“Everything all right?” Hayes studied her. “Charlotte’s got her headphones in, if you need to tell me something?”
“I do, but, nah, it can wait,” she replied, knowing she couldn’t say it out loud. “This is all so mental. To think yesterday we were sure Demirci was the one behind this. What a difference a day makes, huh?”
“Come on! I know you want to tell me something. Just say it,” Hayes said, eyes ahead, focusing on the road. “Is it about Luke?”
Hayes could get her back up like that. “Why would it be about Luke? My whole world doesn’t revolve around him. I can talk about other things. Why are you like this? One minute we’re getting along, and then you go and–”
Her partner put her left hand up in surrender. “Whoa! Where’s this coming from? I only asked a question. Wow! Talk about biting my head off. I thought it might be about Zuccari, is all. We haven’t really spoken about it.”
Miller felt bad for blowing up. Hayes had the best instincts, which Miller admired, more than she would ever let on. “I’m sorry!” she said, reaching out and touching Hayes’ shoulder. It felt awkward; she wasn’t a tactile person, outside of a relationship, unlike Hayes. “I’m grouchy this morning. Do you forgive me?”
With a tut, her partner forgave her. “I’m just putting this out there, but I’m always here for you if you need a chat. You know that, right? For anything. Work, social, my ears are never far away.”
And now she felt guilty. “Thanks. You too if you ever need to talk.” Looking out of the side window, she toyed with the idea of telling Hayes everything, but fell short.
It wasn’t long before Mrs Edwards’ music stopped, and she put her headphones away. “Are you going to tell me why that bastard’s coming with us now?”
While her partner drove, Miller filled their civilian in on everything they’d uncovered about the mercenaries after her brother’s invention. She also mentioned that Marlowe, the guy behind them in the armed response vehicle, had intel that would help bring the conglomerate behind her brother’s murder down.
Before she managed to finish their conversation, Hayes announced that they’d arrived. The car slowed to a stop outside the entrance. Miller had never been to Perivale before. The first thing she noticed was the size of the facility, and its many grey buildings, fences and security gates. “At least we know it’s here, although I doubt these mercenaries would have tried to get to the Fiesta, not with this amount of security. They’d have to take out a lot of officers first.”
“Marlowe said they don’t care how many of us they take out, remember? Their sole objective is to get the batteries and kill the brains behind them. He said he impersonated a detective to get to Curtis and Lang. They could’ve tried that here, or be planning it.”
Miller ended the conversation. “So, let’s go and get our baby.” She received a smile from her partner, who followed the armed response vehicle inside the pound. She watched a member of staff talking to the driver in front. “Here we go!”
After a short drive through the premises, Hayes pulled up behind the response car. “And there she is. She doesn’t look like much, does she? No one would suspect the secret she’s carrying beneath her bonnet.”
“I think it’s time to check her out, don’t you?” She opened her door, got out and walked over to the Fiesta. Hayes had a victorious, almost elated, sparkle in her eye. “Amazing, huh? To think she never needs petrol, or recharging. It’s madness.”
Marlowe appeared, accompanied by two armed officers carrying their carbines. “Don’t go getting too attached; she’s going to get you killed unless we get out of here. Come on! We haven’t got all day. They’re watching this place.” He turned and scanned the surrounding area.
“He’s right; we don’t have much time,” Hayes reiterated.
“Can we go now, please? Have you finished admiring her?” Marlowe kept turning and scanning the area.
“Right, who’s driving what?” Miller hoped, prayed Hayes would let her drive the Fiesta, but when her partner gave her the keys to the Peugeot, she didn’t argue. Hayes was the senior officer, it was her call. “Right, if you take Mrs Edwards, I’ll take Marlowe. When you get to Charlton safely, I’ll take him to pick up the USB stick. How does that sound?”
“Charlotte, I need the key in your bag,” Hayes demanded, holding out her hand. “Right, let’s go! Oh, and Marlowe, if you try anything, Miller has my permission to put you down, do you understand?”
Miller waited for Hayes to reverse the Fiesta. In front of her, Miller had one of the armed response BMWs, then the Fiesta, and she had a BMW behind her. The four-car convoy made its way to the entrance, where two guards stood. When Marlowe started talking she shut him down. “It’s quiet time now, okay? Shh!”
The first BMW turned onto Walmgate Road. The Fiesta went next. As Miller began to turn left and follow, a dark van appeared out of nowhere. It carried no insignia, but she could tell it was bulletproof, instinctively knowing it was them. She stepped on the accelerator, turned onto the road, and followed Hayes.
Miller grabbed the car radio. “It’s them! They’re right behind us.”
In her mirror, she saw the BMW pull out, turn, and follow her. At first she couldn’t see the van. Until it was right on her backup’s tail.
The first bullets sounded like distant firecrackers. Miller noticed the BMW swerving, saw one of the officers lean out of his window with his carbine. She saw muzzle flashes in the mirror. Miller called it in to headquarters, requesting backup.
Turning hard to the right, the Peugeot’s wheels spinning, she followed Hayes onto Aintree Road by taking another hard left and carried on until she steered hard right onto Bilton Road, all the while keeping an eye on the BMW behind her. So far, they’d staved off the assault by the armoured van.
“We’re heading east on Bilton Road, heading towards the A4005. Repeat, heading towards the A4005 at Bilton Road. Need assistance. Under attack. Assailants armed with automatic weapons.”
She apologised to Mrs Edwards, whose pallid face told her how petrified she was. “We’ll be fine, you’ll see. Keep as low as you can, and if I say duck, get your head down, do you understand?” They were approaching Piggery Bridge going over the Grand Union Canal, which meant they weren’t far from their turning onto the A4005.
67
Walker sat behind the wheel of the BMW, waiting for Sarge and Vodicka to get back with their evening meal, which would consist of sandwiches from a Tesco Express they’d found. He gave Vodicka his order of a tuna sandwich, and a bottle of Diet Coke. She’d accepted it with her evil eyes glaring at him. He figured then that she would make a terrible poker player, unable to mask her feelings.
He was beginning to regret not complaining about his team to the IOPC. Had he gone through with it, the organisation would have had them off the streets inside an hour. He would be on suspension, but he didn’t want that. Hell, with his job, every day carried its fair share of risk of suspension. As soon as they fired their weapons, in fact. Life as a firearms cop wasn’t like in the movies: if he shot a person, he would be suspended pending an inquiry. If his act was seen as lawful, he would be reinstated, but only after a battery of psychological testing. “Come on, Sarge.”
There was no denying the atmosphere in the car, or the fact that he was the main recipient of their hostility. All day he’d felt Vodicka’s stare. At one point, he was ready to turn around and ask if she had a problem. Not that it mattered. He knew what her problem was: him. Walker was the only one who risked exposure.
And there they were, the Sarge and Vodicka, carrying plastic bags filled with goodies. The Sarge sat next to him. Voddy sat behind him. He accepted his sandwich, as the radio crackled to life. “Hey, that’s Rachel!”
“Repeat, heading towards the A4005 at Bilton Road. Need assistance. We’re under attack. Unknown amount of assailants armed with automatic weapons.”
“What’re you waiting for, permission?” Sarge took out his sandwich. “Let’s go resc
ue your girlfriend.”
68
Hayes held her breath as the BMW in front of her swerved to her right, on the opposite side of the road, then slammed on its brakes, as she surged ahead. In her mirror she saw it move again, only after the armoured van had whooshed past them. “Looks like a van sandwich to me,” she muttered to herself.
Charlotte stared at her. “Huh?”
“Nothing, don’t worry.” It swerved onto their side of the road before a car slammed into them on the other. “That van has an armed car in front and behind it. It’s game over for them.” When she looked in her mirror again, she swore when a second armoured van exactly the same as the other one appeared. “We’re in trouble.”
She took an exit right, leading to a big roundabout at Barham Park. Once she was over it, in the distance she saw one of her armed escorts roll, with all three occupants inside. At the roundabout it rolled at least five times, leaving a mess of metal. “We’ve only one armed escort left, but two vans.”
“Do something, then. You’re the cop. Get us out of this!”
“Charlotte, yelling at me won’t help. In fact, it’ll do quite the opposite. Bottom line is, we’re in the safest place we could be right now. We’re in the one car that doesn’t need to refuel. Everyone behind us will, so if we can stay ahead of them, we’re safe, okay? And they want this car. They’re not going to harm it.” She checked the petrol gauge, which said they were almost out of power. “Please work!”
“What? What’s wrong?” Charlotte stared at her, waiting to put her mind at ease. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“In any other car, Charlotte, I’d be worried at the petrol dash,” she said, still praying the empty cell would click over to the full one. “We’re running on empty, but you could say this is a field test. Let’s hope your brother’s battery works.”
Behind them, one of the vans tried overtaking the last remaining armed Beamer. They passed Sudbury and were heading for North Wembley. There was a clunk, and the petrol gauge flicked back to full. Hayes whooped, ecstatic that their Fiesta hadn’t conked out on them. “It worked! You know what this means? We just need to outrun them.”
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we just lost our second escort,” Charlotte confessed, pointing out of the rear window. “Look, they’re right on us!”
Hayes saw that Miller’s Peugeot was outnumbered two to one. The furthest armoured van accelerated, sped past its partner, and pulled up alongside the Peugeot. “No! Miller!” Hayes shouted.
“There’s another armed police car!” Charlotte pointed it out.
In her mirror she saw the van next to the Peugeot slam on its brakes, before getting in line. The armoured police car did a skid, a handbrake turn and joined the convoy behind the last armoured van. “Where did they come from?”
“What does it matter? So long as they’re here to help.”
Charlotte was right. Whoever they were, she was grateful for having their assistance. The police BMW kept trying to overtake the vans. Hayes thought she saw one of her colleagues leaning out of their window, carbine in hand. “Take them out, would you!”
One of the vans pulled alongside Miller’s car again. Miller steered sharply into it, smashing the side of the van. All Hayes could do was keep driving. She didn’t know how this was going to end, and it bothered her. She liked to be in control of her destiny, not have it dictated to by a group of psychotic mercenaries.
With Miller still behind her, Hayes watched in her mirror, as her partner kept the vans back by steering left or right, depending on which way they went. Cars coming the other way blasted their horns at them. All Hayes could do was hold her nerve.
The van managed to nip past Miller. Hayes saw the frontage of the van in her mirror. It was so close to her rear, too close. When she saw a window descend, she shouted to Charlotte, “Get down, now!”
Her passenger did as she was told, crouching as far as she could, when the rear windscreen shattered, the noise making Charlotte scream. Hayes knew Miller was doing everything she could to get rid of them.
69
Miller slammed on the horn, not that she knew why. These guys had already taken out the back window of the little Fiesta. “Shit! We need to get rid of them.” She was sick of listening to Marlowe shit himself. “Will you shut up! You’re not helping, damn it.”
“What do you expect? You’re driving like a moron, and I’m cuffed here. Let me drive; I’m an expert.” He held his hands out, like she had time to uncuff him. “Come on! Before you get us killed.”
“Put your hands down! Christ! I’ve known you for all of five minutes, and already I want to shoot you.” She put her foot down, feeling the adrenaline flow, as she sped alongside the dark van, needing to get in front. “Take this!” Her nose slightly ahead of the van’s, she yanked left, her Peugeot colliding with the van.
“Hey! What the fuck are you doing? Are you mental? Are you trying to kill me, or what?” Marlowe moved away from the door, almost on her lap.
“We’ve got to give them a fighting chance; they’re sitting ducks up front.” With her car jamming the van’s way, Miller managed to get in front of it, so she was directly behind Hayes’ Fiesta. “Come on, Luke, where are you?”
“Who the fuck’s Luke?” Marlowe turned in his seat to look out the rear window. “Incoming!” He turned and ducked.
Miller screamed when a bullet tore through the rear window. While driving, all she could hear were gunshots, small pops. “Shit! We need to get off this road.”
The second dark van, which she thought was behind the one behind her, shot past, Luke’s BMW trailing it. Miller saw Sarge firing at the van, which was clearly armoured. “Hayes!” she shouted, when a Heckler and Koch MP5 appeared out of the passenger window of the van.
If having one van speed past her wasn’t bad enough, the second followed suit.
Miller’s side window shattered, cutting her face and neck.
She was too busy to bleed.
As though Hayes had heard her, the Fiesta turned left into a small narrow road. While the blue car managed to catch the slip road, the two vans and Luke’s BMW didn’t; they continued on along the A road. Miller had to slam on the brakes to catch the slip road. “Whoop!” She laughed, watching the vans slam on their brakes too late; they would have to back up and turn. “What’s the matter, Marlowe? We’ve given ourselves a couple of minutes.”
Taking her mobile out of her jacket pocket, she handed it to Marlowe. “Get Hayes on here, would you? Do something useful for once.” It took a few seconds of following her partner along the thin road with potholes everywhere before she heard Hayes’ voice. “Do you even know where this road leads?”
“I wish I could say I did, Miller, but no.”
Miller grunted when she saw a sign for a country mansion and driveway ahead. “Oh shit! It’s a dead end!” Up ahead the huge building, the likes of which she’d only seen in magazines and movies loomed large. In the rear view, the vans approached, which meant Luke’s BMW wouldn’t be far behind. Their immediate problem was figuring out what to do.
“We’ve got no choice but to stop here, Miller,” Hayes said. “We can’t turn round and go back through them.”
Swallowing hard, Miller agreed. “Get as close to the front door as you can. They’re going to take no chances; they’ll come out firing.”
More pops from behind told her they were firing at them again. As she drove closer to the mansion, she could see a couple of people outside the front. “I think it might be a hotel. Look at those people.”
“I think you’re right, but there’s nothing we can do.”
The people out front of the building must have heard the gunshots. Getting closer, they were running away. “That’s something, at least. They’ve seen the vans behind us.” Then she saw them running into the house.
The Fiesta was first to pull up outside the front door, followed by Miller’s Peugeot. She got out in a hurry, not bothering to wait for Marlowe. At the f
ront door, Hayes banged on it, yelling that she was a police officer.
Behind her, Miller saw the vans getting closer. Bullets hit her Peugeot, as muzzle flashes made her duck. “We need to get inside, now.”
Hayes ducked while bashing the door. “Don’t you think I know that?”
Marlowe stood, went to launch his foot at the thick wooden door, when it opened a crack, and a woman in a suit appeared through the crack. “Thank God! Let us in, madam, please.”
As Marlowe forced his way in, Miller watched the vans. Luke’s BMW made a last-minute dash to beat the vans to the house. “Come on, Luke!” The BMW screeched to a halt behind her Peugeot, the doors flew open, as Luke, Sarge and Vodicka fired at the vans, the bullets barely scratching it.
“Inside, all of you, now!” she ordered, hiding behind the door, holding it for them. “Come on!” She waited until all three were inside, then slammed the door shut, locking it.
Catching her breath, Miller turned to find Hayes trying to urge the hotel staff to leave out the back. “Please listen to her. These are professional mercenaries, hired to kill us. If you’re here they won’t hesitate in shooting you. Everyone out the back, please.”
There were a number of staff, ranging in age from what looked like late teens to their seventies. Miller helped Hayes take them to the rear of the building, where the general manager complained that they were in the middle of an audit, that the hotel was being inspected. He asked if they could come back another time?
Miller scoffed. “Are you kidding? We’ve got men outside with machine guns about to come in.”
“Carry on through the garden. Just keep going, and don’t come back until someone with police ID comes to get you, okay?”
By the time they had the hotel to themselves, Miller joined Luke, Sarge and Vodicka in the front bar, looking out of the window. Outside, there were ten mercenaries clad in black, carrying automatic machine guns, waiting. “Why aren’t they trying to come in?” she asked everyone.
The Hard Way Page 25
