Cop to Corpse

10

Being at HQ, as he called it, evidently gave Jack Gull a sensation of power. It did nothing for Peter Diamond. He felt marginalised. All the action was happening at the far end of the wood and he could do nothing to influence it. While he was holed up behind a holly bush, young police officers with no experience of this kind of skirmish were risking their lives against an armed killer. His main impulse was to get out and give support. If he hadn’t been handicapped by the leg injury he would have been there. He felt wasted here, listening to Gull swearing into the radio, increasingly infuriated.

The speaking was all one-way.

There hadn’t been anything back from the armed police or the bobby known as Oscar One for two or three minutes. In this situation two or three minutes seemed like an hour of normal time.

‘Nobody’s fucking listening to me.’

‘It’s not about you,’ Diamond told Gull. ‘If they switch off, it’s for their own safety.’

‘Just as long as they got the tosser this time.’

‘Just as long as no more of ours are killed.’

‘You think he’s on a spree?’

‘He’ll be armed for sure.’

‘Our lads are trained. They’ll take him.’

But at what cost? Diamond feared for the copper who had radioed the first sighting. He wouldn’t be armed or trained. Neither would the other Wiltshire lads drafted in to keep watch. The last words heard from Oscar One had been ‘He’s coming this way.’

‘Did you make a note of that grid reference?’

‘Of course I fucking did,’ Gull said. ‘We know who was on the spot and we know the gun team went in. I’m trained for the job.’

‘Where was it in relation to here?’

‘I get you.’ He produced a map from the side pocket of the combat trousers, unfolded it and flicked on a torch. ‘Oscar One was speaking from the northeast edge of the wood, which means the sniper will have come from the Jones Hill side.’ He looked up from the map, and it was not a friendly look. ‘If I remember right, you dismissed Jones Hill and said he’d come through Westwood.’

‘We don’t need to know where he came from,’ Diamond said. ‘All we need is where he is right now.’

Gull hadn’t listened. ‘He wouldn’t flog his way through half a mile of sodding wood to get where he is. He’d come from the North.’

‘It’s history, Jack.’

‘He knows where he hid his rifle and he picked the quickest route.’

‘Or the smartest.’

They slipped into silence, with never a chance of agreeing. Gull was chewing his thumbnail again. Diamond’s thoughts were with Oscar One, the luckless copper who had called in. This operation had been rushed. Ideally only armed officers should have been posted in the wood.

‘Don’t you think you should move more of your marksmen to the scene?’

Gull shook his head. ‘The gun team makes their own tactical decisions. I can speak to them, but they judge when and where to move. Makes sense.’

‘A law unto themselves.’

A shrug. ‘SOP.’

‘And what’s that when it’s at home?’

‘Standard operating procedure. I’m in overall charge, of course.’

This came across as a hollow claim. Right now Gull didn’t look like the man in charge. He’d got up from the canvas seat and was pacing the small area like an expectant father outside the delivery room.

Diamond had to step aside for him to pass. ‘Mind if I sit down?’

‘Be my guest.’

‘It’s turned on, is it?’ Diamond asked when he’d lowered himself into the chair.

‘What?’

‘Your radio. I can’t see a light.’

Gull looked down, swore again, fiddled with the controls and got the static sound back. Immediately a voice asked, ‘Anything happened yet? This is Delta Three. All quiet here.’

‘Then get off the fucking line.’

A faint ‘Charming’ could be heard before Delta Three signed off.

Gull tried once more to raise Oscar One and got nothing.

‘Here’s a suggestion,’ Diamond said. ‘Why don’t you leave me here in charge while you go out and check what’s really going on? I can’t move fast, but you can, and you’ve done the training. Are you armed?’

‘I’ve got my Glock, that’s all.’

‘Handgun?’

‘Yeah.’

‘More than most of those poor beggars have got. They’re armed with batons at best.’

‘They’ll have protective jackets.’ Even Gull appeared to realise this was a callous remark. ‘They know better than to get involved. We laid it on the line.’

‘No use laying it anywhere if an armed sniper gets a sight of you.’

A long pause.

‘So you think I could be more useful out there,’ Gull said. He replaced the stopper on his hip flask and pocketed it.

‘Sure of it. Have we got a spare radio? I can take any calls that come in, but I reckon the guys close to the action have switched off. You’re wasted here.’

‘Okay, I’ll go.’ Whatever Jack Gull’s limitations, he wasn’t a coward. He’d wanted to oversee the mission from the hub, and this hideout had ceased being that. He handed the radio to Diamond saying he’d pick up a spare from one of his team. ‘Keep me fully informed, Peter. Refer all decisions to me.’

‘Goes without saying,’ Diamond said.

He watched Gull put on night-vision goggles and a ballistic helmet and then he was gone.

The next phase would be a trial for Diamond. He hated being so passive. Better make sure the radio was working. Really it was a form of mobile phone. The police had been using them ever since he’d joined the Met. They’d called them ‘bat phones’ in those days, which dated him. Still, he could say he’d used a mobile a good twenty years before they became trendy.

The distinguishing feature of the police radio was the static, a grating, unmusical sound that usually meant someone was about to get in touch and alerted everyone around as well. The armed police used earpieces for covert operations like this.

He had the thing in his hand and was turning up the volume when it spluttered into life. ‘Bravo, can you hear this?’

For a microsecond he had to think who Bravo was, and then: ‘Right. Bravo here. Who is this?’

‘Oscar One.’ Said in the reassuring West Country burr.

‘Christ, lad, are you okay?’

‘No problem.’

‘Thank God for that. What happened?’

‘I saw him, sir, a guy moving through the wood who has to be the suspect. He was heading my way, darting from tree to tree. He got as close as ten yards and then beetled off to the right of me. He’s away now, I think.’

‘Which direction?’

‘West to southwest, I reckon.’

‘Deeper into the wood?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Description?’

‘There wasn’t much light to see by.’

‘Try.’

‘I only caught the outline of him. He’s wearing dark clothes. Some kind of baseball hat, I reckon. He’s not all that tall. Moves well, like he’s fit.’

‘Armed?’

‘If he is, he isn’t carrying a rifle.’

‘Moves well, you said?’

‘Bent over, like he didn’t want to be seen.’

‘Did he spot you?’

‘I don’t think so. I’m well hidden here. In fact, I got a real shock when someone put his hand on my shoulder from behind and he was one of ours. Freaked me out.’

‘An armed officer?’

‘That’s right, sir. There were others, I think. I told him what I’ve just told you and they headed off after the suspect.’

‘You did well, Oscar One.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

‘You may be in for another shock. The CIO is on his way to you now. You’re still in the position you gave us before?’

‘The same, sir.’

‘And are you alone now?’

‘Some others are hidden nearby.’

‘That’s good. Stay out of sight in case he’s back. Over and out.’

The description of the suspect was not much help. What could you expect at night in a heavily wooded area? One good thing was that the sniper wasn’t carrying his rifle. No doubt he was on his way to collect it. Diamond’s guess was that it was buried somewhere close to where the motorcycle had surfaced.

That would be this end of the wood. Not far off from here.

Wanting to check the map for himself, he looked around and realised he couldn’t. Gull had gone off with the only copy. How dumb was that? If someone radioed in with another sighting, there was no way of checking the position.

Presumably maps had been issued to everyone. He needed one — and fast.

He got up from the chair, leaned on the crutch and hauled himself outside. The moon had gone behind a cloud again. Amazing what a difference it made. He could have kitted a funeral out of the darkness.

‘Anyone about?’

Silence.

‘I need some help here.’

He’d spoken softly, assuming that the men who had shown him the way weren’t far off. He didn’t want to yell.

The only other option would be to radio for a map. Not the best way to encourage confidence in the ranks.

He was on the point of returning inside the hideout when a voice from his left said, ‘Sir.’

One of the ninjas.

Diamond explained the problem. Map, Maglite torch, pencil and notepad were provided. ‘Any signs of activity out there?’ he asked.

‘All quiet, sir.’

‘Stay alert. He could be heading this way.’ The order was superfluous, but he felt he had to say something to reassert his dented authority.

Back in the hidey-hole, he opened the map and worked out approximately where he was and what the coordinates were.

The radio rustled and a voice he recognised said, ‘Bravo, this is Jack. Over.’

Gull hadn’t assigned himself a call-name. He couldn’t be Bravo any more, so it was first-name terms.

‘Go ahead, Jack,’ Diamond said.

‘Can you recall that grid reference?’

Diamond grinned. ‘It’s all right. Oscar One called in. He’s okay. The target moved west.’

‘We had a sighting?’

‘Yes, but we’re not much wiser.’

‘I’m returning to base.’

‘As you wish.’

The radio hissed as Gull signed off.

Diamond sat forward in the chair, waiting. One of the silent watchers, surely, would soon report another view of the sniper picking his way through the wood. The man was either incredibly lucky or skilful or he’d given up and gone. It was weird to be here with the radio knowing that the firearms officers were posted at strategic points through the wood waiting for the same snuffle of static that would start his own pulse racing.

Then he heard a sound that wasn’t from the radio.

An explosive burst from the wood startled him so much that he tipped the chair backwards and almost fell. He couldn’t tell the precise direction. It was followed by another, surely a rifle shot.

Not an echo, but a second bang.

Immediately, the radio came alive with a babble of voices. ‘Jesus!’

‘I heard shots.’

‘That’s got to be him.’

‘Where did it come from?’

‘Gunfire, close by the quarry end. Delta Three going in.’

Gull’s voice. ‘This is control calling all units. Will someone give me a fucking grid reference?’

‘Delta Three again. Our best estimate is 598807. Over.’

Gull: ‘Did everyone get that? 598807. All SFOs, repeat SFOs, close in on the target area. And now I’m ordering radio silence.’

His heart thumping, Diamond came to a rapid decision. If Gull was running the show, calling himself ‘control’ again, leave him to it. Two men in charge could lead to disaster. He didn’t need to do anything in this emergency except stay tuned. The wise thing was to follow what was going on in case he needed to take over. But what was going on? The shots had sounded close, definitely from this end of the wood. He had to assume the first, if not both, had come from the sniper. None of the firearms officers had reported preparing to shoot.

When the sniper used his gun, he aimed to kill. Up to now, he hadn’t been known to miss.

There followed a petrifying period of silence. Diamond pictured the armed police homing in on the place where the shots had been heard. They were coming from all parts of the wood. The sniper would be surrounded, but at what cost?

Three minutes went by.

No more sound.

This was becoming unbearable.

Diamond flicked on the little torch and tried to find the location on the map. A grid reference — someone’s estimate of a grid reference — wasn’t the number of a house or a car registration. It was an informed guess, no more. In the digital age we treat strings of numbers with all the respect accorded by ancient philosophers to the four elements. 598807 sounded like a combination that would open a vault. It was only a stab in the dark.

Tracing his finger up and across, he stopped it over nothing of interest. He estimated that the firing had come from about two hundred yards northwest of where he was now, somewhere close to the place where he’d encountered the badger. There wasn’t a lot of cover there, more bushes than trees. There was no certainty which bush might be hiding the killer. Sending men in was a huge risk, even when they were in body armour. It only wanted a cloud to move away from the moon and a crack shot like the sniper could take out three or four before his fire was answered. And knowing the wood as he did, he might still have an escape plan.

Diamond released a long, shaky breath.

Then he heard a soft sound nearby. It could have been a falling twig. There was a lot of dead, dry wood outside. Or it might have been the wildlife again.

He switched off the torch and stood up.

Picked up the only weapon to hand, his crutch. Made from light alloy for ease of handling, it was no weapon at all in reality.

More sounds from outside, heavier and regular. Someone was stepping fast towards the holly bush.

Diamond raised the crutch and held it in front of him like a fencer. Instinctive, but futile. It might stop a paper bag in the wind. Not much more. Balanced on one good leg and one dodgy one, he’d fall over if anyone grabbed it.

The steps got louder. No question that they were human.

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.’