Chapter 47
One minute he was standing at the top of a flight of stairs repeatedly pushing a button, the next moment he was staring at the ceiling wondering where the hell he was. The bell was still ringing.
Automatically, he slapped the bedside clock but it brought no relief. Throwing the duvet back, he sat on the edge of the bed, rubbed his face then stood up.
He scanned the room; the mobile lay on the floor next to the chair that wore his carelessly thrown clothes. He bent down. It stopped. He swore and wandered off to the kitchen.
From a cupboard, he selected a packet of Dioralyte, ripped it open and dumped the contents into a tumbler then added a soluble paracetamol and water from the tap, letting it fizz and splutter as he checked his job’s phone. Two missed calls and a text. “Contact me asap. Urgent. Alison.” He emptied the glass in one, shook his head vigorously, belched then hit the speed dial.
“Boss? Sorry about this but we’ve got a situation. You need to get in here right away.” A muffled sound as she covered the handset. “It’s okay, don’t bother, I’ve got him.”
“What’s going on Alison?”
“Darius McAvoy’s been kidnapped.”
“How the hell did that happen? Where was the surveillance?”
“They saw it but couldn’t do anything. It was too quick. They thought it best to follow rather than call in uniforms. It was just as well because the bucks don’t appear to know he’s being surveilled so we’ve been able to locate them in a unit on ...” A pause. “the Weaver Industrial Estate, off Blackburne Street in Garston. It backs onto the river. Do you know it?”
“Yep, just up from Liverpool Sailing Club?”
“That’s right. There’s Armed Response Vehicles there but the surveillance guys told them to keep a low profile so they’re waiting in a little street just alongside, out of view.”
“Is there an Incident Control Point set up yet?”
“No, but I’m being pressed about it. They’ve already called out the Tactical Aid Unit.”
“Ok, Alison. Take a deep breath then get up to the scene. I’ll phone the Control Room and sort things out. There’s a little car park just off the roundabout next to the road to the Sailing Club. I’ll meet you there. And grab me a radio will you?” He cancelled the call, downed another glass of water and headed for the shower.
At the car park, he stepped out and nodded to a walker with a dog who was heading into the nature reserve. Chewy handed him a radio. Alison brought him up to speed.
“Surveillance have got eyeballs on. The ARVs have been replaced by the TAU and have now plotted off around the area should we need them. I’ve just spoken to the firearms Tactical Advisor and he tells me they’re going to do some sort of recce shortly. We’ve got the keeper of keys for premises several doors away waiting with them to go in and show them the layout of his place. He says it’s almost identical to the target building. Anyway, they’re all in this next street behind the allotments, Brunswick Street I think it is? ” She glanced at Chewy. He nodded.
Thurstan smiled. “Thanks, Alison. There’s now an Incident Control vehicle there as well. It was that green van in front of me at the roundabout. I thought the covert one would be best. Avoids the local idiots noticing the circus. I assume you’ve remained the Bronze Commander?
“No one told me I wasn’t.” She looked at him expectantly.
He patted her shoulder. “Well, you’ve done a great job so far so carry on. I’m now Silver and somehow the Chief Super found out about this and called me. He’s assumed Gold Command. He said he didn’t want someone cocking it up and he doesn’t think the Area Commander is up to it. He’s had the Control Room tell them there’s a pre-planned job on and to stay well away.” He took a deep breath. “Right, let’s get round the corner sharpish before anything goes wrong. Hopefully, someone will have a brew on soon.” His grin exuded a confidence that wasn’t entirely there.
A wiry little man with smudges of dirt on his face wearing a dirty boiler suit leaned over a hand-drawn plan. A workman’s tool belt hung from his waist. The DCI listened intently and sipped his tea.
“This is a plan we made of the workshop further up the block. The owner assures us it’s practically identical to the target building. The exception being the toilet and office are on opposite sides of the back wall to his. The shutters on the big entrance are down but they left them up on the door to the side. That’s fairly inconsequential and we can put that in pretty easy.” As he spoke he pointed at various parts of the plan.
“At the back, there’s only three small windows just above head height, none of which open. The middle one is clear glass; looks like a recent repair, probably intended as temporary. The other two are frosted wire mesh glass. There’s grills on them all. Not substantial, designed more to stop breakages from the local kids lobbing stones over the wall. Fixings top and bottom. I’ve already removed the lower screws from two of them and I’ve managed to attach a small camera to the back wall that views through the clear window and ...”
Thurstan interrupted. “Do you think they might have heard that or maybe even see it if they look up?”
He grinned. “No, Boss. It’s a pin hole camera stuck on with a special adhesive and the lens itself is on the end of a bendy extension so I‘ve been able to tailor it as close to the frame as possible. From inside, if they notice anything, it’ll look like a bit of muck on the window. They’d have to be licking the glass to realise what it is. We've got a good view of what’s inside and what they’re doing. We tried to get a look in from the front, using one under the shutter, but we had to abandon it when one of them looked like he was about to open the front door.
“We can try again if you insist, but it’s not really needed; we’re happy with what we can see from the rear, although we don’t have audio. I’ll take you to our van and you’ll see it there.” Before he continued, he made brief eye contact with the Tac Advisor which didn’t go unnoticed by the DCI.
“No weapons seen up to now, three baddies and he’s stripped to his briefs, tied to a chair on the inspection pit; it’s covered with what looks like railway sleepers. There are various bits of shite stored up against the walls, the usual stuff you find in garages but at present, we’ve got a clear path in.” He looked at Thurstan in anticipation.
“Do we know who they are yet?” the DCI asked the radio operator.
“No, Sir, and the black BMW they used, which is still parked outside, is on false plates,” she replied.
He turned to the surveillance Team Leader. “Can we put a tracker on it?”
He nodded. “I’ll get one of mine to do it but they’ll need one of the Firearms to go with them, for protection.”
The wiry little workman nodded back. “I’ll do that.”
Thurstan tapped the radio operator on the shoulder. “Any news on the negotiator?”
She didn’t look up. “Should be with us in ten minutes, Sir. He got stuck in traffic on the motorway.”
He stared at the Tactical Advisor. “What options have you got for me?”
The wiry workman’s glance and almost imperceptible inclination of his head towards the door wasn’t overlooked.
Thurstan put his cup on the table. “Come on, let’s have a look at what this camera is telling me.”
They walked in silence. At the Firearms control van, they gathered around the screen. He was impressed with the clarity of the image. “What was all that about?” he asked the TACAD.
With a slight look of embarrassment, he replied, “We didn’t want to say anything in front of the staff in there, Boss, because they may, inadvertently, let it slip to the negotiator when he gets here. He’s going to want to talk. They always do. If he knows what we’re going to tell you he’ll be pressing you for the other options and we don’t think they’re right for this situation. It’s your decision at the end of the day but ...” He paused.
“They’ve been twatting him with a baseball bat and they’ve already poured boiling water over his crown jewels. You could clearly see the steam. They stuffed rags in his mouth before they did it then doused him with a bucket of cold.” He shifted uneasily from one foot to the other.
“And, well, we have seen a weapon. A revolver, probably a thirty-eight. It was held against his head, briefly. This guy here has it.” He pointed to a figure on the screen then rubbed his chin. “To be honest, Boss, in this situation, with this place, I think the best option is to get in there quick while we have complete surprise. Once a negotiator starts talking to them it’s gone and they can start planning ahead for any assault; firepower wise, we’re going to win but it’ll possibly get messy.”
Thurstan took a deep breath and stood back, looking up and down the little street at nothing in particular, just seeking time to assimilate what he was being told and probable consequences. Finally, he spun round and said, “OK! Tell me about it.”
The Tac Advisor took him across to two black-coveralled officers who were donning body armour and other assorted bits of kit.
“This is Rocky and this is Velcro.” They nodded, “Boss,” and continued to drag things from their kitbags.
Thurstan leaned in towards the TACAD and said, “What’s with the names?”
He grinned back. “We use two-syllable personal call signs for most jobs which tend to be used as nicknames.” He pointed at them in turn. “He used to be a boxer and he’s just got a fetish for Velcro. For hostage rescue jobs we use formalised call signs. They’ll take you through the assault plan.”
Using Google maps on a laptop they talked him through it. According to them, it was fairly simple. Red Team would enter from the front gate; the security man had already been secured. Blue Team would enter from the only other entrance which was at the far point of the estate, further along the main road. Using an unmarked van to deliver them, they would breach the gate with bolt cutters and make their way to the rear of the target building. Once there, they would remove two of the grills and, when given the go-ahead, smash the windows, firing CS gas through one and lobbing stun grenades through the other. At the same time, Red Team, at the front, would breach the small door either using a door opener or Hatton rounds from a couple of shotguns, they hadn’t decided which yet.
Immediately before, and almost simultaneously, an armoured Land Rover would drive into the front shutters as a distraction; they would have preferred a longer run but the object wasn’t to gain full entry, so it would do. The briefing was crisp and clear, for a moment Thurstan felt he was back in the Army. As a plan, it was better than most. He liked it.
“Get them kitted up and ready to go,” he told them.
Rocky smiled back. “They already are.”