‘The rider remains on the bike, revving the engine, looking for a way out,’ said the observer.
Within a fraction of a second, Charley heard the motorbike’s high-revving engine.
‘Rider attempting to go off-road. Off-road police rider in pursuit.’
The Kawasaki engine reached its peak, Charley could hear, and she could sense the power of it.
Charley could feel, not see, the bike in mid-air, the wheels spinning. The engine was noisily whining, as the rider instinctively throttled back. She closed her eyes and cringed, imagining the inevitable impact on the turf.
The commentator gave an immediate update, with his controlled breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. ‘Target has lost control!’ he cried. ‘Now he’s off the bike in a ditch, motionless.’
Armed officers pointed their weapons directly at the body that was face down in the dirt, twisted in pain.
‘Target two neutralised. First aid to both suspects, paramedics required immediately. Weapon of suspect secured.’
Emergency life-saving treatment was quickly given to the shooter, while the team were waiting for the paramedics. ‘Two bullets to the chest, one to the cheek. Person confirmed as the female partner,’ reported the observer.
‘That’ll do,’ Tim said out loud, as he readjusted his sitting position.
Meanwhile, the other suspect, who was identified as Brad Dixon, was quickly hoisted to his feet and arrested, his sore and bloodied hands handcuffed together behind his back. The bike, rocking and thrusting on the ground, was finally silenced.
The sound of the paramedics’ siren could be heard, wailing louder and louder, as the ambulance approached the scene, from the nearby service-station car park, where they had been waiting on standby, for the call to move forward.
Within minutes of their arrival, they had pronounced Brittany Dixon dead at the scene.
The silence in the command vehicle was broken as it also moved at speed.
Tim Watson’s face was grave. ‘Have you had many dealings with the Independent Office for Police Conduct, because I suspect that’s where this case is going.’
Charley nodded. ‘I worked in the Met for a few years, and was involved in several incidents that were referred to the IOPC, as the police watchdog.’
‘Everything was being videoed and recorded, so my main concern is that we allowed three shots to be fired before the target was neutralised, that could have been three dead police officers… thankfully none were hurt, but everything will come out in the debrief,’ Tim said.
An investigation, on top of an investigation was not something Charley looked forward to, but the positive side was that the incident was in the domain of the North Yorkshire Police, which meant that it was one less investigation that she would have to take charge of, leaving her to continue with the murder investigation. It was an excellent piece of police work, and the inevitable confrontation was one that was always around the corner for violent assailants such as the Dixons.
The door of Enterprise was opened, and Charley could hear voices coming from outside, all demanding attention from the command team. Just then the uniformed duty inspector pulled up alongside in a marked car; he was the person with whom it was her job to liaise. He was the officer who would ensure the road was kept closed in both directions and that the scene was preserved whilst a homicide investigation commenced, but Charley knew already that the outcome would be a lawful killing. She felt for the officers who had discharged their weapons. Whilst the team constantly practiced for armed confrontations like this, they never wanted to have to use firearms.
‘The on-duty Assistant Chief Constables from both forces have been informed of the fatal shooting,’ he told Charley. ‘Professional Standards have been called out as part of the ongoing investigation.’
‘Once they arrive, I’ll be off,’ said Charley. ‘Can you ensure that you get duty statements from everyone involved? The IOPC watchdog will need them, but we’ll also need copies ASAP, please, for our Incident Room, as the suspects are wanted on suspicion of robbery and murder.’
Steve Reynolds overheard her request. ‘Tim and I will deal with the surveillance and firearms officers’ statements,’ he said, pulling Charley to one side. ‘I’ve just been informed that two of the assailant’s shots hit the police car. We’re bloody lucky there were no further casualties.’
Charley felt her stomach turn; she let out a long low breath. ‘Once Dixon has been checked over, I’ll arrange for him to be taken straight to the cells at Peel Street, and of course, he’ll have to be told that his wife is dead, if he isn’t already aware.’
Steve nodded his head towards the crumpled body of the woman, whose body remained where she’d died. ‘As if it isn’t obvious.’
Charley looked about her. Her usual SIO role, taken over by the North Yorkshire Police SIO Detective Superintendent Barlow and his second-in-command, Detective Inspector Walker, left her as the spectator. There was much activity. She could see the inner and outer scene cordons being identified, and the area taped off by experienced officers. The damaged police vehicle remained in situ, the bullets to the passenger side door, just below the window, a reminder of how lucky the officers had been.
Three shots had been fired in response by the firearms officers, all of which had hit their target, the shooter Brittany Dixon. Brad Dixon had been left with superficial injuries which had been attended to by paramedics. Charley wondered did Brad also have a gun on his person?
‘Dixon’s quite subdued,’ said the duty inspector.
‘Most likely in shock,’ replied Charley, ‘but, I can’t say I’ve much sympathy. It’s the risk you take when you point at gun at someone. Now he knows what it feels like to be on the receiving end,’ she said. ‘Brittany had enough warnings to put her weapon down, but she chose not to.’
Charley waved, as she climbed into the marked car to be taken to Wetherby Police Station for the debrief. She knew from past experience firing weapons, that most had hair triggers, three shots fired in the blink of an eye. The time she had spent training at the police firing range had been an eye-opener. The array of weapons she had fired included a sawn-off shotgun and a Second World War machine gun, which was capable of firing seventy-five rounds in seconds. It showed her the impact of different firearms and their capability – something that had stayed with her through her career.
‘Debrief in about an hour?’ Steve Reynolds shouted.
Charley felt her shoulders relax in relief as she rode in the rear of the police car. There was plenty to talk to Brad Dixon about in an interview, but she was eager to know if the gun Brittany Dixon had fired, which for now was part of the investigation into her death, was a Russian Baikal semi-automatic pistol, and importantly, if it was the same gun which had killed Faisal Hussain and had been used in the Chaudry shop robbery. She turned to look out of the window, to see the calming fields passing by in a haze of flat green-and-brown landscape. Her thoughts turned again to the firearms officers – the firearms team was under constant demand due to their specialist role, and they were forever being tested. No one wanted to kill another human being, but if that was what was asked of them, then they were highly trained to do just what they had done today. Primarily though, she knew what had yet to be discussed, and it was a concern to her, Steve and Tim as the advisors on the scene. Why had they let Brittany Dixon fire any shots at all? Charley, despite her questioning, had nothing but praise for the men and women who put themselves at risk, on a daily basis, in front of someone who was armed.
* * *
‘The gun that was used today has been identified as a Heckler and Koch pistol,’ said Steve Reynolds.
Charley was sitting beside Steve and Tim, at the front of the team. She turned to see his face. ‘No, that can’t be!’ Charley desperately wanted to shout – not a Baikal? Instead she swallowed hard, and continued to take notes, in silence.
On arrival back at the Incident Room at Peel Street, Mike Blake was the first to greet her. He fo
llowed her through CID and into her office, carrying two mugs of coffee. It was dark outside.
‘One survivor, one dead. We were lucky no police got hurt. Have you heard an update from Tim?’
Mike shook his head. ‘No, but I assume he will be the West Yorkshire Police officer liaison with North Yorkshire force from now on?’
Charley nodded. ‘Which will allow us to concentrate on Brad Dixon, now we’ve got him in the traps. North Yorkshire will deal with the drug seizure, and at some stage will want to speak to Brad Dixon about supplying drugs, but our murder enquiry will take priority.’
‘You’ll be pleased to hear that Dixon is booked in, looking somewhat sorry for himself, according to Percy Shaw, on-duty Custody Sergeant.’
‘Well, his wife has just been shot dead, and he’s facing a long time in prison. I guess he’s had better days. I’m sure he’ll want to see his wife’s body at some stage, but he must remain in handcuffs.’
‘The gun, it wasn’t the one that killed Faisal Hussain, I understand?’
Charley shook her head. ‘Sadly, no. It makes you wonder if it still exists.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Just minor details, have faith, as what do I always tell you, Mike?’
‘The evidence will always speak for itself.’
* * *
Charley was in the custody suite stood before ex-army commander Percy Shaw in the cell area. ‘All okay?’ she asked the old-timer.
‘Dixon had two possessions on him. Two thousand pounds in cash, folded in wads of one-hundred-pound notes, and the other a key, which he says is for his mobile home. It’s been recorded as an exhibit and taken by the search team.’
‘Bet they’ll be chomping at the bit to get on with the search, I know I would.’
The sergeant’s shirt, Charley noticed, bulged a little too tightly across his belly. His hooded blue eyes looked nostalgic for a moment. ‘Those were the days ma’am, when we went out and searched our ’sens,’ he said. The old man’s grin was toothy, and wide, under his thick, grey moustache which sat beneath his button mushroom nose, completely hiding his top lip. However, the absence of his top lip was completely compensated for by his bulbous bottom lip, which was set in a slightly perpetual pout.
Did the fact that Charley didn’t feel more emotionally upset about the fact that Brittany Dixon had been shot dead mean she was growing insensitive, she wondered. Or was her contained mood down to the overwhelming feeling of relief she felt given that the threat had been neutralised quickly and no one else had been killed, mainly due to the dedication and the professionalism of the officers involved? The operation had undeniably been a success.
Back in the Incident Room, updates were coming in quick and fast. No more firearms had been found, yet the search of the Dixon mobile home continued. Numerous items had been seized, along with the motorhome itself, which had monetary value and would be ultimately dealt with under the Proceeds of Crime Act.
Annie sat at the table with Wilkie looking expectantly at Charley’s door, waiting for the debrief. ‘Brittany Dixon had some balls to kneel in the road, and take careful aim at the cops,’ she said.
‘Balls?’ gasped Wilkie. ‘Stupidity more like.’
Wilkie and Annie exchanged a duelling stare. ‘Or maybe she relished the fact that she and Brad were destined to die in an ambush, just like Bonny and Clyde?’ Annie paused. ‘I wish they’d found the Baikal weapon, which would have undeniably given us a lever with Brad Dixon.’
Charley’s mobile rang as she stepped out of her office. She stopped, listened intently for a moment or two. Her face lit up. She walked a few more steps towards them. Her eyes went to the ceiling. ‘Thank you, God,’ she whispered. ‘Love you big time.’
Annie’s eyes searched Charley’s face.
Eyes shining, smile wide, Annie’s superior carefully put her phone down on the table in front of her.
‘Guess what? Taped under the bonnet of the motorhome was a Baikal semi-automatic pistol,’ she said, excitedly.
‘Crafty bastards,’ said Wilkie.
Chapter 36
‘Pretend you’re sitting on the coast of Santorini, not at your desk,’ Winnie said, reaching into her tartan trolley bag. Without Winnie’s help the meal run would not have been done, leaving those who hadn’t brought sustenance with them from home, with none. Winnie put Charley’s sandwich down carefully in front of her.
Instinctively Charley grabbed her cold, bony hand, and rubbed it hard to increase the circulation. ‘What would we do without you?’ she said, meaningfully.
Winnie squeezed her fingers as tight as her arthritis would let her, before wheeling the trolley out into the CID office to hand out the food supplies to the others. ‘I’m glad to be useful, but it’s always nice to be appreciated, thank you,’ she said, with feeling. Charley watched her through the window that looked into the CID office. Winnie must have sensed her watching her as she turned and gave Charley one of her warm, comforting smiles. Charley picked up a tomato, and nibbled it between her teeth. Winnie’s smile had never changed in all the years Charley had known her, and she wondered if that was what her father had first fallen in love with, all those years ago. The thought came to her that Winnie could quite easily have been her mother.
Winnie popped her head around Charley’s office door before she left. ‘I’m off to Josie’s this afternoon to order some jams and pickles, if you want some,’ she said. ‘Let me have your order before I clock off at half past two.’
Wilkie sat at her elbow and sank his teeth into his well-filled teacake. ‘Part-timer!’ he mumbled.
‘There’s nothing wrong with my hearing, you cheeky bugger,’ Winnie replied, giving him one of her throaty laughs. ‘I’ve been here since half past six cleaning up after you mucktubs.’
Ricky-Lee was quiet, as he studied his lunch as if it was a great work of art.
‘Yes, it’s a sandwich: salad and meat, or cheese, placed on or between slices of bread,’ joked Annie.
‘The sandwich was named after John Montagu, fourth Earl of Sandwich,’ Ricky-Lee said.
‘Everybody knows that,’ she said.
‘Ah, but I bet you didn’t know that the third of November is National Sandwich Day?’
‘That’s relevant, because…?’
Ricky-Lee looked at Annie with a surprised expression, even though he wasn’t really surprised.
‘Since when have you been interested in a sandwich, other than it fills your cake ’ole, and it stops you talking bullshit for a couple of minutes?’ Wilkie slurred, around a mouthful of sausage roll.
Warm gravy spilled down Annie’s chin, and she quickly caught the running liquid in a napkin. ‘Since he copped off with the girl in the sandwich shop.’ The meat pie garbled her words.
Ricky-Lee turned his head to face her. ‘No comment,’ he chuckled, but Charley noticed the twinkle in his eye.
‘Don’t speak with your mouth full, Annie,’ snapped Tattie, with a scowl. ‘It’s not very ladylike.’ Wilkie’s mouth dropped open. ‘What, young Molly Fisk? No way! She’s got legs up to her armpits. You lucky bastard,’ he said, much to Ricky-Lee’s amusement.
Annie’s eyes were slitted. ‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. What do you say, Tattie?’
‘My mother always said the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I guess she wasn’t wrong. In fact I’m betting on it,’ she said, with a wink.
Annie giggled. ‘Tattie, you little minx, you’ve kept that quiet, haven’t you?’
Working lunches were not ideal, but this enquiry demanded it, as major enquiries often did. And a decent lunch was often what the team needed to bond together, as enquiries regularly took them on different paths out of the office, and the briefings and debriefs were more formal affairs, with others from different departments taking part. With Dixon’s custody time clock ticking, the afternoon was to be used for collating information against Dixon, pulling all the facts together, and obtaining links with Crownest in preparation for his first interview.
<
br /> ‘Brad Dixon is with his solicitor,’ Charley told them, ‘but I know, looking at the work we have to do, it is highly unlikely we’ll get to speak to him before tomorrow.’
Her duty statement about the shooting in North Yorkshire had been completed, and at the same time, she had requested that the head of West Yorkshire CID thank North Yorkshire for their professionalism and support in the joint operation. Tim Watson was to call to see her, to collect her statement, and she toyed with the idea of letting Tattie know that the firearms tactical advisor would soon be returning, but decided she would wait until the end of the working day. Tattie was required to concentrate on her work, and not to sit day-dreaming, repainting her lips and checking her hair was in place, or to rush off home to make cookies while there was still a mountain of work to get through.
The few watched the rest gathering in the Incident Room. ‘Just because we’ve made an arrest doesn’t mean our enquiries are complete, far from it,’ Charley said at the briefing. ‘The pressure is on, and for those who haven’t worked on a major incident before, the initial detention period of twenty-four hours will pass in a flash. When you take into consideration Dixon’s rights for rest periods, toilet breaks, exercise and meal times, there is little time left for interviewing him. I know it is tough to have him rule our next few days but, in my experience, it is best to keep him sweet and on our side, as it will give us the results in the shortest possible time, and that’s best for us all in the end.’
‘Will you be asking Divisional Commander Stokes for the twelve-hour extension afterwards?’ asked Annie.
‘Without a doubt, owing to the amount we’ve got to talk to him about. I’m expecting to be going to the Magistrates’ Court to request that they grant us the extra thirty-six-hour detention, too. Unless Dixon rolls over at the first interview, of course.’ Charley allowed herself a brief smile at the thought.
Instinctively she looked up at the clock above the door, making a mental note to keep her eye on Dixon’s custody clock, as she was required to attend the Magistrates’ Court within the last hour of the extended twelve-hour detention as granted by the Divisional Commander, should they not have enough evidence to charge the suspect. However, if the results from other agencies, such as Forensics, came back very quickly she might not need the extra time.
Condemned Page 24
