The sergeant came over to her.
“That was a brave thing you did. You may have saved my officers’ lives, so thanks.”
“That’s okay.”
“What made you think he was going to do something like that?”
Keira shrugged.
“His body language was very defensive when the officers pulled alongside him. I saw him look around as if to see which way to run, so I knew he was going to try something. I never imagined he’d have a gun.”
“How far away were you?”
“Not that far, fifty yards, or so.”
“You did well to cover that distance as quickly as you did,”
“I can run fast when I have to.”
“It’s just as well you can. If you come with me, I’ll take you to the station and we’ll get a statement from you.”
“Can I ask what’s happened to the van?”
“It’s on the M25. It’s been stopped by two police cars and there’s a standoff. It appears they wanted to park it under the M4/M25 flyover junction. If it went boom there, London and the South East would come to a standstill for days.”
“What kind of standoff?”
“There’s a man holding a female hostage.”
“If the female is Shamin, I heard her talking with the man earlier, and she’s as much a part of it as he is.”
“Where was that?”
“In the woods a few nights ago, a little way from the college. My friend and I were up there; well, we’d sneaked out of college, but we saw them hiding the stuff in this pit. I don’t know what his name is, but he called her Shamin, and she was in it as deep as he was.”
“I’ll call that in. Were they armed?”
“I have no idea. We hid. I was taking the teacher to show her what we’d seen when we saw them leaving in the van.”
As Keira was driven the short distance to Uxbridge Police station, she learned that the incident was still running.
“So, what’s happening on the motorway?” she asked the sergeant, whose name was Mike Gardener.
“Just what I told you. They have two traffic units there, with an ARV and an armoured Land Rover from the airport firearms unit. The traffic cars forced it off the motorway onto the hard shoulder when it refused to stop. It’s sitting there with two people inside. As the information is that there could be a large amount of explosive inside, they’ve shut the motorway in both directions. The man has threatened to shoot the woman if anyone approaches.”
“That’s rubbish, as she’s in it as much as she is. They just don’t want you to see what’s in the van. If it blows up there, people could get hurt. Why not move the car to a safe place; like the middle of a field, or something?”
He smiled.
“It’s not that easy.”
Keira realised that she would have to get there to help, but how?
They arrived at the police station, so Keira was asked to wait in an interview room while an officer was sent for to take a statement from her.
“Do you have a loo I can use?” she asked.
The sergeant told her to hang on so he could find a female officer.
“Do I really have to wait; I’m not going anywhere?”
“I suppose not. The ladies loo is on the first floor. When you’re done, come right back here, okay?”
“Thanks.”
Fortunately, the toilet had a window, and within seconds, she was bounding out of Uxbridge and aiming for the M25 between the M40 and the M4. She wasn’t sure where about it was, but looking at the traffic, she could follow the tail-backs to the cause.
Mrs Lambert would be arriving at the police station soon, and so she knew that she had to get back really quickly.
She saw the police helicopter and the eight lanes of stationary traffic, so knew she was getting close. There was the dirty van, on the southbound carriageway hard shoulder, with police cars parked close to, but far enough to hopefully not get caught in a blast.
The motorway snaked through Buckinghamshire countryside at this point, with fields to the east and woodland to the west. She hovered above the police helicopter for a moment, hoping that their attention was on what was going on below them.
How can I communicate with the police without drawing attention to myself? She asked herself.
There was a very large articulated truck below them, at the front of the queue. She had a brain wave.
Hovering above the scene was the Metropolitan Police’s helicopter, call-sign India 99. Lee Holder was an experience police helicopter operator. He had been working in India 99 for the last eight years, so when he looked down and saw something strange, his actions were automatic as he focussed his camera onto the top of the truck’s trailer unit.
Letters suddenly appeared on the roof of the trailer below. The truck was a dirty white articulated lorry, and one that needed a good clean.
The message was simple and easy to understand;
POLICE – THERE IS LITTLE TIME TO ARGUE. THE VAN WILL BE MOVED IN FIVE MINUTES TO A NEW LOCATION IN THE CENTRE OF THE FIELD THREE HUNDRED METRES TO THE EAST. YOU MUST BE READY TO FOLLOW, OR PLACE VEHICLES INTO THE FIELD IN PREPARATION.
IF YOU UNDERSTAND THIS, HAVE ONE OFFICER LEAVE THE LAND ROVER AND WAVE UP TO THE HELICOPTER.
PC Holder called down to the men on the ground, and then put a call to the superintendent who was Gold Commander in the Major Incident room.
“What do we do, sir?” the Chief Inspector in charge of the firearms officers asked.
The Superintendent was stumped.
“From whom has this message originated?” he asked.
“Sir, this message has just appeared as if by magic on the roof of the truck below. No one was on the truck, so someone is watching and seems to think they can do this.”
“Can we communicate back?”
“We can try, sir. We could get someone to write in the dirt on the truck roof as well.”
PC Terrry Watts was a traffic officer on scene and so when he was asked to clamber onto the roof of the truck and draw in the dirt, he thought someone was pulling his plonker.
“Someone’s pulling my plonker,” he said, with a mouthful of sandwich.
“Get up there and follow the directions of Gold Commander,” his sergeant said.
Grumbling, he did as he was told.
“Ask; who are you?” the radio squawked at him.
WHO ARE YOU? He wrote in the dirt.
Moments later a new set of words appeared.
YOU DON’T NEED TO KNOW. JUST KNOW I CAN AND WILL DO THIS. IF YOU NEED PROOF, WATCH THE BLUE MAZDA IN THE FOURTH LANE.
Suddenly, the Mazda sports car left the ground and was moved fifty yards forward, into the empty cordoned area. Then, it was moved straight back to where it started from.
YOU HAVE FOUR MINUTES LEFT. GET YOUR OFFICERS INTO THE FIELD.
All the officers in the Incident Room looked at the Superintendent.
“Show me the film again,” he said.
They replayed the video link from the helicopter. It was clear. The Mazda moved and not under power.
The Superintendent made a decision, one he was never going to regret.
“We need to get that damn van off the motorway. If there is no other way, then we might as well trust whoever it is. Get the firearms teams into the field, now!” he said.
Keira watched with some relief as the police moved rapidly. The Land Rover drove at the fence and easily destroyed it. Then, all the police vehicles followed it, taking up a position somewhere in the middle of the field. There were no livestock in the field. Keira had checked.
The Helicopter Video link showed numbers as they appeared on the roof of the truck.
10 - 9 – 8 – 7 – 6 – 5 – 4 – 3 – 2 – 1….
The van suddenly left the ground, rising to about fifty feet off the ground, and then it flew sideways to land in the field, in the middle of the new police-cordoned area. It was rocking gently on its springs when, moments later, one of the members of the firearm team shot something through the side window of the van. Clouds of smoke came from the broken window, and the firearms teams approached with ballistic shields raised, opened the doors and dragged the two occupants out. Then they all moved very quickly away from the van.