Fact or Fiction Tales of the 80s Buggy and the RaRa Girls

The sands of the Sahara seemed far away from this lush formal English garden set in three acres of Northumberland. Yet the gardeners mind drifted incessantly to the reds and orange of the barren desert scene. Glancing up he returned to looking at the old air force hangar and the constant movement of denim clad inmates moving under escort from one metal cage to another. The red rust glinting threw the pale cream paint as they endlessly opened and closed large iron gates perhaps that were the prompt that had his mind recalling the desert or was it just freedom. You couldn’t fence in the vastness of the Sahara, or perhaps the rust allowed him to muse on the scrap metal he had worked on. The click of steel tipped boots reminded him of his position, and the need to be ever vigilant. It was a long time since he had thought of the desert.

This sentence was coming to an end. He had been on a four-week pre-release course and within the next few days he would be released.
“You, Guvnor.” He was short , stubby ex army and hated prisoners. His finger pointed at me. I had heard him loudly boasting to other officers of how he had single handily quelled a riot my judgment was that he was frightened of his own shadow. Most prison officers were fair and relatively honest but this was the exception. I followed him into the first hangar that had been converted into a smart office block. Security was very tight. The office staff very rarely saw a prisoner. The governor stood back to door gazing out over the carefully manicured grass the decorative flowerbeds and the small bridge that traversed the water feature. The sound of the earth moving equipment broke into his thoughts and he turned as if he hand not heard us enter.
“ They building an extension to the segregation unit.” He said to no one in particular. “I will lose my climbers and some of my best flower beds. Terrible shame took years didn’t it? “
“Yes Governor.” I replied thinking it’s a prison and I don’t give a fuck if I never see another fucking flower again.
“You’ve done very well in the gardens, very well. I will be sad to loose you.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You’re a good man really.” I looked at my escort and thought he was going to be sick. No prisoner rehabilitation for him. He hated me and the feeling was mutual. I had spent years watching his mean treatment of other inmates. He had driven many newcomers to suicide by his manipulative methods of emotional cruelty. Still there was some justice his wife had run off with another man and taken half his pension rights with her. My eyes drifted out of the window and my thoughts over the wall.


Sprawling amongst the urban golf course of the artificial turf and the constant patter of flashing sprinklers, a palatial American Latino ranch house stood out converted into a country club with the unlikely name of the eagles. The car park was definitely inadequate for this size of the clubhouse .Tennis courts, and a large swimming pool skirted one side of the building. Cars littered the surrounding streets parked on the euro turf of the villas lawns. The entrance was down a number of wide stone steps that was in danger of becoming overgrown, with fast growing sub tropical plants. Partly opened wooden doors, bleached by the strong southern sun invited you inside. A long L shaped bar dominated the single room. The guests clad in swimming trunks and bikinis had started to drift into the interior of the poolside bar, as the hot afternoon sun faded over the Sierra del Ronda Mountains. Even though this was the south of Spain, the conversations that drifted up from the pool were all in English, most characterised by the strong accent of south London. Many of the bodies moving towards the bar were heavily tattooed loudly, calling for more rounds of San Miguel beer to counter act the fierce heat. The girls were young topless lying in groups on white wooden loungers they spread there suntan lotions and, designer sun glasses with careless abandon around the coarse grass slopes. Constantly wrapping and unwrapping there bodies in long swathes of brightly coloured clothe. They tripped on their toes towards the interior of the poolside bar, Colourful as the large butterflies that winged around them. Giggling, flirting with a group of darkly tanned men who were sat at a poolside table.

Standing at his usual place at the bar his broad shoulders resting lightly on a pillar, strategically placed by the opened door. Stood Mick sipping from his own goblet. In his mid fifties The Mediterranean sun had burnt his face over the years to a deep mahogany brown. Clear blue eyes set above a pronounced hooked nose, flickered restlessly over the people stood at the bar.
Dressed in a modern, French designer suit, white silk shirt and flamboyant tie. A confident successful business executive he smiled easily dispensing free rounds of drinks. Casual nod here, a handshake there. Enquiring after family and close friends. Quickly with his east end accent, ready cockney wit he put people at ease. Chatting to his manager he was discussing with knowledge the merits of the new pop group that were appearing that night. He felt at home here. Much of his life had been spent in the licensed trade.

Tonight was a charity night in aid of orphaned children. In contrast to those that knew him it was hard to understand that this man who gave so freely to charities, had gained a reputation as one of the most feared drug dealers in Europe. It was rumoured that he boasted amongst his close friends to the killing of eleven men. What he did not admit or ever include was that a number of his victims had been law enforcement. He had perfected his murderous skills in London during the gang wars.
His reputation for ruthless violence commanded respect from the most feared gangs. In the bar that night he was the perfect host. The chameleon’s ability to change was the attributes of this sociopath this man he could effortlessly kill with about the same amount of thought that went into one of those winning smiles.

A blonde loosely held his hand hidden behind there backs she was taller than him, with a full figure. The tight white dress she wore showed off her trim body. Interestingly she had only one blemish scarring he otherwise perfect body her cheeks were scared by a blush of recurring small irritating spots. She attempted to hide these with expensive face creams, taking this into account she was still attractive. Mutually they shared a number of characteristics. a hatred of all authority and a love of cocaine. At this time she was negotiating on Micks behalf with a drugs cartel. A snub nosed revolver remained in her cosmetics bag. The sting in her tongue was just as lethal, waiting till men became overconfident she delighted in putting them down. She headed a social set of like minded divorcées between them they ran a selection of up market bars, shops and nightclubs in the surrounding resorts which had become glittering playground for European rich. The blondes name was Julie. Mick was looking forward to his charity night.


It was his charity gala night. Guests had been arriving during the course of the evening, nothing got started till late and tonight was a charity auction, and the colourful goods were laid out on fifteen trestle tables. The L shaped bar was crowded. People were standing four deep at the bar. Ensconced in his usual position with a small army of black bottles of champagne covering his area of the bar, which he dispensed only to celebrity guests. He acknowledged his friends and celebrity arrivals. Amiably he smiled at the young pretty teenage girls who were arriving in droves. This was one of the most popular evenings of the social calendar. His girlfriend revelling in his reflected glory. They looked the perfect couple.
A number of women had attempted to hold this social position all had failed. None had been able to gain the respect of this man until now. He was pleased in his choice and enjoyed showing her off, Feeling secure in the bosom of his criminal family. Tonight he was going to teach them a lesson .It had been a long time since he had been so elated. He smiled to himself so those Scotsmen thought they could cheat him.

As if thinking of the devil conjured them up in they walked. Accepting the pats on the back and the free drinks. From his vantage point he could see them both moving off with an adoring crowd of micro skirts swaying into the bustle of the bar. He noted that neither had acknowledged him. They were talking to a wild gang of new dealers. Probably laughing over some new scam they had cooked up at his expense. The auction started slowly, a few bargains went then greed took over, with the alcohol flowing the auction Started to become a personal competition between the dealers to show who was making the most money. Goods were being auctioned for twice, three times and in one case six times their value. Everybody’s attention was being concentrated on the auctions. No one thought to look over towards the entrance the lanky man clad in black was briefly framed in the door giving quick thumbs up to Mick before slipping back into the night. The Scots whose party had grown considerably decided to go on to an exclusive club in the port. Leaving the auction on mass they moved to the door at last acknowledging the Mick they waved carelessly across as they headed for the door. The club was built with a peripheral road that ran round its grounds. The party decamped to the selection of high-powered cars most with British plates.

The bottles beside Mick jumped on the bar Mick crouched as the glass from the mirrored bar cascaded around him. Mick did not move he remained crouched close to the floor. The first explosion crump thudded across the bar followed by the siren wail of the burglar alarm a woman screamed then sobbed more glass fell. The first was on the main road the second on a peripheral road. After the explosions all that could be heard was one man laughing at the bar. It had been the best joke he had for years. Walking to the door of the club he gave a faint bow to his guests. Starring out into the barmy night sky the clouds of black smoke could be discerned against the neon signs, now and then the flare of burning petrol lighted the roads still smiling Mick was driven off into the night.

The room in the British Embassy was small and cramped the chairs in a semicircle, a projector had been up behind the semi circle. The men sat in this room were members of a drug task force formed to combat organised crime targeting specific individuals and they had a serious problem. The tall middle-aged man with the large beer gut Started his introductions then clicking on the inevitable power point presentation apologised for the lack of coordination, the room which by now was increasingly hot Started to explain who, they had been tasked to take out. The lights were switched off and the face of Mick smiled down on the assembly. A few grunts of acknowledgement came from the darkness. A detailed appraisal of what he had been doing latterly was given drug contacts, Yugoslavs money laundering connections, and Russian arms dealing connections, strangely some Palestinian connections that gave another grunt of disapproval. Out of focus photographs of the Irishman, a Columbian, an American quickly flashed up on to the screen with prison numbers and security file numbers underneath. Next were photographs of a Moroccan and a long distance shot of the oil platform in the Moroccan desert? Slowly and methodically the senior inspector explained the problem. Mick had become to successful, a criminal venture capitalist with little to no risk. he had organised a criminal gang that had become truly international earnings were more than the G.N.P of most third world countries, a ready army of willing Volunteers were constantly swelling his ranks. He controlled over sixty per cent of drug smuggling and distribution in the United Kingdom. Latterly his links with the Ulster defence force, and the killing of the to Glaswegians had been the final score. The Spanish government acknowledged the problem were prepared to cooperate fully. If the British were prepared to supply specialist officers they would wave all extradition rules and allow him to be taken out of Spain.

The next set of photographs were hard to distinguish red black some yellow, they were of officers that had it was suspected been murdered by Mick, his particular calling card was to wrap them in chicken wire and threw them into deep water. His girlfriend in a small bikini was next flashed onto the screen gaining a number of ribald comments report was circulated from Interpol on the blondes crimes. There was an intake of breath; underneath pictures of at least four bodies each bound with wire with single neat bullet wounds to the temple was the blonde’s name. No more comments but a slight intake of breath could be heard make no mistake the female can be deadlier than the male.

Next a detailed plan of how they expected to snatch Mick. A photograph of the boat plus photos of the crew. The plan was very detailed a large map of the Southern Spain showed his known movements with photographs of the houses he was using and known associated and there residences usual itinerary was also handed out. The snatch was to take place early in the morning as he left the penthouse. It must have the benefit of surprise there would be no second chance, and it was believed that he was getting ready to move to Morocco. It was known that he was negotiating for a house. He was also negotiating to purchase a house in Portugal. Both these options needed to be checked out. Two officers were to be infiltrated into the gang, posing as Israeli criminals. They were to arrive by boat. Mooring in Puerto Banus, a close friend of the governors would introduce them to the gang. The Israelis had agreed to furnish profiles, and criminal records. Obviously that was only open to circumcised officers. There code name would be roundheads. The operation was to be called operation Cavalier. A clear warning was given the Spanish police did not know that the operation was on. If anyone was captured by the Spanish the British government would deny all knowledge of this operations far as the foreign office was concerned this operation did not Exist, and this meeting had
never taken place.

The house was set in magnificently kept gardens. The entrance was reminiscent of a roman temple .The dining room and kitchen being open plan leading to a sunken lounge the fitted settees were in white leather. Exotic animal skins covered the floor. A laser music system twinkled its lights in the corner. The high patio glass door lead onto a gold and silver patio. A black lacquered minstrels gallery overlooked the main saloon ,doors Opening onto individual suits of rooms with circular waterbeds. Black silk sheets and a mirrored ceiling gave some hints into what the owners business waste ran the largest and most expensive house of pleasure in Amsterdam. This was her house on the coast.Her husband was a drugs dealer they were separated now but it was very amiable.Some of her top girls were taking a well earned rest with her.The governor relaxed in a black circular Jacuzzi sipping from his crystal goblet beautiful girl fro Singapore catering to his needs.His girlfriend sat downstairs helping to organise the barbeque.It was to be a special thank you to the columbians, who had succeeded in smuggling the largest amount of cocaine to ever arrive in Spain.They were now richer than there wildest dreams.Bowls of cocaine were being set out on the tables.The top caterers from Marbella had been arriving all day.An enormous west Indian who looked after there distribution was setting up the barbecue which needed three burners.The large kitchen looked like a well stocked liquor store.Two of the girls danced to the salsa beat on the hifi.The guests had been asked to come by taxis so as not to make the local police suspicious.There had been a strong rumour that a special police squad from Madrid had been sent down to extradite the govenor,but these rumours permantely came and went,usually private law from England looking for someone who hadn’t paid there maintaince to the exwife.The governor came down the stairs in white suit looking as if he had come out of a Hollywood movie of the sixtys.The first guests were arriving .The columbians arrived dressed in Puerto Banus style they had ignored the instructions.The new Ferrari testarossa carelessly parked across the drive that they had bought for cash that morning. The matching gold Rolex watches said it all they had arrived. Laughing they both moved in on the two smartly dressed girls dancing in the centre of the room. Taxis and limousines were turning up like stacked up aircraft above Heathrow, many had arrived from England on there own aircraft. The smaller villains were also arriving this was going to be a bash to remember. Quickly the governors newly acquired body guards asked the more dubious ones to leave, one who stopped to argue got a sharp cuff around the ear before being thrown down the steps
The party had moved into distinctive groupings .The Costa gangs, from Marbella, Fuengirola and Torremolinos. The London gangs both old and new who operated on different banks of the Thames sat out on the grass or the loungers drinking whisky or beer. Inside members of the social set partied, not fitting in they tried to work out what the common denominator was between all these differing people. The people lounging on the grass or by the barbeque needed nothing explaining. The common denominator was on the table bowls of white powder that were so rapidly being used in the centre of the room constantly changing group of people kept snorting this white powder that was worth ounce for ounce more than gold. The qualifications for this party were that you were either a dealer or a user of this snow white powder. There were few takers for the food but the drink was flowing. The voices and the music becoming louder and louder. No one took much notice as the elderly man flanked by the two Israelis arrived, that is exempt the governor who had his usual excellent all seeing vantage point. He was interested to meet the two Israelis, who came so highly recommended. Both looked as if the were ex army, he laughed at himself as he thought or police. He must stop taking coke it always made him paranoid. He had checked there credentials with the local police and they were almost as well qualified as him. They didn’t look very relaxed, well he thought
There he goes again. Looking upwards he could see entwined bodies on the stairs The three newcomers moved into the centre of the party. The elderly man seeing some friends from the old days in the east end slid off to reminisce. The tall thin man who he know was in conversation with was world famous from his exploits of robbing a Mail train. He was around the same age and they realised they were almost next door neighbours. The tall man had not changed from there chats in the prison yard all those years before and was like an old pro asking if they might have some mutual work together. It was at this time that he realised that he could make a handsome profit on the betrayal of the governor. He new that there was no love lost between the two men perhaps he could put a scheme together to grab the cocaine. If the two Israelis did there job correctly, he could get away with millions of pounds worth of cocaine. He would have to be careful but it was possible to succeed. He arranged a meet with the tall train robber. Sucking on a hollow tooth that he used to do when concentrating he settled his eyes on the Singapore girl who was lighting up a large joint. Introducing himself he propositioned her immediately. They pushed past the entwined groups on the stairs into one of the suites of rooms. Laying on the cool satin sheets he stared as she slipped out of the figure hugging dress. She crossed to the bed grasping his penis between her lips she nibbled his penis. He lay back dragging deeply on the joint, plotting ,scheming he liked the plan and The thought of the new money acted as an aphrodisiac.
They had driven him back in the morning he could not get the thought of stealing the cocaine out of his head. Perhaps half, No the loath needed to know when they were to grab the Governor. He new he had to act quickly. For security reasons there were only a few staff left in the villa. It would have to be before they lifted him .He had to be above suspicion. It came to him why not substitute the cocaine with another white powder. It would take them more than a year to sell that much cocaine. He reasoned to himself. He telephoned the tall man .They arranged to go out and for a round of golf. The deal was explained .He would stash it at his house that was so conveniently near by. They would only take half leaving the rest. The elderly man did not tell him about the British police. He wanted no one to know that he had turned into an informer; also he intended to take off with the other half when the police had taken care of the governor. He drove to the port, passing under the barrier he arrived at the Israelis berth. The vessel was a medium range trawler yacht built in Taiwan. She was spacious, practical with a saloon set amidships. A powerful transmitter turned to the frequency of the British embassy in Madrid was crackling away slightly off station. As he arrived on board the Israeli switched off the radio. Sitting down they interrogated him at length, asking for the names of almost everyone at the party and details of the different groupings. He noticed one had a portable voice activated tape recorder which he had placed onto of the chart table. They talked him for a two hour period not stopping, just taking carefully rehearsed turns. All the time in the back of his mind he was waiting for the opportunity to ask when they were to kidnap the governor. He did not need to ask. It was to be tomorrow they told him. The coke had to be moved fast. No time to substitute the drugs. It would have to be straight theft. Leaving the yacht. He rang his old friend on the car phone. In coded language he told him to break in and take the drugs. The understanding was immediate. He headed the car for the villa were he new the governor was staying.

Pulling up in the driveway. He walked in .The governor was pleased to see him. The table was set for five people; the Filipino cook set an extra place. As he sat down at the table, the blonde sat next to him The Irishman was sat on his right hand side, a large whisky being placed in front of him large bruise that was being partly disguised by the use of makeup, showed on the blondes cheek. The Moroccan arrived nervously dragging on a Marlboro, followed by clouds of smoke. The governor was feeling secure he had been assured that his residents permit was to be renewed. The blonde had been starting to use larger and larger amounts of cocaine which she had mixed with ecstasy tablets .The results had been predictable, there was a cut of point when the brain shut down. That point had come last night when she had closed up into the foetal position, with her flashing back to her child hood. The screaming had unnerved the governor. Who had stared to beat her round the head, which made her worse in the end they had had to call a Spanish pracicante who they had used in the past to patch up members of the firm. He had knowledge of severe addiction problems, and had told them that the effects of these drugs combined would take sometime to disappear. At this moment she felt strange her brain seeming to have a will of its own, flashing into a childhood scene. She thought she was going insane. The first course was being served it was thin strips of Scottish salmon. The phone rang.The governor pushed back his chair. It was one of the servants from the large villa, who had been hired by the governor. There had been a break in at the villa but not to worry strangely enough they had only broken in to the sauna and Turkish bath area. He explained that he believed it was children as all they had done was destroy the Jacuzzi and thrown talcum powder all over the room. The blood drained from the governors face, he stared to shake, they had hidden the coke under the bath in a carefully built
Waterproof hiding place.

He said nothing motioning the elderly man to the door. He told him to drive to the villa. The governor running his hand threw his hair continuously. Even though he did not smoke he light one, his head spinning with the intake of smoke. He stared at the cigarette end. The large Mercedes swung into the driveway Pulling up by the central palm trees. The governor had the door open before the car stopped he was running to the door of the bath house. Which was off its hinges swinging in the light evening breeze. Looking threw the door he could see the sides of the bath thrown to one side. The gun pushed into the elderly mans ear made him push himself into the seat. The quite confident voice of the Israeli telling him to relax. The governor had thrown himself to the floor. His dark clothes turning white as his hands scrabbled into the dark hole in the floor, one of the bags had burst, which explained the white talcum powder .It was coke. The sub machine gun was pointed at his chest as he turned over. He looked up into the Israelis eyes.He thought it was another drug gang until the handcuffs clicked round his wrists. The Israeli escorted him to the Mercedes. The elderly man had been cuffed and was now sat in the back of the Mercedes. The Israelis pistol trained o0nhim from the front seat, he was talking into a portable radio to the British embassy. The elderly man was in shock he had not suspected that they would move this quickly. He wondered when they would release him. The governor had been thrown none to gently into the back seat. The Mercedes moved out of the driveway heading down the coast another salon car moved into the lead one quickly coming in behind. Both rang in to the middle car. The convoy moved up to sixty miles per hour moving in and out of the traffic. They had a strict schedule to keep to a flight was due to take off in one hours time to London’s Heathrow Airport. Just outside the border town of La Linea the convoy stopped. An ambulance was parked by the side of the road. The elderly man was very impressed and wondered when he was to be released. He was not expecting his jacket to be ripped open or the white-coated ambulance attendant to plunge the Needle into his arm. Just before he lost consciousness. He saw that four men had wrestled the governor to the floor. The other attendant had been kicked, and was rolling on the ground clutching his private parts leather jacketed man had pushed the needle in through the sleeve of the shirt.
The plane taxiing on the tarmac of Gibraltar airport, was awaiting its passengers. The ambulance with siren wailing approached the border. The attendants had radioed ahead and there were no hiccups. In the back of the ambulance the two men were sleeping .Swathed in bandages they looked as if they had been involved in a serious accident. The Spanish border police waved the ambulance threw. At speed with the siren still wailing the ambulance stopped by the charter jet. Both men were unloaded strapped to stretchers doctor was waiting on board to check there respiration, and awaken them.He was A little worried about the elderly mans condition. Who was moved into the first class section? The pilot revved up. Taking off he quickly banked the plane away from Spanish airspace. The governor had regained consciousness, staring at his surroundings. He was in the cargo hold of the large jet. Strapped to a stretcher senior detective explaining that he was being returned to Britain to face charges relating to the murder of a customs officer. If he was to behave he could sit in the main body of the aircraft. Enjoy refreshments and ready him for questioning in Britain. Sitting in the first class section the elderly man could not understand why he was being returned to England. The detective chief superintendent sat across the aisle, calmly he explained that for him to remain alive, he would have to be charged and remanded in custody it would mean him staying in custody for a number of months. Then he would be released, probably with a suspended prison sentence due to his years and health. He stared at the chief inspector, his mind trying to grasp the loss of the cocaine. He new his friend would not believe his luck, and would not wait for his release. If nothing else he was a realist. He took the glass proffered to him. Well he would have a free life with his daughters. He chinked glasses with the chief inspector. There would always be another deal._