Just Another Day - Clark Steven (читаем книги бесплатно .TXT) 📗
Had Sergeant Chambers been a bull, you would have undoubtedly heard him snorting and seen him clawing at the ground with his cloven hoof. Bob’s body language left no one, except Inspector James, in any doubt whatsoever of his demeanour.
Griff quickly moved forward and stood directly in front of his Sergeant. ‘Can I have a quick word sarge?’
‘Not now lad. I need to speak to the Inspector.’
‘That’s what I’m afraid of boss.’ Said Griff as he was very politely, but very firmly, moved to the side by one of Bob Chambers shovel sized hands.
Griff looked at his mate, Steve Mullins who was still manning the radio. They both looked each other in the eye. Neither said a word, but each silently mouthed to each other those words that are often uttered when the situation is about to get volatile.
‘Oh Fuck.’
‘Sir,’
‘What is it Sergeant?’
‘Can I have a word in your office?’
‘If you’ve got something to say Sergeant, get on with it. Don’t prevaricate man. Time is of the essence if we want to conclude this drama. Speak up.’
The lava was rising and about to erupt.
‘Sir, you are without doubt, the biggest fucking arsehole that’s it’s ever been my misfortune to work with.’
Inspector James began to splutter. ‘Be careful what you say Sergeant, I’ll have you on paper for this impertinence.’
‘Sir, you can take that paper, roll it very tightly and shove it where the sun don’t shine. I couldn’t give a toss. Dave Watkins might get shot at any moment and the only thing I have heard you express concern about is the fact that he was not wearing his fucking helmet at the time that he was forced into a wagon by some psychopath with a sawn off shotgun. What fucking planet are you on?
You Mister, who has never seen an angry man; you who has spent your entire career shuffling bits of paper; are not fit to lace that lads boots.
Now, fuck off out of my control room and, if Dave comes out of this ok, we’ll both come and see you and you can advise us in whatever manner seems appropriate regarding proper standards.’
As Inspector James beat a hasty retreat from the control room muttering repercussions about career prospects, Bob Chambers became aware of the other officers in the control room and began to apologise.
‘I’m sorry lads. That should have been a private conversation. I am extremely sorry if I have caused embarrassment to any of you.’
He could hear a cheering and clapping in the background and at first was confused as to where it was coming from. There was a considerable amount of smirking and smiling from his lads, but no one was speaking. He suddenly realised. The direct line to the Merseyside Police incident room was still open. They had been listening to the limited commentary Dave Watkins was able to convey through the Port Police radio system and had been monitoring the unfolding hostage situation. As a consequence, they had heard every word of Bob’s ‘interesting’ conversation with the Inspector.
Bob picked up the handset, ‘Hello, Sergeant Chambers here.’
‘Hi Bob, it’s your friendly Force Incident manager here.’
‘I’m sorry Larry. That was supposed to have been a private chat between Inspector James and me. Please give my apologies to the officers in your control room.’
‘Apologies; you must be joking mate. We’re having a whip round here to buy you a bottle of scotch. Everyone here thought you were brilliant. He’s always been a tosser. Everyone knows that. Oh, and by the way, Chief Superintendent Mackay sends his regards. He has assumed overall command of the incident and says he would love to be a supporting character witness if James wants to push any disciplinary action in your direction.
Right Bob, now here’s what we’ve got so far. The chopper has been up for about fifteen minutes and thinks he’s got an eyeball on the wagon. He’s going in for a closer look but making sure he’s far enough back not to be spotted. The best chance we’ve got at the moment of ending this peacefully and with as few casualties as possible; are if our target isn’t aware he’s being tracked.’
‘Thanks Larry. We all feel a bit useless at this end.’
‘No problem Bob. We’ll keep this line open so you lads can follow the plan. We’ve got the details of the wagon and the container numbers from your lad at the gate so the chopper should be able to confirm the details soon enough. Oh, just one more thing Bob, before I go. I think Mr James will need plenty of sugar in his brew. Might just need it for shock. And if you’re making the tea, make sure it’s sugar you put in and not rat poison. Speak to you soon Bob.’
Bob laughed weakly and thanked his long time friend for his help and the line went quiet. He was aware that his officers were looking at him in the control room and looked up.
‘OK lads, get the kettle on. Not a lot we can do now except listen and wait. They’ve got good lads out there who are well used to dealing with hostage situations. Dave will be all right. I can feel it in me water.’
He sounded far more confident than he felt.
Chapter 5
‘Hotel Charlie One to control’
Steve Wilson had been a member of the Air Support Group and a regular Police Air Observer in the force helicopter for about three years. He, his two fellow Observers and the Pilot, were well experienced in spotting and tracking stolen cars and the crew had an excellent record of being able to direct the ground patrols to the right location to ensure the villains were locked up. This was a bit different. This was one of their own who was in serious danger. His stomach churned a little more than usual as he said to himself, ‘let’s do this one right boys.’
The ‘Chopper’ was a Eurocopter EC 135 capable of a top cruising speed of 170 mph and its powerful twin turbine engines could propel it from its base at Woodvale Aerodrome to most places in the force area in a fairly short time.
‘Receiving you loud and clear Hotel Charlie One. Pass your message.’
‘Target vehicle confirmed. Eastbound in nearside lane on M62 just passing services at Burtonwood. Believe target vehicle not aware of our presence.’
The two black unmarked Range Rover Armed Response Vehicles had been rolling for several minutes and heard the message loud and clear. The normal ARV’s were highly visible and easily identified with their high visibility markings and external blue lights and were usually crewed by two uniformed officers. They would normally be the first firearms officers to attend any incident.
The officers in the blacked out range rovers were quite a bit different. As Specialist Firearms Officers from the Force Dynamic Intervention Team, their specific role within the broader firearms unit was hostage rescue.
They joined the M62 at the Rocket junction at high speed. ‘Blues and Twos’ ensuring their progress was swift. They knew it would be a race against time as the longer the situation prevailed, the longer their colleague was in danger.
Two teams consisting of four men in each vehicle was a standard response to a hostage situation. The teams trained constantly for just such an event. This job was something out of the ordinary. To rescue hostages from a building was one thing. To attempt a rescue from a vehicle travelling at sixty miles an hour on a motorway was something altogether different!
A Sergeant and three cons made up each unit. Each was an expert marksman and a Class One driver. Each vehicle was exceptionally powerful, armour plated and fitted out with an awesome amount of weapons and specialist kit.
For all their equipment and training, Sergeant Lee Evans knew they would need at least an equal amount of luck and good fortune. Even the most comprehensive training, and training was what they did for most of their duty time, would count for nothing if it wasn’t accompanied by a little good fortune along the way.
