The Crime Trade

41

‘Come on, Trevor, drop the gun. You don’t want to do this.’

I was standing six, maybe seven yards away from him, off to the right of the three armed officers facing him down. Behind me stood Malik and at least a dozen other police, all temporarily helpless in the face of what was going on. I could see the look of tension on Tina’s face as she stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, her hair in the painful grip of Trevor Murk, the man we were now sure was the killer of Robbie O’Brien and Kitty MacNamara, and I wanted desperately to do something — anything — to help. My guts were churning, my legs felt numb and useless, and I knew that I was possibly seconds away from losing the woman I loved for the second time in as many years. It was worse, if you can believe it, than the time a gun had been pointed at me, because at least then my destiny had felt like it was in my own hands. Now it was in the process of being irreversibly altered by a man with a frighteningly casual attitude to murder.

‘I said get back!’ Murk screamed. ‘Do as I say and she doesn’t get hurt. Now I told you: I want a helicopter and twenty grand-’

Tina made a grab for the gun, pulling it away from her temple, and elbowed him in the gut at the same time. She then broke free of his grip on her hair and started to run. It all happened so suddenly that for a moment I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. My heart was in my mouth, and I was rooted to the spot as Murk swung the gun round in her direction, more in an act of desperation than anything else. And then I heard the spit of the bullet passing through the silencer, and suddenly she was stumbling forward, falling hard on one knee, then rolling over.

All three armed uniforms opened up at the same time, hitting Murk repeatedly and sending him dancing wildly in the direction of the swing-door. Even before he hit the ground I knew we’d be getting no answers from him now. There was no way that trained firearms police shooting to kill were going to be unsuccessful from that range.

Instinctively, I ran towards Tina, shoving the uniforms aside in my urgency to get to her, to tell her she was going to be all right, and knowing too amid the adrenalin and the fear that I was finished if she was dead, that I’d never be able to come back from a blow like this. I loved her. I truly loved her. I’d never told her that before because I’d always been so careful not to scare her off, but now I wanted to shout it from the rooftops, because it was so important that she knew before it was too late.

‘Get paramedics over here now!’ I yelled, crouching down beside her and taking her hand. ‘Tina, it’s John. You’re going to be OK.’

A pool of blood was forming on her right trouser leg just above the knee, her teeth were clenched in pain, but she was still conscious.

‘Shit, this hurts,’ she gasped, her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

They say it’s a grand life if you don’t weaken, and for so long I’ve tried to live my life like that, but at that moment in time, weakness felt so tempting that I almost opened my arms to greet it. Almost.

‘We’re going to get you to a hospital, don’t worry.’

‘What about Murk?’

‘Don’t worry about him.’

‘Is he dead?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘We’ve got to get to the bottom of this,’ she whispered, her eyes opening and focusing on me.

At that moment, I felt a burst of hope, elation following close behind. I tried to calm down, not wanting to get too excited, but it seemed that maybe the wound wasn’t as serious as I’d first thought, and Murk had intended. Otherwise, surely, there would have been no way she’d be holding a conversation, particularly about how the case was going. I’ve been with conscious gunshot victims before and, contrary to what you see on the films, they don’t chat. They go into shock.

‘What’s happened with the gun lead?’

‘Jesus, Tina, don’t think about it. Rest. Conserve your strength.’ Then I leant down close to her. ‘I love you,’ I whispered.

‘You’re not angry?’

‘I’m proud,’ I told her, smiling into her blue eyes. ‘Really proud.’

At that moment, the paramedics arrived. I continued to hold her hand, whispering soothing words while the paramedics went to work, cutting the trouser leg away to reveal the bloody mess beneath.

‘You’re going to be OK, luv,’ said the older of the two a few moments later, as he wiped away the blood and examined the injury. ‘It looks like it’s only a flesh wound. A nasty one, but a lot better than it could have been.’

‘That’s easy for you to say,’ she hissed, through gritted teeth.

Five minutes later and Tina was in the back of the ambulance heading towards Charing Cross hospital. She let me hold her hand on the journey, but only after I’d promised that as soon as we got there I’d go back to the station and follow up on the gun lead.

Malik came with me, and after we’d seen her off into the operating theatre he put a hand on my shoulder and gave me a sympathetic smile. ‘Are you all right, John? You look like Flanagan did last night.’

I exhaled loudly, still conscious that my heart was thumping hard in my chest. ‘That was close, Asif. If Murk’s aim had been a little steadier, she’d have been dead.’

He knew then, I’m sure, that the two of us were lovers, but was sensible enough not to comment on it.

‘But she’s not,’ he told me. ‘She’s not. That’s what you’ve got to remember.’

It wasn’t something I was likely to forget.