Just Another Day (10 page)

‘
Too true we can sort this out. On my fuckin terms; but don’t tell me to fuckin calm down. I’ll tell you what to do. Don’t you fuckin do it okay?’

‘
Okay, okay,’ said John. ‘Tell me what you want.’ John could see, all and sundry could see, that the situation was rapidly deteriorating and the gunman was becoming more and more agitated. The siege had gone on for several hours now and john tried to lighten things up a bit.

‘
Do you want something to eat? You and Dave, you must be hungry. Something to eat and drink eh?’

‘
Good idea. Good fuckin idea eh
Dave
? What d’ya fancy
Dave
? Pizza, Chicken wings? Something, ‘finger lickin good eh?’ He raised the severed finger between his own thumb and forefinger and licked the fleshy bloodstained fingerprint. As Dave weakly groaned his agreement to his captor, the gunman turned back to look at John.

‘We’re agreed, old Davey and me, w
e’d like something finger lickin good’ and at that, there were gasps everywhere as the watching participants saw the gunman place Dave’s finger in his mouth and grip it  between his teeth. He bit down hard and the magnetic listening device on the outside of the cab was able to pick up the tearing sound of bone and sinew as the deranged gunman bit down between the first and second knuckle joint and twisted and tore as the skin parted once more.

The tip of Dave’s finger containing the fingernail, remained in the gun mans mouth.
The slightly larger part of the finger, he held between his own finger and thumb and, whilst not taking his eyes off john, he flicked it in the direction of the two shield officers and it sailed over their heads and landed on the grass bank behind them.

There was complete silence, apart from the muted groans of their colleague in the cab who was beginning to wretch again at this latest act of cruelty.
Johnson still fixed his gaze on the negotiator and John stared back. He hoped his face would not give away his feelings of revulsion towards his adversary. A few seconds more went by. The gunman leant a little closer to John. He was still protected by the metal side of the cab. Ged knew that the bullet would have no problem penetrating the thin steel next to the drivers window.

The AE was the latest version of the Accuracy International snipers rifle favoured by the UK police units. Some officers preferred an automatic weapon but Ged much preferred the single bolt action version. He had been practicing with the gun for several months on the range. He liked the fact that at just over 1.1 metres long and using the standard detachable box magazine with either 5 or 8 rounds, the lightness and feel of the rifle suited his grip.
He was comfortable lying face down with the rifle securely fitted on to the bipod. It was a very accurate weapon up to a range of 500 metres and at this short distance, the telescopic sight presented no problems. He could easily take out his target, provided that he was sure that Dave was not also in his line of fire. The 7.62mm snipers bullet would have no difficulty in slicing through several bodies at once.

Suddenly, and without warning of any kind, Johnson spat the tip of Dave’s finger out of his mouth and it struck John firmly on the forehead. He instinctively closed his eyes as the severed tip fell to the floor.
As the gunman opened his mouth to speak, he also spat a few drops of blood that was oozing from his lips and John was transfixed as they splashed onto his shoes and he stood there riveted and unable to move. His mind was screaming in silence telling him not to be sick. Remain calm, remain in control. Don’t be intimidated by this piece of sadistic shit. You’ve been in bad, bad situations before. Come on John, you know it’s classic, this animal is just letting you know he’s in charge. C’mon, breathe, breathe deeply. Count to ten.

He heard the words before he realised he had said them.

‘
I’m not telling you what to do but, you both need something to eat and drink. Also, if you don’t mind, I’d like to give you a first aid kit so that the officer can at least bandage his injured hand. Would you allow me to make those arrangements?’

Although on the outside he was calmness personified, he wished he had his own shotgun and could blow this mans fucking brains out. John was not a violent man by nature; he was a regular churchgoer and God fearing man.
His faith in humanity was being tested like it had never been tested before and, try as he might, he could not understand why God would allow such a piece of human excrement to walk on this good earth. Surely if any man deserved to die, it was this piece of, ... his thoughts were interrupted.

‘
Yeah. Just do it. Couple of Pizza’s and some water.’

John bent down; his hand was shaking as he picked up the small finger tip, he quickly turned on his heels and walked away from the cab. He went to the grass verge behind the two shield officers and, after a few moments of scrabbling through the grass and debris, located the
other part of Dave’s finger, wrapped the two pieces in his handkerchief once more, and slowly walked back to the police cordon. There was no way the two shield officers were going to turn their backs on the unstable gunman and they shuffled backwards until they reached the safety of the cordon.

‘
John,’ said Mike Hogan, ‘are you allright? I don’t know how you remained so calm out there mate. That guys a fuckin madman.’

‘
He’s a lot more than that Mike, he’s a psychopath and I’m pretty sure that he’s looking forward to killing Dave when he thinks the time is right. He’s popping pills like they’re going out of fashion to make sure he keeps himself charged up. The way things are, he’s only going to get more volatile as time goes by.

Dave is being systematically demoralised and brutalized by Johnson. He’s severely shocked and still losing blood and I just don’t know how long he will be able to cope with it
.’

Under the protection of the two shield officers once again, John made his way back to within ten or fifteen yards of the stranded wagon. He hadn’t noticed before, but he saw now how the wagon had come to a violent stop as the sharp edged metal wheel rims, now with their tyres hanging off, had bitten into the softer tarmac of the service road and become slightly buried. He could see quite clearly that the wagon wouldn’t move again until it was towed out of there by a recovery truck.

John had two hot twelve inch pizzas in their familiar cardboard packaging and a pack of six bottles of water. He thought he had managed to persuade Johnson by keeping his voice low and quiet, that it would be a good gesture if he would also allow Dave to tend to his injuries with the first aid kit that he had placed on top of the pizza cartons.

‘
How are we going to do this?’ said John. ‘Do you want to lean out and take the cartons from me?’

‘
Yeah, that’s no problem. And as I lean out, my fuckin head leaves my shoulders. What do you think I am eh, completely fuckin stupid? Come closer, open the door, and put the stuff on the drivers’ seat. Understood?’

‘
No problem, there’s also some painkillers for Dave Watkins if you’ll allow him to take them.’

‘Just put everything on the fucking seat. I’ll decide what he gets and what he doesn’t ok?’ John didn’t say any more, he didn’t want to antagonise Johnson; he’d made his point about the bandages and just had to hope that the gunman would allow Dave to help himself to the strong painkillers. He nodded at Johnson and walked out slowly and deliberately from behind the protection of the shields.

“You
; get your arse off the seat and get down there.’ Johnson growled at his captive and pointed to the passenger side of the lorry. Dave slowly and painfully got down into the foot well of the passenger area next to the shattered door window. He wasn’t allowed onto the passenger seat itself because the gunman wanted to make a point to John when he opened the door a few seconds later.

‘
Right, stop there.’ Johnson shouted out to John who was about three or four yards from the wagon and it took him by surprise as he almost stumbled forward. He just managed to prevent the bottles of water and first aid kit from falling off the pizza boxes.

‘
Put that lot on the floor, come forward, open the door and then go and get the stuff. Put it on the drivers’ seat. Close the door and then back away. Do not look up, and do not look at me at any time. Do you understand?’

John understood only too well. The last thing the gunman wanted was for john to be able to pinpoint his exact position in the lorry. He knew that the snipers bullet would have no difficulty in penetrating the thin metal.
He opened the door slowly and kept his gaze low. At first he didn’t see Dave as he was sat on the floor on the other side of the wagon and he thought he was up in the bunk area. He saw quite clearly the remnants of the shattered steering wheel and the damaged steering column. He went back to where the pizza’s were and returned to the wagon and placed them on the driver’s seat. He heard him before he saw him. Just a little whimper in the gloominess of the dark cab and he looked to the floor where the noise had come from.

‘Oh my God’
, he gasped. Immediately, he cursed himself. In the first instance, he didn’t want to alarm Dave. He looked a complete mess with congealed blood all over his face, bits of makeshift bandage everywhere, fatigued and hollow eyed. Secondly, Johnson had drawn a reaction from him and was about to take further delight in his captives suffering.

‘
Not a pretty sight your mate eh. Take that message back to your other mates. Tell them how nice he looks. Tell them he will suffer a lot more if they make me unhappy. Now, fuck off.’

Johnson, in dramatic style and with words full of aggression and menace told Dave to eat the first piece.
‘If they’ve fuckin poisoned it bollocks, you’re gonna die before I get the chance to shoot yeh.

Dave had to tear the pizza with his right hand as no matter what, he couldn’t seem to get his left hand to obey his thoughts. He was feeling the pain in every part of his body. The blood in the exposed socket where his little finger had been was beginning to congeal slightly and was just oozing now as opposed to flowing freely.
The bottle of water and two slices of food had begun to revive him slightly as he realised that it was now nearing lunchtime and he hadn’t eaten anything for almost twelve hours. He had grown steadily weaker as the morning wore on and the pizza was a welcome distraction from the throbbing in his head.

Johnson had allowed Dave to take the painkillers and, together with the food that he was greedily consuming, the effects were beginning to lessen his weakness. The fuzziness in his brain was starting to clear as the water rehydrated him and replenished a little of the fluid loss.

He tied a large field dressing type bandage around his left hand and discarded his tunic on the floor of the wagon. The fabric was saturated and couldn’t absorb any more fluid; It was literally dripping and Dave realised that over the last hour or so, he had lost a substantial amount of blood. He hoped that by eating and drinking as much as his captor would allow, he might be able to regain some energy. He knew his ordeal was a long way from being over. His stomach ached from the retching earlier when he had watched the gunman chewing on his finger, but he was determined to force down as much as possible. He had seen how quickly Johnson’s mood could change from relative calmness to outright rage and brutality and he didn’t know when he would be allowed to eat again.

He was well aware by now that Sergeant Chambers would have spoken to Mandy and told her that he had been kidnapped and he hoped that the news had not filtered through to the twins.
Mandy was strong, but he prayed that she was not aware of the full circumstances of his ordeal. Of course they would have told her, but he hoped they would have played it down a bit. Yes she was strong, hard headed even on occasions but, when it came to her family and any pain they might be in, she was as vulnerable as any loving wife and mother.

She liked Dave’s Sergeant, Bob Chambers, and they had enjoyed the Section Nights out when she had seen the jovial sergeant keeping an eye on his brood of young officers.
‘Sergeant Bob’ as she called him affectionately, had taken quite a shine to Dave’s lovely wife in an innocent, fatherly way, and he would laugh at the ‘do’s, when she would drag the protesting Sergeant onto the dance floor for a quick jive and he would end the dance, hobbling away from the floor complaining about his arthritic hip, holding his heart and shouting to Dave, ‘If I was twenty years younger, sunshine, I’d sweep your missus of her feet. You wouldn’t stand a chance mate.’

Dave would retort,
‘Aye boss, she’s always had a thing about older men, or in your case, much, much older men.’

‘
Cheeky young bugger’ Bob would mutter as he headed for the bar and a refill of his pint pot. Whenever there was a new addition to the block, Bob would go out of his way to organise a night out at the Police Club to ensure he or she settled in with the other officers. Buying the first round of drinks, which always went down well with the troops; and then settling back to see how the evening developed.  He liked to see them mature into fine police officers over the years, giving advice when required and severe reprimands when needed. All his officers knew that he would back them to the hilt when they needed him, provided that they had acted in good faith and with the right intentions, but woe betide any one who tried to pull the wool over his eyes as he would bollock them up hill and down dale until he made them see sense. One of his many expressions would be, ‘Now, remember lad, don’t turn an honest mistake into a dishonest one.’ He would then go on to explain, usually over a cup of tea or a beer, how it was always better to throw your hands up, and admit when you had made a mistake.

‘
Everybody makes mistakes, its all part of the learning curve son,  But, if you make an honest mistake, and then try to hide it and start telling porkies, you end up in a right old mess. Honest mistake lad, freely admitted. That’s the way forward. No one wants to hang any body out to dry son; we’ve all been there, even old bastards like me. Now, sup up, and you can buy me another pint.’

Dave wondered how he had broken the news; he knew it would be gently, he also knew that Bob would be hurting too.

She wasn’t unduly worried when the ‘phone rang just after eight o’clock as although Dave usually rang if he was going to be home late, sometimes it wasn’t possible if he was in the middle of taking a witness Statement from someone or stuck with a prisoner in the Custody Suite and couldn’t get to a telephone. Sometimes, ‘Sergeant Bob’ would ring saying he was going to be late or one of the lads on the Section would keep her informed so she wasn’t phased when she saw the familiar police station number show up on the caller identity facility on the telephone display.

As soon as he said, “Hello Mandy, Bob here,” she knew this was not an ordinary call.
She recognised his voice as soon as he began to speak; she also recognised the slight crack in his voice instantly. Before he could say anything else, she cut across him.

‘
Bob, just tell me. If its bad news, don’t go round the houses. Tell me straight; please. Just say it straight out.’ There was a momentary silence as Bob decided how to tell her. How on earth could he tell someone he thought of as a daughter that her husband had been taken prisoner by a madman with a shotgun?

‘
Is he dead Bob? Please just say it if he is.’

‘
No. Love, he’s not dead but it is a serious situation. I’m on my way round to the house now but I didn’t want to just turn up in the police car without warning.’

Mandy’s knees were buckling, her body couldn’t hold her up and she sat heavily on the stool next to the phone.
‘Is it an accident Bob? Has he had an accident on the way home? Has he had a car crash?’

‘No’.
said Bob. ‘He’s involved in a serious incident and he’s been taken hostage in a wagon. I don’t want to say too much over the phone love. I’ll be at the house in fifteen minutes. Get the kettle on and you can make me one of your special cups of tea, nice and sweet, just like us eh?’ He couldn’t help it, it was just part of his nature to try and lighten the atmosphere whenever he was the bearer of sad or traumatic news. ‘Two rounds of toast wouldn’t go amiss either sweetheart. See you soon.’

‘Okay
Bob. Two cups of tea and a round of toast. Yeah. See you in a few minutes.’ Her mind was racing and confused as she tried to take in what ‘Dad’ had told her. The girls came bounding down the stairs.

‘
Mum, Mum. It’s my turn to sit in the front today isn’t it?’ said Sophie. ‘Susie said it’s her turn but it’s not. It’s me; she sat in the front yesterday.’

‘
What’s the matter Mum?’ said Susie, ‘you’ve got your sad face on. Have you done it again Mum? Have you burnt Dads toast again?’ Susie was standing on the first stair looking over the banister at her Mums sagging shoulders, and looking as though she was about to burst into tears. This wasn’t a burnt toast face, this was something much more. They both came and knelt gently in front of her. ‘What’s the matter Mum?’ they said in unison. ‘Are you not feeling well? Is it that time of the month again mum?’ Each placed a hand gently on her tummy. ‘We’ll make it better’ said Sophie as they both gently rubbed their hands in a circular motion.

Mandy looked at each of her beautiful daughters in turn and smiled weakly. She never ceased to be amazed at how they so very often spoke in stereo as though each of them knew what the other was going to say.
She wondered how on earth she was going to explain to them that Dad was in a bit of bother at the moment and she decided that until she knew a lot more about Dave’s situation, she wouldn’t say anything for the time being. They’d find out soon enough, no point in them being worried all day at school. In fact, she knew they wouldn’t go to school if they thought their dad was in pain, they would have to be alongside her waiting for news.

             
‘You’re right my little loves, I feel a bit under the weather today. Grab your bits and bobs and I’ll give your Nana a ring. She can take you to school today. Okay?’

‘
Okay mum,’ said Sophie. ‘But we’ll make you some tea and toast before we go,’ said Susie. ‘You phone nana, mum, and we’ll sort out our lunch boxes. Okay chuck?’

Mandy smiled tearfully as she looked at her two daughters who were now playing the part of ‘mum’ to her.
They all called each other chuck, it was one of those little things that over the years had been said countless times and became something of a family joke. Hello chuck, how was your day?’ Had a good day at work chuck? Had a good day at school chuck?  What do you fancy for your dinner chuck? She watched her two children as they busied themselves and she picked up the phone again, this time to speak to her own Mum.

Mandy’s Mum was just as perceptive as her daughter and picked up on the strained tone of voice instantly.

‘
What is it Mandy? Is it the kids, are they alright, are they sick love?’

‘
They’re fine mum. I can’t explain over the phone but I need you to come round right away and take them to school for me.’