Outlaws: Inside the Violent World of Biker Gangs (39 page)

BOOK: Outlaws: Inside the Violent World of Biker Gangs
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He had to seize the initiative. He knew that, so long as he got them inside the room at the right angle, he could barge the full member right out of the window and onto the street, three floors below. Then it would just be him and the prospect. The third man was small, skinny and didn’t seem to have much fight in him so Boone wrote him out of the equation altogether.

In the hotel corridor, the two Angels waited either side of the door as Boone opened it and then hustled him inside, following close behind.
Shit
. Now he was the one with his back to the window. He needed to come up with a new plan. And fast. The commotion startled Sally who had been sound asleep in bed and she immediately assumed her
boyfriend had brought back yet another load of biker friends for a late night drinking session, as he had done so many times before. It was the last straw.

‘Fuck this for a laugh,’ she screamed, sitting up in the half-light. ‘I’m fucking off out of here. I’m going home. I’m not going to let you party in the room until all hours for another night!’

Boone was usually calm in the face of storm but this was a serious situation and he felt the pressure. ‘Shut the fuck up, bitch,’ he retorted. ‘This is a Hell’s Angel here. I could be in big fucking trouble.’

Sally was stunned by his outburst and immediately started apologising, but it turned out that the Angel was even more shocked by what Boone had said.

‘You can’t talk to women like that,’ he gasped, then turned to Sally and began to apologise for the intrusion. Whatever he had planned, he clearly wasn’t going to do it with Sally around so after apologising some more he suggested they all leave the room and go to the foyer to get a drink.

With surveillance cameras in every corner Boone did his best to ensure they were captured on film wherever they went. Convinced that he was going to be ambushed at any moment, he was determined to take at least one of them with him. Although he was in mortal danger he still felt loyal to the biker code. Calling the police or asking the staff to help was a non-option. The most he was willing to do was ensure that his killers were caught on camera. If they got convicted of his murder because of that, no one could say it was anything to do with him.

The group found an area in the atrium with some patio
chairs, sat down and ordered more drinks. Boone turned to the man who had been accompanying the Angels who up until that point had said almost nothing.

‘What are you then? A prospect? A hangaround or what?’

‘No, I am just a friend of the club.’

‘A what?’

‘A friend of the club.’

‘Sounds like you’re not very much of anything at all then.’

The man’s lip began to curl with anger. ‘I’ll tell you exactly what I am,’ his chest started to swell, ‘I am the biggest cocaine dealer in all of Sweden.’

Boone could only hope the cameras had been wired for sound and were picking up every word. ‘Did you say cocaine?’

‘Yes, the biggest cocaine dealer in all of Sweden; isn’t that right, Joergen?’

The full patch Angel nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yes, the biggest of them all.’

‘Well then,’ said Boone, leaning in close so he could whisper, ‘you’d better get some out.’

The more coke they snorted the more confident they all became. Thanks to his time in Canada and 1,001 biker parties ever since, it took a serious amount of cocaine for Boone to lose focus. The others were coping less well, especially the prospect. After an hour or so his eyes were rolling all over the place and he looked like he was about to pass out.

Somehow the subject turned to other clubs in Scandinavia and Boone explained that he had regularly spent time in the company of Bandidos.

‘Ah yes, we fought a war with them,’ said the Angel. ‘It was a difficult time. We had to kill many of them.’

The topic kept coming up and increasingly, Boone got the impression that the Angel was claiming that he had been involved in the biker war himself.

‘How old are you,’ asked Boone.

‘Twenty-six,’ came the reply.

‘For fuck’s sake, you must have been, what, eleven when that war broke out? You weren’t part of it at all.’

‘No but I remember it.’

‘You were still at school.’

‘Well I heard about it. It was very high profile.’

‘Bullshit! I’ll tell you something. I was there. I was part of that war. I got shot at in Denmark. And your lot were a bunch of fucking cowards! You murdered a friend of mine. Joe was my pal. You cornered him and put your guns inside his bullet-proof jacket and emptied both clips. That’s how heroic your lot were.’

‘I don’t know anything about that.’

‘But it was your lot that did it!’

‘I didn’t know them. I don’t know who was responsible.’

‘Whatever.’

Boone was becoming increasingly belligerent. He wasn’t trying to belittle the Angel, but he had decided to take control of the situation. It was clear that he was the elder and more experienced MC member in the group and he wanted to ensure that no one there forgot it. Also, it got to him that the Angel had never heard of the Warwickshire Pagans, a club that had been such a huge part of Boone’s life and that he still felt enormous loyalty towards.

It took a little more time, a few more drinks and a lot
more coke for the mood to mellow out once again and in the end, the drinkers departed on relatively friendly terms.

‘We’ll come and see you tomorrow and then you can visit the clubhouse and talk to us about all of this, about your time in the Outlaws,’ said the Angel.

‘Yeah, no problem,’ said Boone. ‘But it was all a very long time ago.’

‘We’ll come anyway. You can tell us about other chapters and what things are like in England.’

‘Okay. But I don’t see that lot any more, so I don’t know much about it at all.’

The second they were out of sight, Boone rushed back to his room. ‘Sal, get your shit together – we’re getting the fuck out of here. We’re off!’ They checked out and got a room in a hotel on the other side of the square with a good view of the entrance of the Krasnapolsky, had a few more stiff drinks while Boone explained what had happened and then passed out.

When Boone woke the following morning, he looked out at the square and saw that it was full of Angels. There were about twenty of them, hanging about in groups of two or three, all fully patched up, and it was pretty obvious that they were looking for him. He knew he had done the right thing: there was no doubt in his mind that he would not have got out of Amsterdam alive if they had managed to track him down.

Had they got hold of him, the Angels would have undoubtedly subjected Boone to a vicious torture session as they did their best to extract as much information as possible about rival gangs and planned operations. The
fact that Boone was genuinely out of the club made little difference – he would still have been considered a valuable source of inside intelligence.

What saved Boone was the fact that the Angel he met was Swedish and unfamiliar with the level of hostility between his own club and the Outlaws, having mostly been at war with the Bandidos. He would have been severely reprimanded the following morning when he told members of the local chapter exactly what had happened. Proper procedure would have been to ring in right away and get reinforcements over to the bar to check things out. He would have been given a reprieve when he explained that he not only knew which hotel the Outlaw was staying in but had even gone so far as to note and confirm the number of his room, but that would have lasted only as long as it took for the rest of the Angels to realise that Boone had already moved out.

As Boone watched them searching for him, he knew that coming out of the club when he did had been for the best. At the same time he knew that the legacy of the time he had spent in the Pagans and the Outlaws and the AOA was never going to leave him. No matter what he said, no matter what he wore or where he went, he was always going to be a one percenter. And that meant he was always going to be a target.

It took a while to come to terms with this but when he did, Boone realised that strangely, he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

GLOSSARY
 

1% (sometimes 1%er) – a diamond-shaped patch worn by members of outlaw motorcycle clubs. It originates from a statement made by the American Motorcycle Association that ninety nine per cent of the country’s bikers were law-abiding individuals.

13 – a common patch or tattoo among outlaw bikers. It refers to ‘M’, the thirteenth letter of the alphabet, and symbolises that the wearer smokes or deals marijuana or methamphetamine. It is also said to represent twelve jurors and one judge, suggesting the wearer is responsible for their own justice.

666 – a patch worn by the Hell’s Angels which stands for Filthy Few Forever (F being the sixth letter of the alphabet), as well as symbolising the mark of the beast and the fact that the biker wearing it is hell-bound.

81 – a metonym for the Hell’s Angels. H is the eighth letter of the alphabet and A is the first letter of the alphabet, thus 81 = HA.

ADIOS – One of several slogans used by the Outlaws MC at the start of their war with the Hell’s Angels. It stands for Angels Die In Outlaw States. No longer used formally in order to protect club members from RICO prosecutions.

AOA – American Outlaws Association, the governing body of the Outlaws.

Ape Hangars – high-rise handlebars common on customised motorcycles.

Back Pack – a full set of colours tattooed on the back. Seen as the ultimate mark of commitment to a club.

Bad Standings – a member who leaves in bad standings is considered an enemy of the club.

Big Four – the collective term for the largest MCs in the world. In order of size, they are the Hell’s Angels, the Bandidos, the Outlaws and the Pagans.

Big House Crew – imprisoned Hell’s Angels.

Big Red Machine – a nickname for the Hell’s Angels. Derived from the fact that the club name is printed in red on a white background.

Bikie – the name used for an outlaw MC member in Australia

Bosozoku – Japanese bikers gangs. Literally translates as ‘violent running tribe’.

Bulldog Bash – the largest biker festival in Europe. Hosted by the Hell’s Angels it takes place in Warwickshire each summer.

Cage – car.

Central Funds – monies collected from MC members and used to support the overall goals of the club.

Chapter – regional division of a larger club. New chapters require a charter from the mother chapter. Each chapter operates as a self-contained unit but is overseen by the overall leaders of the club.

Charlie – the affectionate name for the Outlaws back patch, inspired by the design worn by the Black Rebels Motorcycle Gang in the iconic biker movie
The Wild One
, and featuring a skull and crossed pistons.

Chopper – a customised motorcycle, usually with extended front forks and raised handlebars among other modifications.

Church – the name given to the weekly mandatory meeting of all chapter members. Missing church without good reason will result in a fine.

Citizens – non-club members.

Cleaning House – an outlaw biker metaphor for killing members of one’s own club.

Clubhouse – the HQ of a chapter. Many are heavily fortified and fitted with CCTV cameras. The centre of activities for most club members.

Colours – see ‘Patches’.

Crash Truck – a van which follows club runs and picks up broken-down bikes. May also be used to carry booze, weapons and other supplies.

Cut – see ‘Patches’.

Daytona Beach Bike Week – a major biker festival and rally held in Florida each March which attracts up to half a million visitors. The location has traditionally been a stronghold for the Outlaws MC.

Death’s Head – the name of the logo of the Hell’s Angels. Taken from the insignia of the 85th Fighter Squadron of the US Air Force.

Filthy Few – a patch supposedly awarded to Hell’s Angels who have killed or attempted to kill on behalf of the club. This is denied by Sonny Barger, who insists the patch is merely awarded to those who are first to arrive at a party and last to leave.

Fly Colours – to ride on a motorcycle wearing one’s patches.

FTW – Fuck the World, a common tattoo among outlaw bikers.

The Fort – the nickname of the sprawling detached property that forms the clubhouse of the Wolverhampton chapter of the Hell’s Angels.

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