The Dirty Dozen

Chapter Three

As Jane watched the ambulance leave with the injured officers, she thought about the loud bang Abby had heard; if it wasn’t the sound of a shotgun, it had to be something else near the scene of the incident. As she walked towards the damaged house she noticed skid marks and bits of shredded car tire on the road. It reminded her of the time she was driving on the motorway and a tire on the car in front of her burst, leaving shredded bits all over the road. It struck her as unlikely that a tire on a police car would suddenly blow out, especially as the vehicles were checked daily by a civilian garage hand, but she suspected a bullet penetrating a tire could cause a blowout.

About eight meters past the crash site Jane saw a distinct skid mark veering from right to left across the road, which stopped just short of a parked car. She realized, from what Abby had told her, that the skid mark might have been caused when the getaway driver braked hard and came to an abrupt halt. She decided to inspect the area more closely and was walking towards it when she heard Kingston’s voice.

‘What are you doing, Tennison?’

She turned around. ‘I was just following up on something a witness to the incident told me.’

‘As the DI in charge of this case I’d prefer it if you consulted me first, then I’ll decide what action should or should not be taken by my officers.’

‘Sorry, sir. I thought I might find some evidence for the investigation.’

‘Are you a forensics expert?’

‘No, but I’ve dealt with a number of murders and rapes during my service and have a good knowledge of major crime scenes—’

‘But no real experience with armed robbery scenes, firearms or GSR.’

‘No, sir.’

She didn’t know what GSR was but didn’t want to appear uninformed by asking.

‘What did the woman you spoke to have to say?’

Jane told him the woman was a young mother called Abby who had just turned seventeen. She got out her pocket notebook and started to brief Kingston on what Abby had told her, but he interrupted her again.

‘Did the girl see their faces?’

‘No, she saw two armed men get out of the car, but both were wearing masks. She’s a bright young girl and saw everything—’

He interrupted again. ‘Is she willing to make a statement and give evidence in court.’

‘Not at the moment, but—’

‘Then she’s not a lot of use to us, is she?’

‘I think I could persuade her to make a statement, and we could always consider witness protection.’

Kingston shook his head. ‘I’m not gonna waste time wet-nursing some kid with a baby. Move on and see if you can find an adult who saw what happened.’ He started to walk off.

‘Something she said about the two men with guns was interesting...’

Kingston spun around. ‘What part of move on don’t you understand, Tennison?’

‘Sorry, sir, I’ll see if there’s any adults who got a closer look than Abby did.’

‘Don’t be flippant, Tennison. I’ve heard a few stories about you — some good, some not so good. I don’t doubt your enthusiasm, or abilities as a divisional detective investigating murders — but when it comes to the Flying Squad you’ve a lot to learn. We’re a specialized close-knit unit, not just because of the work we do, but also the dangers we face together. As you can see from the carnage of this morning’s events, the villains we deal with don’t play games and they hate the police with a vengeance — to them the only good cop is a dead cop.’

‘I’m a quick learner and I believe I can be a positive addition to the squad, sir,’ she said in her defense.

‘That remains to be seen. Everyone of sergeant rank and above served on the Flying Squad as a DC prior to promotion... unlike you. Right now, you’re the rookie, not to mention the first female officer we’ve ever had.’

‘I appreciate that, sir, but I don’t see my gender as a hindrance—’

‘Take my advice — if you want to fit in and get on, then best to just look, listen and learn for now.’

Jane suspected he was being polite, and what he really wanted to say was to keep her eyes and ears open and her mouth shut.

‘Yes, sir, and thank you for the advice.’

He forced a smile. ‘Good, and cut the “sir” crap, please. It’s “guv” or “guvnor” when we’re on duty and “Stu” in the pub.’

The Colonel came over and spoke to Kingston.

‘Stanley just radioed in — no one’s been able to find the Cortina. Looks like the robbers have gone to ground.’

Kingston sighed. ‘Any of the Woodville residents see anything?’

‘Uniform lads have knocked on all the doors and spoken to the people who gathered in the street. No one saw what happened here, though some heard the crash and bangs before it, which was probably the guns going off.’

Jane wanted to say that Abby was the only witness, so trying to get her to make a statement would be beneficial, but she didn’t want to incur Kingston’s displeasure again. Kingston looked frustrated.

‘They probably had a changeover vehicle nearby. Get on the radio and instruct the uniform cars and foot patrol officers to check the local estates and back roads for the Cortina. Call Stanley as well and tell him to drop Dabs off here to deal with this scene.’

‘Shall I call a SOCO out to the bank scene if Dabs is coming here?’

Kingston nodded and told the Colonel to make sure it was a senior SOCO who had experience of examining armed robbery scenes. Jane assumed the nickname ‘Dabs’ must have originated from the police slang for fingerprints. She asked Kingston if she would be going to the bank with him and the Colonel to take statements, but he said no as he wanted her to help Dabs.

‘I take it you know how to fill in an exhibits book?’ Kingston asked her.

‘I’ve done it a few times, but on big cases like murders the Lab liaison sergeant did everything.’

‘Well, we work differently on the Flying Squad, as time is of the essence at a crime scene. Dabs, our SOCO, is permanently attached to the team and one of our DCs always works alongside him at a robbery scene, helping to gather evidence and listing the exhibits. Even though you’re a DS it would be beneficial for you to assist Dabs on this case.’

Jane said she’d be happy to assist Dabs and Kingston walked off toward the squad car.

‘Would you like me to brief Stanley when he gets here, guv?’ she asked the Colonel.

‘No, he and his crew will be joining me at the bank to interview the Securicor guards and other witnesses there,’ he said without looking back.

She waited for him to leave and went to have a look at the area where the skid mark stopped just short of the parked car. As the sun broke through the clouds she noticed something glint by the side of the road next to the pavement. On closer inspection she could see it was a brass cartridge case, which must have come from the handgun the tall man had fired at the police car. Looking around she could see another cartridge case a couple of feet away, by the rear nearside tire of a parked car. Crouching down, she tilted her head to one side. Looking under the car, she could see two more cartridge cases. As she stood up and looked around she noticed two trails of blood drops, running between the skid mark and the middle of the road, where there were a number of drops confined to a small area, which meant the bleeding man had stood there.

‘This is a crime scene, ma’am, you shouldn’t be this side of the tape,’ a male voice said.

Jane saw a small man wearing glasses, whom she recognized as one of the passengers in the other Flying Squad car with Stanley. She knew he must be Dabs, as he was wearing latex gloves and carrying a scene of crime case and a camera over his shoulder. He was about five feet six inches tall, early thirties, with dark brown collar-length hair and long sideburns. He was dressed casually in a white shirt, blue jumper, gray trousers and black windcheater.

Jane held out her hand. ‘I’m WDS Jane Tennison. I’ve just started on the Flying Squad today.’

He shook her hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, Sarge. I’m Dave Morgan. DS Stanley mentioned you in the car earlier. We were all a bit surprised as no one knew you were joining the team — especially as you’re a woman.’

‘Well, speaking as a woman, the day’s been quite a surprise for me too,’ she said, forcing a smile and wondering if his ‘woman’ remark was intentionally derogatory.

‘Have you found something?’

She pointed to the two visible cartridge cases and told him there were another two under the car and blood drops on the road.

‘From what a witness told me, the skid mark there is where the Cortina stopped sharply, then a man with a handgun got out and shot at the police car. If he was injured the blood trails might have come from him getting out and returning to the car.’

‘Good spot, Sarge.’ He got a swab out of his pocket and dabbed it in one of the blood spots and the end turned red. ‘And they’re fresh. I’ll take some photos and swabs of the blood... From the nearby position of the cartridges to the blood drops I’d say the gun was a semi-automatic. Do you know much about firearms forensics, Sarge?’ he asked politely as he put his case down.

Jane knew a semi-automatic pistol ejected cartridges each time it was fired, but six-chamber Smith & Wesson revolvers, which the Flying Squad used, didn’t.

‘A bit. I’ve dealt with major crimes involving guns, including a shooting murder scene — and post mortems where I assisted the lab liaison sergeant.’

‘Who was the lab sergeant?’

‘Detective Sergeant Paul Lawrence.’

Dabs’s eyebrows raised. ‘He’s a legend when it comes to crime scene examination. I met him at a lecture he did at training school, but sadly never had the privilege of working alongside him.’

He bent down and picked up one of the cartridge cases.

‘Looks like a nine-millimeter Parabellum,’ he observed.

‘What’s a Parabellum?’

‘It’s a type of bullet cartridge and Parabellum is Latin, meaning “prepare for war”, which is appropriate considering what happened here today.’ Dabs showed her the base of the cartridge case. ‘See the markings on the bottom — that’s what we call the head stamp.’

Jane looked closer and could see the number 43, ST+ and DNH. She asked what the numbers and letters meant.

‘The 43 is the year of manufacture, which is 1943. I’m not sure what ST+ means, but DNH is where the bullet was manufactured. However, the firearms section at the lab will be able to tell us more.’

‘The cartridge is nearly forty years old — what sort of gun do you think it was fired from?’

‘I don’t know... Again, that’s a job for the lab to determine. I’ve seen older ammo and nine-mill is used in different makes of revolvers and semi-automatics.’

‘Will you be able to get fingerprints off the cartridge?’

He shook his head. ‘Unfortunately, no, when a gun is fired, the heat created has a destructive effect on any fingerprint evidence. Even unfired bullets are almost impossible to get a print off.’

‘What’s GSR?’ she asked, remembering Kingston referring to it.

‘Gunshot residue. A plume of gas and GSR particles is ejected from the barrel of a gun when it’s fired, and the residue gets deposited on the skin and clothing of the person who fired the gun. It can also be found on the clothing of the victim, but that depends on how close they were to the gun when it was fired.’

‘So, the suspect who fired the gun that left these casings will have GSR on them.’

‘Yes, on his clothes for sure, but if he washes his hands and body then it’s gone from his skin. Whenever we arrest any suspects for armed robbery, we always Sellotape their hands for GSR and the lab examines the tapings under a scanning electron microscope to look for GSR as evidence they have fired, handled or been near a gun.’

‘You know a lot about firearms and bullets,’ Jane said respectfully.

‘Enough to get me by, but the forensic scientists are the experts. If you fancy it, you can come to the lab with me when I submit the cartridge cases and other evidence for examination. I think you’d find the firearms section really interesting and informative.’

‘I’d like that, thank you.’

She was warming to Dabs. His helpful, polite manner reminded her of Paul Lawrence.

‘I’ve ordered a tow truck to remove the police car to the lab, then it can be examined for any bullets that may be lodged in it. We need to crack on and photograph the scene, then gather up the cartridge cases before it gets here.’

Arriving at the bank with the Colonel, Kingston spoke briefly to a uniformed PC and asked where the Securicor guards were. The officer told him they were in the bank manager’s office and the off-duty PC who’d got shot was in the ambulance parked next to the Securicor van. The back doors of the ambulance were open, and Kingston could see one of the crew attending to someone on a stretcher. He thought it strange that someone who’d got shot in the stomach wasn’t rushed to hospital. The Colonel looked around the area where the Securicor van was parked. He saw a small pool of blood near the front of the van and some droplets leading to the back of the ambulance.

‘I’d have expected more blood and guts from a close-range shotgun discharge,’ the Colonel said, and noticed something odd. ‘If that’s your shotgun victim in the ambulance he’s a lucky sod.’

‘What?’ Kingston was bemused by the Colonel’s glib remark.

‘Look there, by the blood, there’s a load of rice grains on the pavement.’

Kingston realized that the shotgun cartridge must have been loaded with rice, as opposed to lead pellets. He stepped up into the ambulance and saw a young man, aged about nineteen, who was clearly still in shock and grimacing with pain while having his stomach and chest wounds cleaned with iodine. Kingston held up his warrant card and introduced himself.

‘I take it you’re the officer who got shot?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘What’s your name, son?’

‘PC 642 Richard Beadle, sir. I’m a probationer attached to Edmonton Police Station.’

‘Well, you’re very lucky, Richard. From the looks of it the shotgun cartridges were loaded with rice — which is why you’re still alive. Can you tell me exactly what happened?’

‘I was going to the bank to collect some drachmas I’d ordered for a holiday in Corfu with my girlfriend. I’d just got off the bus and was crossing the road when I saw a masked man holding a sawn-off shotgun at the Securicor driver. I realized a robbery was happening and I thought he was on his own. He hadn’t seen me, so I ran up behind him and tried to get the gun off him.’ He paused to take a deep breath as the memory of the moment was making him close to tears. ‘The next thing I knew he’d knocked me to the ground and was pointing the gun at me. I closed my eyes and begged him not to shoot... Then there was a loud bang and I felt something thump hard into my stomach... The pain was unbelievable, and I thought I was going to die.’ A few tears rolled down his cheeks.

‘Did the man with the shotgun say anything?’

‘I don’t know, but when I opened my eyes I saw three masked men getting into a car, which drove off. I’m sorry I didn’t manage to stop the robbery, sir.’

Kingston put his hand on the officer’s shoulder.

‘You’ve nothing to be sorry about, son. What you did was very brave. On the positive side, you’re not dead and can still go to Corfu with your girlfriend.’

The officer smiled and wiped the tears from his face. Kingston said he would need him to make a written statement before he went on holiday. The officer said he wasn’t going on holiday until Saturday morning and lived at Lea Bridge Road section house, a police dormitory close to the station. Kingston told him he’d get a Flying Squad officer to take the statement from him on Friday morning at the section house.

‘I need to speak to some other witnesses. You take care and have a good holiday,’ Kingston said, then he stepped out of the ambulance.

The Colonel stayed behind to speak to the young officer.

‘Let me give you a bit of advice, son. While I admire your bravery, what you did was stupid. If that gun had been loaded with lead pellets it could have gone off when you tackled the suspect and members of the public may have been injured or killed. The money they stole is immaterial and not worth dying for — so next time think twice before putting your life and other people’s on the line.’

The officer’s lower lip trembled as he acknowledged the advice he’d been given. The Colonel got his wallet out and tucked a five-pound note into the officer’s trouser pocket.

‘That should get you pissed tonight and numb the pain. Make sure you get a doctor’s sick certificate, then you won’t have to use annual leave for your holiday.’ He winked.

The Colonel joined Kingston by the steps of the bank, where he was speaking to the senior SOCO, who had just arrived. They knew each other of old and Kingston told him about the robbery and what he knew so far. The SOCO said that on the face of it there weren’t many forensic opportunities at the bank scene, as the men wore gloves, and would no doubt dispose of their donkey jackets and overalls, but he’d do his best.

‘I’ll seize the outer clothing from the officer who got shot — there should be a cross-transference of fibers as he struggled with one of the robbers. Have you got someone doing exhibits who I can give the items I seize to?’ the SOCO asked.

‘Yeah, WDS Tennison. She’s a bit wet behind the ears when it comes to robbery scenes as she just started with us today,’ Kingston told him.

The SOCO was taken aback. ‘A woman on the Flying Squad? My God, this integration thing is getting out of hand.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Kingston said, and he went into the bank.

‘Who’d she sleep with to get on the squad?’ the SOCO asked when Kingston was out of earshot.

The Colonel shrugged. ‘Don’t know, but my money’s on Kingston shagging her within a week.’

The SOCO laughed. ‘He still got a roving eye then?’

‘More like a roving dick, which rules his brain when it comes to a bit of skirt with big tits.’

‘So where is this Tennison?’

The SOCO looked into the bank, eager to see what she looked like for himself.

‘Not here, she’s with Dabs Morgan at the crash site.’ He stepped towards the bank, then stopped. ‘We call her Treacle, and believe it or not she’s OK about it.’

‘Really?’ The SOCO was unsure.

‘Yeah, she seems to have a sense of humor, unlike most plonks.’

The Colonel walked off with a sly grin the SOCO didn’t see.