Hunter reached the junction in a matter of seconds and slung his car at an angle to stop the Vauxhall turning in preventing any costly u-turn. He gripped the steering wheel tightly and braced himself.
Ten seconds later the Astra gunned into view rocking out of a right hand bend and veering towards them.
Hunter gritted his teeth and in one swift movement spun the steering wheel sharply, hitting the accelerator and the brake almost simultaneously. The result was that his car jumped forward into the carriageway giving the impression he was going to deliberately collide.
The action had the desired effect. There was a long screech as the Astra tyres crabbed across the road surface. It slewed sideways, the nearside wheels smashing into the opposite kerb edge.
Hunter could see Ari, the driver, fight with the wheel, trying to straighten out the car as it bounced back into the centre of the road. His actions were in vain. It bucked and scythed violently, whipping into a screaming 180-degree turn before smashing its back end against a concrete lamp stanchion.
Hunter threw open his door, smacked the release button of his seat belt and flung himself out of the car. He instinctively knew Grace would be following.
Ari was as quick in his movement, kicking open his door. It smacked Hunter’s legs and spun him sideways. It gave Ari the few seconds break that he needed and he was out of the blocks like a sprinter on a running track.
Catching his balance Hunter momentarily winced at the pain to his right thigh, but then the adrenaline kicked in and he set off in pursuit.
Ari had gained ten yards on him. Hunter could make out the word SEMTEX in large white letters across the back of his black designer hooded top and couldn’t help think how much he’d like to demolish him once he got hold of him.
Within moments his chest was pumping in and out in rhythm with his arms and legs. His lungs clawed for air as he put in that extra burst. In less than fifty yards Hunter was in grabbing distance and he lashed out with a swift kick. It connected, banging one leg into the other, sending him sprawling into a heap. Hunter was on top of him and wrestling an arm up his back before he had any time to react.
He let out a loud scream as Hunter yanked his shoulder joint against its socket.
“You’re breaking my fucking arm!”
“Think yourself lucky it’s not your neck.” Hunter snarled. “You’re nicked!”
As he turned round to drag his prisoner back he saw for the first time the chaos behind him. Uniform and CID cars were strewn everywhere and Grace was snapping handcuffs on a dishevelled Pervez’s wrists; he was being restrained by Tony Bullars who had been the lead car in the chase prior to the crash.
As Hunter neared, still jamming Ari’s arm up his back, forcing him to walk on his tip-toes, he could see Pervez doubled up, frantically rubbing at his face and moaning loudly.
“What’s the matter with him?” he asked, releasing his prisoner to Mike Sampson who was waiting with snap-on cuffs.
Pervez snapped up his head.
Hunter could see that tears were streaming down his face and that he was having difficulty opening his eyes.
“That fucking bitch has CS’d me,” Pervez moaned.
“Stop rubbing your eyes you’ll only make it worse,” Grace retorted with a smirk, slipping her CS gas canister back into her jacket pocket. She turned to Hunter. “I thought he was going to attack me so I gassed him.”
“Fucking liar I said I was coming quietly.”
Hunter kept a straight face.
“I don’t know Grace, what have I said to you about police brutality and that temper of yours?” He opened the back door of his car and guided Ari onto the rear seat. “I wouldn’t dream of doing anything like that. I don’t know I can’t take you anywhere.”
He turned to see her rolling up her eyes and shaking her head in mock despair and he shot her a wink.
“Well done everyone,” he exclaimed slamming the car door shut. “Let’s wrap this up and get these two back for questioning.”
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Hunter picked up one of the Pakistani passports from his desk, flicked through the inside pages and added a few more notes to his pre-interview record. He set it back down amongst the pile of evidence laid out across his and Grace’s desks.
Upon their return to Barnwell with their prisoners the team had emptied the contents of the Ari and Pervez’s Vauxhall Astra. In the boot they found personal clothing belonging to the pair in three holdalls together with two single journey airline tickets to Allama Iqbal Internationa Airport in Lahore and two Pakistan National passports, which displayed Ari and Pervez’s photographs but under other names.
The Drug Squad informant had been spot on about the brothers making ready to flee the country thought Hunter, as he put the finishing touches to his notes. He looked across at Grace who was still logging the evidence.
The Incident room was empty. DS Mark Gamble and DC Paula Clarke had shot out to Hoyland — to the Hassan’s convenience store; they were going to re-arrest Mohammed and Jilani, now that the Arshads’ were in custody, whilst the other two members of the team DCs Andy France and Alex Mills were still across in Sheffield, trying to determine an address for the brothers. They had refused to divulge their place of abode to the Custody Sergeant and nothing in their possessions helped to highlight one. However they had recovered both the brothers’ mobile phones which were with the technical experts in the hope that they could locate the last spot where a signal was emitted. It was a long shot.
“Ready?” he asked. He and Grace had been given the task of interviewing Ari Arshad whilst Tony Bullars and Mike Sampson had the job of questioning his brother Pervez. They were already in one of the other interview rooms.
Grace nodded.
Hunter pushed back his chair and gathered up his notes. He took a final lingering look at the incident board time-line sequence, confirming and double-checking in his head that he had it all lodged, ready for when he needed to dig in to his memory banks during the interview. He pursed his lips and nodded to himself. He was prepared.
“Okay Grace let’s put this job to bed.”
* * * * *
Ari Arshad presented a cocky look despite the painful pink flesh graze to his right cheek. That had been caused when Hunter had tripped him prior to his arrest and he had already bleated to the Custody Officer that he had been assaulted when he had been booked in.
He was leaning back on the rear legs of his chair, arms folded defensively.
The duty solicitor who had been called in was seated next to him scribbling notes into his legal pad. The minute the two detectives had walked into the room Hunter saw him check his watch and make a note of the time.
Hunter dropped his paperwork and the evidence on the table in dramatic fashion.
It made the solicitor jump and he scowled over his spectacles.
Hunter cracked a false apologetic smile. “Sorry about that,” he said raising his eyebrows and taking his seat opposite. He nodded to Grace and she started the tape recording machine.
Hunter went through the customary preamble to an interview, flicking open his folder even though he knew in his mind he wouldn’t need to refer to it.
“For the tape can I confirm you are Ari Arshad?”
The prisoner exchanged a look with his solicitor who shrugged his shoulders and returned a nod.
Ari rocked slightly on the back legs of his chair. “That’s right, I am the one and only Ari Arshad,” he sniped.
“And not Habib-ur-Begum as it says in the Pakistan National Passport which we found amongst your possessions?”
“No comment.”
“Why were you in possession of a false passport and a one way airline ticket to Pakistan?”
“No comment.”
“Okay if that’s the tack you wish to take Ari I’ll ask you a less incriminating question. Just for the record what relation are you to Mohammed Hassan.”