Battery Acid: A Fear Of The Dutch Razor by John Cullen - HTML preview

SUN....

I already knew the van was gonna blow when we legged it outta the bank, but fuck me! You should have heard the explosion:

BBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!!

I saw the flames reflecting in those black glass windows; then we were away, bombing down the

street, like rats being flushed out of a pipe. Elmore’s giving us instructions through the earpiece:

“The bikes are programmed with our destination. All you have to do is hold on.”

And its a good thing these bikes are computerised; we’re weaving and duckin’ through cars, zig-

zaggin’ all over the fuckin’ road. And I’m wacked out of my fuckin’ nut on those horrible tablets I took back at St Luke's. All of this feels like some sort of dream. I feel like a walkin’ corpse. Elmore is a true professional; I can see why Virgil trusts him. Elmore ain't fazed by nothin’:

“We’re moving past the traffic now; we're turning down into Bellside Hill; it's a steep old road gents, please hold on as tight as you can...”

There’s about a hundred cop cars chasing us down the fuckin’ road. I can feel the wind blow through me; it's blowing through my trousers; it's blowing through my blazer. This bike is fuckin’ mustard! It's eating up the road as it goes:

ZZZMMMMMM!! ZZZZMMMMMMMM! ZZZMMMMMM!! ZZZZMMMMMMMM! ZZZMMMMMM!!

ZZZZMMMMMMMM!

Out of all the cop cars, there's one right up close to us; he’s in spitting distance of Elmore; it's up his fuckin’ arse! Even under pressure, Elmore’s cool as a cucumber.

“Virgil!” He says through the earpiece. “I need Lucifer to get this stone from out of my shoe!”

And I know what's about to happen, don’t I. Lucifer’s gonna add another skull to his tally; he's gonna pop another pig!

El Diablo has the gun pointed at the car. And:

BOOOOMMMMMMM!!!!!!!

It's like I see it all in slow motion: The glass smashing; the coppers head burstin’ like a fuckin’

balloon; the motor spinning outta control; the car flying into Chaplin Parade hitting all the people eating outside the restaurants....

BOOOOOOOOOOOMMM!!! SMAAASHH!!

I ain't even got time to check the damage; we’re away like a thief in the night. The bikes are still eating up the road:

ZZZMMMMMM!! ZZZZMMMMMMMM! ZZZMMMMMM!! ZZZZMMMMMMMM! ZZZMMMMMM!!

ZZZZMMMMMMMM!

Now we’re turning into the freeway, speeding down the empty road; another cop car is on our tail again. One of the coppers is hanging outta the back window; he’s got a shooter pointed at us.

“He's on my payroll,” says Virgil. “He's one of my top marksmen. He’ll miss. Just stay calm.”

And El Diablo ain't wrong.

BAM!

BAM!

BAM!

BAM!

Shots are flyin’ an’ whizzing past us; the bullets ain't hittin’ nothing! NOTHIN’! I’m takin’ a cheeky glimpse over my shoulder an’ I swear I can see the cunt smirkin’ as he’s pullin’ the fuckin’ trigger!

BAM!

BAM!

BAM!

BAM!

One just flew past Elmore's nut an’ bounced off the road! He’s fuckin’ joking with El Diablo about it through the earpiece!

“Fuck me Virgil! You sure he’s one of yours? He looks like he couldn’t hit a barn door if it was directly in front of him.... Hold on! Maybe he is one of yours!”

BAM!

BAM!

BAM!

BAM!

The gunshots are flyin’, an’ these cunt are havin’ a right old laugh! Now I’m laughing too! It's like I can’t help it; it’s the nerves getting to me. It would be worse if wasn’t doped up to the fuckin’

eyeballs on those horrible fuckin’ tablets!

BAM!

BAM!

BAM!

BAM!

Now we’ve sped onto Highway 61 an’ I'm thinking to myself: Why 61? There's no sixty or even fifty-nine! What's the fuckin’ score with sixty-one?

And I’m so fucked off the pills I’ve thought out loud; I've babbled it into the mic in me helmet!

Elmore just laughs:

“The architect must be a musical sort would be my guess! It's a reference to an album years before your time buddy! Years before my time! And my daddies even!”

But see now I remember something! There's something these cunts ain't thought of: This highway ain't even finished! It's blocked off by this huge brick wall with a river on the other side! The news says the bridge is being whipped in brick by brick from Germany, as some sorta homage to a

landmark over there!

“THIS LEADS TO A DEAD-END!” I’m shouting. “WE’RE FUCKED! WHAT ARE WE FUCKIN’ DOING?!”

And now I see it, off in the distance: That fuckin’ wall!

“Relax!” Says Elmore. “I’ve made provisions for this!”

And that cunt better be right! I'm fuckin' brickin’ it!

This fuckin’ cop cars come blastin’ outta this little side road just up ahead! This fuckin’ pig has jumped out the motor; he’s runnin’ towards us! He’s grabbin’ at his waist; this cunt wants his

widow-maker! I look back at Elmore, he’s only gone an’ pulled out a fuckin’ whip-chain!!

And this fuckin’ copper has no idea!! He has no idea what's about happen!!

And:

WHOOSH!!

The chains wrapped tight around the pigs neck! He’s being dragged along the road by Elmore’s bike!!

The fat bastards screamin’ an’ yellin’, but no cunt can hear him. Elmore's pulled this gadget outta his jacket pocket:

“Gentlemen! Do not fear the wall!”

And:

BOOOOIIIINNNGGGG!!!!

These fuckin’ shiny ramps have sprung up outta the ground!

We’re flying up them! Over the wall!!

I can just about hear Elmore through the earpiece:

“HOLD TIGHT!! THE BIKES WILL ABSORB THE LANDING!!’

He releases the chain and that copper hits the fuckin’ river like a ton of bricks!!

KABOOOOMM!!! SPLASH!

The pig has got so many broken bones he’s gonna sink like a fuckin’ stone in that dirty water! What a way to go! Rather him then me!

BOOOOOFF!!

We hit the road like a balloon hitting a pillow; I’m screaming through the earpiece like everybody else:

“AAAAAAAAAAAAARRGGHHHHHHHHHH-HAAAAAAHH!!”

The sun seems brighter than ever! The cops are nowhere to be seen as we’re racin’ down this empty highway! Elmore’s giving us the final instructions now:

“Oaky lads, lets not get too carried away with ourselves now!”

He’s pointing to this big black truck in the distance:

“We’re hoping on that! The bikes are going to surge now; please hold on tight!

I’m crouching down, holding on for dear life! This fuckin’ bike is going faster than the speed of light!

The back of the truck has dropped down, making a ramp. Elmore's geezers are beckoning us in with their hands.

BA-BUMP!!

I’m first up the ramp!

BA-BUMP!!

El Diablo’s next!

BA-BUMP!!

Next geezers in!

BA-BUMP!!

And another geezer!

BA-BUMP!!

Another one!

BA-BUMP!! BA-BUMP!!

Elmore's last. They’ve pulled the ramp up an’ now we’re in darkness. I’m pulling my helmet off; I can’t breathe; I’m seein’ stars.....

I can hear champagne bottles poppin’, an’ cunts hollerin’ an’ shoutin’.....

Elmore’s got his arm around my shoulder:

“Easy money for the professionals my friend. Wouldn't you say?”

And when he puts it like that... How could you possibly disagree with the geezer?

22: The Rebirth Of A Nation.

Phillip Rijkaard was intoxicated, watching the shadows dance across the walls of his brand new, unlit, luxury apartment – WestPoint, United Kingdom....

What a fucking mess: Dead parents; dead children; dead police officers.....

The WestPoint Police couldn’t have planned it better if they'd tried....

An error of judgement.....

Still, Phillip had buckets of time to lament it all now; he had all the space he needed to process those emotions – He was dulling them first, with a bottle of scotch. Rijkaard’s phone was still silent – He was past caring where she was – She’d been due back hours ago......

Haunted – Phillip could still see everything so vividly.....

Shame... Damn shame....

Rijkaard’s jaw was still aching like hell – Paul Anderson had lost control of himself when the robbers had made their escape, flying up the ramps and across the wall. Phillip hadn’t seen the blow coming; he’d hit the ground like a ton of bricks, watching helplessly as Paul was dragged away against his will by his colleagues...

Phillip poured himself another glass....

Why not? Why not, eh?

At precisely the right moment, James Sevver had made an unexpected appearance – He’d turned up

to take the credit, only to find himself receiving the blame! Anderson was suspended on the spot.

Then an unwanted visitor decided to make an appearance; James Sevver’s day had gone from bad to worse – Jason Stenson certainly meant business; his vitriol was directed at one man, and one man only:

“SEVVER YOI FUCKING MUPPET!! YOU FORGOTTEN WHOSE BANKROLLING YOUR FUCKING POLITICAL

CAREER?! EH?! YOU FUCKING FORGOTTEN WHOSE FINANCIALY BACKING YOU AS MAYOR?! YOU

FORGOTTEN THAT, HAVE YOU?! THESE CUNTS HAVE JUST RUN OFF WITH A SHIT-LOAD OF MY

LOOT?! AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! NOTHING!! YOU DID FUCKING NOTHING, YOU FUCKING

CUNT!!”

Gobsmacked – Rijkaard had been gobsmacked, watching on as Sevver was told off like a naughty

school boy. Stenson’s henchmen had been quick off the mark, wrestling the gun from their

employer’s grip – The memory of Stenson being pulled to the ground by his own men was still vivid in Rijkaard’s mind; he could still see the bullets spilling from the guns barrel, scattering and rolling across the tarmac..

The clocks red eyes above the doorway were looking down on Phillip now, glowing – Rijkaard was

past caring about the time – It served no purpose to him....

Still nothing from his phone...

What sickened Rijkaard the most, had been his colleagues reaction to Stenson pulling a weapon –

They'd all stood around, pretending not to see the imminent danger, burying their in the sand. At

that very moment, Rijkaard truly understood the depths of corruption inside the WestPoint Police Force – They were all on the take! Phillip had been so very, very foolish....

As they’d bundled Stenson back into the car, two of Jason’s head henchmen had issued chilling

warning to Sevver:

“I’ve never seen that cunt so wound up! If you value the lives of your colleagues, if you value the lives of your kids, I’d find that fucking money sharpish...”

Phillip had wandered away from the scene, deep in shock....

And here he was now, alone in the unlit apartment. Something was ringing....

Who could this be? What a nice surprise....

Now Rijkaard’s phone was alive, although he didn’t recognise the number. Mirelle playing games?

“Hello?”

“Phillip? Phillip Rijkaard?”

Rijkaard paused – He didn't recognise the man voice – No. It wasn't Mirelle.

“I won't beat about the bush here. My name is Jason Stenson. I am a business associate of many of your British colleagues...”

Silence.

“I think this conversation should have happened a long time ago.”

Silence.

“Phillip, we are brothers in arms here. We both have a common enemy in El Diablo. I think it's a tragedy, the way you’ve been treated an’ all...”

Silence, still....

“My man, its a shame you had to witness the nastiness between me and Sevver earlier today; I

would never want that sort of palaver played out in public; I wouldn't want to put anyone on edge!

Phillip, Sevver's employment, and the contributions I make are for one purpose: To protect my

money. My friend, we both live in the real world here; we both understand the greater good; we

both realise El Diablo is the true enemy; we both realise El Diablo serves no purpose, but to destroy the beautiful town of WestPoint....

Still, silence. Stenson continued:

“Well, I can understand your silence buddy, you must be in shock – Aren't we all! Let me put your mind at rest on one matter.”

Rijkaard heard Stenson pass the phone to somebody else..

“Hello?”

Mirelle.

Phillip took a deep breath:

“Hey! Hey you! How are you?! How was your trip?”

Mirelle’s calm tone was masking the fear:

“Fine, I’m fine. Just enjoying a drink here with Jason – We’re in his penthouse – He’s being the perfect gentlemen...”

“You sure?” Rijkaard stumbled, confused. “Everything okay?”

Now Stenson was back on the line – He laid the conditions:

“All of this will go away Phillip; I know powerful people who will wash this all away, like it never happened. Your in good hands buddy! You can continue your work here in the United Kingdom. But, you work for me now. Do you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Sevver works for me; and so do many others. I own WestPoint.. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

Phillip sensed the mans unhinged personality – Stenson’s voice was shaky now:

“You work for me now. Do you understand?

“Yes.”

“I’ll be dropping Mirelle back to you soon,” said Stenson, his voice lowering. “I need you to do something for me first – Since we now have a business relationship. Is that okay?”

“Yes. Anything Jason.”

Stenson’s tone had changed again; he was leering down the phone line now:

“Excellent Phillip! You see, I have this slight problem. I thought you could help me.”

“Go on.”

“Well, part of my problem, is that I'm too trusting Phillip – I’m only human, like anybody else. I trusted a Jew, and as you know, you should never trust a Jew. This one, Phillip, is still a boy really.

He’s called Tobias – Nasty little cunt. Tobias sells heroin you see – For me, of course. He’s made a fool of me Phillip; he’s taken two keys and refused to pay me what I’m rightfully owed. One of my other associates, is slightly smarter them him you see. Tobias has an enemy; a local boy; a boy from WestPoint. My associate has given Tobias this local boy’s address. I need you to intercept Tobias for me Phillip. You think you could that?”

“Yes.”

“They say: ‘Never trust a Jew’ Phillip. And they’re right!”

Rijkaard listened intently now. He took down the address. Murder didn’t seem to be the problem for Phillip; it was more the method Stenson wanted – Strangulation; castration.....

Jason signed off by reiterating:

“You work for me now. Remember that. You work for me...”

Phillip poured himself another drink – It was the last thing he needed. Rijkaard was trying to cast his mind back to better times. Phillip remembered the joy of making the breakthrough with Samson in The Footage Suite; he remembered seeing the utter joy in his colleagues face. That was then....

And now? Now, Rijkaard was stood alone in his hallway – Knife in one hand, whiskey bottle in the other. This would be his defining moment – Not the one he could have ever possibly imagined.

Whatever happened from this point now would be final. Rijkaard took a deep breath, and exhaled:

“Here we go. An end to a means....”

He closed the front door behind him. Now there was nobody in the apartment.

23. The Grand Finale.....

Gustavo Reyes said:

“Hold your loved ones close to you. Put them in your thoughts at all times. Cherish every moment.

Look to the future and build your destiny, because nobody else will do it for you...”

The geezer was sharper than me old Dutch Razor......

After we pulled the job, I spent the night at Lucy’s. After two years, it was like I’d never been away.

We didn’t do nothing; we just lay in bed, cuddling, talkin’ an’ mumbling. It felt good to just lay there and stare outta the window, feel the breeze fly through the curtains an’ forget about the world outside.....

I needed some comfort, an’ the Arab slut wasn’t gonna give me that, was she. Nah! I’ve been

ignoring her calls all night....

I had to spend the night at Lucy’s ‘cause I had nowhere else to go. I dropped back to the old flat before I went. I wanted to check on Danni; I wanted to make sure she was okay; I wanted to say

thanks for saving my life an’ all. The fuckin’ Ham-Beast didn't want to let me into me own fuckin’

gaff!

“Don't you think you’ve done enough damage?” She says, like I’m fuckin’ scum or something. “Why don’t you fuck off out of it?! Go and hang out with that rapist pal of yours?! That Gammon bastard!”

So I popped my key in the lock; I pushed past the fat cunt. I just wanted to see Danni. Soon as I push the bedroom door open, I see her wrapped up in her bedcovers like some sorta Egyptian mummy.

I was stood over her, puttin’ my hand on her shoulders:

“How you doing girl? I should be awarding you with some sorta fuckin’ medal for bravery or

something. I have my life because of you. And to think I stalled on giving you a job at The Birdcage!

Danni? Danni?”

And all I can hear is this quiet sobbin’; I heard this real, pitiful sobbin’....

When I pull the covers back, I see her face an’ all the tears; she looks she’s been crying for fuckin’

days!

“What’cha doing girl?” I said. “Why you cryin’ for?”

That’s when I clocked the bandages around her wrists; I’ve twigged what's happened: The dosey

twat has tried to do herself in!

I’m grabbin’ her arms; I’m telling her:

“The only reason I have my life is because of you! You saved me fuckin’ life Danni!”

And she's shakin’ her head at me:

“No! No! No! No! I'm a murderer! I’m a murderer now!! You've changed my life forever! All I ever did was look up to you! And look where you've taken me! I'm gonna burn in hell for what I’ve done!

I'm gonna burn in hell Jim!!”

The Ham-Beast was trying to pull me outta the room but I wasn’t havin’ it; I told Danni straight:

“WHAT?! YOU JUST WANT ME LIE THERE AND DIE?! YOU WANT SOME JAP CUNT TO CUT ME

FUCKIN’ THROAT?! YOU WANT ME TO FUCKIN’ DIE IN SOME FILTHY FUCKIN’ CARPARK BASEMENT?!

IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?! WHAT HAVE I EVER DONE TO YOU GIRL?! WHAT HAVE I EVER DONE TO

YOU?!!”

Then the Ham-Beast starts pushin’ me out of the room an’ down the stairs:

“FUCK OFF YOU HORRIBLE BASTARD!! FUCK OFF OUT OF IT! YOU RUIN EVERYTHING YOU TOUCH!!

FUCK OFF!! FUCK OFF OUT OF IT!! LEAVE US ALONE, AND DON’T COME BACK!! YOU’RE NOT

WELCOME HERE! YOU'RE NOT WELCOME HERE NO MORE!! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU SO FUCKING

MUCH JIM! GOOO-AWAY!! GO AWAY; GO AWAY; GO AWAY!!!”

And I didn’t need to be told twice, did I. I didn’t have no reason to stay; I’ve already moved my gear out of there; the only thing left in my room is old Pussyboy Bob, an’ he really ain't any use to anybody now. I’ve got El Diablo and Junior, what else do I need?

So I spent the night at Lucy’s, feeling the breeze blow through the window. Winters on it's way, that’s for sure.....

I drifted in and outta sleep for a few hours......

I got up about half five. I wanted to take a walk back to the flat, just have a look at the place I used to call home...

I slipped out the bed an’ headed down the stairs. Little man was watching cartoons on the box.

“I won't be long,” I said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes...”

The little geezer just nodded, spooning a load of cereal into his gob....

This part of town is like the last nugget of shit that ain’t been flushed down the bog; I can’t wait for this place to be obliterated into history. Too many bad memories in this dump. Good fuckin’

riddance...

So now I’m stood by the bridge with that dirty-arse river runnin’ under it. I can see my window with the curtains closed. There's a lot of fuckin’ memories in that gaff: My dad getting eaten alive by cancer; my mum drinking herself to death; The Ham-Beast swelling up like a fuckin’ balloon! But that's all the past now...

Speaking of the past, it looks like mines caught up with me. I’ve just clocked somebody walkin’

behind me; they’re lurking just by the fuckin’ underpass. I look back an’ clock the cunt once again: Tobias!

We'll, I’m fuckin’ game if I’m honest! If he's stupid enough to come back for more, he’s stupid enough to take a bullet. Juniors back at Samantha’s place, but I’ve still got the shooter from the job we pulled. Elmore said I could keep it. It’s funny, a couple of week ago I didn’t have no gun, now I’ve got three!

Tobias ain’t half a soppy cunt! He has this big black hat on with his head bowed and his arms out. His long black coat is flappin’ in the wind. This cunt must think this is some sorta film or something! All I have to do is lead him over the bridge to the bins. Then I can shoot the mugg an’ leave him for the Arab sluts to find. Where’s Grant when you fuckin’ need him?! Eh?!

I’m singing out loud to the bastard:

“DOO-BEE-DOO! DIRTY FUCKIN’ JEWS!”

I’m turnin’ ‘round, beckoning the yid bastard towards me:

“DOO-BEE-DOO! DIRTY FUCKIN’ JEWS! STEALIN’ ALL THE PEOPLES MONEY....”

There's some old drunk passed out ahead of us; he’s butt naked, sprawled out on that filthy fuckin’

metalwork. And as I get closer, I spot something: It ain't no drunk on the floor; it’s fuckin’ Tobias!!

The cunts naked as the day he's born! He’s laying on this filthy fuckin’ bridge! His fuckin’ throats been cut! His balls an’ cock are shoved in his rot!! There’s claret all over the gaff a bit further down...

And I just got one question: If Tobias is on the floor, who the fuck is behind me?! What cunt is-BOOFFF!

I’ve taken an evil fuckin’ blow to the back!

BOOOMM!

I’ve hit the deck like a ton of bricks! This lanky streak of piss is standing over me now:

“At last! We’ve finally met! I’ve been lookin’ for you for quite some time! The Moreland Court

Rangers! Huh?! I’m in the presence of Old Town royalty! Look at you! LOOK AT YOU!!”

This foreign cunt is outta his fuckin’ skull! I can smell the whiskey on his breath from down here!

He’s pullin’ something out of his pocket:

“We should really make this a fair fight, shouldn’t we?! Huh?! You dropped this when you and your friends were on your bikes! Huh?! When you killed three of my colleagues; when you butchered an innocent man who had done nothing but cooperate. Huh?! Do you remember? Huh?! I know you

do! I KNOW YOU DO!!”

“Easy mate!” I’m tellin’ him. “What's the problem pal?! Let's talk it out, eh?!”

He’s thrown the Dutch slag down to me; he's slurring an’ shoutin’ his head off like a fuckin’ madman:

“T-T-THIS IS THE PROBLEM WITH PEOPLE LIKE YOU! YOU-YOU-YOU ARE A FUCKING ARSEHOLE! YOU

STEREOTYPE FOREIGNERS THROUGH IGNORANCE!! Y-Y-YOU WOULD HAVE NOTHING WITHOUT

PEOPLE LIKE US!! I BET YOU’VE NEVER EVEN B-B-BEEN OUTSIDE OF THE COUNTRY! HUH?! HAVE

YOU?! HAVE YOU?!! HUH?! HAVE YOU EVER BEEN OUTSIDE OF THIS COUNTRY?! TELL MEEE!!”

And before I can even answer him, some other cunt is calling out his name:

“RIJKAARD!! RIJKAARD!! RIJKAARD!!!”

This other cunt is runnin’ like there's no tomorrow; he’s screaming his fuckin’ head off too:

“YOU’RE A DEAD MAN!! YOU’RE FUCKING DEEEAAD!!!! DUTCH BASTARD!! GO HOME YOU DUTCH

BASTARD!!”

Old Rijkaard has gone bombing over to the bins behind the wall; this other cunt has come bombin’

up the bridge an’ jumped over me and Tobias, heading straight after him. He’s wavin’ a fuckin’ pistol above his head:

“DIE YOU FILTHY FUCKING DUTCH CUNT!! BASTARD!! FUCKING DIE!!”

There's no sign of life in Tobias’s eyes; poor bastard has had the worst luck. In a strange way, I feel sorry for the cunt. He must have come here to look for me. And look what’s happened?! It would

almost be funny if I wasn’t pissing blood all over this filthy fuckin’ bridge!

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

The blasts are ringin’ offa the walls an’ now there’s a load of flashin’ blue lights turnin’ up; fuckin’

coppers all over the place! This cunt in a suit is bending down inspecting my wound:

“It's bad... But you’ll survive it mate. Don't worry, I’m on Virgil's payroll...”

“What?”

He’s pointing to this approaching copper:

“See him? He's about to give us some news. He's going to inform us about the sudden death of Jason Stenson; he’s gonna tell us he’s been blown to smithereens, with a car bomb..”

“How do you know?” I’m asking him.

He leans right into my face with this big, shit-eating grin:

“’Cause I planted the fucking thing!”

The other cunt waits for a moment, than starts laughing:

“Fuckin’ Paul Anderson just popped the Dutch twat! Blew his head clean off