He wasn’t wearing a mask, and his face registered concern, not for his colleague but for the girls. He could see that both were fine. He spoke in a reassuring tone. “It’s OK now. It’s almost over.”

“Is it really, soldier boy?” Dave turned to see Rik standing in the corridor with his gun aimed at Dave’s chest. Dave lifted his arms and held his gun away from his body, to show that he wasn’t a threat.

“Come on, Rik. It’s all over. There’s been enough killing. We need to give ourselves up.” Dave kept his voice calm, but Rik shook his head.

“Well, I don’t think it’s over. Not yet. We still have two hostages.”

“Rik, I can’t let you do this. It’s insane.” Dave was watching for any sign that Rik might shoot, and he saw it in his eyes. Dave brought his gun down into shooting position and began to move into a crouch to offer a smaller target, but he was too late. Rik’s bullet took him in the chest and threw him against the wall.

A smear of blood streaked the wall as Dave slid down into a sitting position, his head lolling to one side.

Rik came into the room, holding his gun ready in his left hand. When he was satisfied that Dave was no longer a threat to him, he turned the gun on Dee.

“Move out of the way! I’m taking the girl.”

“No, you’re not! “ Dee spat out defiantly.

“Come on, lady, you’ve already been shot once today. I don’t want to kill you.” Dee held her ground whilst Rik found a position to shoot her where the bullet wouldn’t pass through her and hit Lavender. Then he fired.

Dee spun around when the bullet hit. Her leg gave up and she fell to the floor. The room was spinning. She was on the verge of passing out again. How much blood had she lost today? She clamped her right hand around her upper left arm. At least this time the bullet had gone right through.

The blood was oozing through her fingers, but she had to get to Lavender before that madman got them both killed by a stray marksman’s bullet. Dee tried to stand up, but couldn’t, so she dragged herself along using her good right arm.

She got to Dave when she heard Rik say to Lavender, “We’re going down the stairs now. Behave yourself and you’ll be fine.”

He took Lavender by the arm and led her through the door. “Get back!” he shouted to the figures below. “I have a hostage.”

Dave opened his eyes. He was alive, just. He lifted his gun.

“Take this, get Lavender,” he grimaced, and coughed. There was blood on his lips but he still tried to smile.

Dee took the gun from him and shuffled towards the stairs, inch by agonising inch.

***

Once Rik pushed Lavender ahead of him onto the staircase, the policeman on the stairs backed away and the others pointed their weapons towards him. He was probably the only hostile left standing.

Keeping Lavender in front of him with his right arm across her throat, he pressed his gun into her neck with his left hand. Step by step he moved down the stairs, not allowing anyone to get a shooting angle. The Armed Response team were frustrated, but they kept him in their sights all the way. Sooner or later one of them would get a clear shot.

***

Dee had managed to drag herself to the door and look out. Rik had Lavender by the throat, and they were almost half way down the stairs. Dee lay down on her stomach and, ignoring the pain in her left arm, she levelled the gun and took aim.

Dee knew that a poor shot could injure Lavender, and so she took a deep breath, then aimed and fired.

***

Rik was concentrating so much on the policemen below him that he had no idea he was in Dee’s sights. Suddenly he felt a great pain in his chest. It felt like his heart was exploding. He was almost right. Dee’s bullet had passed through his right armpit and careered through his ribcage before destroying his heart.

Rik let go of Lavender with a gasp. He collapsed and slid on his back down the stairs, landing in a heap on the concrete floor. He lay still, mouth and eyes wide open as blood pooled under his body, the effects of gravity draining the blood from his body in the absence of a working heart.

Lavender rushed up the stairs to cradle Dee in her arms.

“I thought you were dead!” the younger girl sobbed. “Oh, Dee, please don’t die! I can’t lose you!”

Two voices shouted “Clear!” and a paramedic raced up the stairs to attend to Dee.

“There’s a man in there who needs you more than I do.” Dee pointed to Dave.

The paramedic was back inside a minute. “I’m afraid he has passed, Miss. Nothing can be done for him now. Well, you’ve certainly been in the wars, haven’t you?” he remarked, somewhat undiplomatically.

Lavender stood up and looked around at the carnage below her. She had seen two men killed in front of her and another two lay dead on the concrete floor. The armed policemen were gathering around a colleague who was just getting to his feet looking disoriented. His black chest protection had two holes in it and white material showed through. She watched as his colleagues removed his jacket and chest pad to show a pristine white tee shirt beneath. There were grins all around. The relief was palpable and the policeman’s colleagues were slapping his back and saying, ‘You’ll have a lovely bruise there tomorrow.’

Suddenly there was a disturbance of some kind downstairs as policemen shouted, “You can’t come in here! It’s a crime scene.”

Chapter 77

Tottenham Press, Commercial Road, London. Sunday, 2pm.

When we heard the words “all clear, hostages have been secured,” Don and I forgot about the promise we’d made to Inspector Boniface and leapt out of the van. We ran towards the building, ignoring the howled protests behind us.

For a man of his age, Don Fisher could cover a hundred yards surprisingly quickly. He was close behind me all the way. We ran into the unit, and two armed policemen blocked the way. I wasn’t about to let them stop me, and I body swerved between a Lexus and a black 4x4 before coming to a halt at the bottom of a set of steel stairs.

Lavender Fisher, barefoot and wearing a stereotypical little black dress, came down the stairs. She looked drawn and dusty but she still looked beautiful to me, and probably more so to her father.

Don Fisher swept her up in his arms. “You, young lady, will not leave my sight until you are at least thirty.” He hugged her as tightly as a man could without physically damaging her.

I looked to the top of the stairs, searching anxiously for any sign of Dee. When I eventually caught sight of her I was shocked. Dee was still wearing the leather catsuit she’d been wearing the last time I’d seen her, but the left sleeve and right leg were missing. Around both limbs were copious amounts of bandages. A Paramedic was half carrying her down the stairs, whilst another walked carefully down backwards in front of her, in case she stumbled. They reached the bottom safely, and headed towards the door.

At that moment another two intruders broke through police lines. This time it was Geordie and Tom Vastrick. Geordie handed the paramedic a card and said, “Take her to the Highbury Clinic, please. They’re expecting her.”

Tom turned to Dee, and placed his palm on her cheek.

“I’m very pleased to see you, Dee. Don’t expect any time off, by the way. You got kidnapped in your free time, after all,” he said.

I took her in my arms, taking her weight and hugging her tightly.

“Will you marry me?” I asked.

“If I don’t die,” she quipped, managing a weak smile. There was a round of applause from the same policemen who had objected to my presence in their crime scene.

“I have been shot, you know. Twice!” she giggled.

The paramedic winked at me, and explained in a single word.

“Morphine”.

Chapter 7 8

Highbury Clinic, Blackstock Rd, North London. Sunday, 2:40pm.