‘We’re gonna get the bastards. Next right, Cam,’ the Colonel said, and Cam turned into Lister Road.
‘They’re probably about to bail out and do a runner,’ Kingston surmised.
‘They won’t get far if Teflon’s after them — he’s quicker than Allan Wells,’ Cam replied, referring to the British and Commonwealth sprint champion.
‘All units from Juliet 1... a suspect is decamping from the front passenger seat toward the rear of the vehicle.’
‘Lima 1 under attack: suspect armed and firing at us!’
The distress in his voice was obvious to everyone listening in. The sound of gunfire could be heard over the radio, as well as the impact thud of the bullet.
‘I’ve been hit! I’ve been hit!’ the radio operator cried out.
Next there was the sound of a loud bang, followed by screeching tires, then a sickening crunch of metal and breaking glass before the radio went dead. It was clear the police vehicle had come to an abrupt halt after a serious crash.
‘That sounded like a shotgun going off,’ Cam remarked, and the Colonel nodded.
‘Let’s hope they’re both alive.’ Kingston replied, but he feared the worst.
Chapter Two
Jane and her colleagues sat in silence as they waited anxiously to hear from the crew of Juliet 1.
‘MP to Juliet 1, receiving, over?’ the operator asked repeatedly, but there was no reply.
‘Central 888 from 887, receiving...?’
Stanley’s voice came over the radio from the squad car behind them.
‘Go ahead, Stanley,’ Kingston replied.
‘We’re going to head off to Bushwood Road, which runs along Wanstead Flats. All the back streets around Woodville Road lead to Bushwood so we might pick them up if they’re on foot or still in the Cortina.’
‘Good thinking, Stanley. We’ll go to Woodville to see what’s happened to Juliet 1 and let you know if the suspect car’s been abandoned.’
‘Central 888 and 887 from MP... Uniform patrol vehicles are also searching the area. Foot patrol officers are holding the scene at Barclays Bank and identifying witnesses. Two ambulances have been called there — one for an off-duty officer who was shot in the stomach and the other for three members of the public involved in a two-vehicle RTA during the incident.’
‘How bad is the officer’s injury?’ a concerned Kingston asked MP.
‘We don’t have any current information on his condition. An ambulance has also been called to Woodville Road for the Juliet 1 officers as they’re not responding.’
‘We’re nearly on scene, MP, and will give you a situation update on arrival,’ Kingston said as Cam stopped the car just short of Woodville Road.
‘Lie flat on the back seat, Tennison,’ Kingston said as he and the Colonel withdrew their revolvers and got out of the vehicle.
‘Are you going with them, Cam?’ she asked, wondering if she was going to be left on her own.
‘Like they said, I’m only the fucking driver — and apart from that I’m not firearms trained, so I’m happy to let them do the cops and robbers stuff.’
Jane couldn’t resist sitting up a bit to look out of the front windscreen. The rain had stopped, and she watched as the two officers crouched down behind a parked car at the corner of Woodville Road. The Colonel stood up, his gun raised, and, using the parked cars as cover, started to move down the road in a crouched position. Jane lost sight of them but was relieved there was no sound of gunfire. Cam picked up the radio and informed MP that two armed officers from Central 888 were now on foot in Woodville Road.
Within a few seconds the Colonel reappeared, took off his cap and waved it to signal the area was safe. As Cam drove into Woodville Road Jane noticed that the Colonel was totally bald, which surprised her for his age.
Cam pointed down the left side of the street.
‘Bloody hell, Juliet 1 has crashed into the front of that house.’
Jane could see a plume of steam rising from the badly damaged police vehicle. Its sirens had stopped, but the blue light on top was still flashing and the front half of the vehicle was covered in brick and rubble from the bay window of the Victorian terraced house it had crashed into. A small elderly man was attempting to lift the unconscious driver out of the car but having difficulty. Kingston was by the front passenger door, trying to pull it open and get to the injured officer.
‘Bring the crowbar from the motor, Cam!’ he shouted.
Cam jumped out of the car. ‘I’m on it, Guv!’ he shouted back, and ran to the boot of the car.
It was the first time Jane had got a proper look at Cam, who had a badly pockmarked face and receding dark brown hair. As he ran across the road to Kingston with the crowbar and a first aid box, the Colonel opened the passenger door and picked up the radio mike.
‘Central 888 to MP. We are on scene in Woodville. Suspects have left in the Cortina and Juliet 1 has crashed into a house — the crew are injured and we’re attempting to extract them from the vehicle. Do you have an ETA for the ambulance?’
‘About two minutes,’ MP replied.
Jane got out of the car and surveyed the scene.
‘Juliet 1 must have hit the bay window at high speed to cause that much damage.’
‘No shit, Treacle,’ the Colonel replied.
‘I’d prefer “no shit, Sergeant”, Detective Constable Gorman,’ Jane said lightly, to remind him of her rank and knowing ‘treacle tart’ was cockney rhyming slang for ‘sweetheart.’
‘There’s a woman with a baby sitting on a wall over there.’ He pointed across the road near the crash site, but Jane couldn’t see her due to a parked car. ‘She looks pretty distressed and might have seen what happened. It would be helpful if you could have a chat with her... Sergeant,’ he said pointedly, then ran across the road to assist Kingston and Cam.
Jane was frustrated by the fact that even seven years on from integration, many male officers still thought their female colleagues should only deal with women and children. She didn’t like the Colonel’s attitude but didn’t feel it was the time or place to challenge him about it. She was glad that DS Stanley was an old acquaintance as he would be able to tell her more about the officers on the squad, especially as the few she’d met so far seemed rude and intimidating.
By now uniform assistance had arrived. Jane instructed some officers to tape off both ends of Woodville Road and ask the people, who had come out of their houses and gathered on the street, if they had seen the incident and to obtain their names and addresses if they had. One resident, whose car was hit by the speeding Cortina, was arguing about who was going to pay for the damage and insisting the police should. A uniformed officer told him politely that he’d have to claim on his own insurance, which upset the man even more.
The uniformed driver was out of the crashed vehicle and being given first aid by the small elderly man, who it transpired was the owner of the damaged house. The officer had a bad cut to his head and scratches to his face caused by flying brickwork and glass that had smashed through part of the windscreen when the car crashed. His injury was bleeding heavily, but he was conscious and reasonably coherent. The Colonel introduced himself to the officer and told him an ambulance was on its way.
The PC looked worried. ‘My operator Gary was shot — is he OK?’
‘I’ll be straight with you, mate, I don’t know yet. My governor and driver are trying to get him out of the car. As soon as I know, I’ll let you know, OK?’