“Surely that’s too dangerous,” Wilkins protested. “As far as we know, they still have one of the firearms that they bought from the skinheads so only armed officers should approach them.”
Jack treated him to a mirthless smile. “I’m well aware of that,” he said patiently. “That’s why Mr Dillon has spoken to SO19 and arranged for a team of SFOs to be on standby.”
“Oh,” Wilkins said, blushing.
“With luck, the TSU will be able to identify the house that the suspects are holed up in before they set off for the coast, and then we can all sit back and enjoy the show as SO19 move in and arrest them,” Jack said. “However, if Winston and his cronies move off before the TSU has located their hidey-hole, it won’t matter too much if we’ve already got their car under our control because we can just call the SFOs forward to carry out a hard stop.”
“Winston won’t come quietly,” Dillon warned them. “Trust me, he will go out in a blaze of glory rather than surrender.”
“Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that,” Bull said.
Dillon shook his head, grimly. “I’m telling you now, when he’s challenged, he’s going to open fire and it’s going to be a blood bath.”
The room went eerily quiet as the implications of his words set in, and Wilkins and Keating looked at him and then each other with growing unease.
“What happens if they manage to get Winston out of London before we locate them?” Bull asked.
“Then we’re in the shit,” Jack said, glumly. “I can only think of one other tactic we might be able to employ, but I don’t want to discuss that until I’ve firmed up its viability.”
“That’s very cryptic of you,” Steve said drily, “and not very confidence-inspiring if you don’t mind me saying so?”
“I don’t mind at all,” Jack said, blithely, “seeing as you’re the person I’m going to be entrusting to make it happen.”
“Me?” Bull swallowed hard and a look of dread swept over his features. “In that case,” he said timidly, “I recommend that we all start hoping and praying that plan A comes off without a hitch.”
There was nothing that Jack could say to that, so he started issuing orders, which seemed to galvanise the others into action. “Steve, can you go and get Dean and Reg for me. I need to discuss something with the three of you. Then I’ll need you to knock up a couple of Directed Surveillance requests in case we need them for later. I’ll phone Mr Holland and warn him that they’re coming his way. Dill, can you get the SFO team and TSU crew here as soon as possible so that we can get them fully briefed. Carol, can you speak to Susie and then get back onto the CPS. Tom, can you start ringing around and spreading the word that I want every available officer in the main office for a briefing at nine o’clock sharp. Make it clear I will not be a happy bunny if there are any stragglers. Right, we’ve got a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it in, so let’s crack on and make a start.”
Chapter 29
Melissa Smails was on the final leg of her five-kilometre run. Despite the blistering cold, she was sweating profusely inside her tracksuit as she puffed a trail of breath out like an old-fashioned locomotive.
With Dave suddenly coming down with man-flu, the trip to his parents in Cornwall had fallen through at the last minute. It had been a relief in a way; after Monday’s awful drama on the ward, she was quite content to spend a few days at home with her big bearded Teddy Bear, vegging out on the sofa and watching old films on TV.
On a positive note, the heating was working again. The landlord had finally sent someone around to sort the boiler out this morning, which meant that she would be able to enjoy a nice hot shower when she got back and then lounge around in her jimjams for the rest of the evening without worrying about frostbite setting in.
Mel turned the corner into her road and jogged along the perimeter of the park. She checked her watch and saw it was coming up to a quarter to nine. Easing into warm down mode, she took it nice and slow over the last couple of hundred yards.
When she came to a stop outside the communal entrance of the house that contained her flat, Mel placed her hands on her knees and lowered her head, sucking in air hungrily. Keeping her diaphragm extended, she breathed in deeply and concentrated on lowering her pulse rate. As Mel began to stretch off her hamstrings, she became aware of a red car pulling up beside her.
“Evening,” the scrawny looking white male who lived in the ground floor flat called cheerfully as he slammed the driver’s door shut. “You must be mad going running in this weather.” He gave her a wonky smile that exposed prominent front teeth.
“Rubbish,” she said, grinning back. “You don’t even notice the cold once you get going.”
Mel followed the boy – she didn’t even know his name – up the steps. As he keyed them through the communal front door, Mel immediately became aware of raised voices coming from inside his flat.
He glanced nervously over his shoulder at her. “Sorry about the racket,” he said, seeming genuinely embarrassed.
