The AE was the latest version of the Accuracy International snipers rifle favoured by the UK police units. Some officers preferred an automatic weapon but Ged much preferred the single bolt action version. He had been practicing with the gun for several months on the range. He liked the fact that at just over 1.1 metres long and using the standard detachable box magazine with either 5 or 8 rounds, the lightness and feel of the rifle suited his grip. He was comfortable lying face down with the rifle securely fitted on to the bipod. It was a very accurate weapon up to a range of 500 metres and at this short distance, the telescopic sight presented no problems. He could easily take out his target, provided that he was sure that Dave was not also in his line of fire. The 7.62mm snipers bullet would have no difficulty in slicing through several bodies at once.

Suddenly, and without warning of any kind, Johnson spat the tip of Dave’s finger out of his mouth and it struck John firmly on the forehead. He instinctively closed his eyes as the severed tip fell to the floor. As the gunman opened his mouth to speak, he also spat a few drops of blood that was oozing from his lips and John was transfixed as they splashed onto his shoes and he stood there riveted and unable to move. His mind was screaming in silence telling him not to be sick. Remain calm, remain in control. Don’t be intimidated by this piece of sadistic shit. You’ve been in bad, bad situations before. Come on John, you know it’s classic, this animal is just letting you know he’s in charge. C’mon, breathe, breathe deeply. Count to ten.

He heard the words before he realised he had said them.

‘I’m not telling you what to do but, you both need something to eat and drink. Also, if you don’t mind, I’d like to give you a first aid kit so that the officer can at least bandage his injured hand. Would you allow me to make those arrangements?’

Although on the outside he was calmness personified, he wished he had his own shotgun and could blow this mans fucking brains out. John was not a violent man by nature; he was a regular churchgoer and God fearing man. His faith in humanity was being tested like it had never been tested before and, try as he might, he could not understand why God would allow such a piece of human excrement to walk on this good earth. Surely if any man deserved to die, it was this piece of, ... his thoughts were interrupted.

‘Yeah. Just do it. Couple of Pizza’s and some water.’

John bent down; his hand was shaking as he picked up the small finger tip, he quickly turned on his heels and walked away from the cab. He went to the grass verge behind the two shield officers and, after a few moments of scrabbling through the grass and debris, located the other part of Dave’s finger, wrapped the two pieces in his handkerchief once more, and slowly walked back to the police cordon. There was no way the two shield officers were going to turn their backs on the unstable gunman and they shuffled backwards until they reached the safety of the cordon.

‘John,’ said Mike Hogan, ‘are you allright? I don’t know how you remained so calm out there mate. That guys a fuckin madman.’

‘He’s a lot more than that Mike, he’s a psychopath and I’m pretty sure that he’s looking forward to killing Dave when he thinks the time is right. He’s popping pills like they’re going out of fashion to make sure he keeps himself charged up. The way things are, he’s only going to get more volatile as time goes by.

Dave is being systematically demoralised and brutalized by Johnson. He’s severely shocked and still losing blood and I just don’t know how long he will be able to cope with it.’

Chapter 11

Under the protection of the two shield officers once again, John made his way back to within ten or fifteen yards of the stranded wagon. He hadn’t noticed before, but he saw now how the wagon had come to a violent stop as the sharp edged metal wheel rims, now with their tyres hanging off, had bitten into the softer tarmac of the service road and become slightly buried. He could see quite clearly that the wagon wouldn’t move again until it was towed out of there by a recovery truck.

John had two hot twelve inch pizzas in their familiar cardboard packaging and a pack of six bottles of water. He thought he had managed to persuade Johnson by keeping his voice low and quiet, that it would be a good gesture if he would also allow Dave to tend to his injuries with the first aid kit that he had placed on top of the pizza cartons.

‘How are we going to do this?’ said John. ‘Do you want to lean out and take the cartons from me?’

‘Yeah, that’s no problem. And as I lean out, my fuckin head leaves my shoulders. What do you think I am eh, completely fuckin stupid? Come closer, open the door, and put the stuff on the drivers’ seat. Understood?’

‘No problem, there’s also some painkillers for Dave Watkins if you’ll allow him to take them.’

‘Just put everything on the fucking seat. I’ll decide what he gets and what he doesn’t ok?’ John didn’t say any more, he didn’t want to antagonise Johnson; he’d made his point about the bandages and just had to hope that the gunman would allow Dave to help himself to the strong painkillers. He nodded at Johnson and walked out slowly and deliberately from behind the protection of the shields.

“You; get your arse off the seat and get down there.’ Johnson growled at his captive and pointed to the passenger side of the lorry. Dave slowly and painfully got down into the foot well of the passenger area next to the shattered door window. He wasn’t allowed onto the passenger seat itself because the gunman wanted to make a point to John when he opened the door a few seconds later.

‘Right, stop there.’ Johnson shouted out to John who was about three or four yards from the wagon and it took him by surprise as he almost stumbled forward. He just managed to prevent the bottles of water and first aid kit from falling off the pizza boxes.

‘Put that lot on the floor, come forward, open the door and then go and get the stuff. Put it on the drivers’ seat. Close the door and then back away. Do not look up, and do not look at me at any time. Do you understand?’

John understood only too well. The last thing the gunman wanted was for john to be able to pinpoint his exact position in the lorry. He knew that the snipers bullet would have no difficulty in penetrating the thin metal. He opened the door slowly and kept his gaze low. At first he didn’t see Dave as he was sat on the floor on the other side of the wagon and he thought he was up in the bunk area. He saw quite clearly the remnants of the shattered steering wheel and the damaged steering column. He went back to where the pizza’s were and returned to the wagon and placed them on the driver’s seat. He heard him before he saw him. Just a little whimper in the gloominess of the dark cab and he looked to the floor where the noise had come from.

‘Oh my God’, he gasped. Immediately, he cursed himself. In the first instance, he didn’t want to alarm Dave. He looked a complete mess with congealed blood all over his face, bits of makeshift bandage everywhere, fatigued and hollow eyed. Secondly, Johnson had drawn a reaction from him and was about to take further delight in his captives suffering.

‘Not a pretty sight your mate eh. Take that message back to your other mates. Tell them how nice he looks. Tell them he will suffer a lot more if they make me unhappy. Now, fuck off.’

Johnson, in dramatic style and with words full of aggression and menace told Dave to eat the first piece. ‘If they’ve fuckin poisoned it bollocks, you’re gonna die before I get the chance to shoot yeh.

Dave had to tear the pizza with his right hand as no matter what, he couldn’t seem to get his left hand to obey his thoughts. He was feeling the pain in every part of his body. The blood in the exposed socket where his little finger had been was beginning to congeal slightly and was just oozing now as opposed to flowing freely. The bottle of water and two slices of food had begun to revive him slightly as he realised that it was now nearing lunchtime and he hadn’t eaten anything for almost twelve hours. He had grown steadily weaker as the morning wore on and the pizza was a welcome distraction from the throbbing in his head.