Susie scowled at them. “We’re AMIP,” she shouted, “and don’t you dare bloody moan about me blocking your way because I pulled over the first chance I got. You must have the forward vision of a mole if you think otherwise.”
The driver looked like he was about to reply, but then he saw the fire blazing in those pretty green eyes, thought better of it and simply nodded.
Murray nudged her elbow. “Susie…”
“What?” she demanded, ready to punch him if he made another stupid remark.
Murray pointed, and as she followed his finger, she caught sight of a uniformed officer sprawled in the road between two parked cars.
They sprang out of the car and rushed to help him. As they assisted the officer to his feet, she recognised him at once from his AMIP secondment during the Whitechapel murders of the previous year.
Murray also recalled Grier. “Terry! Bloody hell, mate. Are you alright?” he asked, running his eyes over the taller man with uncharacteristic concern.
The young PC nodded brusquely as he brushed himself down. “I’m fine,” he said, looking more embarrassed than hurt. “Just a few cuts and grazes to my hands and knees.”
The IRV pulled level with them. “Which way did he go, Tel?” the operator shouted.
Grier pointed straight ahead, towards the junction with Sidney Street. “He went that way. He’s only got a few seconds ahead of me. If you hurry, you might still catch him.”
The IRV operator nodded, and as it shot off, the driver gave Terry a thumbs up.
Murray led Grier back to their car. “Jump in the back, mate,” he said, half guiding him, half pushing him in.
Once everyone was inside, Susie set off after the IRV, only to see that it had now stopped at the junction, having been flagged down by an irate looking white man in his early sixties who had run out into its path, waving his arms like a nutter.
“What the fuck’s going on here?” Murray said, irritably. “Why have the lids stopped to speak to that twat when they’re supposed to be after a murderer?”
The man he was referring to was jabbering away to the IRV operator in a clear state of agitation, and as he spoke, he kept pointing towards Commercial Road. Suddenly, he jumped into the back of the IRV, which then rocketed off in the direction he had indicated.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting that,” Murray said, scratching his head.
Not having a clue what was going on, Susie tucked into the IRV’s slipstream and followed behind.
The mystery was solved moments later as the IRV’s operator broadcast an update over the Main-Set. “MP, MP, active message, Hotel-Tango-Two-Three…”
“Hotel-Tango-Two-Three, go ahead, MP over…”
“MP the IC3 male suspect that 167 was chasing has now car-jacked a black London Taxi cab at gunpoint, and he was last seen heading along Stepney Way towards Commercial Street within the last minute…”
The IRV operator proceeded to broadcast the cab’s registration and Taxi licence number. “We’ve got the owner on board, and we’re searching the immediate area, but all units are to approach with caution.”
When they reached the junction with Commercial Road, the IRV turned right and started bombing along the outside of the traffic.
“No point in us trying to follow him without blues and twos,” Susie said. “Let’s have a punt the other way.” With that, she turned left and set off towards Limehouse.
◆◆◆
By now, over thirty officers had attended the assistance call at the hospital, and there were still more en route. Two carriers of TSG had just turned up, and they were being deployed to manage crowd control. Trojan units from Central and South London were being drafted in for the armed containment. Even a DPG Ranger unit from Central London was responding.
The debacle had been formally declared a major incident, and a senior member of the hospital administration staff had been sent to obtain a set of blueprints and floor plans to enable the police to co-ordinate their search and any subsequent evacuation. No decision had been made regarding evacuation yet, but one would be called for soon. With a gunman running loose in the hospital they had to consider the safety of the patients, staff and the public above all else.
Inspector Connors decided to use an ARV parked at the front of the hospital as his forward control point, from which to co-ordinate the deployment of resources with Ray Speed.
Divisional Chief Superintendent Charles Porter was en route, and he would take on the role of Gold once he arrived. Unfortunately, he was travelling from Area HQ at Edmonton in North London, where he’d been attending a Borough Commander’s meeting, so it was going to take him a while to get there. Until he formally assumed control, Speed was the man in charge and he had adopted the call-sign of Silver.
While they were waiting for the floor plans to arrive, one of the hospital’s security team came forward and asked to speak to whoever was in charge. He looked like a man with a lot on his mind.
“What is it?” Dillon asked. He didn’t welcome the intrusion, which he suspected would just be another gripe about how long the hospital was going to be closed. He had already fended off a couple of those.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” the man said, “but I’ve just received an alarming call from the HEMS team upstairs. The call was cut off mid-flow, but before the line went dead, they said someone was trying to force their way inside, and I wondered if it might be connected to what you’re dealing with.”
Dillon’s eyes widened. “I thought the HEMS
