'Police, police! Drop your weapons!'
He'd got onto the pavement behind me and was standing in front of the gunmen. Ahead of me, on the other side of the street, I could see his partner – a shorter, fatter guy who looked a few years older. I recognized him straight away as the guy at the bar in the Chinaman the previous night. The Coke drinker who never liked to talk politics. He was waiting to cross the road to apprehend me, but a car speeding down the street was holding him up.
'Police! Drop your weapons now!'
It was the tall one again, but his voice betrayed his desperation as he suddenly realized he'd almost certainly bitten off more than he could chew. I kept running, but briefly turned round. He was ten yards behind me and the gunmen had stopped in front of him. One was looking round him at me, and I could sense his urgent desire not to let his quarry disappear.
There was a second's silence. Instinctively I slowed down as the drama played itself out. On the street cars were stopping to get a look at what was happening, allowing the other copper to cross. He ran towards me, but he too was watching his colleague. It looked like the whole street was.
Then the shotgun barked again, and the man who'd tried to prevent my execution flew backwards through the air. He seemed to hover above the ground for an indeterminate but memorable period of time before hurtling downwards with a crash, as if an invisible hand had tipped him out of its palm. He lay there, not moving.
His colleague froze. Still in the middle of the road. And then he put a hand to his mouth as the shock of what he'd just seen hit him. He tried to shout something, something that could give him some control over a chaotic situation, but nothing came out.
And before he'd even moved, my pursuers came after me again, the shotgun guy reloading and running at the same time. His friend with the handgun was ferociously quick. He came at me in huge bounds, reminding me bizarrely of one of the two-legged hunting dinosaurs in Jurassic Park, and there was a fixed, maniacal smile on his face. For a moment I felt like I was in some sort of slow-motion nightmare, that whatever I did, however fast I moved, he was going to catch me. But I kept running, knowing there was no choice, not daring to look back as the shots cracked around me. And as I ran, my lungs and throat filled up with phlegm and I couldn't breathe, and I knew I was just seconds away from the end.
There was a yelp and the sound of someone slipping, and I looked over my shoulder to see handgun man falling onto the wet ground, holding the gun up in the air. Relief didn't even cross my mind. The one with the shotgun was right behind him, and by now he'd reloaded. He jumped over his colleague, then stopped, lifted the weapon to his shoulder, and prepared to fire. Eight yards separated us. Even though I was still running, he couldn't miss.
Coining up on my left was a Chinese takeaway. It was my only chance. I flung myself forward onto the pavement at just the moment he pulled the trigger, taking it at a roll. The shot flew shrieking over my head and into the distance, and I was immediately back on my feet and charging at the takeaway door like a runaway bull. He fired again, but I'd already hit the door at a dive. It flew open and I fell inside, hitting the tiled floor elbow first, ignoring the pain that shot right up my arm.
I wanted to lie where I was for a couple of seconds and get my breath back, and it took a huge effort of willpower to force myself to my feet. I heard footsteps on the pavement outside and I knew that they were only seconds behind me. The lone customer in the place – a middle-aged man with a checked shirt and an expression of sheer dismay – stood watching me silently. Behind the counter, the young Chinese server, who couldn't have been a day over eighteen, looked just as confused by the whole situation.
I turned round as shotgun man appeared at the door. He levelled the weapon, the customer swore and fell back onto one of the chairs, and I charged the counter. The Chinese guy shrieked and dived out the way as I rolled over it like it was an assault course obstacle, crashing down the other side. The shotgun barked again and the glass covering the menu board above my head exploded into a hundred pieces that fell about me like jagged snowflakes as I wriggled maggot-like across the floor.
The door marked 'Private – Staff Only' was my only means of escape. I headbutted it open, crawling on my hands and knees, and desperately pushed my body through. I was in a small corridor leading through to the kitchens. Back in the shop, I could hear shouting and the sound of someone else coming over the worktop. I ran forward into the kitchens where half a dozen Chinese in chef's whites were busy at work. They all turned round as I charged in, and one jumped in front of me.
'No, no. Not allowed. No customers!'
I looked round desperately for an exit door, knowing I had seconds.
The chef, who just about came up to my chest, grabbed me by the lapels of my jacket. 'No customers! You must leave!'
He began pushing me backwards, and another younger chef armed with a wicked-looking meat cleaver started coming round the main worktop. I spotted the back door behind them in the corner. It was held slightly ajar by a piece of cardboard. I felt a surge of relief and panic in roughly equal measure.
Hearing the rapid footfalls in the corridor behind me, I screamed something incoherent and pushed the chef aside. He fell into a load of pots and pans and cried out. The other chef, the one with the cleaver, went to raise it above his head, and I thought momentarily that this would be a very stupid way to die, cut down by an irate kitchen worker while fleeing a professional assassination team.
I ripped the warrant card from my pocket, the last time I would ever use it. 'Police! I only want to get out! Get out of my way!' I charged past him, and he actually did get out of the way. There was a load of panicked shouting from all around me, and I knew that my pursuers were in the room.
I kicked the door open without pausing and ran out into the litter-strewn back yard as it slammed shut, rattling, behind me. A few yards ahead was a wall piled up with rubbish, facing on to the backs of terraced houses. I could have run for it but I didn't think I'd make it over before they put a hole in me. It was a time for hard decisions.
Resisting the temptation to bend over and throw up, I sidestepped and positioned myself by the door on the opposite side to the direction it would open, knowing that if I fucked this up then they would have me. No question. But there was little time for fear. Within a second, there was a commotion from inside the kitchens, more shouting – most of it foreign and unintelligible – and then the door flew open again and shotgun man came charging into view, automatically looking towards the wall ahead.
With a speed I didn't think I was capable of, I threw myself into him, grabbing the gun in the process. I shoved it upwards, pushing all my weight against his body, the power and surprise of my attack forcing him back so he blocked the doorway. At the same time, instinctively, reflexively, whatever you want to call it, he pulled the trigger, not having had the time to realize that the barrel had just been thrust into position right beneath his chin.
The noise was louder than anything I think I've ever heard in my life. It ripped through my ears and shook my whole body right down to the toes. A huge splash of blood soaked my face like warm, vile treacle as the top of his head was ripped away, its contents scattered high up the door and across the windows. He fell backwards, and I tugged the weapon from his grasp.
His partner was right behind him and he was forced to get out of the way as the corpse hit the floor. He looked down at the bloody head, then back at me, his face a mask of rage.
'Bastard!'
He raised the gun and I threw myself backwards as he fired, landing on my back on the paving slabs. He fired again, missing my head by inches, the bullet ricocheting up off the concrete. But I'd swung the shotgun round now so it was facing him, and finally it was my turn to pull the trigger.