It had been in the planning stages for quite a while and now that the plan was coming close to fruition, they were suprisingly nervous. The English bastard had it coming for sometime now. He had no place poking his foxhound like nose into their business. They loaded up their guns and drove the Vauxhall out.
Silence reigned in the car. They were men on a mission with history.
The house at No. 1 Plein 1813 had been acquired by the British Government in 1984. It stood as a symbol of the enemy in their minds and their biggest one was about to be eliminated.
British Ambassador Sykes was looking forward to his day at work. His office had almost made a breakthrough to get the main man responsible for financing the Irish bastards in Holland. He was eager to get on with it.
Karel had had a lovely time last night with his girlfriend. He was only 19 but had got the job of valet six months back. Luckily the 'Big Man' as he referred to the Ambassador was a good bloke. He was saving money to go on that trip to India which he had always dreamt about. Another six months to go is what he thought....
The Big Man walked through the door and waved a good morning to Karel. Karel was walking one step behind the Big Man but ensured that he got there just in time to open the door of the Rolls for him. Sykes got in and seated himself comfortably.
The bullets came fast and furious. Four bullets. One in the chest, one each in the shoulder(s) and one in the stomach. Karel was shot near the heart and one on the shoulder.
The blood flowed, much like the blood of their mates in Belfast, thought the two men as they fled the scene.
Inspired from this age old newspaper article here.
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