Just Another Day - Clark Steven (читаем книги бесплатно .TXT) 📗
‘Get your arse over here.’ bellowed the voice from the bunk bed.
John Walsh had been standing a short distance away from the wagon on the instructions of the gunman. Far enough away not to be a threat to Johnson, but close enough to hear when he was required. He had watched as a few moments earlier one of the pizza cartons had come sailing out of the open drivers’ window like a frisbee and landed softly on the damp grass verge. Now, suitably replenished with food and water, Johnson decided his next move.
‘I want a car over here now. We’re leaving.’
‘What do you mean your’....
John was cut short by the gunman and never finished his question.
‘Get me a fucking car, and you’re going to drive us. Sort it now.’
John could see and hear the aggression rising again. He was pretty certain that Johnson had been popping more pills to keep him alert and he didn’t want a repeat of the earlier situation when Dave was beaten and shot and he tried to think quickly.
‘Look, it will take me a little while, I need to go and speak to the senior officer to arrange it. Where are we going? Do we need to take any food or drink?’
‘You don’t need to know fuck all. Just get the car sorted and fill it with juice. I’ll tell you where we’re going when we’re on the move. Just remember one thing, if any of them fuckers out there try to mess me about, try to take out the tyres again or fuck me about in any way whatsoever, I won’t just take his fingers off, I’ll take off his fucking head. Do I make myself clear?’
John knew that he didn’t need to relay this request to the command team, they were fully aware. He was just trying to buy a little time for them to formulate another strategy. He, like everyone else at the scene, thought that they would be able to contain the situation at the Industrial Estate. Nobody had expected Johnson to react the way that he had. Now that they knew he was not going to give up and that if necessary he would die alongside his hostage, the game had changed. They would have to be patient and allow the situation to run. They had to take every opportunity, take a few chances even, in an effort to save Dave Watkins life.
As soon as the control room had heard the gunman demanding a car, they had already decided that it would be a standard vehicle, fully fuelled and fitted with a listening device. One idea was to have an armed officer hiding in the boot as a means of taking out the gunman if the opportunity arose, but it was quickly discounted. If Johnson became aware, and there was every possibility he would instruct John to check the boot of the car prior to them using it, they would all be in serious danger.
Being full of amphetamines, Johnson could not be reasoned with. If another officer was found in the boot of the car, He would just blast him without hesitation. It wouldn’t be his fault, they had betrayed him and the consequences would lie at the feet of the police. His rationale would be very simple. ‘You didn’t do what I told you. You must pay the price’. Johnson’s thoughts were extremely easy to understand. Either he would get away or Dave and anyone else in the vicinity would die.
‘When you come back, park it in front of the wagon near to the passenger door. Get out and open the rear passenger door of the car. When I can see that it’s ok, we’ll get out of the wagon. Are you clear about my instructions?’
‘Which particular passenger door? The one behind the drivers’ door or the one on the other side?’
‘Not the one behind the driver’ said Johnson. ‘The other one.’
‘That’s no problem; I hear you loud and clear.’ Said John.
The control room also heard him loud and clear and took the opportunity to move their marksmen into the best position to have as clear a view of their intended target as was possible.
Ten minutes later, the gunman saw the blue Vauxhall Vectra driving slowly towards them. John did exactly as he had been told and placed the car near to the passenger door of the lorry, slightly out of sight of the police cordon in the distance. He got out of the car and came around to the back passenger door and opened it.
‘You’ll probably only get one shot.’ Ged heard the quiet voice of Lee Evans in his earpiece. ‘Make it count Ged. Just imagine you’re on the range and squeeze the trigger gently okay?’
‘I don’t mean to be rude boss, and don’t take this the wrong way, but, will you please Fuck Off and let me concentrate; okay?’
Even in this tense situation, Lee Evans found himself smiling at the impertinence of his subordinate. He knew he was right. He didn’t need any instruction on how to do his job. He knew full well he was the best one for the job.
Ged, looking through the powerful sight of his sniper rifle, could see some sort of movement from within the cab of the wagon but not enough to make out clearly what was going on. He began to take deep breaths to control his breathing. He was also pretty certain that his boss was right; he would only get one shot. He didn’t want to think about the outcome if he missed.
He had opened the window of the office as soon as he had got there. He could have kept it closed and fired through the double glazed panel, but there was always the possibility, no matter how slight, that the bullet could take a deflection as it cut through the glass. Even a miniscule deflection could make the difference between hitting the intended target or not. He had rearranged the tables so that he could lie on top and with the rifle resting securely on the bipod, he would clearly have the height to fire over the windowsill. He pressed the stock into his shoulder and waited.
He saw the head of his colleague appear above the dashboard of the lorry and he saw him pull himself up into a sitting position with his back to the bunk. He drew a sharp breath as he saw the battered and swollen face of his colleague. Although he couldn’t see his target, he knew he was also somewhere on the bed.
‘Don’t look round. Sit still while I sort you out do you hear me?’
Dave was confused and although he was feeling a bit more in control of his thoughts and actions, he was still groggy. He nodded his head and stared out of the windscreen. He heard a strange noise like a sheet or something similar being torn and a few seconds later a two or three inch strip of the sheet was wound around his neck a couple of times, not particularly tight, but enough to appreciate that if he tried to move quickly, the gunman would be able to strangle him. He felt that this was all part of Jonson’s control and humiliation tactics as he thought that the gunman was about to lead him like a dog out of the wagon and into the car. The torn sheet had become a collar and he was undoubtedly about to be taken for ‘walkies’. He was not prepared for Johnson’s next action.
He took the long lead of the remaining sheet and began to twist it around the barrel of the shotgun for a few turns. He then began to twist the shotgun itself until all the slack in the sheet had been taken up and the muzzle of the sawn off was pressed hard against the side of Dave’s neck. The sheet, the shotgun and his neck had become as one rigid unit whereby Johnson, with his left hand on the barrel of the gun, and his right hand holding the stock and the trigger, meant that the he was able to direct Dave’s movements by pushing or pulling the shotgun. He realised that he would have no choice but to go in whatever direction his captor chose.
Dave also realised that, being on the business end of this noose on a stick, he would not be able to push the shooter away without the gun going off at which point his head would be violently separated from his shoulders. He knew the police firearms teams were somewhere nearby. For all his grogginess and fatigue, the thought suddenly struck him. They would have no idea that the shotgun was pressed hard into his neck. If one of them took the opportunity to drop the target as they left the safety of the lorry, Johnson would almost certainly involuntarily pull the trigger. Even if Johnson was killed instantly with a head shot, his body would tense and his hands would twitch as he fell to the ground. There would be absolutely nothing he could do to stop the gun going off. He shuddered as he thought of the consequences. They would both die instantly. No question.
