Just Another Day (11 page)

She knew it wasn’t the right time to start asking questions.
‘Five minutes love, just give me five minutes. Leave the door open Okay?’

There were times when having her mum just five minutes away in the next road was a bit of a nuisance as she would pop in without notice or warning.
Occasionally, she would call when Dave and Mandy were having a bit of a tiff, and she would walk up the hallway to hear her daughter telling her precious Son in Law, exactly what she thought of him. Her mum always sided with Dave and wouldn’t hear a word said against him. He was the Son that she never had and although she loved her only daughter dearly, Dave was the nicest, most loving Son in Law (as he always told her) that she could ever wish to have.

‘
Amanda Jenkinson, (Mandy’s mum always used her maiden name and full title when telling her daughter off) how on earth can you say such a thing. You’re lucky to have that lad. You leave him alone. Do you hear me? Best thing that ever happened to you my girl?’

Dave would always playfully stand behind
his
Mum in a sheltering sort of way.

‘
You just listen to your mum, aren’t I always telling you what a lovely woman she is?’ He would really play to the gallery, with his mock hurt and tone of fear. ‘You don’t know what it’s like Mum,’ as he tugged at his mum in law’s skirt, ‘she beats me. Whenever you or the kids aren’t here to protect me, she beats me and I just have to take it. Even in the summer mum, I have to wear long sleeve shirts, just to hide all the bruises. Oh the pain mum, the humiliation of it all!’

About this time he would slump to the floor and wink at Mandy, who would also now start to smile, as he grovelled along the floor and grasped onto his wife’s shoe, kissing her ankle and protesting loudly,
‘Please Mandy, no more. I can’t
take
any more,’ as everyone would dissolve into heaps of laughter.

The loud bang on the front door brought her back to the present and she realised that she was still sitting on the telephone stool. She struggled to get to her feet as her legs were still unsteady. She hoped it was her Mum and not Bob Chambers. If the kids saw ‘uncle Bob’, they would know that their mums illness was somewhat contrived.
As she opened the door, she was relieved to see her mum standing on the step.

Linda knew the instant she saw her daughter that something serious was amiss. She was deathly white and could hardly talk.

As soon as she saw her mum, she began to sob as quietly as she could. She wanted to protect her girls for as long as possible.

‘
It’s Dave Mum. Something’s happened. He’s been kidnapped.’

‘
Here you are Mum. Tea and Toast. Hello Nana. Be ready in a minute,’ came the sing song voices from behind as she slumped back down in the telephone chair.

‘
Hello my little cherubs,’ said Nana, hoping her voice didn’t crack with emotion, ‘take your mums tea and toast in the lounge and she’ll be with you in a minute. I’ve got the car outside.’

‘
Thank you nana chuck,’ said Sophie as she bounced up the hall to get her coat.

‘
Dave’s Sergeant, Bob Chambers, phoned just before I spoke to you Mum. He’s on his way round. Take the kids quickly before he gets here and I’ll speak with you properly when you get back. I can’t tell you any more mum, I don’t know fully what’s happened yet.’

‘
Right you little horrors, in that car now, or I’ll box your flippin ears,’ and she made a playful grab for her darling grandchildren, hoping that they couldn’t see her tear filled eyes as they gathered their coats and bags still blissfully unaware of Dads predicament, and dashed for the door.

‘
I’m telling you Sophie, it’s my turn in the front, even though its Nana’s car, you hear me?’

‘
It’s my turn, it’s my turn,’ mimicked Sophie as she reached the car and opened the back door to climb in. ‘Me, me, me, that’s all you think about,’ she said, as she clambered onto the back seat.

Linda smiled at Mandy.
‘If they’re bickering love, they’ll be fine. Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon. Just give me twenty minutes love.’

As the door closed behind her, Mandy broke down and the flood gates opened. She cried and sobbed in a way that she hadn’t done for a long, long time. She instinctively knew that her hubby was in pain and she wanted to be with him.
She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there when the doorbell rang. She opened it to find Bob Chambers on the doorstep and they both smiled weakly at each other.

‘
Come in Bob,’ she said. ‘I put the kettle on before, but I can’t think straight. I sat on the telephone chair and my legs wouldn’t work. I just couldn’t get up out of the chair.’

‘
So I guess that’s me making the tea and toast then? Hope you don’t mind, I only do burnt.’ said Bob.

He knew she was hurting deeply and he hoped that his efforts at humour were able to lighten the load a little.
She wiped away a few more tears and started to collect her thoughts a bit more.

‘
Please Bob; don’t try to protect me in any way. I need to know the full details.’

‘
I won’t pretend its not serious love. It is. But you know Dave, he’s a strong lad; bags of character and he loves you lot to bits. If any one can come through this in one piece, he can.’

He instantly bit his lip when he said, one piece, as he recalled hearing Dave’s cries over the radio when the gunman shattered his finger.
Dave would never be in one piece ever again but he wasn’t about to tell Mandy the full circumstances as it would do her more harm than good at this time. He knew how evil Johnson was and only time would tell whether or not his young friend and colleague would make it through the day.

‘
Sit there sweetheart and I’ll sort us out with a big hot cup of tea. Two sugars, is that right?’

Dave was beginning to get his second wind as his blood sugar levels increased with the food and water and the painkillers began to ease his suffering.
He started to think more clearly and tried desperately to figure out some way that he could get out of his predicament. He was still sitting on the floor. He knew better than to eyeball Johnson, but he tried to look around for a weapon or something he could use to overpower his captor. He dismissed his thoughts very quickly. He knew it would be suicide. He wouldn’t be able to launch himself quickly enough off the floor. His legs definitely felt a bit stronger but his left hand was almost useless. He couldn’t open his fist at all because he had bound it quite tight with the bandage earlier in an effort to stem the blood. That meant that in effect, he only had his right hand to grab or strike with. Again, with the damage to his right shoulder as a result of the earlier blast his movements would be slow and painful.

What if I leant hard on the door handle, would it open? He thought to himself. Maybe I could fall out and roll under the lorry, firearms teams might be able to take him out? He knew he was too weak to do any of these things and he was just grasping at straws. Johnson was a madman, of that he was not in doubt but he was still very aware of the circumstances around him and his reactions were sharp. Dave would die before his feet hit the ground.
His thoughts were interrupted.

‘
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.

‘
Could you loosen it slightly, just a little bit will do.’ said Dave.

The gunman looked at Dave in silence. Dave wasn’t able to look directly at his assailant as he was slightly behind him and he didn’t know whether or not Johnson had heard what he’d said.

The control room certainly had.

‘
It’s a bit like a tourniquet round my neck. It’s stopping the blood to my head and I’m feeling a bit dizzy. Could you ease it off a bit?’

The control room were confused by Dave’s words as they
couldn’t make out what he was talking about.

‘
Why the fuck should I?’

“If we get out the wagon with this gun tied to my neck and I stumble because I’m dizzy, it might go off without you wanting it to and if I’m dead because my head’s been blown off, I think you won’t be much longer for this world either.
You know there are police marksmen out there and as much as you’re in control of this situation, you’ve got to consider that you are alive because I am. If I die, whether you intend it or not, you will die as well.’ He couldn’t believe that he had spoken the words as calmly as he had.

Now the control room knew exactly what Dave was talking about.

‘Be advised, be advised,’ hissed Geds earpiece, ‘all marksmen be advised. Do not, repeat, do
not
take the shot. Target has a ligature attached to the firearm and constable Watkins neck. If the target is disabled, there is a very high probability that the firearm will be discharged and the consequences will be fatal. All officers acknowledge and stand down’

Ged, and the other marksmen, replied in turn to the radio message. He moved slowly back from the rubber eyepiece of the telescope and rubbed gently at his eyes. He needed to give them a rest; he also needed to stretch his aching body as he had been in a prone position for longer than
was comfortable. He laid the butt of the snipers rifle on the table top as he pushed himself up into an upright position. He carefully climbed off the table and stood up. He reached up to the ceiling and then down to his toes and a few quick neck exercises released the knots in his torso.

Shit. He said to himself. This bastard certainly knows what he’s doing.
Ged started to relax his shoulders as the tension eased from his upper body. The gunman was about to move to the next stage of his plan, of that he was sure. What he wasn’t sure of, was how they were going to get Dave out of this mess. The only one who had any idea of what the plan might consist of was about a hundred metres away and Ged felt just a little bit useless. He didn’t know whether or not he might be able to influence the situation later at some point. What he knew for certain, was that Johnson was a lot more astute than he had originally believed and he was holding all the cards at the moment. He wasn’t about to suddenly run from the protection of the wagon. He was giving slow consideration to his exit strategy.

Johnson reached up above the bunk bed into the overhead locker. He pulled the heavy grey, woollen ex army surplus blanket from amongst a pile of bedding.

‘Right. Do exactly as I say and you might be okay. Understand?’

Dave nodded. The gunman had relaxed his noose by a couple of turns and the blood was returning to his brain.

‘Just in case your mates get a bit itchy on the trigger, you’re going to stay very close to me. This blanket will cover us both as we get out the wagon so your mates won’t know who’s who underneath OK?’

Dave nodded once more as the gunman pushed the gun forward and Dave moved towards the passenger door of the lorry.