Colin sat staring at one another.
‘Reckon they could be decorators or something? Builders perhaps. They looked fit buggers.’
Paul laughed uneasily. ‘They can’t be terrorists, can they? Can you imagine it? Here in the middle of bleeding Southall?’
Colin nodded and scrabbled around on the floor for his discarded newspaper.
Suddenly, from inside the house they heard a muffled crack. They stared at each other again, but this time their faces paled.
‘Did you hear that?’
‘What the fuck was it?’
There was a second crack, and then a third.
‘Oh, shit. That’s a bloody shooter.’
Colin opened his door and started to pull himself out of the car. Paul snatched at his sleeve and tugged him back.
‘Where do you think you’re going, Humphrey sodding Bogart? In case you’ve forgotten, we don’t carry firearms.’
‘Well, we can’t just sit here.’
Paul grabbed at the radio and called the station where the exercise control had been established.
‘Get me the guv. And be quick about it!’ he snapped.
‘He’s in a meeting. He told me he was not to be interrupted,’ the duty operator replied.
‘Listen, you tit, I don’t give a fuck. We’ve got a real incident here. There’s shooting in Bramley Road. Tell them to get some armed assistance here on the double. Got that?’
There was a pause before the operator asked nervously, ‘This is part of the exercise, right?’
Paul almost slammed the handset against the dashboard in frustration. ‘No, it fucking isn’t! This is for real. Now do as I say or I’ll crawl down the sodding air waves and rip your throat out!’
‘So it’s not part of the ex?’
Colin swore and started out of the car again.
‘No,’ Paul persevered with all the self-control he could muster. ‘Now pass my message, right?’
‘Roger. Out.’
He looked up to see that Colin was almost at the driveway, then quickly got out and rushed to join him. It was only when they were opening the gate that they noticed the man still standing beside the dirty white van. He appeared to be unconcerned by the gunshots from inside the house and when they caught his eyes he smiled pleasantly.
‘Hang on, let’s ask the geezer what’s going on. Maybe it’s nothing.’
They went towards him and as they drew near Colin whispered, ‘It’s a Paki.’
‘Brilliant, Watson. Any more deductions?’
The man stepped towards them. ‘Can I help you?’
They were taken aback by his Oxford accent.
‘Excuse me, sir, but is this your van?’
The man turned round as if to check it was still there. ‘Yes,’ he said, then, as an afterthought, ‘May I enquire who’s asking?’
Remembering procedure and feeling suddenly a bit stupid, Paul fumbled in his jacket pocket and produced his identity card. ‘Police,’ he said.
The man smiled. ‘Splendid. How can I help you?’
Becoming impatient, Colin said, ‘Was that a gunshot we heard just now?’
The man’s eyes widened theatrically. ‘A gunshot? I certainly hope not.’
‘Well, what was it then?’
‘I really couldn’t say. I didn’t hear anything.’ He turned to the driver, who had got out of the van and joined him. In contrast to the two policemen they were both tall, lean and fit.
Paul glanced back at the house. ‘Would you come with us, please, sir?’
The man shrugged. ‘If you insist, officer.’ He said something quickly to the driver in a language that the policemen could not understand.
Keeping the man in front of him, Paul walked down the driveway towards the house. As the front door was shut they veered towards the side gate. ‘After you, if you don’t mind, sir,’ he said. Again the man shrugged politely, still smiling.
A window showed into the kitchen and although the room itself was empty they could hear something being smashed elsewhere in the house. Before they could ask any more questions the man turned and explained, ‘We’re doing some construction work, you see. A really wealthy fellow, the owner. He wanted all sorts of alterations done.’
Colin relaxed, whispering, ‘I thought so. Sodding builders. The boss is going to roast us alive when the heavies turn up and find out. We’ll be the laughing-stock of the whole bloody force.’
They reached the back of the house and saw a large, well-kept garden stretching down to a tall hedge at the bottom.
‘Come on,’ Paul said miserably. ‘Let’s get this over with.’ He turned to the man. ‘We’d better check it out if you don’t mind.’
For the first time the man’s calm smile faltered and a second later it died altogether. His eyes chilled and narrowed and he sighed heavily. ‘Of course. I understand. I very much regret the inconvenience to you though.’
Paul chuckled pleasantly. ‘It’s no bother, sir. Just a peek and then we’ll leave you in peace. So as we can say we did our duty.’
‘Naturally. Duty,’ the man said, his voice low and matter of fact. He seemed to be searching for something in his pocket and when he pulled out a small automatic pistol Paul and Colin stared at it dumbly, the shock not even registering.
‘We all have our duty to perform,’ the man said. He took a single step backwards, widened his stance and shot Colin in the solar plexus with a rapid double tap. Colin staggered against the wall, his mouth opening and shutting like a fish out of water, and then sank to the floor. Paul watched in mesmerized horror as the smoking muzzle flicked on to its new target. Behind it, the man seemed almost apologetic for what he had just done, and, more particularly, for what he was about to do.
‘If only you’d stayed in your car and minded your own business. But you know what they say about curiosity and the cat.’
Paul held out his hand as if ordering a car to stop, as the first of the bullets spat straight through his palm and hammered into his ribcage. He clutched at the wound and his knees gave way.
‘You bastard,’ he muttered, his words sounding distant and garbled. He didn’t seem able to get his tongue around the syllables he had used so often in the past. ‘You fucking…’
He fell on to his back and stared up at the foul grey sky. Rain stung his face but it was strangely refreshing, a counter to the ache
