The door burst open. DS Scott came in with a hand held radio.

“You need to hear this! Okay, Charlie two, say again.”

The radio produced a second of static and then a strong male voice came through.

“A female in a leather catsuit came flying out of the fire exit a minute or two ago, and ran barefoot to the road. She stopped a male on the street and he decked her. Two other males ran off searching the area, while the suspect on the street and one of the kidnappers dragged the female back inside.”

“Who were they looking for?” Don Fisher yelled, ignoring radio protocol. The man didn’t hear the question and so Scott repeated it.

“That’s the odd thing. We’ve been watching the place for hours and the female we saw was the first and only person to leave the building. But if the male with the carrier bag full of supplies is one of them, there are now six hostiles counted. Two searching, two dragging the female and two who came to the door to see what was going on.”

“Your woman is definitely a fighter, I’ll give her that. And in these circumstances that has to be an advantage,” Don Fisher said, sounding a little less afraid now.

I hoped that he was right, but I was worried. Dee was obviously trying her best to find a way out of her current predicament, but her plan had failed. The captors now had two hours, during which they might well make her pay for the escape attempt.

Chapter 72

Commercial Road, Tottenham, North London. Sunday Noon.

“Johnny, what the hell is going on here? I thought you had these women chained up?”

“Sorry, Sonny, but the ‘cloggies’ have been looking after the women. They wouldn’t let us near them once they were upstairs.”

Sonny Holloway and Johnny closed the fire door and joined the others, who were all gathered around the chair to which a hooded Dee was tied. Sonny took Rik to one side and kept his voice low.

“I come around to bring you some food and what do I find? A hostage running to me for help, that’s what. I could have been anybody. How did they even get out of the room, let alone the building? Those chains are supposed to be solid.”

“I don’t understand it. They got the handcuffs open, but I’m the only one with a key. But even if they got out of the room, they still had to get down the stairs and past the door, and we didn’t see or hear them.”

Rik knew that he was to blame. It showed on his face. The older woman had beaten up two of his best men as if they were rank amateurs, and she had also escaped from a seemingly secure environment. Rik’s career prospects were looking slim.

“OK, we are where we are. Where’s the other girl?”

“We don’t know,” Rik admitted.

“Go and bloody well find out, then!” Sonny growled through gritted teeth.

Rik turned to Dee and addressed her in a moderated tone. “Diane, we need to know where Lavender has gone. Please tell us, because we don’t want to cause you any more pain.”

“I don’t know,” Dee replied. “I told her to run as fast as she could to get help. I wasn’t going to get far in bare feet, was I?”

“I’m going to give you one more chance. Where is she? We’ve searched the factory, and she’s not here, and we’ve searched the area outside and she’s not there either. Last chance.” Rik waited.

“Look,” said Dee, “I realise that you aren’t English, and so I’ll speak slowly. I.... don’t ....know!”

Gregor had heard more than enough from this woman, who clearly derived pleasure from humiliating them. He stepped forward and shot her.

***

Blood spattered everywhere and Sonny tried to jump out of the way, but he was too late. The woman’s blood was on his coat.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, you lunatic?” Sonny screamed. “This is my place. If the police forensic people get around to looking in here I’ll go down for years. Put the guns away.”

“We haven’t got our answer yet,” Rick said, nodding to Gregor.

Dee had been shot in the thigh. She had no way of knowing whether her femoral artery had been damaged, but she knew that if it had she would have only minutes to live. What she did know was that she had never felt pain like it. She was in shock; she was fighting unconsciousness. She couldn’t give Lavender up. She had to convince them.

Gregor leaned over and pushed the hot barrel of his gun into the wound. Dee screamed and felt herself sliding away. Just before she drifted into the blackness, she heard Lavender’s anguished voice.

“Stop it! Please, no more! Leave her alone!” She started sobbing, but Dee heard nothing more.

“Go and get her down, Johnny. You too, Dave,” Sonny ordered. “And you three can stop this one bleeding all over my floor.”

***

When they had escaped from the chains, Dee had checked the factory floor below and, finding that they were not being observed, she helped Lavender climb onto the flat roof of the two storey office building. Dee handed up the remaining water and said, “No matter what happens, lie flat and still in the middle of the roof and don’t make any noise at all. Someone will come and get you.”

“Can’t I come with you?” Lavender had pleaded, afraid to be left on her own.

“No, darling,” Dee replied, her voice soft and calming. “We won’t make it far and they have guns. We have to make it look as if you got away. OK?”

Lavender remembered that conversation, and the promise she’d made, but she couldn’t let Dee die just so that she could stay hidden. Dee was the closest thing she’d had to a real friend since school.

Dee now lay on the table on the sleeping bag. She seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness. Sonny had ordered Johnny and Dave to look after the hostages. He didn’t want to leave them with the Dutch thugs. Johnny had cut off the leg of the cat suit to expose the wound. It wasn’t the neat round hole that might have been expected. The wound was ragged. It was black on the edges, and he could see the white fat layer under the skin. It was surprisingly white. He stepped back when he suddenly realised he could see the muscles beneath.

Dave took over. He lifted the leg and placed his hand underneath; he could feel the bullet under the skin.

“It’s not a through and through, mate,” he said to Johnny. “I’m not an expert, but I reckon if it doesn’t come out, by tomorrow night she’ll be in real trouble.”

“What a mess. Can we get it out, do you think?”

“No choice, Johnny. Go and get my toolbox, it’s in the next room.

Lavender listed to the conversation with increasing horror.

“You can’t cut her open! You’re not a doctor. You don’t know what you’re doing!” she sobbed.

“Look, Miss, that isn’t strictly true,” Dave answered. “I was in the army, in Afghanistan, and we often had to do emergency medical on our mates or they would never have made it to the field hospital. I promise I’ll do my best, if you help.”

Lavender shook her head, shrinking back. “I can’t watch you cut her, I just can’t.”

“I know, it’s tough. I’m going to roll her into the recovery position which will protect her if she vomits. It’ll also give me access to the bullet. I want you to roll up some of that leather until it’s about an inch thick and put it between her teeth on top of her tongue. That’ll stop her biting her tongue while I’m working.”

Johnny opened Dave’s bomb making tool kit and wasn’t surprised to see the neatest and most organised tool box in London.

Dave took a Stanley knife, or box cutter, out of the box and took a brand new blade out of its waxed paper. He then picked up a small bottle containing clear liquid.

“This is pure alcohol. I use it to clear residue from the ends of wires before I terminate them. It gives a better connection.”

Dave cleaned the new blade with the alcohol and slipped it into the knife. He swabbed the area around the bullet, which was clearly visible below the surface.