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The English Job

The hardest part had been getting the team together and working, you know, as a team. It’s always the way it goes with these big jobs. You’ve got the couple gloryhounds, and they try to aggravate the quiet guys who are there to do their job, and stuff goes to shit real fast. It took a month to get the egos to flare down and the personalities to mesh, but we were finally ready.

One last big score, and then we can all retire as kings. That’s the plan, anyways.


The hardest part of getting onto an actively-patroled former military base is always security. But we knew, thanks to the power of the Internet, that security was pretty lax here. We’d position a couple snipers out 500 meters or so for overwatch, but with the right gear and some expertly-forged paperwork, they’d think we’re in Her Majesty’s employ. Sure enough, the gate guard let us in without a second glance. With a lift of the gate, our equipment rumbled into RAF Thurleigh.

Once we were inside, we split up. Each member of the squad knew exactly what to go for. We’d planned this out for weeks. One truck starts loading Minis. Another goes for the Quattros. Another for the Nissan S-chassis cars. Our last intel run showed a cache of Cossies, but we stuck with the plan and went for the RX-7’s. It was all going so well, until it wasn’t.


They’d laid a trap for us. One they knew we wouldn’t be able to resist. Side-by-side, a Delta Integrale and a Morgan 4/4. There must’ve been a motion switch, because as soon as Ramirez started winching the Delta onto the hauler both of them blew sky-high. He didn’t have a chance.

Instantly, the quiet evening is shattered with the sounds of gunfire and Astra diesels with two-tone sirens. Everybody split, except for me. I was boxed in by the hulk of Ramirez’ hauler, and six dozen Transit vans. That’s when you and your officers found me, Detective - leaning against the side of a car hauler loaded down with a dozen Alfa Romeo Spiders turned in under your version of Cash For Clunkers.


You’ll never find the rest of my accomplices. And the cars are long gone - they’ve vanished into the darkest recesses of Craigslist, Kijiji, and Gumtree. It doesn’t matter how long you lock me away, I’ll hold my head high knowing that I’ve righted an injustice committed in your country. So, let’s get on with it, Detective. I haven’t got all day - the Top Gear reruns come on in 30 minutes.

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