Just Another Day (12 page)

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.’

B
eing 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.

‘
Anthony’, he said gently, ‘come and sit here and listen to me; you and your family have been through trauma and fear the likes of which most people, thankfully, will never ever see in their lives. Go home with them; enjoy each others company as much as you can. But also, take this thought with you. Even though what you have all suffered has been beyond imagination for most people and almost unbearable, you have also got something very precious out of this terrifying ordeal. I know you will think I’m mad when I say this but hear me out and give some serious thought to what I am about to say.

I say this from the heart and with some experience of what you and your family have had to endure.
Most people will never come so close to losing something or someone that is very precious to them. You and your family have such a closeness, such a bond now, that you have to make each day count as much as possible. You have a wonderful wife and daughter who know how much you love them. It’s plain to see what a loving family you all are. Go home now, take them on a fantastic holiday, you all need it and deserve it so much. All I ask is that you do me one thing; one thing that is just so important to me; I hardly dare mention it.’

The big man straightened his shoulders and looked up at the faint smile that had spread across Johns face.

‘Promise that you’ll send me a funny bloody postcard.’

A very slight smile creased his lips. He took hold of John’s right hand in both of his own hands and looked into his eyes, regaining his composure and speaking in his formidable Bankers tone he said,
‘thank you John for all that you have done for us. You are a truly exceptional man. You quite literally put your life on the line when you stand next to these evil people who hold guns to the heads of innocent; ordinary people and I will never be able to adequately thank you and your colleagues for the outstanding work that you do, often in situations of secrecy that the public will never be aware of. I am, and forever will be, deeply in your debt. I know you are a very busy man John, so I will leave now. I will take your advice; we all need a good holiday. Please remember John. My offer, either now or in the future, is a genuine one. You know me well enough to know that I am a very wealthy man. You also know that I would not make such an offer lightly. If you need me at any time; in any capacity whatsoever, I would consider it a great honour if you contacted me.’

He watched the proud man regain his full height, his immaculately tailored suit looking just how it should do once more. With shoulders back, he strode along the corridor and almost marched out of the office arm in arm with his family.

Inspector Thomas, the office manager, broke the spell by proclaiming, ‘okay you lot, show’s over, back to work and lets put some more scrotes and evil bastards away where they belong.’

The office erupted into laughter when one of john’s colleagues, strolling along, hands in pockets and nodding in John’s direction, piped up,
‘Aye boss, except for that tosser. He doesn’t have to work, he’s off on a world fucking cruise.’

John smiling in his quiet, unassuming way, elbowed him in the ribs and winked at Tommy Evans.
‘Well, one thing’s for certain bollocks, it won’t be your arse next to mine on the sun lounger.’

John often got gently ribbed after that with friendly banter from his friends and colleagues. They knew that he was indeed a special person, any one who was prepared to walk unarmed into the lions den as often as he had done in the past deserved their whole hearted respect.
When someone wanted to lighten a grim or difficult situation, one of the boys would often use John’s ‘predicament’ for their own amusement. ‘It’s okay for you bollocks, you don’t need to work,’ or, ‘now then John Boy, seen much of your fairy godfather lately.’

He never got bothered by the comments as he knew they were always in jest and it was important to remember that it was the jokes and the comments that often got them all through a difficult situation.

His mind came back to the present, Oh God he thought, what I wouldn’t give for a bit of friendly banter now.

‘
Move away from the car.’ The cold menacing voice of Johnson cut through his thoughts.

He moved several yards away to the front of the car. The last thing he wanted was to escalate the tension. He knew the police marksmen would be peering through the ‘scopes of their rifles from the various vantage points, looking to take Johnson out at the first opportunity. Johnson in turn was all too aware of his own vulnerability.

‘I’m going to get out of the wagon with your mate. Any sudden moves by anybody and he gets it in the neck, literally. Understood?’

John swallowed hard.
‘Yes, just tell me what you want me to do.’

‘
Nothing until I tell you.’

The gunman poked around in the bunk area and located a small cupboard behind the drivers’ seat. He opened it and found a large
wooden handled carving knife that Joe, the escaped lorry driver, kept for cutting meat and food when he was travelling overnight doing his out of town runs. The interior of most modern wagons was a far cry from a few years ago. Now, they were fitted out with lots of comforts and gadgets. A small fridge and cooker, even a toilet in some to cater for the foreign trips when the drivers may be away from normal facilities for days on end. He put the knife in his waistband and turned to Dave.

‘
We’re leaving the wagon now. If you fuck about as we climb down, this might go off and take your head with it. Understand?’

Dave was fatigued. He had been awake since the previous day and it was now 3pm. The pizza and water had revived him initially but the shock and blood loss were still taking their toll.

‘Look, I’ve got nothing within me to fight you with. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Let’s get this over with. Where are we going?’ Johnson didn’t answer.

‘
Right, you’re going first with me close by.’

With that, Johnson threw the blanket from Joe’s bunk bed over the heads of both of them and pulled Dave close to him.
As they both slithered out of the passenger door of the wagon, it was impossible from the police marksmen’s position to determine who was who under the heavy ex army surplus blanket. Dave could smell the foul breath of his assailant as his head came into contact with Dave’s. The stubbly beard scratched at his cheek. He had to fight the urge not to bite his attacker’s ear. He’d never thought of himself as a particularly violent person; didn’t think he was capable of serious violence to another person but, he wanted so badly to chew his ear and make him feel some of the pain that he was enduring as a consequence of the loss of his own ear lobe courtesy of Johnson’s earlier rage in the wagon.

He knew it would be the last act of his life if he attempted the same as Johnson would surely pull the trigger, whether he wanted to or not. The thought of his kids being fatherless and Mandy being a widow gave his mind a certain clarity and he pushed the notion away.

Johnson shouted to John.

‘
I can’t see where I’m going under this blanket. I want you to direct me. I will get in the back passenger door first and slide along behind the driver’s seat. Do you understand?’

‘Yes I understand.
Move to your right about three yards and you will be at the back of the car.’

Like Siamese twins joined at the hip, both Dave and his attacker shuffled to the right until Johnson’s right leg touched the rear bumper and now that he had his bearings, he quickly found the open rear passenger door. He slid along the seat pulling Dave in alongside him. Even though he was quite sure that he had some form of protection under the blanket, he didn’t want to be exposed outside of the car for a second longer than necessary.

‘Get into the front passenger seat.’ He shouted to John.

John, being somewhat surprised by this order, shouted back a little louder than he intended. The last thing he wanted was to wind Johnson up by questioning his authority.

‘Who’s going to drive the car if I’m in the passenger seat?’ said John.

‘
Just do what your fucking told. I want to show you something.’

John got into the passenger seat and closed the door.
Johnson had been holding the shotgun tightly against his captives’ neck with his right hand. Unknown to Dave, them both being hidden under the blanket, Johnson had taken his finger off the trigger; He didn’t want there to be any unintended shotgun blasts at this stage of the game. When it happened, he wanted to savour the moment.

The twisted cloth holding the gun in place was causing
him to feel faint as it was cutting off the blood supply to his brain. Dave asked very quietly, but without much expectation, if Johnson could slacken off the noose. Much to his surprise, and without any aggression or comments of any kind, he felt the pressure ease as Johnson untwisted the ligature with one anti clockwise turn and transferred the weapon from his right hand to his left. He felt the blood begin to flow and he winced in pain as his damaged ear lobe began to throb.