It crossed Diamond’s mind that the sniper, being familiar with Becky Addy Wood, very likely knew of this hideout.
The steps stopped.
He held his breath and waited, watching the narrow space between the laurels and the holly, straining to see anything.
A metallic gleam appeared. He was certain it was a gun, a black automatic, and it was levelled at his chest.
‘Take it easy,’ he said. ‘I’m not armed.’
‘Fucking better not be,’ Jack Gull said, stepping in and returning the Glock to its holster. ‘Careful with that crutch. You could hurt someone. You were so quiet here I had to be careful. Could have been him, lying in wait. He’s at this end of the wood.’
‘And it’s gone quiet again,’ Diamond said.
‘I don’t mind that. By now we’ve got the rat encircled.’
‘Let’s hope so. What next?’
‘They’ve all had time to get in position and find cover. I’m going on air again.’ Over the radio Gull asked all SFOs — the Specialist Firearms Officers — to report their positions.
Back came a mind-numbing series of numbers. Gull got them into a notebook and said to Diamond, ‘That’s all units accounted for. He must have missed with his two shots.’
‘We haven’t checked the unarmed men.’
‘We’d have heard. Be positive, for Christ’s sake.’ He broadcast another message to his little army. ‘Hang fire, everyone. Bravo here, and I’m about to join you.’ Then he stooped under the laurel branches and came up with a loudhailer and a full length shield. ‘I’m doing this the civilised way,’ he told Diamond.
‘Bravo, Bravo,’ Diamond said, being positive.
A few minutes later, there had been no more firing. He heard Jack Gull’s amplified voice say, ‘Armed police. We have you surrounded. Put down your weapons, step out with your hands on your head and lie face down. It’s the only way you’ll survive the next two minutes.’
Silence.
Diamond was strongly tempted to watch what was happening.
Perhaps another minute passed.
‘Okay,’ Gull radioed, ‘let’s get some light working for us. Delta Three, toss in a mothball.’
The temptation was too strong now. Diamond stepped to a position partly shielded by the holly bush yet with enough view of the area brilliantly lit by the magnesium pyrotechnic. The dazzle lasted long enough for him to see every yard of the terrain, each bush, each tree, each slab of rock.
But no movement.
A single taller bush of hawthorn looked large enough to be hiding someone.
The firework fizzled and darkness returned abruptly.
‘This is your last chance,’ Gull said through the loudhailer. ‘I’m not bluffing. Armed police. We’re about to come in with our MP5s blazing.’ Over the radio he ordered another mothball. ‘Stand by, everyone. Delta Two, you go in first. Delta One, covering fire. Wait for the order.’
A tense few seconds.
The ground fizzed into brilliant light again.
‘Go, go, go!’
Four armed policemen dashed forward and took up positions behind whatever the terrain offered in the way of cover. The nearest man was about twenty yards from the hawthorn bush.
Another magnesium ball was thrown in. There was a burst of gunfire. Smoke rose from the MP5s and the smell of cordite invaded Diamond’s nostrils.
No answering shot.
‘Go, go, go!’ Gull yelled.
The gunmen sprinted forward and hurled themselves at the hawthorn. More gunfire.
More smoke.
But it was police gunfire and police smoke.
One of the men was crawling behind the bush. A moment of panicky silence followed before he shouted, ‘Negative.’
Complete anticlimax. Everything went dark again.
‘Don’t anyone move,’ Gull ordered through the radio. ‘He’s not gone away.’
How do you know, Jack? Diamond thought to himself. But he’d probably have said the same. It was basic good sense not to present the sniper with an easy target.
A good five minutes went by. The only movement was overhead, a cloud clearing away from the moon. In the improved light, a few front line officers squirmed to different positions and one of them made a discovery.
The radio spluttered and this time the voice wasn’t Gull’s. ‘Delta Two to Bravo. Something here. Looks like a burnt-out length of fuse and it’s attached to a piece of cardboard casing. Could be the remains of a mini ground-burst.’
‘There’s another one here,’ a second voice said. ‘That’ll be the two shots we heard. Ever been had, guys? He treated us to a fireworks display. A slow fuse on a banger. The tosser was out of here before we even turned up.’
A simple distraction device.
Jack Gull was lost for words.
Torches were switched on. The Delta Two officers got up from their crouching positions and stood beside the hawthorn, at a loss. Others came out of hiding and joined them. Diamond left the cover of the holly bush and limped over. Disappointments such as this were all too familiar. One thing he’d learned was not to let it show to the men who’d taken the main risk. Their bravery wasn’t in any way diminished.
‘Don’t trample the ground,’ he said. ‘We’re treating this as a crime scene.’
‘That’s a vain hope,’ Gull said, cradling his loudhailer like a comforter. ‘He’s done us again.’
‘Look on the bright side,’ Diamond said. ‘No one died this time. When I heard the bangs I was thinking we’d lost someone, maybe two.’
‘How did he get here without being spotted? We’ve been here all fucking night.’
‘He’s smart, that’s why, and he has local knowledge.’
‘He’s drawn all our firepower to this end of the wood and he’s away.’
‘We still have pockets of men observing all over,’ Diamond said. ‘They could spot him yet.’
‘Don’t hold your breath.’
Then, as if on cue, a radio voice broke in. ‘Oscar One calling. Oscar One calling. He’s back and this time he’s got his gun.’
11
Oscar One’s position was about three-quarters of a mile off. With the sniper on the move, it wasn’t feasible to get the firearms officers there fast enough to stop him and it was out of the question to ask unarmed observers to tackle a killer carrying a rapid fire assault rifle.
‘Can you keep him under observation?’ Diamond asked.
‘From here, sir?’ Oscar One said over the radio.
A small sigh from Diamond. ‘Leave your present position and get after him. Take care he doesn’t see you, for Christ’s sake.’
‘We need a fucking chopper for a job like that,’ Jack Gull said.
Diamond ignored the comment. There was no way the police helicopter could be brought into use in time to make a difference. ‘Where is he heading?’ he asked Oscar One.
‘Downhill. sir.’
‘Towards Bradford?’
‘Towards the canal, anyway.’
The Kennet and Avon Canal ran through the bottom of the Limpley Stoke valley parallel to the river and the railway. At the town of Bradford on Avon it diverted south. The sniper had apparently escaped this way yesterday. In the planning for tonight, Diamond had predicted he would use the Westwood route.
Big mistake.
He held out his hand. ‘Map.’ One was provided. ‘How will he do it? He’ll need to cross the canal.’
‘And the river,’ Gull said, as if pursuit would be impossible. ‘And the railway.’ He was increasingly negative about the whole operation.
‘Okay, let’s deal with this,’ Diamond said, studying the map. ‘The nearest crossing point is the aqueduct at Avoncliff where the canal crosses the river and the railway. I know it. I’ve been there. It’s a footbridge as well. Once across, he can pick up a footpath heading into Winsley and he’s away if we don’t stop him.’ He turned to Gull. ‘Let’s get men down there and block it.’
‘Why the fuck didn’t we do this already?’
‘It wasn’t my call, was it?’
‘You had a voice in the planning.’
‘Yes, and I thought he’d come by way of Westwood and I was wrong. Slap my wrist if you want, Jack. This is spilt milk.’