and start shaking your butt, just like Jason does. Do it right now , Fazzo, if you want to get the drone back.'
With the end to his torment apparently in sight, and his father's diktat to do exactly as instructed fresh in the memory, Fazzo meekly unbuckled his belt and complied. His humiliation was now complete and total.
While Fazzo was otherwise engaged, setting a commendable butt-shaking rhythm under trying circumstances, Jamie carefully piloted the drone downwards. He cut the electric motor for the last few feet of the descent, so as to minimise downdraft from the rotor blades and, with the aid of the on-board camera, let it float down gently so that the four adhesive coated feet landed squarely on top of the C4 envelope.
'Okay, well done,' said Annie. 'Now we'll see if the rest of the plan works. Can you start the drone again and then bounce it up and down a couple of times? Just to make sure the envelope is stuck on properly.'
'Good, now take it a few feet up off the ground, tilt the camera down and do a three sixty pan so we can check if all of the feet are still attached to the envelope. That looks pretty good to me, captain. Bring the drone back to mission control.'
'Okay, but I'm going to have to take it slow,' said Jamie. 'I'm scared this gusting cross wind, plus the extra drag force, could rip the envelope off the feet.'
'Right, but remember not to fly it straight here, just in case they have somebody else hidden inside the park, who might see the direction the drone takes.'
Using the on-board camera, beaming live pictures to Annie's laptop, Jamie carefully piloted the drone up and away from the public toilet. He followed a low altitude, zig-zag course which carefully skirted round the pond, before rising up and banking over a stand of trees and the rusty spike-top fence, marking the eastern boundary of the park. Back at the landing zone behind the garages, Annie ripped the envelope from the feet of the drone and checked that it contained five hundred pounds, while Jamie quickly stowed the device in the boot of the car.
Five minutes later Fazzo's father discovered him still bending over, with trousers around his ankles, at the entrance to the Gents toilet.
'What the fuck do you think you're doing, standing outside the bogs waggling your bare backside around like some fuckin' arse bandit?' roared Duff senior.
'I don't know, da. The bossy woman told me I had to do it.'
'What woman? There isn't any woman here, you idiot.'
'There was, I swear, da. My phone rang and I thought it was you, but when I answered it was her again shouting orders at me again. I wanted to tell her to fuck off, but you told me I had to do whatever she said, so we could get the drone back. So that's what I've been doing.'
'Never mind that, where's my drone?'
'I don't know, da,' whimpered Fazzo, as he looked around frantically for possible escape routes.
'And what about my money?'
'I don't know about that either. I think the drone maybe came down and took the envelope away somewhere. But I'm not sure, because …'
'Don't talk shite. How could a drone possibly take the envelope away?'
'But you heard her, da. The woman said it was to be a fair swap, didn’t she? The drone for the money.'
'Yeah, but she lied , didn't she? Thanks to you, Danny the idiot, we don't have the drone, the iPhone or the controller. And, to put the tin lid on it, we've now been shafted out of five hundred quid. I make that a total loss of two grand, more or less. I don't fucking believe it.'
At that point Fazzo's phone chirped, announcing a new text message.
'You better check it,' said his father sarcastically. 'You've maybe got a hot date lined up in cubicle three of the shit house.'
Fazzo fumbled to find his phone and then stared at the screen in horror.
The text message read, 'It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Fazzo. Thanks a bunch for the five hundred and, by the way, you might want to
With the end to his torment apparently in sight, and his father's diktat to do exactly as instructed fresh in the memory, Fazzo meekly unbuckled his belt and complied. His humiliation was now complete and total.
While Fazzo was otherwise engaged, setting a commendable butt-shaking rhythm under trying circumstances, Jamie carefully piloted the drone downwards. He cut the electric motor for the last few feet of the descent, so as to minimise downdraft from the rotor blades and, with the aid of the on-board camera, let it float down gently so that the four adhesive coated feet landed squarely on top of the C4 envelope.
'Okay, well done,' said Annie. 'Now we'll see if the rest of the plan works. Can you start the drone again and then bounce it up and down a couple of times? Just to make sure the envelope is stuck on properly.'
'Good, now take it a few feet up off the ground, tilt the camera down and do a three sixty pan so we can check if all of the feet are still attached to the envelope. That looks pretty good to me, captain. Bring the drone back to mission control.'
'Okay, but I'm going to have to take it slow,' said Jamie. 'I'm scared this gusting cross wind, plus the extra drag force, could rip the envelope off the feet.'
'Right, but remember not to fly it straight here, just in case they have somebody else hidden inside the park, who might see the direction the drone takes.'
Using the on-board camera, beaming live pictures to Annie's laptop, Jamie carefully piloted the drone up and away from the public toilet. He followed a low altitude, zig-zag course which carefully skirted round the pond, before rising up and banking over a stand of trees and the rusty spike-top fence, marking the eastern boundary of the park. Back at the landing zone behind the garages, Annie ripped the envelope from the feet of the drone and checked that it contained five hundred pounds, while Jamie quickly stowed the device in the boot of the car.
Five minutes later Fazzo's father discovered him still bending over, with trousers around his ankles, at the entrance to the Gents toilet.
'What the fuck do you think you're doing, standing outside the bogs waggling your bare backside around like some fuckin' arse bandit?' roared Duff senior.
'I don't know, da. The bossy woman told me I had to do it.'
'What woman? There isn't any woman here, you idiot.'
'There was, I swear, da. My phone rang and I thought it was you, but when I answered it was her again shouting orders at me again. I wanted to tell her to fuck off, but you told me I had to do whatever she said, so we could get the drone back. So that's what I've been doing.'
'Never mind that, where's my drone?'
'I don't know, da,' whimpered Fazzo, as he looked around frantically for possible escape routes.
'And what about my money?'
'I don't know about that either. I think the drone maybe came down and took the envelope away somewhere. But I'm not sure, because …'
'Don't talk shite. How could a drone possibly take the envelope away?'
'But you heard her, da. The woman said it was to be a fair swap, didn’t she? The drone for the money.'
'Yeah, but she lied , didn't she? Thanks to you, Danny the idiot, we don't have the drone, the iPhone or the controller. And, to put the tin lid on it, we've now been shafted out of five hundred quid. I make that a total loss of two grand, more or less. I don't fucking believe it.'
At that point Fazzo's phone chirped, announcing a new text message.
'You better check it,' said his father sarcastically. 'You've maybe got a hot date lined up in cubicle three of the shit house.'
Fazzo fumbled to find his phone and then stared at the screen in horror.
The text message read, 'It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Fazzo. Thanks a bunch for the five hundred and, by the way, you might want to
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