Gangbuster by Peter Bleksley Read Free Book Online Page B

the wild west, just West London. I had been caught unawares, I know, and this convicted killer had the edge on me. The dark glowering holes of the Winchester barrels hovered close to my temples. I was fumbling under my coat and into my shoulder holster to reach for my gun. I thought, Shit, he’s beaten me to it. I’m going to die. I was staring death in the face in the back of a Transit van. I only had one option. I ducked out of his line of fire and legged it up the road as fast as I could, shouting and screaming at my colleagues, ‘Look out, he’s got a fucking gun, leg it.’ They were close behind me and could be in the line of fire. They scattered for cover as well. They knew from my tone and the way I was running like a fucking maniac that this wasn’t one of my jokes. I dashed about 25 yards then dived under a car for cover. I got my gun out and shouted at Baigrie, ‘You are surrounded by armed police.’ That wasn’t strictly true because some of the team, notably my mucker with the other firearm, had already gone off for their bacon and eggs before I opened the Transit door.
    It was now about 7.00am and Earl’s Court was just coming to life. We’d got an armed murderer trapped in a van in a busy street not far from Earls Court tube station, one of the busiest in London. What do we do now to ensure public safety? To make his getaway in the van he’s going to have to come out of the back door and get round the front to thedriver’s seat. Will he come out all barrels blazing? I made a decision there and then. If he comes out I’m going to shoot him, whether I see his gun or not. I’m going to put a bullet in him. If he crosses the line, he’s dead. I’ve got to stop him getting away and possibly shooting someone else. All these things were racing through my mind as I made my way towards the front of the Transit, out of the line of fire, from where I’d first been facing the rear. He’d got to come out of the van if he was going to start shooting and that gave me an even chance.
    I had dived down under another car and was quickly joined by my police colleague who by now, amid the action, had for some reason lost a shoe. One had come off as he scrambled to a safe position and was lying in the middle of the road. As more police units raced to the scene for what was rapidly becoming a major incident, there was no movement from the the gunman. It was obvious that he believed my warning about being surrounded by armed cops. Now we had a tense and dangerous siege situation which was to last for the next 44 hours.
    I could see Baigrie moving about in the van. I saw him close the back door. I didn’t know what his next move might be. Should I reposition myself again to get a line of sight through the back doors? But I knew the might of Scotland Yard would soon be descending on Philbeach Gardens to seal it off. I thought, Bollocks, I’ll stay where I am. I don’t know where he might go, so I remained prone on the ground with as much of me tucked round a parked car as possible and just my head, hands and gun out for exposure. I wanted to present him with as small a target as possible if he did come out shooting.
    By now, all hell had broken loose. People had heard that something big was going on and, human nature being what it is, had come to have a look. That’s the last thing I wanted. I’d got a maniac killer with a sawn-off shotgun in a van in a busy street and members of the public could be in danger. One young woman, I think she was Asian or Mediterranean, had started walking towards me, oblivious to what was happening. I’d hidden myself away as much as possible because I wanted her to get past me and out of the line of fire. She was right between him and me. That’s not where I wanted anyone to be, I wanted them behind me.
    I whispered to my colleague to keep quiet and let her walk up, walk up, walk up until she was safely past us. Suddenly, she looked down and saw me on the ground with a gun and she