“If you would just step this way, Sir,” said Motsom guiding him toward the unmarked car with dark tinted windows. The naïve man suspected nothing and was neatly stripped, bound, gagged, and bundled into the trunk by McCrae within seconds. With the kidnap victim out of the way, McCrae quickly set to work on his car—wiring an explosive detonator into the fuel tank and refilling the windshield fluid container and radiator with gasoline.
“Motsom had dragged a bum off the street,” explained McCrae, recounting the event to Boyd. “Gave him fifty quid and told him he just wanted him to drive his car for some reason. And you should have seen his face when Billy gave him a load of new clothes, the one’s we took off the computer bloke. He was really chuffed—sat in that car like he owned it.”
“How do you like your new vehicle, Sir?” Motsom had teased in the tone of a car salesman.
“Very nice mate,” the simpleton beamed, happy to go along with Motsom’s fantasy.
“And would Sir like to go for a little drive.”
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