In the past week I had been in four different police stations and I didn’t really like it. I wanted my own life back. I needed to get back to dealing with clients who didn’t seek to destroy the lives of others because they couldn’t accept that they had made a mistake themselves.
Don Fisher and I were led into a bare and unfriendly waiting room whilst the four policemen went to the operations room. Tom Vastrick and three of his people were on their way.
The plan was simple, although not everyone had agreed on strategy. The four policemen who had been living and breathing this case for days wanted to storm the building from every angle with overwhelming force, a strategy the Americans refer to as ”Shock and Awe”. The commanders who were charged with designating personnel to the task felt that the Risk Assessment demanded a softer approach, a standoff where a negotiator would talk the men out of the building, leaving their hostages safely behind. In the end the final decision was to be left to the men on the ground.
Unless things changed, the plan was simple enough. Don Fisher and I would be sitting in an unmarked van parked a hundred yards away from the Tottenham Press car park, ready to comfort the hostages on their release.
The telephone landline would be disconnected at the exchange, and the white van already parked over the road would switch on its electronic jammer. Then, for the next few minutes, every mobile phone in that cell, about half a mile square, would be silenced with the notorious message “No Network Coverage” being displayed on their screens.
Armed police with protective vests would then form an outer ring around the building, and two armed police with full body armour and helmets would enter via each fire door. Another six similarly clad officers would go in through the roller shutter door.
The roller shutter door had presented a problem to the police during the planning stage, as they knew it was designed to be raised by inserting a key into a weather protected housing and holding the key whilst the shutter crept up an inch at a time. The police didn’t have the key, and nor did they have the time to wait for the door to open so slowly.
Vastrick, who provided security to many such buildings, referred the police to an electrical contractor whom they knew, who could bypass the key, but he would need at least five minutes to do so. The electrician was being briefed by the police upstairs. The roller shutter door was also secured at the bottom with a padlock that fixed the door to the concrete base, but that could be removed in seconds with bolt cutters.
Don Fisher wasn’t a man who could sit still for long and he was anxious to get on with the raid, even though nothing could be done until we heard from the Assistant Commissioner that Operation Tango was well under way. That would probably be closer to two o’clock than one o’clock.
“You know, Josh, yesterday I wanted to hang that Hickstead creep from the nearest lamppost. Now I don’t give a damn what happens to him. I just want my daughter back safe. Her mother will blame me if anything happens to her and I’ll probably not disagree.”
“Don’t worry, Don,” I said, feeling none of the confidence I was expressing. “We’ll get the girls back safely. Dee will care for Lavender like a mother hen. I certainly wouldn’t want to be the man that tried to hurt Lavender while Dee was around. The woman fights like a demon. She’s also a trained protection officer. She knows what to do in this kind of situation.”
The door burst open. DS Scott came in with a hand held radio.
“You need to hear this! Okay, Charlie two, say again.”
The radio produced a second of static and then a strong male voice came through.
“A female in a leather catsuit came flying out of the fire exit a minute or two ago, and ran barefoot to the road. She stopped a male on the street and he decked her. Two other males ran off searching the area, while the suspect on the street and one of the kidnappers dragged the female back inside.”
“Who were they looking for?” Don Fisher yelled, ignoring radio protocol. The man didn’t hear the question and so Scott repeated it.
“That’s the odd thing. We’ve been watching the place for hours and the female we saw was the first and only person to leave the building. But if the male with the carrier bag full of supplies is one of them, there are now six hostiles counted. Two searching, two dragging the female and two who came to the door to see what was going on.”
“Your woman is definitely a fighter, I’ll give her that. And in these circumstances that has to be an advantage,” Don Fisher said, sounding a little less afraid now.
I hoped that he was right, but I was worried. Dee was obviously trying her best to find a way out of her current predicament, but her plan had failed. The captors now had two hours, during which they might well make her pay for the escape attempt.
Chapter 72
Commercial Road, Tottenham, North London. Sunday Noon.
“Johnny, what the hell is going on here? I thought you had these women chained up?”
“Sorry, Sonny, but the ‘cloggies’ have been looking after the women. They wouldn’t let us near them once they were upstairs.”
Sonny Holloway and Johnny closed the fire door and joined the others, who were all gathered around the chair to which a hooded Dee was tied. Sonny took Rik to one side and kept his voice low.
“I come around to bring you some food and what do I find? A hostage running to me for help, that’s what. I could have been anybody. How did they even get out of the room, let alone the building? Those chains are supposed to be solid.”
“I don’t understand it. They got the handcuffs open, but I’m the only one with a key. But even if they got out of the room, they still had to get down the stairs and past the door, and we didn’t see or hear them.”
Rik knew that he was to blame. It showed on his face. The older woman had beaten up two of his best men as if they were rank amateurs, and she had also escaped from a seemingly secure environment. Rik’s career prospects were looking slim.
“OK, we are where we are. Where’s the other girl?”
“We don’t know,” Rik admitted.
“Go and bloody well find out, then!” Sonny growled through gritted teeth.
Rik turned to Dee and addressed her in a moderated tone. “Diane, we need to know where Lavender has gone. Please tell us, because we don’t want to cause you any more pain.”
“I don’t know,” Dee replied. “I told her to run as fast as she could to get help. I wasn’t going to get far in bare feet, was I?”
“I’m going to give you one more chance. Where is she? We’ve searched the factory, and she’s not here, and we’ve searched the area outside and she’s not there either. Last chance.” Rik waited.
“Look,” said Dee, “I realise that you aren’t English, and so I’ll speak slowly. I.... don’t ....know!”
Gregor had heard more than enough from this woman, who clearly derived pleasure from humiliating them. He stepped forward and shot her.
***
Blood spattered everywhere and Sonny tried to jump out of the way, but he was too late. The woman’s blood was on his coat.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, you lunatic?” Sonny screamed. “This is my place. If the police forensic people get around to looking in here I’ll go down for years. Put the guns away.”
“We haven’t got our answer yet,” Rick said, nodding to Gregor.
Dee had been shot in the thigh. She had no way of knowing whether her femoral artery had been damaged, but she knew that if it had she would have only minutes to live. What she did know was that she had never felt pain like it. She was in shock; she was fighting unconsciousness. She couldn’t give Lavender up. She had to convince them.
Gregor leaned over and pushed the hot barrel of his gun into the wound. Dee screamed and felt herself sliding away. Just before she drifted into the blackness, she heard Lavender’s anguished voice.