“We need to radio in where we’re taking the prisoner and why we’re going there,” Shazza said impatiently, and her tone had gone from indifferent to downright hostile. Garston realised that the officers were starting to become suspicious, and that further attempts at subterfuge were almost certainly pointless. They had reached an impasse; he needed them to go inside and they had no intention of doing so. Fortunately, he had a contingency plan to cater for this.
His eyes flicked left and right, making sure that the corridor was still clear. It was, and with a heavy heart, he caught Errol’s eye and nodded decisively.
Moving as one, both men drew their firearms and lunged forward to overpower the two officers. Garston grabbed hold of the male officer by the scruff of his neck and pushed him roughly backwards, knocking him off balance. Before the man could react, he jammed the muzzle of his revolver under the startled man’s chin. Breathing hard, he glanced sideways and was relieved to see that Errol had pinned the female officer against the wall by her throat and had the barrel of his gun rammed against her temple.
Garston’s drug-fuelled eyes flitted between the two terrified officers. “Keep your hands down by your sides and don’t say a fucking word,” he warned. “If either of you makes a move for your radios or shouts out a warning, you’ll both be dead a second later.”
Frozen with fear, both officers allowed themselves to be pushed flat against the wall. “Hurry,” Garston hissed at Angela, knowing someone could walk by and discover them at any second.
With trembling hands, Angela relieved them of their radios. Then she removed the quick-cuffs from their utility belts. Starting with the male, she spun each of the officers around to face the wall. Pulling their unresisting arms behind their backs, she applied the rigid handcuffs to their wrists. She squeezed the ratchets as tightly as she could, ignoring the grunts of pain that followed.
Garston’s voice was full of menace. “Right, you two, I want you to walk into the room as though everything is perfectly normal. We’ll be right behind you. Remember, if either or you say a single word, I’ll blow both your fucking heads off.”
Angela was looking up and down the corridor anxiously. “Hurry,” she pleaded.
With their hands secured behind them, the two cops were manhandled into Winston’s room, with the barrel of a gun rammed into the small of their backs.
The police officer sitting by the bed looked up, startled when everyone bundled into the room. “What’s going on?” he asked, confused, but unconcerned.
As soon as Angela closed the door behind them, Garston took a step backward and viciously clubbed the male officer across the side of the head, dropping him like a stone. A second later, his weapon was levelled at PC Morrison who was, by now, half out of his chair and going for his baton.
“DON’T MOVE!” Garston screamed. And then, a little quieter, “Do as we say and no-one gets hurt. If you cry out or try to use your radio, I swear we will shoot you all.”
Being careful to keep out of the line of fire, Angela cautiously made her way forward and took control of Morrison’s radio and handcuffs. The officer didn’t even look at her; he was transfixed by the weapon now being pointed at him.
While Morrison was being dealt with, Errol ushered the female officer into the opposite corner of the room. He kicked her feet as wide apart as they would go and then made her stand with her forehead pressed against the wall. That done, he dragged the semi-conscious male officer over to join her.
“Lay down on the floor next to your mate,” Errol said, speaking for the first time since they had entered the hospital. He sounded like Frank Bruno, and Shazza half expected him to finish the sentence with ‘know what I mean, Harry’.
Still facing the wall, Shazza knelt down awkwardly and then tried to shuffle backwards on her knees so that she could create the room she needed to lie face down. She didn’t do it fast enough for Errol’s liking, so he grabbed her ankles and yanked them backwards, pulling her legs from under her with tremendous force. Shazza’s chin smashed into the floor with a sickening thud, and she was instantly rendered unconscious by the force of the impact.
“You’ll never get away with this,” Morrison said, licking his lips nervously. He risked a quick glance over his shoulder at Winston. “Look at him. He’s not even fit to walk unaided, so how are you ever gonna get him out of here?”
“Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here, pig,” Winston snarled at Morrison. Clutching his right side, he gingerly stood up from the bed and lumbered over to his nephew’s side.
“Give me the gun,” Morrison said, tentatively holding out his hand, “before you end up doing something that can’t be undone.”
Garston ignored him. “Lay down on the floor next to your colleagues,” he ordered, pointing at the floor with the barrel of the gun.
“There isn’t enough room,” Angela told him. “You need to put him on the bed.”
Garston immediately saw that she was right, but felt the way she had said it undermined his authority. Before the day was out, he suspected that he was going to have to do something about her increasingly disrespectful attitude. First, though, there were more pressing issues to worry about.
“Lay face down on the bed,” he told Morrison.
The cop shook his head. “Don’t be a prat,” he said defiantly. “Stop this nonsense now, while you can.”
Garston could feel his heart racing. Why the hell was the cop trying to be such a hero? And then it dawned on him that the policeman was deliberately stalling in the hope that someone would walk by and raise the
