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The CID officers soon got things moving and within a few minutesboth of the surviving prisoners had been thoroughly searched and loaded into the transport vans. The DS had words with both the drivers, and then they moved off, blue lights strobing in the gloom.
The newly arrived DS was a relaxed-looking man in his late thirties, casually dressed in jeans, trainers and a bomber jacket.
‘That’s the prisoners on their way, straight down to Burnett Road, reception committee waiting for them to get them processed and banged up. A news blackout has been authorised, and no details have been released beyond that there’s been a shooting.’
‘Nice one, cheers,’ said Max.
‘Shite, bit of a state here, eh? I’m Nige Jones, by the way. On-call DS,’ he said, accepting a mug from Danny.
‘You could say that. We need to keep it as tight as a drum until we can assess properly what’s happening, so no updates on the radio, yeah?’ said Max, also taking a mug.
‘Anyway, duty inspector is on his way, as is DCS Wakefield, DCI Davies, CSI teams, the PIRC and no doubt half the bloody world. I’m told post-incident procedure is to be fully in place as of now, and once everything is secure you guys are relocating somewhere until PIRC authorise your release.’
Max shrugged. ‘Nae bother.’ This was typical procedure after a police shooting, even one as clearly justifiable as it was. The PIRC would have to come to the scene to oversee the investigation to ensure accountability, seize firearms used, view the video footage and decide the next steps. In this case, Max was totally certain that there was no issue. They’d gone by the book, consulted the firearms commander, and had prepared the ambush. It had been Tavish’s idea to utilise the mannequins from the fire station. ‘It’ll either put them off, or it will at least make the fuckers’ intentions clear if they shoot up the dummies, eh?’ Max was almost shocked when the superintendent firearms adviser, and detective superintendent had agreed.
‘Did the armed officers have BWV?’ Nige asked, referring to body-worn video cameras that uniformed cops routinely wore.
‘Aye, fortunately, as they had about thirty minutes to prepare. I’m bloody glad they did. You’ll never see a more righteous shooting, Nige. Mannie was unloading his Glock through the skin of the door. It’s still clutched in his hand.’
‘Mate, the panic on the net is something to behold, particularly as details are so bloody scant.’ He sniggered and took a sip of tea. ‘I have to say the fire brigade rescue dummies was a genius idea, who came up with that?’ said Nige.
‘Tavish.’
‘Who?’
‘Local special constable, reserve firefighter, and lifeboat crew member. They had a couple of the mannequins, and one of the CPR trainer dummies. He also had a shit load of blood he was saving up to make black pudding, which was really sneaky of the bastard,’ said Max with a chuckle.
‘He sounds a character, where’s he gone?’ said Nige.
‘Fire station around the corner together with the custody officer, keeping Frankie Hardie out of the way.’
‘Is that not risky? He’s a bloody Hardie, after all.’
‘You’d not say that if you’d seen Tavish. He’s a man-mountain, and to be fair to Frankie, I think he’s feeling safer hanging with us.’
‘Fair one, and he’s probably right, bearing in mind these bastards were willing to execute two cops. They didn’t know they were dummies, that’s for sure.’
‘Have you looked in the car?’ said Nige.
‘Not properly, just a cursory check once the surviving gunmen were dragged out. They both had phones in their pockets, which we have seized,’ said Max.
‘How about the dead man?’
‘Gordon Malone was his name, known as Droopy. It’s a bit of a mess in there, but there’s a chunky phone in the centre console, which I’m confident will be encrypted. It’s certainly not like any phone you see regularly.’
‘Anything else in the car?’ said Nige.
‘As I said we’ve been covering the prisoners, so haven’t looked properly, and being honest, I’m reluctant until any of the bosses are here. Miles Wakefield may well go fucking doolally,’ said Max, looking at the car and the five holes in the driver’s door. He knew he really shouldn’t look, but something was telling him that this may be the last opportunity before half the world arrived, and they wouldn’t get access for a while. Once the PIRC were here, all bets were off. They’d never let them within a mile of the car.
‘Max, you look like you’re thinking deeply. That’s always a worrying sign,’ said Janie.
‘How about a quick visual scan of the car’s interior? Droopy received a call on the way here, but just the one on the encrypted phone, that doesn’t seem right. You saw the assault, they planned it meticulously, Droopy went straight into the office, breaching the door with the shotgun. That strikes me of planning and pre-existing knowledge. How would they know the layout like that, if someone hadn’t told them? They didn’t have time to do a detailed recce.’
‘Why would he use a simple burner when he has an encrypted phone?’ said Janie.
‘An encrypted phone still leaves a trace and will still use the same IMEI and IMSI numbers. If he uses a brand-new burner with a new SIM for each job, then it’s another level of confusion, I guess. And he can just toss the burner after the job. Encrypted phones cost a fortune.’
‘I guess. PIRC are gonna go mental, Max.’
