London Boy | Johnny Mack | The Assassin Part 1

Well here it is London Boy fans, the new and highly anticipated version of Johnny’s ASSASSIN blog ! During Johnny’s trip to Goa, India, he found new inspiration and now feels it best to totally re-write this blog. He has done it in a way that the “London Boy” followers who have read the 1st version, will find this a seem less re-write and he has done so, as always, in his own inimitable style….Enjoy

London Boy Johnny Mack talks of a firm of villains in the 1980's and a resulting assasination

The Assassin Part 1

Assassin

The story I’m about to tell you happened a long time ago and for legal reasons I cannot divulge what city let alone what country it happened in. However, for those of you who think you’ve guessed it after reading this. I can assure all you Sherlock’s out there that it did not happen here in the UK…or come to that neither did it happen in France, Spain or Holland etc. I think you’re getting the picture now, so any of you wearing a deer-stalker hat, robe coat, magnifying glass in hand and pipe… don’t waste your time trying to work it out okay? Oh’ and don’t email me either because all you’ll get as an answer, is what the old bill would get from me, “No reply.”

The main firm that I had been linked to since I was a kid had no idea that I was devising a plan to get out of this game once and for all. As I’ve mentioned a few times in previous blogs, I couldn’t just up and walk off into the sunset without they’re being any comebacks. So devising a plan was something I kept very close to my chest. Shame really, because there was once a time when I’ll have at least one geezer I could trust enough with all my secrets, no matter what. But now that drugs had hit the criminal scene, it not only changed how criminals worked, it was also slowly changing the criminal in ways that left little room for that honour and respect among villains. However, the team I was using on this work were the best I could muster from a dwindling list of the less from the best. At a time when I hated drug takers apart from the odd joint smoker, I wouldn’t tolerate users. I had walked away from some tasty work because I had found out one of the gang was using. They couldn’t be trusted could they? The old bill knew that only too well because as soon as they got hold of a user, they would leave him to sweat for 20 hours and then interview him. By then he would be like a singing soprano giving up everyone he’d worked with, past and present. I knew two of the lads were having a line or two but they were brilliant at their work and that’s why I tolerated them. But I kept them in the dark about everything so they couldn’t give too much away if caught. Also my escape plan was in action, which meant I was disappearing after this work was completed. That was how I justified having them on board because if it were under different circumstances, they wouldn’t have got a look in.

My share of the dough involved on this work would be enough to put my plan into action. I needed this piece of work to come off because even in my middle twenty’s I knew I was coming to the end of my criminal career. And by ‘The end’ I mean I’ll be either holding up a fly-over or doing a thirty stretch at one of the hate factories (Prisons) if I continued. If there were statistics, which I’m sure there are, they would read that gangsters don’t last too long one way or another. I was now a family man and my priorities had changed since I first joined the firm as a kid, Meaning my family now had to come first. Apart from that I had genuinely come to the conclusion that I had enough of the entire bollocks of taxing and extortion. Old school principles were now changing at an alarming rate; there was now more violence and putting the frighteners on people who just wanted to earn a crust. But regardless of how long it could take, I was slowly putting something together to get my arse out to live a new life as a family man. I got involved with the firm when I was just an impressionable ten-year-old kid. It wasn’t until I was in my middle twenties I realised this game wasn’t for me. So I had to wait patiently and bide my time until I had the perfect plan ready for my exit from the criminal fraternity.

Well, now that’s out of the way let’s get back to the story in hand because it’s a blinder !

Two of the guys on this bit of work had been grafting the pavement with me for about eighteen months. For those of you that don’t know what that means, well it’s a form of highway robbery, a bit like Dick Turpin, minus the musket and horse. Each job we pulled we would pay our standard 20% commission to the main firm for sorting the work out for us. With the rest being ours to do as we wished. Believe me when I say I done a lot of wishing back then that I started to believe that there were fucking fairies. The dough disappeared so quickly that I wondered where it all went. Whatever my take was from a bit of work, it was always never enough to get my plan on the go. I mainly relied on the firm that was supplying us the work to come up with one that paid higher dividends…and this one seemed to tick all the boxes.

The three of us made a formidable team when grafting together, I can honestly say the best team I’ve had the privilege to work with. I was so lucky to have these guys wrapped around me on this one because they were a minority (A rare breed) who still worked to old school principles. We wouldn’t get out of bed for less then thirty grand a piece, that included paying our dues to the firm. No matter how much we got, it never seemed to last us more than six weeks. It was a bit like an addiction where the next bit of work would pay better than the last. Our ambitions were… and I can probably say the same for the majority of active blaggers out there. The next bit of work was always going to be the last job that would become our “Eldorado” (Retirement to the Costa etc)

This work came by associates of the firm we always worked for. Our firm guaranteed me that they were kosher as was the work, so we were to trust them as we did our own team. Our firm were old school gangsters who knew the true meaning of respect. If they tell me someone is okay, then he was, no questions asked. That’s what respect is always about; if I were to question the decision, then that would be classed as being disrespectful. For those of you who have just starting to read my blogs, then I suggest you read them all. In them I’ve explained how respect is gained, so give them a butchers because they make interesting reading.

Getting back to the story, it would be a nice little touch if it went according to plan. In my case this was the best bit of graft since I was involved with that diamond heist back when I was just fourteen. Back then I was far too young, stupid, impressionable and was a prime target to be taken for ride? Amongst all the bad shit that happened to me back then, I learnt a valuable lesson that there would never be a repeat of what went down back then.  (DUNPECKHAM Chapter two THE GREAT DIAMOND HEIST)

For sure our take from this work would last a lot longer than six weeks, as I’ve already said it would be enough to set me up, providing I spent it wisely and stayed away from the pubs and clubs and harebrained schemes.

After my introduction to their trusted contact I alone was briefed thoroughly of the job in hand. Our contact Fred would sort out everything we needed for the work. All work that came to us via the firm was handled very professionally especially when it came to planning. As I have said the guys and I worked with each other really well. They were to know pretty soon what rolls they were to play. Once we all knew what our rolls were we would become one, always watching each other’s backs. As I said earlier it was the other two I had to really keep in the shadows, all because they were users. They were only there for muscle, driving and cleaning up behind us.

Because I was given the work, I was the one in charge. Along with that responsibility I had to make sure our bosses got their share. Also with that given responsibility, if anything went wrong with our team then it was my neck for the chopping block. Up to date we had worked together really well with each of us having the utmost respect for each other. I felt really comfortable working with my pals but not the other two.

Sadly I am sorry to say that my two pals are no longer with us today but this blog will keep their memories alive. None of them died natural deaths, with one being murdered and the other committing suicide…or so they say. So in a way this blog is a tribute to those guys, my real pals who stuck by me through thick and thin. Some of you reading this must think that the way I am telling this story about the men that we may resemble a Special Forces squad. I must admit we did work in a military format that could be contrived as a military operation. Given different circumstances no doubt we would have made one hell of a fighting unit. They say forces personnel while on front line duties treat and look out for one another like family. Each geezer becomes brother, dad and uncle to each other…a real tight family. That was us all right, one big happy family our only difference being, we went round robbing and looting the establishment.

Some of you are probably thinking he’s making a meal ticket out of his criminal exploits. Well I know what I’m about and that is to tell you guys a story based on my life. If I’m milking it, then you think about it because you must be enjoying it, after all you’re the one’s who are reading this. As I have said a few times now I was brought up and taken under the wing of some very infamous people aged just ten, so that’s my excuse. Also at that time I can honestly say I knew no different.

We travelled to a rented place on the outskirts of the town where the work was to be carried out. Apart from our place being isolated it had been well equipped for our stay with transport, food, drink and of course all the tools required for the job.

This bit of work had been put together by the two firms and believe me this was big. To make this work happen and to succeed, both firms had to be involved. I was picked specially for this one because of my abilities to work to a plan and do as I was told. Even though I had a quick temper I was not considered a loose cannon, the type who would forget or disregard consequences. Another reason was that the team I worked with had a lot of respect for me.

With this type of work, for the moment information on what, where and why was limited only to our contact and me. My guys had respect for me by not bothering me with persistent questions. They knew the score that everything was on a need to know basis so therefore trusted my every word. That’s a lot of responsibility to carry around especially with our crowd. For example if I told them a place was safe and it turned out not to be and all hell broke loose, providing I had done all I could then I’ll be okay. However if I had been lazy or unfocussed and the shit hit the fan than it would be my neck for the chopping block. If that happened the last words I’d hear would be, “Sorry about this Macky boy but its only business”

On the second night we were visited by our contact; who called himself Fred (With such an unusual name like Fred, you’d think they would have put a bit more of an effort into it ha ha). Personally I reckon the name Fred was just a bit of criminal banter mixed in to show that we were working with people that had a sense of humour. He brought with him a catchment of weapons including a Shotgun, Uzi 9mm sub-machine gun and three 45’s automatics all with extra ammo. I had asked for half a dozen smoke grenades because they are fantastic for creating a last minute diversion.

We all sat in the main living room with the curtains drawn to a close. Our contact had brought along a slide show of the entire job. Amongst the slides there were a few including one of the prize. More importantly they showed two alternatives escape routes, just in case something went pear shape. I felt a lot more at ease working with professionals. They seemed to have covered everything, including stuff that only had a small chance of causing us a problem.

Having a slide show was the safest way to show and explain because where we were was a quiet little town and us lot driving around looking at the target could get us noticed. So the guys opted for the slide show presentation providing there was plenty of popcorn.

Billy, our up-front come muscle man, was sitting playing with one of the 45’s while waiting for the slide show to start. Bill was a completely fearless head case; the type of geezer who would shoot you in the face if you cut him up in traffic. However to have him on a bit of work with you, he’ll almost guarantee your safety. If you were in a tight spot he was the type to let you get away while he stayed behind to hold the fort. But with people like Billy you had to be able to control him in a way that he did not realise what was happening to him. Over the years I had managed to suss out a way of working Bill whereby he didn’t use too much violence. I hated having to use it while on a bit of work and nine times out of ten we didn’t have to use it. However on some bits of work you’d sometimes come across a hero who’d end up getting a clump with a gun butt for trying his luck. With most, one look at Billy’s threatening mug was enough for them to comply.

Now you have an idea where we are going with this story and I can assure you next week we fire into a head load of trouble.

Stay tuned

Ta-La for now

Johnny

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