28th of June 2012 Court in Alabama “...... Lewis Jones then told Louis Rogers and his partner, Roy Clear, 'Don't worry, no one's been shot,' before shooting Roy Clear in the chest five times. He died at the scene. The defendant then proceeded to break down the safe with C4-” The prosecutor was interrupted. “PE4,” Lewis corrected the man addressing the court. The jury glared at him. “What? It's a factual inaccuracy.” “As I was saying, the defendant then took two million dollars and proceeded to leave when he was taken into custody by four officers.” “More like the entire Montgomery Police force,” Lewis said, but he got the same reaction. The judge cleared his throat. “Well, I don't really see why there needs to be a trial...” “Neither do I, your honour. This is Alabama, after all.” Lewis laughed. Two police officers grabbed him and dragged him out. Lewis didn't care. The moment he shot that police officer, he knew he was going to die. 23rd of July 2012 In a prison in Alabama Lewis sat in his cell, a ex-British soldier on death row in Alabama. He was dying tomorrow and had time to think about his life. A large, balding, fat prison officer came up to his hell. Lewis looked up to face the man. “Catholic or Protestant?” “Neither. Who's close by, though?” Lewis answered. The prison officer left and a few minutes later came back with a catholic priest. He opened the cell door and the priest walked in. He had a stubbly beard and a crew cut haircut, but was quite tall and a bit fat. What kind of Catholic was this? The man sat down on the bench next to Lewis, who turned to him. “Oh, to be sure, to be sure,” he said. Lewis controlled his laughter. “Father, I'm not a man of God.” “Don't worry yourself, my child, I'm just here to help you through these final hours.” His accent was comedy Irish, a bit like a leprechaun's. “Well...” “Son, the Almighty works in subtle ways.” The priest pulled out a bible. He placed it next to Lewis and tapped it. “Take a look once I've gone.” The priest then talked to Lewis about God and science, and how the two could coexist, before the priest requested for the guard to let him out. Lewis was left to his own devices. After half an hour, he glanced at the bible lying on the bench. He picked it up and flicked it open. It sat in a box, alongside a card with some address for a flat on it, as well as a file. Lewis looked up at the small barred window. 24th of July 2012 One day later, somewhere in New York Lewis walked up the stairs in the old tower block. The walls were stained and he had seen at least three men lying in the corridors. He walked up to the door numbered thirteen, the number on the card, and knocked. Almost instantly, the door swung open and he was met with the same tall, lean Irish man with stubble and a crew cut. “Hey, mate.” The man now sounded like an Irish thug ready to beat your head in with a baseball bat. Lewis walked in and closed the door behind him. The Irish man was grinning at him. Lewis looked around the single room with a kitchen built in the corner, the only furniture save for a camp bed in the opposite corner. There was a high calibre rifle next to the camp bed ,and another one sat disassembled on the kitchen surface. There were ration packs, a cooking tin and a camping stove. Next to it sat a British army back pack. “You live on the move?” Lewis whistled. “No, but I'm ready for it. Many people don't like me,” the Irish man laughed. Lewis looked up into the ceiling corners, where explosives were set. “Jesus, you're going to blow this place up!” Lewis exclaimed. The Irish looked up to the explosives. “Ha, don't worry, they aren't primed. Anyway, name's O'Hara.” O'Hara reached out and shook Lewis's hand. “Take a seat.” Lewis looked around. “On the floor.” O'Hara walked over to the kitchen and pulled a kettle out of one of the cupboards, followed by a twelve pack of 500 ml water bottles, one of which was only half full. He pulled two bottles out and poured them into the kettle. Lewis sat on the boards. “You want tea?” O'Hara said happily. “Yeah.” Lewis had seen Perrier's Bounty and many episodes of Ultimate Force. O'Hara was way too happy to be like any of the Irish characters, even though he sounded and looked like them, but he also wasn't IRA.... he hoped. O'Hara started boiling the water before walking over to Lewis and sitting down. “So, you's the boy who robbed the bank?” O'Hara said. “Yeah, well, tried.” “Bloody helicopter pilot.” Lewis laughed. “Yeah.” The kettle clicked. O'Hara stood up and walked over to the kettle. “Anyway, Lewis, down to business. I heard you were a soldier?” O'Hara said as he pulled two plastic cups out of a cupboard. “That be true.” “Well, you were stealing two, three million?” O'Hara started making the tea. “Two million.” “Well, I have an ingenious plan which needs eight worthy people,” O'Hara said as he walked over with the two cups of tea. Lewis didn't see any milk go into them. “I'm listening.” Lewis said as he took one of the cups out of O'Hara's hand, he looked in it. Definitely no milk, it was as black as his ex-girlfriends soul. O'Hara sat down in front of him. “Well, you know the new American International bank. That chunk of capitalistic American evil is a blot on the landscape.” Lewis expected for O'Hara to start waving the hammer and sickle about at the rate he was going. “Yeah, I've heard of it, it's a bank with a couple of penthouses.” Lewis said, sipping the black tea. “Yes, and in a couple of days or weeks, there will a proper swanky party at this bank with the guest of honour being 'General Kronowskov of the Polish military,'” enunciating the name and title with a poor Russian accent. “Also at this party are three, how to put it; very attractive young actresses who all come in at a price of about two hundred million dollars each.” “And the general?” Lewis sipped his tea and grimaced. “How ever much the Poles and Americans want to pay, they'll pay a lot, mate; this Pole is the soon to be president of Poland. You know the coup?” “Yeah.” “Kronowskov's the kid who stayed in Warsaw and fought off the revolutionaries with 400 men while their president sodded off to Russia.” “Oh, him.” “Yeah, mate. A lot of money?” Lewis seemed to question. O'Hara nodded and put his tea down. “Chicken feed, we'll also be moving 4 billion.” O'Hara said. “You're kidding me.” “Mate, would I? I saved you from prison! Anyway, we are going to get invited to this party.” “Real swanky. How the hell are we going to pay for tickets?” Lewis asked, gesturing around the room. “Hey, mate, I am a multi-millionaire and I have a lot of enemies. If I show off, I get found and I die. You get me. Anyway...” O'Hara strolled over to the high calibre rifle. “These guns don't come cheap.” “I guess.” “So,” O'Hara stood up “I propose to you, sir, that we need eight men; make it six, excluding us two.” “Have I agreed yet?” Lewis smirked. “If you don't agree, I'll blow your effing brains out.” O'Hara said in a slightly too jolly way but Lewis didn't think he was joking. “Okay. “Anyway, I need six men, a helicopter pilot, a jet pilot, two gun men, a man who knows how to jump out of a chopper, and a lad who fancies himself a womaniser.” “I can find you a womaniser,” Lewis laughed. “And I can find a chopper pilot.” 27th of July 2012 A pub somewhere in Sydney Lewis walked out of the rain, into the Australian pub. He stepped up to the bar, the barman walking up from one side to ask for orders. “You'd like anything?” “No, I'd rather just stand here sober.” Lewis smirked. “One beer?” The barman smiled. “Yep.” “Five dollars.” Lewis nodded and put down five Australian dollars on the bar, in exchange for a pint of beer. “Lewis?” An Australian said next to him. “Thought you wouldn't recognise me, J-Dog.” Lewis answered, turning round. “Lewis Jones.” J-Dog, or Jordan, as known to many, turned round to face him. “How long has it been? Five years?” Jordan had a stubbly beard and quite long hair. “About that. You look a mess, what's with the beard?” Lewis laughed. “Well, in between the fornication and the gun-smuggling, I ain't got time for shaving.” Jordan responded with laughter of his own. “Still up to your old tricks?” Lewis quipped. “Yes,” Jordan stood up “Come on.” He walked over to the table and Lewis followed with his beer. “Can I be sure you're still as good as you were?” Lewis smiled as he sat down. “Yep, mate; every woman in this bar except the fat one,” Jordan proclaimed, pointing towards a plump woman at the bar. “Didn't know you had standards.” Lewis laughed. Jordan smiled and nodded. “That one,” Jordan pointed at a thin blonde. “This table.” Jordan pointed at the table they were sat at. Lewis nearly choked on his beer. Two hours later Jordan walked up onto his patio and unlocked the door. Lewis followed after him. “Okay, Lou-Lou, I know you too well. You want to ask me something, not just reminisce about old memories,” Jordan said, holding the door open for him.” “Got me in one,” Lewis said. Jordan switched on a light and lit up the hall. They both then walked into the sitting room. On one of the chairs sat an M4 carbine. “So what is it?” “Well, a couple of weeks ago, I tried to steal a few million from an Alabama bank. I lost out and got put on death row...” Jordan gave a long whistle as he got up to get two cans of beer. “Anyway, some Irish guy came and found me and broke me out. He said he broke me out because he was setting a plan up to steal 4 billion dollars and four VIP's from the International Bank of America, where there'll be a party going on ,and he needs a womaniser for some reason.” Lewis took a sip of his beer. Jordan was silent for a few seconds. “I'm game,” Jordan said matter-of-factly. Lewis was surprised at how quickly he was turned, but decided against questioning his good fortune. “Anyway, you said you were a gun smuggler?” Lewis asked, pointing his head in the direction of the carbine. “Yep. Multi-millionaire,” Jordan said nonchalantly. “Everyone seems to be doing well 'cept me,” Lewis laughed. “But why do you want to steal the four billion then if you're doing so well for yourself?” Lewis said. “Because there's no excitement in my life. The only fights I get are when some dim kids decide they ain't going to pay the most powerful gun runner in Australia,” Jordan said. “There are three types of soldiers I've decided. There is the one who's just there because it's a job, there's the one whose fighting for his country and freedom and patriotic BS like that, and then there's me: the guys who basically love the adrenaline and love to kill. Yeah it's morbid, but that's me.” “Okay, anyway, here's this Irish guy's house, come and join us in a few days.” Lewis passed Jordan the card he'd been given by O'Hara. “What's the kids name?” Jordan asked, reading it. “O'Hara.” “Okay. Anyway, there's a guest room in down the corridor. Can't let a mate sleep in a hotel,” Jordan offered as he stood up. 26th of July 2013 A pub in Dublin O'Hara came flying out of the fire escape double doors into the mud. He was laying on the ground looking back into the pub until a massive man blocked the light out of the building. O'Hara was tall, lean and muscular. This man was a mountain, six and a half feet tall and just as wide. O'Hara knew him well enough to know it was all muscle. “Paddy, Paddy, Paddy, calm it.” O'Hara put his arm up to protect himself. Paddy patted it away as if it was a fly and grabbed O'Hara by his shirt and pulled him onto his feet, O'Hara could hear the material tearing. Paddy then threw him onto the ground again. “O-bloody-Hara! I told you never to see me again!” Paddy shouted at him. He had a stronger accent than O'Hara, who'd lived in America for three years. “Why, mate?” It was a stupid question, Paddy just stood there staring at him. “After that stupid prank you played in this very city, what reason would I have to want to see you?” Paddy said. “Hey, I did nothing.”O'Hara was happy to stay in the mud so as not to induce any more of Paddy's anger. “You bombed a bloody Catholic church in 2008!” Paddy shouted. “You know, hit yourself and you'll get angry.” O'Hara tried to smile. “You got that from Four Lions, a film about stupid terrorists, you idiot!” Paddy then punched O'Hara again and the left side of the face hit the mud. He pulled his head up. “Okay, we got the anger out now.” O'Hara said, putting his arm up feebly. “Not even close.” Paddy laid into him. 29th of July 2013 O'Hara's flat O'Hara sat on his camp bed looking glum. He had a broken nose, two black eyes and cuts all over his face. Under his clothes, he was bruised and cut. Paddy stood at the kitchen making tea with a carton of milk. He turned round. “More tea, dear?” Paddy said, laughing. O'Hara just nodded. There was a knock at the door. Paddy looked at it. “Come in.” O'Hara said quietly. The knock was louder. “COME IN!” Paddy bellowed. The door opened, and Lewis and Jordan walked in. O'Hara stared at them. Jordan looked back at Paddy and O'Hara, noticed O'Hara's bruises and burst out laughing. Paddy smiled and O'Hara glared at him. “You'd better be the greatest womaniser the world can muster,” O'Hara groaned. “He is, trust me,” Lewis said. “Want some tea?” Paddy offered. “Yep,” Lewis said. “Nah, mate,” Jordan said “Anything else?” “Well,” Paddy opened some cupboards, “there is tea, there is water, there is hot water and there is a bit of milk.” Paddy smiled at Jordan. “A lot of choice,”Jordan said. “Water.” Paddy filled a cup with water and passed it to him. “I didn't know you Irish were mad about tea,” Jordan commented, taking a gulp of water. “Tea is good, cheap, and gives flavour to water.” O'Hara said, standing up and stretching. “Orange juice is good as well, beer as well, also heard alcohol is great for cuts.” Jordan laughed. O'Hara glared at him, “Is that your way of communicating?” “No, now sit down.” O'Hara walked over to him. “Woah, bit fast; only known you for a few minutes,” Jordan laughed. “Yeah, well, life's short.” O'Hara smiled, carrying on the joke. “I like this guy.” Jordan laughed again, punching O'Hara lightly in the chest and smiling at Lewis. Lewis, Paddy and Jordan sat on the floor in front of O'Hara. “This is just a quick thing, I'm not going to give my big rousing speech yet; Do you three know two thugs, a jet pilot, and a man who can jump out of a helicopter?” O'Hara asked the group. “I know some thugs,” Lewis said. “I know a jet pilot,” Paddy said. “One of my army contacts has just got kicked out of the army, I think he was a SEA,” Jordan said. “That's just brilliant, everything is now a lot easier,” O'Hara laughed. “Anyway, who's for tea?” 30th of July 2013 Bar in New York “Jason?” Jordan walked up to a big American, muscular and tall. He was sitting at the bar, drinking a pint of beer. “Yes?” Jason said. “It's me, Jordan.” Jason turned around slowly. “I thought our contract was terminated. You told me if I contacted you, I'd die. ” “Well, you haven't contacted me, have you?” Jordan said, laughing as he sat down next to him/ “Anyway, why were you discharged? You didn't pussy out of an operation, did you?” Jordan said. 21st of March 2013 Kabul As SEAL Team Six hit the ground, the whole street exploded. Jason felt a sharp pain in his chest and doubled over as the world around him swirled into blackness. He drifted awake to the sound of gunshots and shouting before going back under again. He woke up again, drenched in sweat. He groggily pulled himself to his feet. A middle aged Taliban operative was filming dead American soldiers as a girl was standing behind him, his daughter. The man hadn't spotted him yet. Jason immediately brought his rifle to bear. “Hands up!” He shouted. The man turned round, grabbed the girl and thrust a pistol into the side of her head. He started shouting Arabic at him, or Pashto, or whichever language they spoke here. Jason was concussed and he only just now realised that this man was his target. There was no way was he going to miss. He fired two shots through the girl into the man, killing them both. As they collapsed to the ground, he looked up and saw the press helicopter. 25th of March 2013 American Military Base “I'm sorry, Jason, you shot a girl on live TV. I know you were taking the target out, but you should know the rules of engagement better than any man out in the field,” the Major said. “So- so you're dishonourably discharging me?” Jason gasped, still in pain from his injuries. “Yes, I'm sorry. I wish I could do more for you but...” the Major trailed off. “This war's been hard-pressed to gain support for as-is, and this-” he pointed at the still image of the dead girl from the news cast. “This could undo YEARS of progress we've made. This isn't just a war we're fighting out there, it's a war others are fighting back home to make sure we get a chance to do what we do best. You knew this when you signed up, you knew this when you pulled that trigger.” He sighed and looked down at his feet. “I'm sorry it had to end this way, but we've got no other choice. Dismissed.” Jason saluted and marched out of the majors room. He knew they were just saving face, but the sting of betrayal still stuck with him. 30th of July 2013 Bar in New York “Tough break, mate.” Jordan said. There was a pause. “Say how would you like to take some money from the American government and in turn hurt the American army, ey?” “Keep talking,” Jason said. “Well, can you jump out of a helicopter?” Jordan said. “What?” Jason asked. “Well, can you?” Jordan asked again, standing up, Jason downed his beer and followed him out of the bar. “Yeah, I guess." "That's great, mate." Jordan turned round to Jason as they walked onto the street. He passed Jason O'Hara's house number. "See me there, bring no one. And if you don't come, I'll find you and I'll kill you." Jordan said smiling. "Alright." Jason said as he read the card. "See you later." 4th of August Night club in Telford, Shropshire Lewis walked past the dancing people to a series of dimly lit booths on the back wall. A group of young men were gathered, and some women sat on the men's knees, looking just a little bit too interested in their conversation. On the round table in between them sat some vodka glasses. Lewis walked up to one of the men. "Tom?" He shouted over the music. "Yeah, mate, who's asking?" Tom shouted back. "Cap'n Jack." Lewis said loudly, giving a mock salute. "Cap'n Jack?" Tom laughed. Lewis never quite knew why he had been given that name. His name wasn't Jack and he was a lieutenant for most of the time he'd known Tom. "I need to talk to you in private." Lewis couldn't stand the rhytmic oscillation of the compressed bassline playing in the background. "Oh, alright," Tom said. He stood up with a vodka glass in hand. "BOTTOMS UP!" He shouted, pouring the contents directly into his eye. "JESUS CHRIST!" Lewis shouted. 4th of August 2013 Back alley in Telford "So you want a gunman?" Tom said, rubbing his eye, as he led Lewis to his car. "Yes. You know you'll go blind doing that?" Lewis asked. "Na, that's something else you're thinking off." Tom laughed. "Anyway, run me through the guys." "Well, this Irish guy is looking to pull off the heist of the century, can't turn down the offer. J-Dog's there too," Lewis said. "I never said I'd turn it down. Also J-Dog's the mad Aussie who charged that emplacement alone, right?" Tom said as he walked up to his Ford Fiesta. "Very same." "Okay, so who's your other gunman?" "That's where I need you. Do you know where Gav lives?" Lewis walked up to Tom as Tom started to put the key into the lock. "Gavin Lloyd Jones?" Tom asked as he kept forcing the key into the lock without it turning "Stupid, bloody key." "Yeah, him," Lewis said, standing back. Tom put his elbow through the window and opened the door through the inside. "I'll take you to him, I know where he lives." He looked at his bent key, no wonder it didn't work. He looked at Lewis. "Do you know how to hot wire a car?" "We'll take mine." 7th of August Tripoli "Cem on, Rick, how can you pass out an offer like this?" Paddy said as they walked down the street. "Like this, no, I've got a perfectly good job out here." Rick stopped as Paddy grabbed him. Paddy towered over Rick. Rick was about five foot five, but Paddy knew Rick was a pretty dangerous guy in his own right. "What's your job then, shipping some less then reputable characters around Africa?" Paddy asked. "I do a cheap flight for criminals and refugees, so I'm a good guy." Rick said, not sounding entirely sure of himself. "Think about it! Four and a half billion dollars, when are you going to get that deal again?" Rick stayed silent. "When you and your entourage need to disappear into Africa..." Paddy sighed, he had to try a different tact. "You know, O'Hara wanted the best pilot I knew, and I came straight to you. But I don't think you're good enough, actually." Paddy started to walk away, he knew Rick's honour was a big thing for him. "Now you wait just a minute, Paddy, I'm one of the best, if not THE best. I landed a Dakota, circa 1940, at a Somalian airstrip with half of its wing hanging off," Rick said proudly. "Well, you're perfect then, let's go." Paddy grabbed his arm. "Hey, wait!" Rick too a long sigh as Paddy took a pause in his step. "Alright then. But only under one condition.”