Need You Dead

66 Monday 25 April

In the Force Control Room the semblance of calm continued. Everyone else was unaware of the drama that was unfolding for Evie Leigh and the Ops-1 Inspector, Kim Sherwood, who was now alerted and listening in.

Through her headphones Evie heard the woman’s screams and dull thuds, each blow sounding louder, like a sledgehammer pounding against wood. The screams getting louder too, deeper and deeper terror. Then she was whimpering. Somewhere in the background a dog was barking furiously.

All her training kicking in, Evie kept calm, trying to give reassurance to the trapped woman, whose name she had managed to get from her. ‘Trish,’ she said. ‘Just stay on the line. The police are on their way to you, they’re only minutes away, you’ll be OK.’

‘I can see the blade of the axe! No! No! Oh, God help me. Help me, someone, please help me, please help me!’

‘Trish,’ Evie said, urgently but still calmly. ‘Is there any way out of the room — can you get out of the window?’

‘It’s double — double-glazed — sealed units — only a tiny — tiny bit at the top — to stop burglars—’

Evie could hear another thud. A terrible scream — she could feel the woman’s utter terror. Then the sound of splintering wood. At the bottom of the street map displayed on her screen she saw the call sign of the response car that had been allocated, Charlie Romeo Zero Five. As she continued watching, calculating the ETA, the pink symbol of the car moved a block nearer, then another, in rapid succession, as it then began heading west along the Old Shoreham Road. Good, she thought, they were sensibly bypassing the risk of getting delayed by the level crossing on Boundary Road if they’d gone that route. But they were still a crucial three minutes away.

Then she heard an even louder crashing sound, and now a truly heart-wrenching scream from the woman.

At her desk, the Ops-1 Inspector had to make a fast decision. Was this a firearms response, a uniform response but with armed tactical relocation, or a divisional response with local supervision to command. Kim Sherwood decided on the first option and noted her decision on the CAD. Out of courtesy she immediately asked for permission to talk through to the two officers in the response car attending.

‘Charlie Romeo Zero Five this is Ops-1.’

Moments later she heard a male voice, ‘Charlie Romeo Zero Five.’

‘Charlie Romeo Zero Five, how far from the scene are you?’

‘Ops-1, our ETA is three minutes.’

‘The situation is critical. We understand a woman, Trish Darling, is locked in an upstairs room with her husband, who has a previous record of violence, attempting to break down the door. We believe she may be in a potentially life-threatening situation. Clear?’

‘Yes, yes.’

‘Use whatever force you need to get inside the house — put the door in or go through a window — and I’m granting you Taser authority. There’s a marker on the house. The husband has a criminal record for violence against women, and there is an aggressive dog in the house. We believe the husband is at present armed with an axe. I have declared this a spontaneous firearms incident and I have more response units en route as well as a dog handler, but if you get to the scene first don’t wait, go straight in and be careful.’

‘Yes, yes, ma’am.’

Inside the car, Matt Robinson shot a glance at his colleague, who had been listening on her radio.

Juliet Solomon grimaced, and for a moment both of them were silent. Some call handlers could be overdramatic, and you’d arrive in a posse of cars, lights blazing and sirens wailing, to find it was nothing more than a baby screaming, or some violent scene on a television set turned up too loud, that had been reported by an overzealous neighbour as a person being attacked. But this job felt real.

Close to driving faster than she was truly comfortable with in these conditions, the PC pushed the speed up even more, both of them keeping their eyes peeled in the poor visibility, scanning the road ahead for someone not paying attention — or just plain bloody-minded — who might pull out in front of them, or an idiot cyclist with no lights or reflective clothing.

Robinson glanced at the satnav screen. ‘Two minutes,’ he said.

The voice of Ops-1 came through the radio again. ‘Charlie Romeo Zero Five?’

‘Charlie Romeo Zero Five,’ Robinson answered.

‘It sounds like the offender has broken through the door and is now in the room with the woman. How close are you?’

‘Less than two minutes, ma’am.’

Robinson knew that just two seconds could be a long time in a fight. Someone could do a lot of damage in two seconds, let alone two minutes. He looked at the road ahead, then the speedometer, then the road again, thinking, trying to visualize Hangleton Rise. He knew the street, but not well. Small two-storey houses, post-war, a mix of terraces, semis and some detached. A couple of low-rise council blocks along there but mostly it was privately owned residential, with one short parade of shops.

Then Ops-1 came through on the radio again. ‘Charlie Romeo Zero Five?’

‘Charlie Romeo Zero Five,’ he replied.

‘Charlie Romeo Zero Five, I have a street plan and a Google Earth view of 29 Hangleton Rise. It’s a detached property with easy access round to the side and rear. There’ll be a second response unit with you within three minutes and a further following, as well as firearms who are six minutes away. All understood?’

‘Yes, yes.’

Despite his years of experience as a Special, he had butterflies in his stomach. They’d be gone the moment he was out of the car, he knew, and all his training kicked in.

They made a right turn, into Hangleton Rise.

He reached across and unclipped his seat belt, as Solomon unclipped the safety strap on her Taser holster.