The Soccer Team

A motorbike skids in front of the chauffeur driven Merc. A hooded man in a soccer shirt (black and white stripe of Juventus or Newcastle Brown) swivels round with Uzi.

The tyres puncture.
The Merc swerves.

A man in the red and black of AC Milan emerges from behind a tree with a pump action rifle.

A bullet shatters the side window.
The driver flops down.

A third and fourth man both in the Chelsea strip come behind the Merc showering bullets.

The back door on the passenger side opens. The South American General jumps out.

Weighed down by a row of medals, the SA General staggers a few yards.

A fifth man (in Real Madrid strip) aims his pistol.

The bullet speeds towards the forehead of the SA dictator.

The simulation ends with a shot of the crowd roaring from the San Sero stadium.


Returning to that motel room in the skies where the spooks are twiddling their thumbs:

First Voice: And they call themselves the Soccer Team?

Second Voice: Yes, it appears they are ex-Bosnia.

First Voice: Must have slipped through the net during the roundup of atrocities.

Third Voice: In that case, I am sure our department will find a use for them.

Second Voice: I believe they are already in the process of drawing up the feasibility study.