Go Out With A Bang!

Go Out With A
Bang!

By Gary
Weston

SMASHWORDS EDITION

www.Smashwords.com

PUBLISHED BY:

Gary Weston on Smashwords

Go Out With A Bang! © 2013 Gary Weston

All rights reserved

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Thank you for respecting the hard work of this
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This ebook is a work of fiction. The names,
characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's
imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be
construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead,
actual events, locales or organizations is entirely
coincidental.

Chapter 1

Detective
Senior Sergeant Stanley Morris could taste blood. They were about
to close in. He could feel it, sense it, smell it. Solid, to the
book police work would tip the case in their favour. The call had
come through to his office a mere two hours earlier, and the mighty
arm of the law had swung into action. Senior Sergeant John Hancock,
head of the Tactical Enforcement team were sent in and they had
contained the area in minutes. Nobody would get past
him.

'Any
activity, Vince?'

Detective
Sergeant Vincent Crowe had just walked into Morris's office. 'Quiet
as. The area is sealed up tighter than a drum. No gunfire for the
last hour.'

'If it
wasn't costing the tax payer a small fortune, I'd be tempted to
leave them boxed in overnight. Hancock ready for us?'

Crowe
nodded. 'The big guy says he's happy for us to stroll in and take
all the glory.'

'Sounds
like John. Remind me to give him a big mention in the press release
after the arrest. Let's get the Ferret.'

They left
the office with an almost casual saunter, confident that sheer
professionalism and teamwork would win the day. Because firearms
were involved, the case was not without its dangers and there was
no room for complacency. It called for cool heads and smart
decision making.

The two
men walked through the corridors, past the cafeteria entrance on
the left and then the single flight of steps that led to the
Chief's office on the right. They walked smartly on to the hi-tech
world of Detective Constable Fred Ducket. It was generally
considered the rank of constable was something of a misnomer when
used to describe the now legendary Ferret. Other city centres were
in the process of replicating what Ducket had put
together.

The
cyberspace wizard had been only too pleased to work with other
headquarters around the country in how to get the best from the
highly modified computer hardware and software. Worldwide patents
had been put in place to protect the specific advancements and
Ducket had put together a training program for the ones selected to
get their departments running efficiently. Young, fast-tracked,
energetic geeky types with at least three years field experience as
detective's were chosen. It was hailed as a blueprint of the future
of police-work. There was just one problem. There was only one
Ferret.

Morris
and Crowe suspected there was more to the circulating speculation
that at the very highest levels, the Ferret was being considered to
be put in charge of all the hi-tech departments, nationwide. Only
time would tell. They came to the workplace Ferret had created,
three times the size of Morris's own office. It seemed every time
Morris ventured into Ducket's domain, things had been moved around,
added to, expanded on and extended. And the magician who made it
sing was usually in the middle of it. But not on this
occasion.

'Locked,'
said Morris.

'See?'
said Crowe. 'It's brilliant deductions like that which is the
reason you are a senior sergeant, and I'm merely a lowly
sergeant.'

'I
wouldn't argue with that. So where is he?'

'Washroom?' Crowe suggested.

'He has
his own. Fitted last week.'

'I bet he
has some hi-tech gizmo to wipe his...'

'We have
to go,' said Morris. 'He'd only be a spectator. I'll try calling
him en-route.'

'Fine.'

Crowe
drove them through the city to the scene of crime as Morris tried
Ducket's number. 'Can you believe that? His phone's
off.'

'Don't
worry about it. We're here.'

It was
nightfall and huge spotlights lit up the cordoned off area.
Flashing lights cast eerie disturbing shadows and the tension was
palpable. A very large dark shape blocked out the light as Crowe
parked up. The shape growled.

'Nice of
you suits to show up,' said Senior Sergeant John Hancock. The face
of the Head of Tactical Enforcement was shielded by the dark visor,
but Morris could still feel the piercing stare. He and Crowe got
out of the car.

'Anything
interesting happening?' Morris asked.

'Not yet.
I was supposed to be wining and dining my wife for our thirteenth
wedding anniversary. When I finally get home, now that'll be
interesting.'

'Hmm,'
said Crowe. 'Thirteen's such an unlucky number. Might have been a
good thing you missed it.'

'John,'
said Morris, ignoring the banter. 'How do we get them
out?'

'We have
several options. One, we wait them out. Might take a few days,
depending on how well stocked they are with provisions, but they'll
come out eventually. Three days tops.'

Morris
shook his head and said, 'Thirty officers, three days and nights.
I'd love to see the Chief's face when he saw the overtime bill.
What else you got?'

'Gas
grenades through the windows.'

Crowe
looked up at the brand new commercial building, three floors of
steel and glass. It was the new Petroxel Haynes Company corporate
headquarters, opened by the mayor only a week ago, due to be fully
occupied and buzzing in two days time.

'Hmm. And
we have armed bad guys in there, who could be in any of the one
hundred and sixteen rooms. To fill the building with gas that way
would mean smashing most of the windows. Expensive.'

'I knew
that,' said Hancock. 'You asked for options; I was going through
the options.'

Morris
said, 'Tell me you have one we can use where we can all get home
before we retire and doesn't end up in the entire building having
to be demolished?'

'Just
one,' said Hancock. 'We get a chopper to take a dozen of my men
over the top of the building, they abseil onto the roof and fill
the air-conditioning vents with gas.'

Morris
and Crowe looked at each other approvingly. Morris said. 'I like
that John. You should run with that one.'

Hancock
pointed a gloved finger at the sky, where a chopper was already
flying directly overhead. It hovered above the gleaming edifice of
modern mans ingenuity; the lines were dropped out and twelve top
Tactical officers abseiled down to the roof. They ran to the rows
of air-conditioning vents, hurling their gas grenades inside. As
they raced back to the lines dangling from the hovering chopper,
the entire building exploded.

Each
corner of the structure disintegrated sending concrete, steel and
glass flying through the air in all directions. With the outer
shell destroyed, the concrete roof caved inwards, and a huge ball
of flames roared from the middle, missing the men on the lines by a
heartbeat as the chopper took them higher into safety. Officers on
the ground were diving and running for cover, as tons of fragments
blasted through the air. The ground was still shaking as the whole
building collapsed in on itself. Then, slowly everything subsided
and settled and the roaring noise suddenly stopped.

'Ooops,'
said Crowe, brushing dust off his shoulders.

Chapter 2

Nobody
slept that night. In the morning, forty fire appliances were still
hosing down what was left of the Petroxel Haynes building, where
sporadic fires flared up from beneath the rubble. The conference
room of the police headquarters had standing room only. The Chief
demanded order and got it. The media had been corralled to one side
of the room, Detective Inspector Andersen, Morris, Crowe and
Hancock sat quietly to the side of the Chief. They all looked as if
their souls had been surgically removed from their
bodies.

The Chief
said, 'I have prepared a statement. You will all be issued with a
copy. For the record. At eighteen hundred hours, yesterday evening,
Dr. Ralph Thorman, Chief Executive Officer of the Petroxel Haynes
International Company, took a phone call from a man demanding fifty
million dollars or their new flagship building would be destroyed.
We immediately despatched our Tactical Enforcement Team, headed by
one of our most experienced officers, Senior Sergeant John
Furlong.

On
arrival at the building, the Tactical officers were fired at from
the top floor of the building. The Tactical team surrounded the
entire building, and were shot at from all four sides. It has to be
said, however, the shots were well short of the officers, to warn
them off, rather than cause harm. At this time, no exchange shots
were fired. It was impossible for the criminals to escape from the
building undetected. A wait and see approach was adopted, and
occasional intermittent bursts of gunfire were fired at the ground
between the building and the police officers.

By 20:00
hours, no more shots were heard. It was assumed that they had
possibly exhausted all their ammunition. A plan was devised to have
officers dropped on the roof from a helicopter to fill the building
with gas by throwing gas grenades into the air-conditioning vents,
in order to force an evacuation of the building. Instantly after
the gas cannisters being deployed, a series of controlled
explosives, planted by the criminals, destroyed the building. The
police officers were fortunate to escape with just minor injuries
received by two of them. The building has been completely
destroyed, and we are reasonably confident that the criminals were
killed. Which brings us pretty much up to date.
Questions.'

There was
a barrage of questions from the media. The Chief used his
significant presence to bring order to the proceedings. 'You
there.'

'Melissa
Trubshore, Channel Nine News. Could the gas grenades thrown in by
the police have caused the explosions?'

John
Hancock stood up, expression fixed. 'No.' That was all he said,
then he sat back down again.

'Dave
Marton, City Observer. Did the Petroxel Haynes company offer to pay
the demands?'

Detective
Inspector Andersen took that one. 'We were contacted by Mr Ralph
Thorman, C E O of the Petrolex Haynes and our advice was sought.
Our advice was not to pay the demands and allow us the opportunity
to either remove the criminals or if there were no alternatives,
negotiate on their behalf. No money was paid out by the
company.'

'Sally
Carlton, Independent News. In hindsight, were there any alternative
procedures that could have been followed that would have given a
more positive outcome?'

Hancock
growled, 'Unlikely. Also a superfluous question seeing as how the
criminals blew up the building.'

'Paul
Forbes, National Radio News. Why would they blow themselves up? Do
you think it was some kind of suicide pact?'

Andersen
said, 'Possibly, but more likely an accidental detonation set off
prematurely. That's merely conjecture on my part at this
time.'