As Wild’s car swerved up ahead and the brake lights illuminated Hunter knew his driving had had an effect.
Beyond the Toyota Hunter spotted whirling blue lights in the distance, heading towards them. The response on the radio told him that it was the marked firearms vehicle and he began to ease off. The Task Force vehicle had a far more powerful engine and was far better placed to take over the chase.
* * * * *
Gabriel Wild almost lost control when he spotted the CID cars flashing headlights in his rear view mirror. For a second his car snaked and he stamped on the brake and whipped down the gears. Hitting the accelerator he could hear the Toyota’s engine scream as he began to widen the gap again. His concentration on the car behind made him completely miss seeing the oncoming marked police car until it was too late.
* * * * *
The police Volvo lined its bonnet up towards the Toyota and swung sideways across the road. The actions had the desired effect. The Toyota’s tyres protested with a concerted squeal, jarring, as Gabriel braked harshly. He could do little to stop the car crabbing sideways as he began to lose control of the steering. In a fit of panic he hit the accelerator. The engine screamed, drowning out the bursting front tyre. It bounced up the kerb, onto the grass verge, smashed through wooden fencing, lining the side of the road, and picking up speed, on a muddy surface, it careered wildly down a small incline. The Toyota slid for ten yards before flipping over, rolling twice onto its roof, finally coming to a halt when it hit a metal gatepost.
* * * * *
Gabriel’s head had taken out the windscreen and only the exploding airbag had saved him from being thrown through. As he kicked open the buckled drivers door he caught a glimpse of himself in the rear view mirror. His face was barely recognisable. His forehead had a wicked gash and blood poured from numerous cuts. His right cheek was already swollen causing his eye to close. He also saw that his lip had split in two. He reached up, fingers probing his blood-marked face.
“The bastards. The fucking bastards,” he screamed.
Robyn was slumped forward in the passenger seat. He could see she was stunned but uninjured. He snapped off her seat belt and dragged her by her hair across the front seats, pulling her through the driver’s door, snatching his Bowie knife from the door-well as he stumbled out onto the grass.
He saw that the CID Officers following behind had already alighted, as had the two uniformed officers who had cut off his path, and they were armed; their short rifles pointing in his direction.
Panic set in.
Gabriel pulled Robyn closer to him pressing his head tightly against hers. His focus was on the two armed officers. He could see their mouths moving but he couldn’t hear what they were saying. The detonation of the airbag had temporarily deafened him.
He pushed the blade to her neck, digging the point into her soft flesh, drawing blood. “I’ll fucking kill her.” he screamed. “I’m telling you she’s fucking dead.”
* * * * *
If Gabriel Wild could have just looked in a mirror at that moment, he would have known how wrong he was.
But then he couldn’t see the red laser dot from the tritium illuminated sight dancing on his forehead.
The 9mm lightweight round left the Heckler and Kock MP 5 muzzle at 400 metres per second. The illegal dum-dum bullet punched into Gabriel Wild’s head just above the eyes, smashed through his skull and fragmented into the frontal lobe of his brain.
He had no time to realise why none of his limbs would move how he wanted them to. The force flung him backwards and before he hit the ground he was dead.
A little blood splattered Robyn Marshall’s cheek and for a second she stood there frozen. Then she let out a shriek and the shriek became a scream.
The Officer secured the cocking handle of his gun, cleared the round in his chamber and then pulled away the fifteen round magazine holder. He turned and handed his weapon to his Supervisor.
“Sorry Sarge I felt I was left with no option. You heard me shout to him three times to drop the knife but he took no notice. I thought he was going to kill her,” he said.
As he strolled back to the Armed Response Vehicle, Paul Goodright received a flashback of the night the CID car was stolen. Like the other times, he saw the image of his sister lying in Intensive Care, the doctors telling her that her boyfriend had been killed and that she would be crippled for life by the joyrider who had run them off the road.
He had sworn there and then to her that he would track him down, and after all these years of probing and searching his efforts had finally paid off.
Paul dropped his chin into his chest trying to suppress the smile, which was creeping across his mouth.
He had finally delivered Gabriel Wild’s punishment for all the misery he had caused.
Now he could lay his own demons to rest.
* * * * *
“What were Gabriel Wild’s last words to the firearms officer just before he shot him…?
In between drinks, sniggers and laughter erupted from the group of detectives at yet another one of Mike Sampson’s serial killer jokes.
Hunter smiled and shook his head.
The MIT team had virtually taken over one half of the lounge. It was a good job the pub had only the handful of regulars that the team all knew. Anyone else other than the locals in the lounge and they might take offence.
An hour earlier he and others from the team had been so pleased to see Grace hugging her fourteen-year-old daughter so tightly in the back yard of the police station.
He’d tried to put a reassuring arm around his partner telling her it was all over but one look at her face told him her head was elsewhere. All she had kept repeating was that she needed to get Robyn home.
Grace had left with her daughter in the back of a traffic car, in a complete daze.
The Detective Superintendent had wrapped things up very quickly with one of the fastest de-briefs Hunter had ever known, ending the short conference with a promise of a more thorough scrum-down early the next morning and finishing the preamble by standing everyone a drink to celebrate the end of the investigation.
Hunter pushed his way to the bar half listening to the end of Mike’s joke. He knew it was these moments that bonded a team.
On his way he spotted Paul Goodright tucked into a corner, hunched over a beer, rubbing a hand over his shaven head. He was alone.
He made a mental note to have some time with him once he had got himself a drink. He had not seen him since the shooting.
He ordered a pint and then sauntered across to his old colleague.
“How’re we feeling?” Hunter asked, sliding onto a seat opposite. Paul’s head shot up. He’d obviously been lost in his thoughts ruminated Hunter.
“Not too bad — had better days.”
He made a brave attempt to crack a smile, but Hunter could see it was half-hearted.
“Glad it’s over?”
“You bet.” He pushed himself back against his seat. His squat muscular frame stretched his black T-shirt.
Hunter could remember when Paul had been a very slim twenty-something detective with a full head of hair. That’s when the memories tumbled into his head. He would never have guessed that the decisions he and Paul had made that fateful night on the 12th October 1993 would have brought about such tragic chain of events involving so many people. As the episodes had unfolded during the last few weeks he had questioned himself so many times. Should he have done anything different? He had found himself unable to answer. No doubt that would be one of many things he would dwell on over the next few weeks.
“Thanks to you the result is good though eh?”
Paul tightened his mouth, rested his strong bare forearms across the table and gripped the bottom of his glass. His beer had lost its head.
Hunter wondered how long he had been nursing it.
“You say that but it doesn’t really take away the feelings I have over what happened all those years ago. That psycho tore my life apart.” He fixed Hunter with his hazel eyes. “I thought that when I shot him it would have made me feel better but its already short lived. I still feel so responsible for what happened. If I hadn’t have gone off shagging that night this wouldn’t have happened.”