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. Then 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.
‘Drop your weapon!’ Shepherd yelled.
‘Armed police!’ shouted Tapping, from the front of the shop. There was the deafening sound of a shotgun blast followed by the crack of a 9mm round. A woman screamed and a man yelled.
Almost immediately Ramshaw let the rope slide and Shepherd dropped to the floor. He bent his knees to absorb the impact but his eyes never left the man in front of him. He caught a glimpse of a hostage just behind the target, a man in his twenties wearing a blue baseball jacket, but he kept focused on the man with the shotgun.
The shotgun barrel swung down. The man’s mouth was open in surprise, eyes wide and staring. Shepherd slid his finger inside the trigger guard. One pull and he’d hit him dead centre. His finger tightened on the trigger, but
