same time, Mangtoute and Asanti has passed through passport control and just missed Terrablanche and Atkins, as they themselves collected there bags and made there way to the tube station to get the Piccadilly Line train to there hotel in London. Although feeling ill , Mangtoute had always been aware of Terrablanche's presence ahead of them, as it was imperative that he did not become aware of there presence.

                                               -------------------------------------------------

In Nice, South of France, Morry Lieberwitz spread open the catalogue he had been carrying and invited Fassbender to look at the exquisite Egyptian headdress almost glowing off the page.

"Four thousand years old gentlemen "he said, "and encrusted with the most beautiful African diamonds ever found" he added.

Fassbender almost drooled, Throgmorton more composed, took a long draught on his drink.

"is it in Basie's possession " he said.

Lieberwitz wiped his brow, took a sip of his coffee and smiled , "as good as" he replied.

"who has it" answered Quincey

"an Arab friend of ours in Giza" he replied.

                                                -------------------------------------------

In New York, USA, Theodore Basie sat in his hotel suite in the Ritz Carlton looking out over Central Park , he was feeling very pleased with himself.

He was confident he could pull this off , sell the same Egyptian headdress to both

Boondockers Boys and the Cruickshank mob.

He knew their greed would blind them, after all, he had made the same mistakes himself when he was younger, but he had learnt from them and it had made him stronger and even more cunning. He knew Cruickshank's agents would be on their way to Giza , and with Lieberwitz laying the bait in the South of France he knew it wouldn't be long till Boondocker had sent someone out there also.

                                            -------------------------------------------------------

In London, UK, the cab carrying Terrablanche and Atkins entered the Hotel driveway just as the phone in Terrablanche's pocket let out its shrill call tone, alerting the South African to the call he had been expecting . He moved his hand to his jacket pocket and retrieved the handset, after almost pulling out his revolver by mistake.

Marmalade Atkins shifted in his seat and glanced outside to witness the cold rain falling on to the puddled landscape outside the Hotel.

                                                ------------------------------------------------

Also in London, Sir Moses Montefiore had been asleep for about 40 minutes, he snored heavily, his uvula vibrating like a welsh tenor, the bottle of port after dinner making him more comatose than ever, an ex MP and all-round bon vivant he had been privy to the deal whereby Theodore Basie had nefariously obtained the headdress.

His lack of discretion especially when drunk made him a distinct liability, it wouldn't be long before he had bragged and boasted all over London.

The heavy velvet curtains moved aside stealthily and the figure of Jean Paul " Racey" Micklethwaite stepped out into the fetid air of the bedroom. He moved to the side of the bed and looked down at the slumbering figure of Montefiore, spluttering in his sleep. 

He thought nothing, absolutely nothing as the bullet left the chamber of the silencer passed through the pillow he was holding and deftly entered the snoring mouth of the prostrated gout ridden lush.

                                        ------------------------------------------------------

In Wembley, a north west suburb of London, Terrablanche and Atkins paid the cab driver and entered the Hotel. Both were now very tired but eagerly awaiting the rest of their trip. The Hotel reception was crowded but the presence of Terrablanche was soon noted, and the gruff uncouth South African was soon handed his room card.

On entering his room Terrablanche moved swiftly to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a large whiskey.

His immediate thirst satisfied, he plucked his phone from his pocket and started to dial a familiar number. The comforting Burrr of the phone ringing sounded good in his huge cauliflower ear and soon the phone was answered to the sound of " Melody here, can I help you?!".

Melody Boondocker, Johnny's estranged wife lay on her bed dressed in nothing but here diamond jewelry, twiddling the phone cord around here lower left leg and toes.

"Melody" boomed Terrablanche, it's me - Ivan !, your cuddly springbok .

Melody let out an audible gasp and sat bolt upright on the bed.

"Ivan" you old scoundrel, how are things in the Cape?".

I don't know replied the large suntanned behemoth, "im in London !".

Melody Boondocker stood up in disbelief, the phone dropping from her hand and left dangling by the cord entwined around her leg.

"You old goat" she exclaimed in a high, excited voice !.

Back at the Hotel, Marmalade Atkins looked across the room at his large friend who was holding the phone in his left hand as he was removing his clothes with his other.

Atkins smirked and thought of the many times that Terrablanche had let him down due to his inability to leave the ladies alone. Atkins moved to the window, and glanced outside. The rain was still falling in torrents and he wished he was back home in the Cape. However, he was tired from the flight and in need of a couple of hours sleep. 

Atkins shut his eyes and soon he was fast asleep. 

Soon he was dreaming a strange collection of memories and sub conscious thoughts and was suddenly standing over the dead bodies of three South African police; there brains blown out by his semi automatic that was still blasting rounds in to there prostrate bodies.

Atkins hand twitched eagerly, as he lay fast asleep in his hotel room, his hand squeezing the imaginary trigger in his dream. In his fantasy he next found himself walking through a casino in Sun City, surrounding by lithe busty woman attending to his every need.

Terrablanche sat on his bed watching Atkins twitch in his sleep. For the first time in many years he felt the urge to smash his huge knurled fist against Atkins sleeping head.

His thoughts flashed back to his younger days when Atkins and Terrablanche were colleagues in the "Afrikaans Wit Supremist Liga" and on maneuvers in the Kalahari Desert. The League was linked too the Klu Klux Clan and was funded by an unnamed Swiss Banking Corporation.

The Apartheid government denied any connection with the nefarious group but it was widely known throughout the Republic that the ruling cartel supported the "Liga".

Terrablanche was deep in thought remembering a night in Pretoria when Atkins was so close to loosing his life that Terrablanche drew a deep breath remembering the episode. The pair were drinking in a dingy nightclub and both men although much younger, were worst for ware due to drink.

Atkins was drunker than Terrablanche and was encroaching on his territory. A large busted Bantu woman was pushing up against his body, her eyes misty with a heady mix of Alcohol and cocaine. However, her friend, a tall willowy woman of mixed race, was still sober and talking to Terrablanche, and he had taken a liking to her, and was getting ready to take her back to his room at the temporary barracks outside of town.

Terrablanche and the girl walked to the exit and having collected there coats slipped outside and drew in deep breaths of clear, smoke free air. As Terrablanche motioned towards a Taxi, Atkins barged his way past him, pushing the woman in to the cab and jumping in beside her. In a moment the cab was speeding of with Terrablanche standing on the Pavement cursing at Atkins.

Half an hour later, Terrablanche was leaning up against the bar of a seedy basement bar on the wrong side of Pretoria sloshing large double brandy's down his large pulsating neck. Two hours later, an extremely inebriated and angry Terrablanche walked in to his accommodation to find Atkins lying across the bed with the tall willowy woman crouched to his side weeping. Atkins asked for confirmation of what he knew had happened and comforted the girl, hugging her in his huge bear like hands and arms.

Suddenly he pushed the girl away and launched himself at Atkins, he started to throttle the sleeping rapist, but relented when he herd the girl scream stop, but soon tightened his grip, picking the prostate body up by the neck. His right hand grabbed an alarm clock and he smashed the cast iron time peace against the gasping head of Atkins.

Blow after blow rained down on the blooded head of the motionless sexual predator . Suddenly Terrablanche stopped, and turning his back walked out of the room , which had already been vacated by the screaming temptress who had been the subject of the vile attack by Atkins.

When Atkins was found later that night, he was rushed to Hospital with severe head wounds, and was hospitalised for three months. When he was well enough to leave the Hospital he was met by Terrablanche who explained that the mystery man that attacked him had not been found and that he had not been able to visit him in Hospital because of commitments to the "Liga".

Atkins had no memory of the attack and had no idea that the man he considered his friend had almost taken his life.

Three weeks later the body of the unfortunate girl who had been raped by Atkins was found in a drain on the outskirts of town, and Terrablanche had made sure that there was no way that his murderous attack on Atkins would be revealed, unless it was from his own lips.

Back in the Wembley hotel, Atkins continued twitching in his sleep, with Terrablanche seated on the bed next to him.

As Terrablanche rose to leave the bedroom his phone buzzed in to action and his large hand was quickly reaching in to his breast pocket so that he could answer the call.

His ape like hands were soon cradling the handset as he strained his eyes to see who the caller was. His eyes opened wide as he read the name of the caller.

It was " Kahrl Heinz - Brunner" principle of the Duisburg School of Archaeology and the Occult.

Brunner was an old ex Nazi who had spent a number of years in Paraguay running a quasi religious sect, before slipping back in to Europe under a false name and forged papers.

Prior to his entanglement with the Nazi Party, he had studied Archaeology at the Sorbonne, Oxford and Harvard and had forged many links with the nefarious “Archaeological Mafia” known as “The Sacred brotherhood of the Sarcophagus”.

Brunner has surfaced in Duisburg and by murderous and foul means, had swiftly worked his way to seat of the principle, at the renowned and respected Archaeology school.

However, the German Police and secret service, “The Bundesamt fur Verfassungsschutz (BfV)”, had been unable to pin on him, any of the unfortunate accidents and disappearances that befell his more senior colleagues, and he now ruled supreme at the Duisburg centre of the occult.

Terrablanche spoke quietly and slowly in to the small hand set now firmly squeezed up against his ear.

“What the hell do you want, Brunner?”

“You, Terrablanche!” came the reply, delivered in a hushed , but harsh German dialect.

 

Terrablanche slammed the mobile phone down on to the glass coffee table, breaking the glass with the force of his hand, and turned to the rain splattered window.

He wiped his brow with his red tie which was hanging loosely from his bulging neck and shoved his huge hand in to his trouser pocket retrieving a small black address book.  Thumbing through the battered pages he stopped at an entry and stared blankly in to the distance.

 Returning his eyes to the blood stained page he silently mouthed the name “Dr Ricardo Doyle”. The name brought a shudder to his ape like frame as he thought back to his previous encounter with the corpulent and hypertensive near alcoholic Doctor.  He considered the man too dangerous to add to his mobile phone contact list and entrusted the number to his old address book which was usually ensconced within his undergarments for safe keeping. 

The nefarious Dr Doyle was located only a few minutes away from the hotel, and a quick call was sure to set up a meeting with the dubious and scandalous Doctor.

                                              --------------------------------------------

Dr Doyle was of mixed Irish and Spanish decent, and had acted for both the allies and the triple alliance during the last global conflict. 

His usual place of residence was the Mitre public house situated on the Watford Road just up from the junction with East Lane, between Sudbury and North Wembley. He would occasionally frequent the notoriously seedy "Carlton Lodge" speak easy during the hours that the pubs were shut, but condensed most of his imbibing in to the small nicotine infested Mitre.  

An hour later, Doctor Doyle sat at the bar on his usual stool in the Mitre, a stool that had been specially strengthened to take his enormous weight, and shortened by four inches, so that his miniature legs could reach the floor.

He was seated at the end of the snug bar, with his broad back positioned so that he filled the right angle between the bar and wall. He slowly lifted his balding head and visually scanned the bar. His eyes darted about the smoke filled room searching out his prey.

The overweight Doctor turned towards his pint and slowly drained the glass.

 A set of wire rimmed spectacles adorned his bulbous and ruddy nose, and were attached to a chain that circumnavigated his elephantine neck.  His pudgy middle finger pushed the spectacles back of the tip of his nose and beckoned to the barman to pour him a further pint of ale.

With his fresh pint of best bitter in his hand, the grotesquely obese Doctor Doyle slid of his seat and motioned towards Terrablanche. The Doctor coughed as he approached the frowning South African and was quickly acknowledged with an outstretched hand.

Their hands met for the briefest of moment in a sweaty embrace as the corpulent Doctor sat down next to Terrablanche.

“Your business Sir?” 

retorted the Doctor as he scanned the red faced Terrablanche who was now seated beside him.

 “You know what I want….”

 was Terrablanche's quite, but forceful retort.

 “Give me the note book now, and all will be ok – do you fully understand me? Brunner has been in contact and I need to protect my thick neck from his steely Nazi grasp”

The large South African sat back in his seat and stared at the overheated Doctor. 

Dr Doyle twiddled his thumbs and slowly pulled himself from his seat, and whilst standing defiantly before the truculent South African, began to quietly whistle a whimsical sea shanty that his father had taught him as a child.

Placing his ruddy corpulent hand in to his breast pocket he pulled out a crumpled note book and threw it at the seated Terrablanche. Grabbing the note book with his ape like fist, the now standing Terrablanche began to scan the pages, as if looking for a familiar name or place.

Suddenly his face lit up with a gleeful expression as he came across the name address and telephone number of "Johnny Boondocker". Quickly thumbing the pages he was soon also starring at the name of "Vernon Cruickshank" together with the additional information of address and phone number.

Terrablanche's eyes bulged as if he had just taken a hit of a fifty year old matured single malt. 

If all went to plan, Terrablanche would soon be able to "Correct" Johnny Boondocker and his gang, for their earlier numerous indiscretions regarding the various arms, drugs, ancient artefact's and diamond smuggling affairs of the notorious ex-Nazi, Karl Heinz Brunner. 

The portly Dr Doyle stared at the south Afrikaner and hissed that he was leaving but wanted his note book back.  Terrablanche waved his giant hand and gesticulated towards the exit . 

"Your book will be returned when I have had the pleasure of meeting Johnny Boondocker, and not before, my good Doctor ! Be gone, before I find a reason to eject your pungent body from my presence." 

Dr Doyle slowly exited the building and made his way towards the bus stop where he rested to collect his thoughts. His face was burning red with a mixture of rage and fear as he boarded the bus and sat in his chewing gum splattered chequered seat. Glancing up at he clippy he handed sixpence to the rough hands of the gruff faced conductor and quietly retorted "The Pool". 

After a journey of twenty minutes, through thick smog and the smell of stale cigarettes and frying fat, he exited the omnibus via its rear platform and wobbled towards the Stadium Bowling Alley.

The bowling alley was situated in the forecourt of the Empire Pool, and across the road from a collection of flats and apartments that were known to house a varied collection of intellectuals, retired eastern European Jews, office workers, and single mothers. However, being situated only a stones throw from the Wembley Exhibition grounds, which were now used as a Trading Estate, there were a fair few rough and ready industrial workers resident in the red brick buildings. 

Dr Doyle strained as he climbed the stairs to the "Starlight Bar" which was located on a set back mezzanine floor above the polished bowling lanes. The bartender noticed his entrance and poured his usual tipple. Taking a seat at the bar he gestured to the bartender to hand him the phone. Slowly and methodically dialling a memorised number on the phones circular dial, he sipped his libation and sweat began to trickle down his cheeks. Buzz, Buzz, buzz rang the phone and the tension began to choke the Dr's throat. 

Finishing his drink he was greeted by a deep and loud response in his earpiece, with the recipient of the call choosing to swear "what the fuck do you want !" 

"Is that you Johnny", was the Dr's response, to which a resounding "yes" was the reply.