After all it was already the biggest so why bust your
nuts trying to grow it. As such he let a mean little fucker called Graham Stern
go unchecked and he was now in control of most everything east of India Dock.
Graham was half German on his dad’s side and couldn’t
have been more at home had he put on jackboots and a swastika. He was psychotic
and like most psychopaths clever with it. Killing was no issue to him, as he
didn’t value anyone but himself and his boyfriend - a circus acrobat called
Helmut that hung around him like a cheap necklace.
Being gay back then still wasn’t acceptable but Graham
had a wife for show and nobody messed with Graham and Helmut. If they did, they
didn’t do it twice.
He worked out of an old mill in Silvertown and lived
in the west end. He started work at six in the morning and was rarely home
before midnight . I could see the writing on the wall even if my
co-workers were blind. This boy was aiming for the top but neither Giles nor
the old man seemed bothered. So I decided to go head to head and take him out.
I remember the night we went in. Dark as a fat man’s
sphincter. The cloud cover was full and the moon new. The lighting in Silvertown
was poor. The lateness of the hour was accompanied by a mist that drifted off
the river and settled like a wet blanket on the roads.
There were twenty one of us. All armed and all fully
aware of what we were getting into.
The operation was simple. The same old story - cut off
the head of the monster and let the rest die. We concentrated everything on
getting into Graham’s office and hitting him hard.
At first things went well. The darkness was good cover
and the mist deadened any noise we made. The entrance to the industrial estate
was unguarded and Stern’s office light blazed like a beacon from the third
floor of the old mill. There were two guards at the entrance but they looked
bored and were swigging liberally from a hip flask. By the time we landed on
them they were too drunk to respond and we were in.
I hung back letting Spencer take point. We flooded up
the stairs and into the office and hit trouble.
Our scout had told us there were three or four in the
building but when we opened the door I counted five times that number. We had
the element of surprise but not for long and instead of a quick in and out we
ended up in a fire-fight while Stern fled.
I ordered Spencer and two others to follow me to chase
down Stern. We left the team to slug it out and flew down the stairs to the
sound of retreating gunfire. We caught the taillights of a BMW as it fishtailed
out of the complex. Running for our car we gave chase but, in the mist, it was
a hopeless cause and we lost them.
We cruised for an hour before heading back to Stern’s
office. The fire-fight was over and we had control but without Stern it was a
hollow victory. We leaned on his team but they were either too scared to talk
or didn’t know where he was. I needed to finish this and finish it with pace.
Spencer piped up and suggested we try his home. It was
a long shot but if he was going to go to ground he might try and fly by his
house first. It was worth a shot.
I knew where he lived and, leaving my crew to clean up,
we put metal to metal and screamed through a fog bound London .
Stern lived in a mews in the west end and by the time
we got there the fog was taking on the grey of dawn. We stopped at the end of
his road and I saw Stern’s car, engine running and door open, sitting at the
far end.
He emerged with a briefcase in one hand, a screaming
woman dragging her heels in the other. She was dressed for bed and it was clear
that the current Mrs Stern wasn’t a happy bunny. I signalled for the others to
follow me in.
I didn’t care if he got in the car as there was only
one way out and we had enough firepower to bring down a Panzer tank.
He saw us when we were two doors from
his house, leapt into the car and gunned the engine. Without closing the car
door he slammed
nuts trying to grow it. As such he let a mean little fucker called Graham Stern
go unchecked and he was now in control of most everything east of India Dock.
Graham was half German on his dad’s side and couldn’t
have been more at home had he put on jackboots and a swastika. He was psychotic
and like most psychopaths clever with it. Killing was no issue to him, as he
didn’t value anyone but himself and his boyfriend - a circus acrobat called
Helmut that hung around him like a cheap necklace.
Being gay back then still wasn’t acceptable but Graham
had a wife for show and nobody messed with Graham and Helmut. If they did, they
didn’t do it twice.
He worked out of an old mill in Silvertown and lived
in the west end. He started work at six in the morning and was rarely home
before midnight . I could see the writing on the wall even if my
co-workers were blind. This boy was aiming for the top but neither Giles nor
the old man seemed bothered. So I decided to go head to head and take him out.
I remember the night we went in. Dark as a fat man’s
sphincter. The cloud cover was full and the moon new. The lighting in Silvertown
was poor. The lateness of the hour was accompanied by a mist that drifted off
the river and settled like a wet blanket on the roads.
There were twenty one of us. All armed and all fully
aware of what we were getting into.
The operation was simple. The same old story - cut off
the head of the monster and let the rest die. We concentrated everything on
getting into Graham’s office and hitting him hard.
At first things went well. The darkness was good cover
and the mist deadened any noise we made. The entrance to the industrial estate
was unguarded and Stern’s office light blazed like a beacon from the third
floor of the old mill. There were two guards at the entrance but they looked
bored and were swigging liberally from a hip flask. By the time we landed on
them they were too drunk to respond and we were in.
I hung back letting Spencer take point. We flooded up
the stairs and into the office and hit trouble.
Our scout had told us there were three or four in the
building but when we opened the door I counted five times that number. We had
the element of surprise but not for long and instead of a quick in and out we
ended up in a fire-fight while Stern fled.
I ordered Spencer and two others to follow me to chase
down Stern. We left the team to slug it out and flew down the stairs to the
sound of retreating gunfire. We caught the taillights of a BMW as it fishtailed
out of the complex. Running for our car we gave chase but, in the mist, it was
a hopeless cause and we lost them.
We cruised for an hour before heading back to Stern’s
office. The fire-fight was over and we had control but without Stern it was a
hollow victory. We leaned on his team but they were either too scared to talk
or didn’t know where he was. I needed to finish this and finish it with pace.
Spencer piped up and suggested we try his home. It was
a long shot but if he was going to go to ground he might try and fly by his
house first. It was worth a shot.
I knew where he lived and, leaving my crew to clean up,
we put metal to metal and screamed through a fog bound London .
Stern lived in a mews in the west end and by the time
we got there the fog was taking on the grey of dawn. We stopped at the end of
his road and I saw Stern’s car, engine running and door open, sitting at the
far end.
He emerged with a briefcase in one hand, a screaming
woman dragging her heels in the other. She was dressed for bed and it was clear
that the current Mrs Stern wasn’t a happy bunny. I signalled for the others to
follow me in.
I didn’t care if he got in the car as there was only
one way out and we had enough firepower to bring down a Panzer tank.
He saw us when we were two doors from
his house, leapt into the car and gunned the engine. Without closing the car
door he slammed
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