‘Could you loosen it slightly, just a little bit will do.’ said Dave.

The gunman looked at Dave in silence. Dave wasn’t able to look directly at his assailant as he was slightly behind him and he didn’t know whether or not Johnson had heard what he’d said.

The control room certainly had.

‘It’s a bit like a tourniquet round my neck. It’s stopping the blood to my head and I’m feeling a bit dizzy. Could you ease it off a bit?’

The control room were confused by Dave’s words as they couldn’t make out what he was talking about.

‘Why the fuck should I?’

“If we get out the wagon with this gun tied to my neck and I stumble because I’m dizzy, it might go off without you wanting it to and if I’m dead because my head’s been blown off, I think you won’t be much longer for this world either. You know there are police marksmen out there and as much as you’re in control of this situation, you’ve got to consider that you are alive because I am. If I die, whether you intend it or not, you will die as well.’ He couldn’t believe that he had spoken the words as calmly as he had.

Now the control room knew exactly what Dave was talking about.

‘Be advised, be advised,’ hissed Geds earpiece, ‘all marksmen be advised. Do not, repeat, do not take the shot. Target has a ligature attached to the firearm and constable Watkins neck. If the target is disabled, there is a very high probability that the firearm will be discharged and the consequences will be fatal. All officers acknowledge and stand down’

Ged, and the other marksmen, replied in turn to the radio message. He moved slowly back from the rubber eyepiece of the telescope and rubbed gently at his eyes. He needed to give them a rest; he also needed to stretch his aching body as he had been in a prone position for longer than was comfortable. He laid the butt of the snipers rifle on the table top as he pushed himself up into an upright position. He carefully climbed off the table and stood up. He reached up to the ceiling and then down to his toes and a few quick neck exercises released the knots in his torso.

Shit. He said to himself. This bastard certainly knows what he’s doing. Ged started to relax his shoulders as the tension eased from his upper body. The gunman was about to move to the next stage of his plan, of that he was sure. What he wasn’t sure of, was how they were going to get Dave out of this mess. The only one who had any idea of what the plan might consist of was about a hundred metres away and Ged felt just a little bit useless. He didn’t know whether or not he might be able to influence the situation later at some point. What he knew for certain, was that Johnson was a lot more astute than he had originally believed and he was holding all the cards at the moment. He wasn’t about to suddenly run from the protection of the wagon. He was giving slow consideration to his exit strategy.

Johnson reached up above the bunk bed into the overhead locker. He pulled the heavy grey, woollen ex army surplus blanket from amongst a pile of bedding.

‘Right. Do exactly as I say and you might be okay. Understand?’

Dave nodded. The gunman had relaxed his noose by a couple of turns and the blood was returning to his brain.

‘Just in case your mates get a bit itchy on the trigger, you’re going to stay very close to me. This blanket will cover us both as we get out the wagon so your mates won’t know who’s who underneath OK?’

Dave nodded once more as the gunman pushed the gun forward and Dave moved towards the passenger door of the lorry.

Chapter 13

John stood by the rear nearside of the unmarked police car as directed by the gunman. He opened the door and waited for the next instruction. He knew that it was vitally important not to upset Johnson. While waiting for the car, he had received a detailed briefing regarding the gunman’s criminal history. The pleasure Johnson had gained when chopping off the security guards hand in the armed robbery of several years ago made his blood run cold. Whilst he had some previous knowledge of Johnson, he was thankful for the additional info.

He was not a man who was fazed by serious situations and as a veteran of many hostage encounters he always maintained a calm demeanour. His air of calmness; the patient way he built up confidence and trust was so important and, more often than not, was the point of considerable comment at the end of a successful negotiation. Whilst it sometimes took a toll on his physical and mental wellbeing, if ever a man had a calling for a particular job, John was certainly that man. He was definitely born to be a negotiator.

The force benevolent fund had benefitted to the tune of one hundred thousand pounds as a consequence of a very wealthy banker; he had wanted to give the money to john as a personal thank you for the successful release of his wife and daughter. They had been held hostage for a huge ransom for four days earlier in the year. As the days went on, he believed they would both be murdered. He spiralled into a severe depression and it was only the gentle coaxing and skilful way that John dealt with both the hostage takers and the banker that he actually pulled it off. Even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t accept the money and persuaded the emotional giant of a man that the release of his wife and daughter was the result of a massive team involvement. The success of the operation was down to the fact that so many officers and personnel behind the scenes had been instrumental in ensuring their safety and, ‘wouldn’t it be better for all the officers and the various family members involved in the Fund to benefit from your kind generosity?’ John could hardly feel his fingers as the Banker continued to grip his hand in a vice like manner in everlasting gratefulness for the safe release of his family. No matter what John said, and he well knew the involvement of the other officers, if it hadn’t been for Johns expertise, they would have died.

He was further embarrassed a week after the event when the man and his now recovered family sought him out in his crowded office. Twenty or so colleagues of john were both stunned and somewhat nonplussed when the Banker broke down in tears at the thought of how close he had come to losing the two most precious people in his life.

‘John’ he said, ‘please believe me when I say that you don’t have to work ever again if you don’t want to. I will pay for you to do anything you want, round the world cruise, an income for life. You can come and work for me in any capacity of your own choosing if you want. Just name it john: Whatever you say, it’s yours.’

Being a hostage negotiator, he wasn’t often stuck for words but on this occasion, he couldn’t say anything for a few seconds. The mans shoulders slumped as the emotion and delayed shock of the previous week suddenly came to the fore and john’s professionalism quickly kicked in once more as he quietly took him to one side to an office at the far end of the corridor, away from the bemusement of his fellow officers and family who were also extremely emotional.

Anthony Batholomew was a multi millionaire who commanded respect, fear and admiration in equal measures within the world of corporate banking. He was considered by his contemporaries and adversaries, as a captain of industry who thought nothing of brokering billion pound deals on a weekly, almost daily basis. He had not foreseen his own weakness in this way and he was grateful that no one, other than his family and the other police officers who for the most part were all strangers to him, had seen him break down and sob like a little child. The thought that his banking competitors might see him in this way further compounded his distress.

John spoke quietly and with real warmth. He had gotten to know him quite well throughout the duration of his ordeal. You can tell a lot about a man in four days when he is under extreme pressure and one thing’s for certain, pressure doesn’t get much more extreme than the possibility of your wife and child being brutally murdered. He liked and respected him. He was a good man and that in turn was more than enough for John.