Page 2 of No Safe Place
An Audi in front of them chose to speed up instead of pulling over. The pedestrian crossing to their right meant they couldn’t overtake – and Field smacked her hand against the dashboard.
‘Say that again, Hotel Charlie Six-Four?’ Control said, finally.
‘Are suspects on scene?’ Field shouted.
She shot a look at the speedometer. Riley was doing fifty down Plumstead Common road, the dark street oddly lit as they flew down it.
‘Unknown at this stage. We’ve passed to Metro Alpha for review.’
Metro Alpha – serious enough to need firearms on standby, then.
Riley put his foot down. ‘One minute.’
She wiped her hands on her black trousers, smoothed her hair. Pulled an extra set of handcuffs from the glove box and secured them to her belt.
Heading up a Major Investigation Team didn’t involve as many sirens and active scenes as Field’s civilian friends assumed. She couldn’t deny the thrill of a boring on-call night shift interrupted.
‘We’re here, boss,’ Riley said, indicating and swinging onto Ancona Road, and braking hard.
An Ambulance Response car was parked across the other end of the street, doors still open.
Control spoke over the radio. ‘Two cars on their way to you, Hotel Charlie Six-Four. Five minutes out.’
Field threw her door open, and the heat hit her, like the first step off a plane abroad. She popped the boot, grabbed her stab vest and pulled it on.
She didn’t wait for Riley before running towards the scene, clipping the radio to the left panel of the vest.
A huddle of people in pyjamas and dressing robes blocked the victim from view.
‘Police—’ Field pushed through the gathered crowd. She could hear the victim wheezing before she could see him. ‘Police – stand back.’
They parted, stumbling.
Two paramedics were already working on the victim. One was by his head, a young girl with dark hair back in a bun, listening to his chest through a stethoscope.
The older paramedic was cutting through the man’s shirt like it was made of tissue paper. ‘He’s unresponsive. Collapsed airway – at least five stab wounds.’ He looked up at Field, pink scissors frozen by the man’s collar. ‘This is nasty.’
Field grabbed her baton and flicked her wrist to extend it. A woman next to her jumped and clung to her husband.
There wasn’t as much blood as she’d been expecting. A pool of blood meant arterial, death in minutes.
‘Any sign of the attacker?’ Field barked at the paramedics. Neither spoke, but both gave one shake of the head.
Riley appeared on the victim’s other side, baton out, and nodded at Field.
Protect the medics.Always the first duty of the police on an active scene.
Field held her radio to her mouth. ‘TOA Hotel Charlie Six-Four. We’ve got an IC1 male, approx. fifty years old. Not conscious, trouble breathing. Male appears to have multiple entry wounds, including one to the neck.’
Field turned so she was facing outwards, scanning up the street towards the ambulance, while Riley faced their unmarked car. It was impossible to see much beyond the pool of light cast by the headlights. ‘Chase firearms, Control. We might need a chopper so get HEMs on standby, and identify a suitable landing location.’
‘Is he going to be okay?’ asked one of the neighbours, the husband of the scared woman.
Field glanced down. The female paramedic was talking soothingly to the patient, while unwrapping a large needle, which Field suspected would be going straight into his chest.
Her stomach flipped.
She turned and the small crowd were still standing there, gawping. Unable to look away.
