We had a surveillance van outside the courtroom and a minimal presence inside. Being a magistrates there was no jury and we had closed the public gallery.
Imran and co were, of course, all handcuffed to prison officers so they weren't going anywhere without a bit of hacksaw action. I doubted their paymasters would bother to spring them - it was far more likely that they would try to eliminate them. Maybe they knew that they hadn't talked yet?
Nothing happened on the way but I was a few minutes into my evidence when I received a shout of code red in my ear piece.
"We're under attack," I shouted, "everyone on the floor."
The magistrate gave me a look which suggested that I was an errant schoolgirl who needed a smack around her silly little head. Her expression changed rapidly when two men with machine guns burst in.
Cursing the laxness of the agents in the van, I pulled out my Glock.
They were obviously unfamiliar with the layout of the court and, as I suspected, were here to liquidate their arrangement with the gang. I fired on the first one, just missing his shoulder. My second shot punched a hole in his chest and he was of no further concern.
Adam was standing behind the gang and the prison officers and was still trying to get all six of them onto the floor and behind the totally inadequate protection of a few centimetres of oak panel. Luckily he was attending to the pair furthest from the door when the machine gun fire started. It only lasted less than a second because my third shot took off most of the head of the man who was firing it. Rather than the gun spraying around randomly like you see in the films it just stopped as quickly as the man's heartbeat.
"You okay, Adam." I shouted.
He popped up from behind the stand, speaking into his headset.
"Two fatalities, one serious injury, one minor injury - ambulances now."
He smiled thinly across at me.
John ran in and shot me a look that was equally angry and apologetic.
"Do you have a first aid kit somewhere?" I asked the terrified clerk.
"Yes," he said, and bustled off, glad for an excuse to leave the scene of the carnage.
"Sorry about that," I said to the judge as she got up from the floor, "I take full responsibility for this fuck up."
"No, I do." said John, picking up one of the machine guns.
"Not now," I said, "just secure the building."
He nodded and closed the doors.
"Is there a rear entrance back there?" I asked.
"Yes, of course," replied the judge.
"Adam, you okay to do first aid?"
He came over to me and whispered.
"The second officer has just been grazed on the arm, he only needs a bandage. I don't think his prisoner will make it."
"Do what you can," I said, handing him my pistol and taking the second machine gun.
I briefly wondered what John meant when he tried to take responsibility but pushed it to the back of my mind. I set about securing the rear of the court until backup arrived.
Back at the office, the three of us held an impromptu mini inquiry.
"It's my fault," said John. "It was quiet as the grave so I nipped out of the van for a fag. I was having a look around as well, in my defence, but I was about fifty yards from the van when I heard the car pull up."
"Don't beat yourself up, it could have happened to any of us. I should have had more reinforcements inside, that was my call and I got it wrong."
My phone rang.
"Fuck. Okay, thanks. Imran didn't make it. But we may have a lead after all - it seems the two gunmen had genuine passports on them so we should be able to get something from them. Hopefully that can lead us back to the funding." I sighed. "I'd better phone White, then I think we could all do with a drink.”