Текст книги "Just Another Day"

Автор книги: Steven Clark

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Chapter 17

The siren of the ambulance going past at speed suddenly brought Luke Johnson back to the present. He must have dozed off and he felt a rise of panic in his guts. How long had he been asleep, where were they?

He had taken his finger off the trigger of the shotgun and had it resting on the trigger guard, just as well really as the sudden realisation of his own vulnerability automatically tightened his trigger finger. The safety catch was off and if he he’d had his finger on the trigger itself, it would definitely have gone off without him intending it to and the back of the car would have been one horrible bloody mess. Was that siren for him, was he compromised in any way?

His captive alongside was still in a state of semi consciousness and would not cause him any bother. He tried to make out that he had been awake all the time. His position directly behind John gave him good cover and it was unlikely that he would have been able to see him dozing.

‘Where are we? What fuckin time is it?’ he growled to John.

‘We’re on the M6 going towards Birmingham, we’re not far from the services at Keele.’ John glanced at his watch; they had been in the car for about an hour since leaving the lorry behind at the Industrial Estate. ‘Just coming up to half past four.’

‘Take a drink out of that bottle of water and then pass it back to me.’

John did as he was ordered. He hoped that some bright spark hadn’t decided to tamper with the bottle. The last thing he wanted while driving was to suddenly feel drowsy because someone had decided to spike the water in the hope that Johnson might fall asleep. He was getting to the point of being past caring in many ways. He was emotionally fatigued and tired because of their ordeal and he just wanted to get away from Johnson. He glanced in the mirror and although it was starting to get dark, he could still see the face of Dave in the semi darkness of the cars interior. He didn’t look good at all and John was becoming increasingly concerned for his colleague.

If they didn’t get out of this soon, Johnson wouldn’t need to top him; he would die anyway through blood loss. The thought had crossed his mind more than once about intentionally crashing the car into one of the motorway bridges. Dave was nearly comatose and probably wouldn’t feel it too much. The thought of the shotgun going off  was what dissuaded him from carrying it out for real; that and the realisation that he might just cause a motorway pile up and be responsible for more than their own deaths made him concentrate hard on staying awake.

Johnson took a swig of water and splashed some more on his face. He looked across at the battered copper alongside him and, in a rare moment of compassion, or maybe he just wanted to make sure that he had the pleasure of killing him rather than watching him die, also splashed some water on his face and gave him the bottle to drink from.

‘He’re, wake yourself up a bit and drink some of this. What else have we got.’ he said to John, gesturing to the box on the seat alongside the driver.

The powers that be knew it was important to try and keep them all hydrated and nourished to some extent and had given john a box of goodies when they gave him the car earlier.

‘There’s a few ‘mars’ bars, some energy bars and some packets of biscuits. There’s also another half a dozen bottles of water and a few packets of crisps.’

‘Give us a couple of ‘mars’ bars and a packet of biscuits.’

John handed them back and saw Johnson toss a chocolate bar to Dave. It hit him on the face and fell onto his lap. He didn’t react at all; he didn’t even flinch when the bar hit him on the nose. After a few seconds he picked it up and, holding it in his right hand, tore the wrapper with his teeth. His left hand was no use to him whatsoever. The sweetness and sugar of the bar revived him slightly and the water eased the dryness of his mouth. He lifted himself slightly and looked out of the window at the encroaching darkness, watching the almost rhythmic monotony of the motorway marker posts flashing past.

Johnson, revived once more with the chocolate and a couple of speed amphetamines, began to take a closer interest in the whereabouts. He had to ditch the car and get another motor. He saw the services sign, Keele, one mile ahead.

‘Right, take the next exit.’

This directive took John a little by surprise.

‘Keele Services? You want me to pull in?’

‘Don’t act so fucking stupid.’ The hilt of the kitchen knife struck him hard on the top of the head. ‘I’m pretty certain our fuckin audience are well aware that we’re coming up to the services. Just get the car off the road before I decide to twat you again.’

Johnson was right; he had only spoken of their intended stopping place for the benefit of his colleagues. He didn’t know why really, the tracker device would tell them exactly where they were and he cursed under his breath as he agreed with his captor. It was a stupid thing to do. He needed to keep Johnson as calm as possible, not wind him up with banal comments. He knew that his judgement was starting to be called into question. He was starting to get desperate himself. He saw the countdown markers rapidly approaching and slowed for the exit.

‘Pull into the car park area over there,’ gestured Johnson pointing to an area where there were not so many cars. The larger car parking area was almost full to bursting.

‘Okay, that will do. Now leave the engine on and we’ll just sit here for a little while. Let’s just have a little look at who’s coming and going.’

It was getting close to the evening rush hour and the services area was a mass of wagons, motorbikes, vans and cars. It suited him well as the more vehicles there were, the more choice he would have when he came to pick his next victim. He also knew it would be much more difficult for his pursuers to know where he was and what vehicle he had. The biggest problem he had at the moment was to try and dodge the chopper. He knew it would be hovering somewhere close.

It would be more difficult for the camera to pick them up now as it was getting quite dark. The infra red was good for identifying a lone suspect or an individual car but now, with hundreds of people and cars around, it would be almost impossible to identify the right vehicle. The pilot of the helicopter had taken the opportunity earlier when Johnson was busy munching his way through the pizzas at the Industrial estate to return to base to refuel. They had at least another couple of hours of flying time left before it was necessary to land and fuel up again.

‘Hotel Charlie One to control receiving over.’

‘Yes go ahead, pass your message.’

‘Target vehicle stopped in the parking area near to the petrol station of the services. All persons remain in the vehicle at this time.’

‘Roger message received, thank you, standing by.’

‘What d’you reckon Paul, any chance of getting closer to him with our ground patrols?’

Chief superintendent Mckay was sat on the edge of the desk in the Forward Command Post speaking to his second in command, Chief Inspector Paul Wilson.

‘I don’t think we can risk it boss. He was very, very explicit in his instructions. He will definitely kill Dave Watkins if he gets even a sniff of the patrols on the ground. He needed Dave earlier when there was just the two of them but now that John Walsh is on board, He could get rid of him anytime he likes. He’s such an evil bastard; he might do it anyway just to make a point.’

‘You’re right Paul, tell all the patrols to maintain their present positions while we try and figure where we go from here.’

He left his deputy to update the log and got up from the desk and walked around to the dispositions board taking in his resources and pondering his next move.

Johnson had the whip hand, particularly when he tied Dave Watkins neck to the end of the shotgun; that took them all by surprise. Cunning and evilness went hand in hand when it came to this animal. Problem now was, how to get them out of this without losing either of them.

They heard the command almost at the same time as Steve Wilson in the helicopter began to speak.

‘Hotel Charlie One to control, be advised that target vehicle is moving off. Repeat, target vehicle on the move.’

Johnson had been biding his time weighing up his next course of action when he spotted his intended target.

‘Right, John boy, over there; drive over there quickly; behind the white van.’

John had kept the engine running and did as he was ordered. He pulled in a few yards behind the van.

‘Hotel Charlie One to control, have lost site of the target vehicle, it has driven under the roof canopy of the petrol station, repeat, no eye ball on the target vehicle at this time.’ Roger that’ came the reply in his helmet.

Chief Superintendent McKay was listening intently to the instructions being barked at John from the gunman. He didn’t like it, but he had no option at present. The eye in the sky was their only means of keeping Johnson in sight. Trying to get anyone closer at the moment might well result in one, or both, of his officers being killed.

‘Think Johnson is about to make his move; he’s definitely going to ditch the police car Paul, let all patrols know that the target vehicle is likely to change in the next few minutes.’ He didn’t need to tell his colleague what to do; he was ahead of him and relaying the information before he had finished speaking.

‘Fucking move it. Right up its arse. Get up right behind the Transit, before it moves off. You lose that van and I’ll fucking carve you.’ John needed no second bidding as he saw the glint from the blade. He saw the driver of the Ford Transit van ambling back from the kiosk having paid for his petrol. He dreaded the next instruction as he knew they would shortly have another hostage to add to their collection.

‘Right, out the fucking car now, move it you fucking plod or I’ll blow your  head off here. I don’t need you; I’ll have somebody else any second now.’ Johnson was moving quickly dragging Dave with him on the end of his collar. John was out of the car standing at the front and imploring his injured friend to move as quickly as he could.

‘Dave, c’mon, out quick, get out of the car.’

The control room was listening to the conversation from within the unmarked police car. It suddenly stopped as they got out and closed the car doors. Silence once more. There were no microphones on the outside of the car from which to listen. They were now blind and entirely reliant on the helicopter for further information. Johnson was acting very aggressively for the benefit of the listening ears. He knew they would be less likely to force any kind of confrontation at the petrol station if they thought he would kill his tethered captive. He was using their reluctance as part of his plan to get away, take another hostage and be rid of the bugs. The next vehicle wouldn’t have any listening ears and he would be able to sort out his exit strategy without further hindrance. He allowed himself a little smile.

‘Hotel Charlie One, still no eyeball on target vehicle. Continues to be hidden from view under canopy of the petrol station.’

‘Roger. All patrols, all patrols from control, be advised, consider that occupants of unmarked police car have decamped from the police car and are about to change vehicles. Visual and audio communications lost, believed white transit van under canopy of petrol station is intended target vehicle for kidnapper and hostages.’ No sooner had the control room finished their commentary, when the helicopter crew continued.

‘Hotel Charlie One to control, confirm white transit van exiting from the petrol station at speed. Southbound carriageway towards Stafford, repeat, Southbound at speed Stafford direction.’

The news of the transit van’s speed and direction were conveyed to all the ground patrols and the helicopter used its camera to try and identify the registration number. Darkness was closing in and it would be more difficult for the chopper. One thing that would make it easier was the type of van they were following. The transit, being a commercial type van had no windows other than the front and back, the helicopter could get in a fair bit closer without being seen and that would aid the camera in obtaining the number.

For the same reason that the darkness would now aid the helicopter a little, Lee Evans in the unmarked armed response vehicle was also given the green light to take up a closer position to their target. They had previously been following the unmarked police car about three quarters of a mile back. They had been prevented from getting any closer by the Command team in case they were seen by Johnson. Now, he wouldn’t be able to make out one set of headlights from another and this meant that they could get within a dozen or so vehicles of the transit van with little likelihood of being spotted.

Progress was slow though. They couldn’t use their ‘blues’ at all. In the developing darkness, they would be seen by Johnson long before they could get close enough. They had to battle through the traffic like everyone else, cursing the slower moving vehicles. Even when flashing the headlights to warn traffic of their intention to overtake, some drivers were bloody minded in that, having no idea that it was an unmarked police car trying to pass; ‘fuck him’, they thought, ‘bollocks to him in his flashy black Range Rover, he’ll just have to go the same speed as me.’

Once or twice, to ease the way, ‘Skip’ Lee would tell the driver to give a quick flash of the blues fitted behind the radiator grill. He knew he was taking a bit of a gamble, but he reasoned that as the lights were fitted low down, there was a good chance that they wouldn’t be seen by anybody other than the one or two vehicles directly in front. He had to make up time and get closer to their new target vehicle. The stakes had just been upped once more and now that there was another hostage, and a civilian one at that, he knew that the time was fast approaching when the situation would have to be resolved one way or another.

Ged Duggan, sat in the back, was all too aware that it might shortly be the case where he was given the instruction to shoot Johnson even though he had the shotgun tied to Dave’s neck. Now, the police could not take the chance that the civilian hostage would be killed alongside the two officers. Quite simply, the police officers, however horrific the thought, would be considered as expendable in order that the life of the civilian could be saved. If Ged got the opportunity in a like situation as before where the target vehicle was disabled and he had a shot. He would have to take it. He’d be ordered to take it. The Commanders would not allow the transit van or its passengers to move away again. He was trying not to think of what lay ahead. He closed his eyes and tried to doze. He needed to be completely alert if that order came. But, try as he might, he could not get the image out of his mind.

It had to be a head shot. No other would guarantee instant death. That was the simple requirement. Sudden and instant death. No ifs, no buts. If he missed, and hit him in the body, he would not die instantly and would still be able to fire the shotgun. In his mind, he saw Johnson’s head explode. He also saw Dave’s head being torn from his shoulders almost at the same time as the two shotgun shells ripped through his neck as Johnson pulled the trigger in his death throes.

He would take the shot. No question. He was a professional and like all his colleagues, he knew that however sickening the situation would be, an innocent civilian life must take precedence over that of a police officer. He prayed that if and when the time came, maybe, just maybe the maniac he was pursuing might just have taken his finger off the trigger for a moment. Just a second would do. That’s all he’d need, one second. He shuddered a little in the back seat. He was warm and cosy with the heating on, even so, a little shiver ran down his spine.

They were making slow but steady progress and they were all quiet. Even swifty the joker in the pack was unusually silent. Each was aware that it wouldn’t be long now. Each was deep in his own contemplation as they received regular updates from the helicopter as to their position in relation to the van up ahead. Romeo Victor Two had made excellent progress in catching up with their colleagues. They had been further back and were able to use their sirens and lights to close the gap. They confirmed their position of two hundred yards behind Romeo Victor One.

‘Romeo Victor One to all patrols, be advised we have eyeball on the transit van. Nearside lane eight vehicles ahead behind the tanker lorry. Romeo Victor One to Hotel Charlie One, please confirm that this is in fact the target vehicle.’

‘Hotel Charlie One to Romeo Victor 1, that’s a Roger, target vehicle is white transit van, confirm registration number as Mike Delta Five Three Uniform Foxtrot Golf.’

As the various messages were being relayed, both the helicopter and pursuit vehicles saw the transit indicating to leave the Motorway. The Services at Stafford were rapidly approaching and the van slowed and moved into the access road for the services. The big yellow ‘M’ of the McDonalds sign flashed by. The two response vehicles were no more than a hundred yards or so behind and followed the target vehicle as it drove past the parking area for ordinary cars and on towards the commercial vehicle area.

The van drove around for a minute or two and the watching officers who had pulled in amongst the normal cars, watched as it slowly circled as though looking for something or someone. After a few minutes, it pulled up at the far end of the lorry parking area well out of the way of the normal wagons, stopped and turned off its headlights. There was some discussion within the two vehicles and the helicopter crew as to the suspicious nature of the van driving round previously. They concluded that the occupants were watching to see if they had been followed, once satisfied that they had not, the van had then settled on its out of the way location as some means of hiding from any possible pursuers. As well as the ARV’s watching the scene unfold at ground level, the Command team back at base had been viewing the pictures from the force helicopter and deciding their next action.

‘Skip’ Lee of Romeo Victor One spoke for all of them when he said,

‘RV1 to control, this looks like the best chance we’re going to get to contain this situation. Request authority to implement hard stop and prevent van from moving off again.’

They knew they had to make an instant decision and both the control room Commanders looked at each other. Paul Wilson spoke first.

‘Sergeant Lee is right Andrew. There’s not likely to be a better opportunity. I know it’s very risky for Dave Watkins and John Walsh, but we’ve got to act now. We’ve got to hope to God that we can save someone. There will be enough criticism that Johnson has now got a civilian hostage with him, if we allow that van to move off again, there’s no telling when we will be able to stop him again. The car park is a good option Andrew. Let’s bring this to an end now.’

Chief Superintendent McKay was not one to shy away from making difficult decisions and if it all went pear shaped, he knew the vultures who sit on high would be circling and there would be plenty of ‘Should haves’ in the inevitable enquiry that would follow. ‘You should have done this Superintendent or you should have considered that’. Well, that was for the future, now, he had to make that call. He prayed that he would get it right. His instincts told him his colleague was right. He nodded back to Paul Wilson almost at the same time as he said into the radio,

‘Chief Superintendent McKay to Armed Response Units, that’s a Go. Repeat Go at your command. You have the authority to use lethal and deadly force if necessary. Good luck gentlemen.’

The skippers and crews of the two Response vehicles had been anticipating their green light and had very quickly devised their attack plan. The transit van was approximately one hundred yards away from the two assault vehicles. The side of the van was facing their cars and it was decided that they would both drive at the van at speed and with about 30 yards or so to go, they would peel off in a ‘Y’ formation so that one ARV was stopped about ten yards from the front of the van whilst the other  would take up a similar position at the back of the van.

The plan would ensure that the occupants of the two Response units could be quickly out of their respective vehicles, take cover behind their own cars and, most importantly of all, make sure that if and when they had to shoot, they were not in each others line of fire. The ARV at the front would take out the two front tyres; likewise, the other would do the same at the back of the van. Speed, aggression and surprise was the essence of a successful operation and they both realised that there would be no turning back or second chances once the decision had been made.

Lee Evans was the senior officer on the ground and it would be his decision as to when to go. The eight officers were in direct communication with each other and all dialogue would be recorded as a matter of course for the de-brief after the incident was closed. If it all went well, there would be plenty of ‘well dones’ all round. If it didn’t, well. They weren’t going to contemplate that. They’d practised this type of scenario many times before. The next few minutes would determine if it was a job well done or not.

‘Ready Jos?’

‘As ready as we’ll ever be Skip.’

The relative quietness of the control rooms suddenly erupted as the adrenaline of the two crews kicked in.

Go Go Go,’ shouted the ground commander as the two powerful Range Rovers rapidly gained speed and hurtled across the gap with headlights blazing. The driver of the Motor Home just about to drive across the front of Romeo Victor One stood on the brakes as he looked open mouthed at the black flash that almost took his front bumper off. The two vehicles ate up the gap. Seventy, fifty, thirty yards to go, one swerved left, the other right. Screeched to a halt. Four officers near to the back of the transit, four at the front. Four flat tyres on the van.

The whole incident had taken about forty five seconds from start to finish. As the last of the tyres deflated, the helicopter lit up the van from above and the sky shout operated once more.

‘You in the van, you are surrounded by heavily armed police officers. Throw out your weapons and release your hostages.’

Suddenly, a head came into view from the drivers’ position in the van. The person had been laying across the front seat and could not be seen initially. The transit van was lit up like Blackpool Illuminations from the full beam headlights of the ARV’s and the searchlight from above. There was a few moments silence.

The two messages came into the control room almost simultaneously.

‘Hotel Charlie One to control, The infra red on the camera is picking up only one heat source from inside the vehicle. Repeat, the only heat source in the van is from the driver’s position. Not picking up any images from the back of the vehicle.’

‘Excuse me Chief Superintendent McKay,’ said the control room operator manning the telephones. ‘I’ve got the Force Incident Manager for Cheshire Constabulary on the line sir, says that one of their Traffic patrols has just picked up a distressed female on the North bound hard shoulder of the M6 near to Keele Services. She had her hands tied behind her back with a cable tie and tape across her mouth. She’s in quite a hysterical state. The only thing she has been able to tell them so far is that she was bundled out of her car by a man and there was somebody else who was holding a shotgun to the head of another man. There were three men altogether, one of them dressed in green overalls and trainers.’

Where a few moments before there had been nervous anticipation that the crisis was about to be brought to an end; now, the control room was silent. All eyes were on Chief Superintendent McKay as the implications of the two messages began to sink in. He slowly sat in his chair and brought his hands up to his chin in a prayer like manner. It was only seconds, but it seemed a lot longer before he spoke to his second in command.

‘Paul, three things. One, get the ARV’s to confirm as quickly as possible whether there is any one else in that transit van other than the driver. Two, get as much information from Cheshire as to where and when this took place and Three, get someone to the petrol station at Keele. View their CCTV and find out what the fuck went wrong. As of this minute, we’ve got our armed officers fifty miles away and we haven’t got a fucking clue as to where our hostages and that bastard of a madman are.’

He knew. The Inquisition was about to commence. He walked over to the window and stared out. His career might well be finished. That in itself didn’t bother him. His thoughts now were with his colleagues. He didn’t know the young officer. He did however know John Walsh. He knew him very well indeed.

‘I’m sorry john,’ he said quietly to himself. ‘You’re on your own old friend. I’m sorry I’ve let you down.’ He took a deep breath and turned to his colleague.

‘We might have fucked this one up Paul, but at least it appears that he’s still only got our two officers. I hope to fuck there was no on else in that car when he let the woman go.’

At the very moment that Chief Superintendent McKay was feeling the almost physical pain of serious failure, so Johnson was feeling very smug and happy.

‘What a clever bastard I am’ he said to John as he sat back in the plush seats of the silver coloured BMW X5. ‘I do like these tinted windows Mr Walsh. Gives me a certain feeling of comfort and security. Nice to know that I can look out without any nosey bastard looking in. No police radio’s, no shitty little contraptions to eavesdrop on our polite conversation. Yes I must say; I do like our nice new motor.

Now, home James. Nice and steady. I’ll tell you a little later where we’re going next.