Rough Justice (53 page)

‘So what’s the problem?’ asked Fogg.

‘The problem is that Mr Johnson has kept his wife in the dark about his problems. Didn’t tell her that he’d lost his job, didn’t tell her that he was behind with the mortgage, hid all the court letters from her. First she knew there was a problem was when they rang her doorbell. Now Mr Johnson has barricaded himself inside and Mrs Johnson is with him. Every time they knock on the door he screams that he’s got a gun and he’s going to kill anyone who steps inside.’

‘Is the threat a serious one?’

‘Unlikely in the extreme,’ Dawson said. ‘But not surprisingly the bailiffs don’t want to go in.’

‘And the wife?’

‘We haven’t heard a peep from her. According to the suit she was screaming the odds at the husband before he slammed the door.’

‘So we’re not sure if she’s in there willingly or not?’

Dawson nodded. ‘We’re going to give him one more chance to open the door and if that doesn’t work we’re going in.’

‘What about a negotiator?’

‘I called it in but they said that, with the best will in the world, it’s going to be three or four hours before they have anyone, and even then we’re low priority unless we’re sure there’s a threat.’

‘How do you want to handle it, Gary?’

‘Slow entry, full gear and shields, talking to him every step of the way. He’s not violent – a couple of convictions for drunk and disorderly about ten years ago but nothing recent. If he sees what he’s up against I’m guessing he’ll come out. He hasn’t hit anybody – he swore at the bailiffs and threatened them but they won’t be looking to charge him.’

‘Where do you want my guys?’

Shepherd and the rest of the team were already out of the van. Parry had opened the rear doors and was handing out their kitbags.

‘I’ve only got four today,’ said Dawson, ‘one off sick and two have got Taser training. Be handy if you could go in the back while we take the front. There’s a kitchen door – you go from there to the hall. We’ll meet you halfway, and presumably we’ll have him there unless he moves upstairs.’

‘Anyone else in the house?’

‘They’ve got two boys but, according to the neighbours, they’re at school. They’re good people, Foggy. The neighbours say the kids are always well turned out. The wife takes them to school, and the dad helps with the school soccer team at weekends. They’ve just got themselves into a situation, that’s all. I think my wife would probably kick off if she found out I hadn’t been paying the mortgage for six months.’

‘Mind if I have a word?’ said Fogg, gesturing at the front door.

‘Knock yourself out.’

Fogg went over to the van and explained the situation to his team. ‘Full kit on and long shields,’ he said. ‘We’ll be going in the back.’ He walked towards the house as they began opening their bags and taking out their gear.

Fogg went up to the front door. There was a letterbox at chest level and he slipped a hand through it and peered down the hall. He could see a West Indian woman in the kitchen, dabbing her eyes with a tea-towel. ‘Mrs Johnson!’ he called. ‘Are you okay?’ She flinched, then slammed the kitchen door. ‘Mrs Johnson, can you come here so that we can talk to you?’

‘I’ve got a gun!’ shouted a male voice. ‘You come through that door and I’ll shoot you.’

Fogg looked as far to the left and right of the hallway as he could, but he couldn’t see Johnson. He was either up the stairs or in one of the two rooms leading off to the left of the hallway. ‘Mr Johnson, can you at least allow your wife to leave the house?’ said Fogg.

‘She’s not going anywhere. No one is. This is our house. Just go away and leave us alone.’

‘That’s not going to happen, Mr Johnson. The bailiffs have the legal right to enter the premises.’

‘This ain’t premises, this is my home!’ screamed Johnson. He came running out of the sitting room. Fogg caught a glimpse of a middle-aged white man with a shaved head and a West Ham tattoo on his forearm before the letterbox slammed shut, just a fraction of a second after he had slipped out his fingers.

Foggy walked back to Dawson’s van. ‘I see what you mean,’ he said. ‘The wife’s in the kitchen, he was in the sitting room. I don’t think he’s hurt her but she’s crying. She just slammed the door so she’s in there on her own.’

Dawson’s team had lined up by their van, each with a long shield on their left arm. ‘Okay, let’s get this over with,’ he said. ‘You let me know when you’re in position and we’ll go in together.’

Fogg went over to his van. ‘Carpets, you’re on the enforcer. I don’t think the back door’ll give you any trouble. She’s alone in the kitchen at the moment. Pelican, you go in first. Give her every chance to come quietly – she’s under a lot of stress.’

‘Got it, Skip.’

‘KFC, you and Three-amp go in after Pelican. Everyone stay back unless needed. I’ll follow them in. Everyone got it?’ They all nodded. ‘Okay, helmets on and off we go.’

They put on their helmets and jogged alongside the garage to the rear of the house. Parry followed, carrying the orange enforcer. Fogg held them back, out of sight of the kitchen window, while he called up Dawson on the radio. ‘In position,’ he said.

‘We’re going in on three,’ said Dawson.

Fogg pointed at Parry, then at the door, then held up three fingers, then two. Then he nodded. Parry ran to the door, swung back the enforcer and smashed it against the lock. The door splintered and crashed inwards. He stepped aside and Castle ran into the house, her shield up. They could hear crashes and shouts from the front.

Mrs Johnson stood facing them. Her cheeks glistened with tears and her eyes were red from crying. Her hair was in short dreadlocks, tied back with a polka-dotted scrunchie, and she was wearing a denim dress that buttoned up the front. On any other day she would have been pretty, but her lips were drawn back into a snarl and she was shaking like a trapped animal. As the police moved towards her, she screamed and grabbed a knife from a wooden block by the sink. ‘Knife!’ shouted Castle, and stood where she was, her shield out in front of her. Shepherd and Kelly moved into the kitchen behind her and stood either side so that the three shields formed a Perspex wall.

‘Put down the knife, Mrs Johnson,’ said Castle, calmly. ‘There’s no need for that.’

The woman was panicking, swishing the blade from side to side and making soft whimpering noises. Her left hand was clutching a small crucifix at her throat. She was in her late twenties but she had the eyes of a frightened child. On the other side of the kitchen door they heard thumps and bangs and a scream.

Fogg stepped into the kitchen. ‘Mrs Johnson, please, let’s not get over-excited. We can sort this out.’

The woman pulled open the kitchen door and ran down the hallway, her skirt flapping around her knees. Castle, Shepherd and Kelly followed her.

Dawson’s team had used their shields to force the husband against the far wall of the sitting room. One of the men had dropped his shield and was trying to handcuff Johnson but he was resisting, swearing and shouting that he was going to kill them.

As Mrs Johnson hurtled down the hallway, Dawson stepped out of the sitting room. When she saw him she swerved to the right and up the stairs. She stopped halfway and turned around, still waving the knife.

Shepherd, Castle and Kelly held back. Fogg came up behind them. Dawson was nearest so Fogg kept quiet and left it to the other sergeant to do the talking.

Dawson kept his arms out to the sides. ‘It’s okay, Foggy. Mrs Johnson doesn’t want to hurt anyone.’

‘You’re not taking my house,’ said the woman. She whipped the knife from side to side. ‘Just go away, leave us alone.’

‘Pearl, relax,’ said Dawson. ‘No one’s going to hurt you.’

‘You can’t take away my house,’ she said.

Dawson nodded. ‘Okay, just relax, all right? There’s no reason for you to get upset.’ He reached his hand slowly to his neck strap and undid it, then took off his helmet.

‘I didn’t know – I didn’t know that Keith had lost his job.’

‘I know that, Pearl.’

‘He lied to me. He went out every day, same as always. He said money was tight but money’s always tight, right?’ She reached up and grasped her crucifix.

‘That’s right,’ said Dawson. He took off his gloves and held out his right hand. ‘Just give me the knife, Pearl. I know you don’t want to hurt anyone.’

‘Gary, keep away from her,’ said Fogg, removing his Taser from the holster on his hip.

‘Foggy, it’s okay,’ said Dawson, his eyes still on the woman. ‘Pearl’s going to give me the knife and we’re all going to walk out of here. No one’s in any trouble, no one’s been hurt, it’s just a misunderstanding, isn’t it, Pearl?’ Dawson nodded, trying to get the woman to agree with him, but she just stared at him with wide eyes. ‘Pearl, your children are going to be home soon, aren’t they? You don’t want them to see you like this, do you?’

‘Don’t you talk about my kids,’ she snapped. ‘You leave my kids out of this.’ She released the crucifix and pointed her finger at Dawson. ‘This is nothing to do with my kids!’ she hissed.

‘I’m just saying, we don’t want to upset them, do we? Two boys you’ve got, right?’

The woman nodded. ‘You can’t take my boys away from me.’

‘No one’s going to take your boys, Pearl, you have my word.’ Dawson took a step towards her, his arm extended. ‘We can find somewhere for you and your boys to stay.’

‘This is our home,’ she said. ‘We’re staying here.’

Dawson took another step towards her. ‘That’s not possible, Pearl. The court says you have to move out and that’s the end of it. But the council have to find you somewhere to live so you won’t be on the streets. And someone can wait with you until the boys come home.’

‘No!’ screamed the woman, and lashed out with the knife. Dawson tried to get out of the way but he was too slow and the blade caught him under the chin. Blood spurted across the stair carpet as he staggered back. Fogg pulled the trigger of the Taser and two prongs shot out trailing thin wires behind them. They hit Mrs Johnson in the chest and half a second later thousands of volts pulsed through her. She convulsed and dropped like a stone onto the stairs.

Shepherd threw his shield to the side and rushed to Dawson, who was slowly sliding down the side of the banisters, his hands clasped to his neck. Blood was seeping through his fingers. Shepherd could see the panic in his eyes. He grabbed the sergeant’s arms and gently helped him to the floor. ‘You’ll be okay, Gary, just relax.’ He looked up at Fogg. ‘Get the paramedics in here now, Sarge,’ he said. Fogg hurried down the corridor and out of the front door. Two of Dawson’s men came over but Shepherd told them to keep back, that Dawson needed room.

Kelly leaned his shield against the wall and joined Shepherd on the floor. ‘How bad is it?’ he asked. Behind him, Castle and Simmons put down their shields and went past Shepherd to get to the unconscious woman. They picked her up by the arms and carried her down the stairs and out of the front door. She was mumbling incoherently and shaking her head.

‘I don’t think she cut anything serious,’ said Shepherd. ‘Get me a kitchen roll or something.’ He pulled off his gloves and threw them onto the floor. Kelly nodded and dashed to the kitchen.

Dawson’s mouth was working but there was only a gurgling sound. Blood trickled between his lips. Kelly appeared with a roll of kitchen paper and a tea-towel.

‘Gary, don’t try to talk,’ said Shepherd, gazing directly into the man’s eyes. ‘You’re cut but it’s not life-threatening, okay? If an artery had been severed you’d have passed out already, so you’ve just got to stay calm, all right? The blood in your mouth is coming from the throat wound so lean forward a bit so that it doesn’t go down your air passage. Concentrate on breathing slowly and shallowly. If your mouth fills up then swallow it but don’t let it go down into your lungs. And try to relax. You’re going to get through this.’

Shepherd helped him lean forward. Dawson opened his lips and blood spilled out over the front of his stab vest. Shepherd took the roll of kitchen paper from Kelly and pulled off a dozen sheets, folding them into a thick wad. He looked into Dawson’s eyes again. ‘Gary, I need you to take your hands away from your neck, so that I can apply this to the wound. On the count of three. Don’t worry, it’ll take less than a second. One, two, three.’

On three, Dawson removed his hands and Shepherd slapped the wad of kitchen roll over the gash in his neck. ‘Good man,’ he said. He kept the paper in place with his left hand while he took the tea-towel from Kelly. He placed the towel over the wad of paper. ‘Okay, Gary, you can put your hands back now,’ he said. ‘Keep the pressure on as much as you can, okay?’ Dawson put his hands up to the makeshift bandage and Shepherd moved his away. Blood was still oozing from Dawson’s mouth but not as much as there had been at first. ‘Keep breathing slowly and evenly and you’ll be just fine,’ he said.

There was a heavy footfall outside and two paramedics in green jackets with fluorescent stripes burst into the hall carrying bulky medical kits. Shepherd stood up so that they had room to work. Kelly put an arm around his shoulders. ‘Nice work, Terry,’ he said.

‘Basic first aid,’ said Shepherd.

‘You’re one cool bastard,’ said Kelly.

‘Does that mean I can have a different nickname?’ asked Shepherd. ‘I’m not happy with Three-amp.’ The two paramedics knelt beside Dawson. Shepherd picked up his gloves. ‘Come on, I need some air,’ he said.

Shepherd and Fogg watched as the paramedics wheeled Dawson on a stretcher towards the waiting ambulance. Mrs Johnson and her husband were sitting in the back of a local response car, waiting to be taken to Harlesden police station. Inspector Smith arrived in a TSG van, accompanied by three patrol cars. He had a quick word with the paramedics, then walked over to Fogg and Shepherd. ‘He’ll be okay,’ said the inspector. ‘What the hell happened in there?’

‘He was talking to her and she kicked off,’ said Fogg.