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The Boyos From Brazil

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A rogue splinter faction of the Provisional IRA - sensing the imminent cessation of operations due to a political understanding with the British government - sets up a recruiting cell in Brazil. Their intent is to utilise the country's immense Catholic populace to continue 'The Cause'.

MI5 have the intelligence, but not the capability. A new special unit is formed: The Special Reconnaissance Regiment. The SRR consists of experienced operators from the secretive '14 Int', who've honed their skills on the mean streets of Ulster. Their objective is not to take the war to the enemy, but let the enemy come to them.


The scruffy youth sat on the bench drinking a can of Stella. The swarthy young man of foreign appearance didn't give him as much as a second glance as he descended the stairs of the block of flats. The youth was listening to his personal stereo and ignored the stranger in the Brazilian football shirt as he strolled past and rounded a corner.

The youth immediately stood up and proceeded to follow from a discrete distance. To the untrained eye, this scenario might well have looked like an imminent mugging. Not so. The youth's headset wasn't pumping Snoop Doggy in to his ears, but rather a running commentary of the most deadly kind. The youth was non other than Corporal Billy 'The Fish' Mackenzie of the SRR, one of the regiment's most experienced operators.

Mackenzie's orders were implicit: no prisoners. The Brazilian's fate was sealed virtually as soon as he got off the Varig flight at Heathrow. He'd been tailed twenty-four hours a day. Nothing had been left to chance. Even the taxi he took on arrival was driven by an operator. His flat was rented from an operator and his milk was delivered by an operator.

Operation Pele was in full swing. The Brazilian turned in to the Underground at Theydon Bois, quickly becoming consumed by the early morning commuter throng. Mackenzie was right on his tail. The Brazilian's bright yellow shirt made him stand out amongst the pinstripe suited masses. His clock was ticking.

After a brief wait, the train rumbled in to the station and both the Brazilian and Mackenzie boarded. Mackenzie's pulse raced. He glanced at his G10® watch - the only clue as to his real identity. Nearly time. It had to be perfect. Seven stops southbound on the Central Line and then hit the target.

After fifteen minutes, the train approached Leytonstone. It was time. As the train braked to a halt, Mackenzie drew his concealed Sig Sauer® P226 pistol, slipped off the safety and moved in for the kill. In one swift movement, Mackenzie spun the Brazilian around and jammed the muzzle under his throat. The look of terror faded in to one of realisation as Mackenzie emptied the entire magazine in to the target's head. Blood and brain matter spattered the carriage and commuters amid screams of confusion and horror.

The train ground to a halt. Mackenzie leaped through the opening doors and raced down the platform for the exit. The blast of fresh air from the street was refreshing. Even more so was the reassuring beat of rotors as the Agusta 109 swept in to view over the nearby parking lot. Mackenzie snapped the caribiner on his hidden abseil rig on to the speed winch and was aloft within seconds. The pitch of the blades changed to a deep throb as the unmarked chopper banked away from the carnage below and sped back to H, all on board smiling with relief at another successful blow to A Causa.


What is astonishing with this particular Clunge work is the fact that not only does it predate the Good Friday Agreement by two years, but that it also predates the formation of the SRR by nearly a decade. It has been said that not only does Clunge formulate governmental policy, but also MoD strategy. The Boyos From Brazil (1996) bears testament to this.


Awesome - Guns & Ammo

Let 'em have it! - The Sun

More gripping stuff from the Clungemeister - The Grauniad

Este livro uma desonra absoluta - Brazilian Embassy