The Hard Way by Duncan Brockwell (electronic book reader .txt) 📗

her seat. It was just gone eleven and by rights she should be in bed, cosying up with a good book. Miller blew a bubble with her gum, as it popped and stuck to her lips. “You’re so annoying when you’re bored, did anyone ever tell you that?”

Miller smirked. “Nope. Just you. When are we going to see some action?”

“I keep telling you, soon. If our informant is right, our suspect should be visiting his girlfriend any time now.” Her partner was right: it was so boring being sat in a car waiting for something to happen. “She said tonight, be patient.”

She had been partnered with Miller for little over five years, having trained her from a detective constable, not that Miller had needed much training having been a uniformed police officer for eight years. Hayes was more than satisfied with Miller’s performance on the job, even if she did annoy her at times, like tonight.

Hayes and Miller had worked day and night to identify and apprehend the killer of a woman whose body had been found by the side of a motorway. For almost two weeks they’d interviewed potential witnesses, questioned CIs, scoured hours of CCTV footage – her favourite. All the man-hours they’d submitted culminated in them being in the car, backed up by an armed response unit hidden further up the road.

The radio crackled on the dashboard. “Please be advised possible sighting of suspect on his way to you.”

“Finally!” Miller turned in her seat and looked behind her. “Is that him?”

Searching with her binoculars, Hayes watched the tall, heavyset black man walking towards the block of flats. He had the right build and height. “It’s possible. He’s wearing a cap, so it’s hard to tell.”

Recently released ex-convict Eric Helsey stood six feet four, according to his sheet. A prolific drug dealer, who’d carved out a name for himself as the local kingpin by terrorising his enemies and threatening their lives, Hayes and Miller both believed he was responsible for shooting the thirty-year-old woman in the back and disposing of her body by the roadside.

Their victim was the girlfriend of the leader of Helsey’s biggest competitor. Helsey murdered her as a warning to all his rivals: mess with me and it’s not just your life at stake; it’s your loved ones’ lives, too. Hayes was sure his message had sunk in, for none of the locals dared talk to her or Miller. “You know what? I’m calling it. That’s him.”

Miller picked up the receiver. “That’s affirmative. We have a visual on our suspect. And it looks like he’s going inside the block of flats… Yes, that’s it. The operation is a go, I repeat the operation is a go.”

“Copy that,” the radio crackled. “We are a go.”

Taking the receiver from Miller, Hayes held the button down. “Hold fire. Let’s give him time to get comfortable. Hang back for three minutes.”

“Copy that. Holding back for three minutes.”

“We’ll meet you at the entrance. Miller will keep an eye on the rear exit, and I’ll keep tabs on the front. We know there’s no other way out.”

She replaced the radio and looked at her partner. “Time for the action you wanted. Let’s go!” She stepped out of the car and checked her pocket for her cosh. The extendable metal baton was her go-to weapon and it had saved her life on a number of occasions. “Are you ready?”

“Hey there, ladies,” a confident voice from behind her said.

Luke “Not the Sky Variety” Walker, clad in black combat uniform, bulletproof vest, and black cap with “Police” emblazoned on it, smiled at her, then turned his attention to Miller.

He had a Glock 17 holstered on his hip, while he clutched a Heckler and Koch MP5 carbine close to his chest. Hayes thought he was a poser, with his bulging biceps, perfectly straight, impossibly white teeth, trendy haircut, and cheeks so sharp he could stab someone with them. “Hi! Miller, let’s get going. I’ve been asked to escort you both across the road.”

Her partner didn’t move; she stood there smiling at the cocky gun-carrier.

“Miller! Let’s go! We’re moving.” Her comment worked. Her partner met her at the front of their car, while Walker remained behind them. “I make that three minutes.”

With cosh in hand, Hayes ran across the road towards the block of flats. Their suspect disappeared inside over two and a half minutes earlier, so she estimated he must be in the lift, or on his girlfriend’s floor by now.

Arriving outside the front doors, Hayes leaned against the wall. The rest of Walker’s team arrived carrying the artillery, another five carbines and Glocks. Prior to commencing the stakeout, both teams met and discussed the operation. They were there to take Eric Helsey down, either by force, or with his co-operation; it was Helsey’s choice.

“Good luck in there.” Hayes watched the team enter the building.

The commanding officer, Sarge, tipped his cap.

The last one to enter was Walker. “We don’t need luck,” he said, his words smug.

“Yeah, whatever!”

Miller stood next to her. “Why are you like this? He’s lovely.”

Her armed colleagues marched through the ground floor. They climbed the stairs. Two officers, including Walker, took the lift. “Who, Walker? He’s a poser! Have you ever seen anyone love themselves as much?” When she turned her attention to her partner, Miller looked mad. “What? The guy’s a joke. I’ve met so many blokes like that, Miller. They’re only ever after one thing.”

“You’re just jealous!”

Miller went to walk round the rear of the building, but Hayes grabbed her arm. “Jealous? Of what? You think I fancy Walker?”

Shaking her off, Miller faced her. “You know he likes me, and you don’t like it. Anyway, I need to be out back; we’ll talk about this later.”

“That’s a load of crap, and you know it!” Miller started walking away but Hayes continued. “Why would I care if he likes you? He’s so not my type. What about Billy? I thought you wanted to see how things went with him?”

“Billy?” Miller made