The Half Truth

The next second a bullet shot through his forehead, exploding the back of his skull open. He was dead before he hit the floor.

John didn’t waste any time. He sprinted up the remainder of the stairs and into the banking hall, his gun sweeping the room. Staff and customers were huddled together in one corner. Someone gave a small scream of alarm. Another whimpered.

Standing in the middle of the hall, the third gunman held a young woman in front of him, a gun at her head.

‘I’ll shoot her!’ The gunman yelled through his ski mask.

‘No you won’t,’ said John, steadying the Glock. ‘Put the gun down.’

‘You’re not going to shoot me.’ It was a jeer.

John weighed up the situation. The hostage was a good three inches shorter than the robber. It gave him just enough clearance above her shoulder.

‘Are you going to do what I think you are?’ It was Martin’s voice behind him.

‘Yep,’ said John, his eyes fixed firmly ahead. ‘You going to do your bit?’

‘Yep. Already clocked her name badge.’

‘Well, do you want to get on with it?’

‘Alisha,’ said Martin, his voice calm and low. ‘Listen very carefully. You are going to be okay. I promise. All you have to do is stay very still. Do you understand?’

Alisha gave a small sob and eked out a sound of acknowledgement.

‘Shut the fuck up!’ said the gunman. ‘Don’t talk to her.’ He cocked his gun. ‘I’m not messing.’ John could see his opponent’s forefinger begin to squeeze the trigger. John’s training now automatic, he zoned out his surroundings, focusing only on the man in front of him. He breathed for the count of three and as he exhaled he fired off one clean shot.

The gunman cried out and spun backwards. Alisha screamed and fell to the other side.

John fired off another shot.

The first had hit the gunman in the shoulder, the second in the arm as he had tried to reach for the gun he had dropped. John raced over, kicking the gun away. Alisha was scrambling across the carpet, sobbing in relief, frightened but unharmed. John stood over the groaning gunman and placed a boot on his chest.

‘To coin a phrase,’ he said, pointing his gun at the robber’s chest. ‘You’re nicked.’

Chapter 2 (#u27513d3a-c07c-56ad-80bb-ba91d095b0ac)

It was a couple of hours later that John and his team regrouped back at HQ. The statements and paperwork could wait until the next day. The one surviving robber was under armed guard at the local hospital for the night. Interviewing would also wait until the next day.

‘Well done this evening, everybody,’ said DI Brogan, John’s boss, coming into the open- plan office. ‘No civilian casualties, despite that stunt you pulled, John.’

John gave a slight nod of apology. ‘How’s Jackie, Sir?’

‘Flesh wound. They’ve removed the bullet, fortunately no long-term damage. You’re obviously going to be a man down for a while.’

‘Don’t let Jackie hear you say that,’ said John. ‘Person down. We’re going to be a person down for a while.’ He stood up. ‘We’re going for a drink, Sir. Are you coming?’

‘Before you go,’ said Brogan. ‘CID sent over some photos. Wondered if you could translate them, given your expertise on gang tattoos.’ He dropped the brown envelope he had been carrying onto John’s desk.

John picked up the envelope and pulled the half a dozen or so black-and-white photos out. He gave them a cursory glance and slid them back inside. ‘What’s the history?’

‘Unidentified. Found dead, at the docks, yesterday. No ID, only the body art.’

‘Okay, I’ll take them home and have a look at them tonight,’ said John, pocketing the envelope.

‘Right, well, I’ll leave you all to it,’ said Brogan, turning and walking out of the office. ‘Well done again, everyone.’

‘It doesn’t look very nice out there now,’ said Tina as she began clearing the last of the tables at the café. She looked out of the window at the slate-grey clouds hovering overhead.

‘Looks like it’s about to rain,’ said Fay, following Tina’s gaze. ‘And I haven’t got my umbrella with me.’

‘Why don’t you get off early? I can finish up here.’ Tina carried the tray of dirty cups and saucers out to the kitchen. She came back out a moment later for the remaining crockery. ‘We’re not exactly going to have a big rush on in the last half an hour. And Old Grumpy has gone.’ She grinned at her colleague. Old Grumpy was their nickname for their boss; one he had earned with ease.

Fay was already untying her apron. ‘Only if you’re sure.’

‘Of course I’m sure. Now go on, otherwise you’ll get soaked.’

‘Thanks, hun,’ said Fay. She paused. ‘Don’t look straight away, but there’s a man standing across the road – in a baseball cap.’

Tina smiled to herself as she placed the teapot onto the tray. Was this another unsuspecting male to add to Fay’s Lust List? Fay’s recent fall into singleton territory had made her practically a predator to all men. Tina looked cautiously out of the window from under her fringe.

It took her a moment to spot the man in question, but when she did it forced a sharp in-take of breath. She raised her head some more and looked closer. The man’s eyes were hidden underneath the peak of the cap and the collar on his leather box jacket was pulled up. Although she couldn’t see his features, instinct told her the man had spotted her. For a moment they were both suspended in time as they appraised one another. Then the man stepped back into the shadows of the disused shop doorway behind him.

‘You all right?’ said Fay. ‘Tina?’

It took a second for Tina to register Fay’s voice. ‘Oh, yes, sorry.’

‘Creepy, isn’t he?’ said Fay. Tina nodded. She didn’t share with Fay that the man had reminded her of her ex-brother-in-law, Pavel. She didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was his build, his stance. Possibly even the clothing. Whatever it was, Pavel had come straight to the fore of her mind.

‘Why did you say creepy?’ asked Tina, unsure if she really wanted to know.

‘He was hanging around the other day. In fact, this is the third time I’ve seen him.’

‘Really? Perhaps he’s waiting for someone.’

‘Hmmm, then why does he keep staring in here?’

‘Stop it, Fay,’ said Tina, flicking her friend on the arm and feigning a grin. ‘I thought you were going anyway?’

Tina couldn’t deny the uneasy feeling resurrecting itself again, her moment of generosity in telling Fay to go home, now a regret.

‘I’ll see you in the morning, then,’ said Fay as she picked her jacket from the coat peg and hooked her arm through the handle of her bag.

Tina watched Fay disappear out the door and hurry off in the direction of the bus stop. She shivered at the rush of cold air, which had streaked in and was now winding itself around her body. She took another look across the road, the passing traffic partially obscuring her view.

There was movement in the darkened doorway. Tina narrowed her eyes, trying to get a clear view, but the traffic building up in the road was against her, the arrival of a bus making it impossible.

Drops of raining began to splatter against the glass and speckle the pavement. Within seconds the rain was pounding down, long stair rods of water hitting the tarmac and bouncing back up. Still the bus blocked a clear line of sight to the doorway opposite.