Soft Target ss-2

by Stephen Leather

  Shepherd lay down on a beam and took the equipment from Sutherland, then leaned down and pulled up his colleague. It was indeed a tight fit but Sutherland got through. He wiped the dust off his overalls and grinned. ‘See? I didn’t even need to take the vest off.’

  Shepherd handed him his MP5 and picked up a rope. There were two windows in the roof, encrusted with pigeon droppings. Shepherd tried to open one but it had been painted so many times it was jammed tight. The second was looser and he slid it open. He clicked his transceiver to transmit. ‘We’re in, Sarge,’ he said. ‘We have a window to get on to the roof.’

  ‘Get above the pizza joint and sit tight,’ said Rose. ‘The Specialist Firearms team’s arrived and we’ve got two snipers moving into position across the road from you.’

  ‘Will do,’ said Shepherd. He stood to the side so that Sutherland could go through the window first. ‘What did I say wrong earlier?’ he asked.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About the sarge having kids.’

  ‘Rosie’s daughter’s sick,’ said Sutherland. ‘It’s not something he talks about, and you being the new guy and all . . .’

  ‘Shit,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘It’s okay – we should have warned you. We ask him how she’s getting on but it’s not good.’

  ‘Poor guy.’

  ‘Yeah, tell me about it.’

  ‘What is it? Leukaemia?’

  ‘Some sort of tumour on her spine. Inoperable.’

  ‘Christ.’

  ‘Yeah. She’s a sweet kid, too, Kelly. Cute as a button. Seven years old.’

  ‘And she’s dying?’

  ‘Don’t let Rosie hear you say that – he’ll tear you a new one.’

  ‘Sorry. Thanks for setting me straight.’

  Sutherland pulled himself through the window and Shepherd pushed him up, then handed him the ropes and followed. A lead-lined rain gully ran the length of the roof, below a waist-high brick parapet. Sutherland knelt down and looked over at the buildings opposite. Shepherd joined him. Down below, close to the road block on their left, was the black high-sided van of the Specialist Firearms team. A tall thin man with close-cropped bullet grey hair was standing with an MP5 slung over his shoulder, talking to a uniformed constable. ‘That’s Ken Swift, the inspector in charge of Amber team. Bloody good guy.’

  Swift turned away from the constable and spoke into the microphone clipped to his bulletproof vest. Shepherd looked at the rooftops opposite and saw the two uniformed officers who had the pizza place under surveillance. Two armed policemen appeared, bent low behind the parapet. He glimpsed the barrel of a sniping rifle. He dropped down and called Rose on his radio. ‘I see the shots opposite, Sarge,’ he said. ‘They know we’re here, right?’

  ‘Affirmative,’ crackled Rose’s voice.

  Shepherd peered over the parapet again. The two snipers had taken up position at either side of the surveillance officers. Shepherd waved, then indicated that he and Sutherland were going to move along the roof. One of the snipers nodded. Shepherd flashed Sutherland an ‘OK’ signal and they headed down the gully, bent double, carbines clutched to their chests. They stopped when they were directly opposite the snipers. Shepherd hooked a rope round a chimney and attached a karabiner. Sutherland did the same. Shepherd radioed to Rose that they were in position, then the two men settled behind the parapet.

  ‘Have you been in hostage situations before?’ asked Shepherd.

  ‘A few times,’ said Sutherland. ‘Usually domestics, though. Criminals tend not to take hostages. They know it always ends badly and the judge will throw away the key.’

  ‘Sounds like they were forced into it this time,’ said Shepherd. ‘With any luck they’ll be talked out of it.’

  ‘Don’t bank on it,’ said Sutherland, laconically. ‘There’s a punter bleeding on the floor, remember. That could be attempted murder. Life if the guy dies.’

  Shepherd’s earpiece crackled.‘Negotiator’s arrived, but it’s not looking good,’ he said. ‘They’re refusing to send the injured man out until they get a coach or a minibus. They want to take the hostages with them.’

  Down below, more area cars were arriving. Sutherland popped a stick of gum into his mouth and offered the pack to Shepherd. Shepherd took a piece.

  ‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this,’ said Sutherland.

  Shepherd chewed thoughtfully. Rose’s plan was for the two of them to drop down the front of the shop. But there were two sawn-off shotguns below and at close range they could do a lot of damage. The robbers would see them and the first shots from the MP5 would only smash the windows. It was impossible to fire through glass with any accuracy. They could use the snipers to smash the windows and, hopefully, the robbers would have their heads down but even so Shepherd and Sutherland would be facing two men with shotguns who knew they were under attack.

  ‘Negotiators know what they’re doing,’ said Shepherd. ‘They’re professionals.’

  ‘So are we, mate, but things sometimes turn to shit no matter how well trained you are.’

  ‘Two shots from Amber team are going to be joining you,’ said Rose in Shepherd’s earpiece. ‘How did you get access?’

  Shepherd told the sergeant about the hatchway.

  To their right an ambulance arrived. Two paramedics opened the rear doors, took out a trolley and pushed it to the road block.

  ‘What about going down?’ said Shepherd.

  ‘Not until Rosie gives the say-so,’ said Sutherland.

  ‘I mean downstairs. See if we can get into the flat below. Not so far to jump. We might even be able to get through the ceiling. You saw what it was like in the attic.’

  ‘Bounce it off the sarge, if you like. He can put it to Cockburn.’

  Shepherd called up Rose, who told him to stay put.

  A minute or so later Cockburn was on the radio. ‘Chief Inspector Cockburn here, Marsden. What’s your plan?’

  ‘It’s not really a plan, sir, it’s just that we’ve less of a drop if we go from the first floor instead of the roof, and there’s an outside chance that there might be a way in through the ceiling.’

  ‘You can get access to the first-floor flat?’

  ‘We’ve an enforcer with us, but the lock didn’t look too strong so we could probably shoulder it.’

  There was a long silence. ‘Okay, give it a go,’ Cockburn said, ‘but keep the noise to a minimum. The negotiator isn’t making much progress so it’s likely we’ll have to go in.’

  ‘Will do, sir.’ Shepherd nodded at Sutherland. ‘Let’s get to it.’

  They untied their ropes, coiled them and shuffled back along the gully. As they reached the window, they met the two armed police from the Specialist Firearms team. Sutherland knew them and introduced them to Shepherd as Brian Ramshaw and Kevin Tapping. Both were in their late thirties, calm and unruffled. Shepherd briefed them on what they were going to do.

  The four men went back down through the hatch into the hallway, picked up the ram and hurried down to the first floor. Shepherd examined the lock. It was a simple Yale with a metal plate to protect it from being jemmied. Sutherland prepared to use the ram but Shepherd called up Rose and asked him to get one of the area cars to rev its engine, so that the men in the pizza place would be distracted.

  A couple of minutes later, when the engine was revving, Shepherd kicked the door hard. It crashed inwards, and a few seconds later the engine went quiet.

  Shepherd tiptoed into the flat. It was cheaply furnished with worn carpets and woodchip wallpaper painted a pale yellow. In the hallway there was a teak-effect low table with a phone on it and a framed print of a bowl of fruit above it. The furniture in the sitting room was shabby, and an ashtray overflowed with the butts of hand-rolled cigarettes. The faint smell of marijuana hung in the air.

  Sutherland grinned. ‘Whoever lives here is going to piss themselves when they find out that the Old Bill’s been in,’ he said.

  Shepherd was already pushing the s
ofa towards the television. ‘Roll back the carpet – let’s see what we’ve got,’ he said to Ramshaw and Tapping.

  The two men ripped away the carpet from the wall. Instead of underlay newspapers lay on the floorboards, dated ten years earlier. Sutherland went to the sash window and opened it. He flashed an ‘OK’ sign to the snipers opposite, then called up Rose and told him they were inside the flat.

  Shepherd studied the floorboards, which were in as bad a condition as the carpets. He knelt down and used his Swiss Army knife to lever one up. Ramshaw and Tapping helped him take up several more. Thick beams ran the length of the room from the window to the doorway, about shoulder width apart. If the men went through side on, there should be room to spare, even wearing their bulletproof vests. Shepherd used his knife to make a small hole in the plasterwork and bent down to peer through it. He couldn’t see anything so he widened the hole and took his torch from his belt and shone it through. There was a space almost a foot deep, then sheets of plasterboard. He widened the hole so that he could stick his head through. Close to the walls he could make out air-conditioning ducts and electrical wiring.

  He sat up and switched off the torch, then signalled for the three men to keep quiet.

  He went back into the hallway outside the flat to radio Rose. ‘It’s definitely a goer, Sarge,’ he said. ‘They’ve put a suspended ceiling below the plaster. It’ll be a tight fit but I reckon we can crash through, two of us with guns, two playing out the rope. If we get the positioning right we’ll drop down behind them.’

  ‘Sit tight while I bounce it off the OIC,’ said Rose. ‘Good work.’

  ‘I need to know where the targets are. We’ll be going in blind.’

  ‘Got that,’ said Rose.

  A couple of minutes passed before he came back on the radio. ‘Do the prep,’ he said. ‘Negotiator’s going around in circles.’

  ‘Affirmative,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘The surveillance guys say they’re both behind the counter, which is eighteen feet back from the wall and four feet wide. The customer who was shot is being attended to by a female hostage. One of the robbers is covering her with a gun. Everyone else has been taken behind the counter and the second guy’s guarding them. The kitchen’s empty.’

  Shepherd closed his eyes and recalled the ground plan in the estate agent’s. ‘Give us five minutes and then have the cars hit the sirens. We’ll be lifting the floorboards.’

  ‘Affirmative.’

  Shepherd waved for the three officers to join him in the hallway, whispered instructions to them, then went back to the window and paced eighteen feet. It took him into the bedroom at the rear of the property. Ramshaw and Tapping moved the bed and rolled back the carpet. As soon as they heard the sirens, all four men eased up the floorboards. Shepherd poked another hole in the plaster and checked with his flashlight. The layout was the same as it was below the sitting room. Outside the sirens died.

  Shepherd carefully hacked away chunks of plaster with his knife and placed them on a sheet he’d taken from the bed. When he’d finished they were staring at the back of a plasterboard ceiling.

  ‘It’ll be a tight fit,’ said Sutherland.

  ‘Best if you let me and Kevin go down,’ said Shepherd. ‘We’re the thinnest.’

  ‘Are you saying I’m fat?’

  ‘You’re not fat, but we’re thinner.’

  Sutherland patted his bulletproof vest.‘It’s the vest. Makes me look fatter than I am.’

  ‘You’re not fat,’ repeated Shepherd. ‘Kevin, you up for it?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Tapping.

  ‘Lose the equipment belt.’

  ‘Including the Glock?’

  ‘If the MP5s don’t do it, the Glocks won’t be any use.’

  ‘Everything okay?’ asked Rose, in Shepherd’s earpiece.

  ‘We’re in position,’ Shepherd whispered into his mike. ‘I’m going down with Tapping.’

  ‘Hang fire until I give you the green light,’ said Rose. ‘The negotiator’s still talking.’

  Shepherd and Tapping removed their equipment belts and stood by the gaping hole in the floor, their MP5s close to their chests. They were about eight feet apart.

  ‘The counter should be there,’ whispered Shepherd, pointing down between two of the joists. He pointed four feet to the left. ‘That’s where the kitchen starts. Dropping in won’t be pleasant.’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ said Tapping.

  ‘No offence, but I’m a bit smaller. Less chance of me hitting something.’

  Tapping nodded. ‘Go for it.’

  Ramshaw was holding the rope attached to Shepherd’s waist and Sutherland had Tapping’s.

  ‘Brian, let me go five feet down, then take the strain, just in case there’s an oven or something below. Give me a count of two to get my bearings, then let the rope go.’ Ramshaw flashed him a thumbs-up. Shepherd winked at Tapping. ‘Okay, Kev?’

  ‘Just want to get it over with,’ whispered Tapping.

  ‘We’ll be fine,’ said Shepherd. ‘It’s the last thing they’ll be expecting. Just so long as Mike and Brian don’t let go of the ropes.’

  They heard sirens in the distance, and overhead the thudding beat of a helicopter rotor. Then silence.

  ‘They’re still demanding a coach in return for letting the injured hostage go.’ Rose’s voice crackled in Shepherd’s earpiece. ‘We’ve got a vehicle ready to go, but there’s no way we’re letting them drive away. We reckon one target will come out with hostages to check the coach, with the other remaining inside until he’s sure everything’s okay. As soon as Target One is at the door and the snipers have a clear shot, I’ll green-light you two. You take out Target Two, and we take out Target One.’

  ‘Affirmative,’ said Shepherd.

  ‘Affirmative,’ echoed Tapping.

  ‘Good luck, guys,’ said Rose. ‘Once things start moving, I’ll talk you through it.’

  The radio went quiet.

  ‘There’s got to be more to this than pizzas,’ whispered Shepherd.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Tapping.

  ‘If it was druggies they wouldn’t have shotguns and they wouldn’t be giving the negotiator a hard time. They’d be freaking out by now.’

  ‘So.’

  ‘So why knock over a pizza place? There are three building societies and a jeweller in the street.’

  Tapping frowned. ‘You think they’re selling drugs, is that it?’

  ‘I don’t think they went in with guns to steal a few pepperoni pizzas. Drugs or money-laundering would be my bet.’

  Shepherd’s earpiece crackled. ‘We have more details of what’s going on inside,’ said Rose. ‘Targets are IC Three males. Not masked. Both have sawn-off shotguns, one appears to be double-barrelled but let’s not make any assumptions. The wounded customer is about six feet from the door being attended to by an IC One female wearing a dark blue coat. One of the targets is between the counter and the door, but keeps the woman as a barrier. The second target is in the doorway that leads from the kitchen to the area behind the counter. He has three employees with him, all in uniform. There are two customers also behind the counter, both IC One males in their early twenties, casually dressed.’

  There was no need to spell it out. Shepherd would take the man behind the counter, Tapping the other.

  ‘The coach is driving towards the shop,’ said Rose. ‘We have two men on board plus the driver. They’re moving through the road block now.’

  Shepherd’s heart beat faster and a surge of adrenaline entered his system. Time seemed to slow, as it always did when he faced combat. All his senses became more alert, more focused.

  ‘The coach is going to park in the middle of the road to give the snipers a clear shot,’ said Rose, ‘but we want to do this inside if we can.’

  ‘Affirmative,’ said Shepherd. He nodded at Tapping and pressed his MP5 close to his chest, finger outside the trigger guard.

  They heard the hiss of air brakes. The
n silence.

  ‘The negotiator’s talking to them,’ said Rose.

  There was a long silence. Shepherd spat out his chewing-gum and took a deep breath.

  ‘Okay, they’re going to move to the coach,’ said Rose. ‘Target One is going to go outside with one hostage to check the coach. Target Two will remain inside. As soon as Target One opens the door, you move. Target One is still in the kitchen doorway. All the hostages are lying down.’

  Shepherd nodded at Tapping again. Tapping grinned and spat out his gum.

  Shepherd played it out in his head. He would drop down behind the man in the doorway. He would shout for the man to drop his weapon. If he complied, it was game over. If it looked like he was going to fire, Shepherd would fire first. Tapping would drop behind the man at the front of the shop. The biggest risk, so far as Shepherd could see, was of the man in the doorway shooting Tapping in the back.

  ‘The coach door has opened,’ said Rose, in Shepherd’s earpiece. ‘Target One is moving towards the door. The hostage is an IC One male wearing a black-leather motorcycle jacket. Go, go, go!’

  Shepherd stepped forward, keeping his elbows tight against his sides. He dropped and his feet broke through the plasterboard with the sound of tearing paper. There was a jolt around his waist as the rope held but he continued to fall. His instinct was to close his eyes but he forced himself to keep them open. He saw stainless-steel ovens, a hotplate, a large refrigerator, work surfaces thick with flour, plastic containers full of tomato sauce, green peppers, sliced pepperoni and the man standing in the doorway, starting to turn. There was a second ripping noise as Tapping broke through the ceiling.

  The rope bit into his waist and Shepherd jerked to a halt. He was hanging a few feet from a metal preparation table with half a dozen pizzas ready to go into the oven. ‘Armed police!’ he yelled. ‘Drop your weapon.’

  The man kept turning. The barrel of the shotgun was pointing at the ceiling.