Nothing Personal: Part Ten

~ beetleypete

This is the tenth part of a fiction serial, in 751 words.

Before he left the Hampstead house that day, Clive had some requests for Alison.

“Can you get me a secure laptop for research? And I will be needing an AK-47, fifty rounds, and one spare magazine. A black face-covering balaclava, and a some kind of explosive device that looks home-made”. She didn’t appear to be surprised by his shopping list.

“That’s all easy enough to source, you can take a laptop home with you later. I presume you are not going down the romantic route with Shonagh then?”. He supposed he should explain.

“Too much to go wrong. Big hotel, lots of people around, and the main problem is how do I kill her and make it look like an accident? Nobody back in Newry is ever going to believe that she fell over a hotel balcony, or strangled herself on the pull-cord of a light. I could wet the bathroom floor and break her neck against the edge of the wash-basin, but that is never gonna fly with her friends in Northern Ireland. Best to just gun down the pair of them, blow up the car, and make it look like a politcal killing by the other side”.

Alison was quick on the uptake.

“Could be good. And the driver would have to be one of the victims of course. Three dead in the same car, bodies only identified by DNA. Will you need anything else?”

“I suggest a delivery van, Transit or similar. There should be another operative to drive it and follow me in the government car. It might be good if the van was reported stolen earlier, then we can torch that at the scene and make it look as if the killers escaped some other way. I take it you can deal with any relevant CCTV footage that might be requested by local police?” She was nodding as she lit a cigarette.

“We have a whole department manipulating and erasing CCTV when necessary. I just have to give them the map references and time window. The cameras could be faulty, or they might even show a different scene to the one that actually happened. We can also arrange a third car, something like a genuine London taxi. That will pick you up as if you are two men just flagging down a cab. We do that kind of thing all the time”.

It was much as he expected it would be. “The other operatives, are they like me? Ex-military, know what they’re doing”. She replied slowly and quietly, as if revealing a secret.

“My dear Tony, they will not be like you at all. You are the only one we have like you. But they will know what they are doing, you can bet on that”.

That night after dinner, Clive used the map facility on the laptop to study routes and locations connected to the conference venue and hotel. He had just over ten days to get to know the area, and he intended to familiarise himself with it until he could walk it blindfold. There was also the need to bone-up on the various paramilitary warring factions still at each other’s throats over in Northern Ireland. There had to be one of them still active enough to take the blame for the killings.

Around the time he was thinking of getting some sleep, there was a knock on the door of the flat. Always wary, he picked up his pistol and held it behind his back as he went to answer the door. But there was nobody there, just a large parcel outisde, marked up as if it had been delivered by one of the big courier companies. He pulled it into the passageway, and opened it carefully. As it was addressed to Mr A Scott, he supposed it was from the organisation.

Inside was a well-used AK-47 with a folding stock, a box of ammunition, and two magazines. In a metal box marked ‘Handle with care’ was a simple explosive device with a timer switch and a good sized slab of Semtex attached to a detonator. A special forces style face-covering was there too, along with some thin neoprene gloves suitable for handling weapons and leaving no prints.

He had to hand it to Alison, she didn’t waste time when she said she could arrange things. Without touching anything else, he carried the box through to the bedroom, and stacked two spare pillows on top of it.

Starting tomorrow, he would begin his homework.

31 thoughts on “Nothing Personal: Part Ten”

  3. Pete, you write like you have been there and done that, and understand all that happens, not to mention the people involved. Hats off to you! I’m so engrossed in this serial.

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    1. I have obviously never done anything like that, but I do have some knowledge of how those things happen, and some of the people involved. I use some poetic licence, to move the story along.

      Best wishes, Pete.

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      1. I know you haven’t, and all the knowledge and research in the world can’t ‘get across’ what you have. It takes a great writer with heart and soul to do that. I tip my hat to to you, Pete.

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  11. I always feel sorry for the ordinary people who are dispensed with in the main action, though I was actually Alison in a previous incarnation, now masquerading as an unknown author living at the seaside.

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  13. (1) Overheard:
    Clive: “I’ll be needing an AK-47, fifty rounds, and one spare magazine. I’m not picky, but could you get a copy of Playboy, Penthouse, or Play Dames? I need to bone up on—”
    Alison: “But wait! I thought you’d dispensed with the idea of taking Shonagh to bed…”
    Clive: “That’s right, but I’m thinking of you!”
    (2) Overheard:
    Clive: “I need some kind of explosive device that looks home-made.”
    Alison: “My ten-year-old niece can make that for you as soon as she gets back from a field trip to Maralinga.”
    (3) Overheard:
    Clive: “Nobody back in Newry is ever going to believe that Shonagh strangled herself.”
    Alison: “Her favorite actor is David Carradine.”
    (4) Overheard:
    Alison: “My dear Tony, they will not be like you at all. You are the only one we have like you.”
    Clive: “Great Scott, Alison! There’s no one around! Can’t you just call me Clive?”
    (5) Clive intended to familiarize himself with the area until he could walk it blindfold, drive through it blindfold, and escape from it blindfold. “No matter what happens, I’m gonna see this through!”
    (6) Clive had to hand it to Alison. Those thin neoprene gloves were perfectly suitable for the job.
    (7) Will those two spare pillows save Clive from being blown to bits if he should accidentally detonate the explosive device in his sleep?

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