A Shot In The Night (John Harper Series Book 2) (12 page)

The
sound had however alerted Ambrose, “Who’s there?” I heard him shout, as Rich
and I were greeted with a fence.  The soldier took no time grabbing the top of
the wooden divide and vaulting over.  I wasn’t as quick as him but managed to
clamber over, landing in a frozen flowerbed on the other side.

Rich
beckoned me towards the other side of a bungalow and I sprinted across the back
of the house and hid around the corner.  I heard Ambrose’s kitchen door swing
open and slam hard into the wall, “I know you’re out there!”

I
leant against the wall and took a deep breath, sweat running down the side of
my face.  Tilting my head I saw Rich suppressing a giggle like we were a bunch
of kids.  With his laughing face I couldn’t help but snort as the adrenaline in
my system made me giddy.  Like I said sometimes there’s too much excitement.

Our
escape wasn’t complete with hiding in the garden of Ambrose’s next door
neighbours.  We waited for about five minutes getting our breath and stifling
laughter.  Once we had calmed down, Rich opened the side gate of the house and
we moved briskly to his car.  Inside we let out another collective sigh of
relief.

Parked
on the driveway of his house sat Leo Ambrose’s maroon estate car.  It was the
sort of car that could be used as a sniper’s vehicle, with a lot of room in the
back to lie down in.  Rich passed me a bottle of water from backseat of his
car.  I took it gratefully.  He drained his bottle quickly and spoke, keeping
his eyes on the house, “Cut it a bit close there, John.”

“With
the door?  It’s a trick that I didn’t want to use because there is a
possibility of leaving evidence but a ‘bump key’ is a very handy way to get
into most locks like that.”

“Did
you leave any evidence?”

I
looked down at the key in my hand and then placed it back in the lock pick set,
“I don’t think so.”

“Are
you even allowed to carry one of them kits?  I mean I know what a bump key is
and all those things inside but I wouldn’t think to have one on me.”

Snapping
the small wooden case shut and placing it back inside my jacket pocket I looked
over at him, “Not in this country anyway eh?  Technically you can carry it if
you aren’t going to use it for criminal actions.  Otherwise you can get a
prison sentence for having one.”

“Well
thank God you had it on you.  I think you better call your friend on the force
and tell them to get here soon.  This guy is going to go rogue soon.”

I
did as I was told and rang Spencer ostensibly to ask how the questioning was
going but I quickly suggested to him that if Ambrose suspected that he was
about to be brought in and saw any police it might push him further over the
edge.

Spencer’s
voice was loud down the speaker, “What do you mean he could go over the edge?”

“It’s
a profile surely you recognise and understand that someone like this could have
survivalist tendencies.  If he is the shooter you are looking for or even not
he may take offence at you trying to bring him in.”

“We’re
sending round armed units to his home now, we don’t want this turning into some
sort of siege or manhunt,” beneath the anger I could hear a note of
desperation.

“Then
I suggest hurrying up,” cancelling the call I leaned back in the seat.  Both of
us had reclined our seats back so it was difficult to see us sat in the car. 
Rich had parked down the street so as not to raise the suspicious nature of
Ambrose.

Sitting
in silence we waited and watched.  I fidgeted as the pain in my legs returned
as did the other aches across my body.  Jumping the fence was probably a bad
idea in my condition.  Rich on the other hand was motionless but broke our
tranquillity with a question, “Do you think he did it?”

“He
fits the profile and he has the guns.  It wouldn’t surprise me if this guy
thought he was doing society a favour and taking out drug dealers.”

“I’m
not so sure.  I’ve just got a feeling this guy is more of a fantasist than an
actual gunman.  I mean I found guns and bullets in his bedroom which doesn’t
surprise me but there was nothing that screamed madman.”

“Ambrose
doesn’t have to be raving mad he could be methodical and assured.  Did you see
the table in the kitchen?  It was full of papers about the shootings.”

Rich
shook his head, “That could be more about his fantasy, wanting to stop the
shooter.  You heard him when he came in, he was raving.  I think we may have
pushed him too far to be honest.”

“We’re
not the ones he spotted outside his work.  Sure he chased us out of the house
but I’m not even sure that he saw either one of us.  His paranoia could be part
of a psychosis that has lead to the shootings.”

“Well
we’re about to find out how he copes,” he said pointing at the bright yellow
police van that had driven onto the street.  Rich had been clever in parking
the car so we faced the entrance to the cul-de-sac, so we could leave quickly
and see whoever arrived on the scene.

Both
of us sat up slightly and watched as armed police officers came out of the back
of the van.  Two police cars arrived one of which parked across Ambrose’s
driveway meaning that he wouldn’t be able to leave via his car.  The police
officers quickly began to try and set up a cordon, which I knew from experience
would require more manpower than was on the scene at the moment.

“They’re
gonna have some trouble pinning him in with the surrounding houses,” I pointed
out.

“With
the weaponry he has I’d be worried about going in for CQB,’ I nodded Close
Quarters Battle would be very dangerous in that situation and Rich continued, ‘If
he starts laying traps it could be a blood bath in there.  You’d want him to
come out peacefully.”

For
a moment we looked at each other the same thought going through our heads. 
Would Ambrose surrender?  Neither one of us wanted to answer it since we were
on the same wavelength on the matter.  Close quarters battle inside the
bungalow could lead to a lot of needless deaths; I just hoped it wouldn’t come
to that.

Five
minutes passed and the police moved further down the street towards us.  Rich
watched as two constables walked towards the car, “They may want us out of
here.”

“Probably
safer,” I replied as Rich pressed the button to automatically roll down his
driver side window.  The bitter cold quickly sent a shiver through me as I
still had a cover of sweat on my body.  It was past lunch and I was beginning
to get hungry as well, which is strange to think of when you are in the middle
of an armed standoff but that’s my body and mind for you.

The
uniformed police were mere yards from our car when we heard the revving of an
engine.  Next there was gunfire, loud reports cracked out on the silent
street.  The shots were followed by the thud of metal on metal as the bullets
hit the body of the police car covering the driveway, one stray shot shattering
the back passenger window.  Instinctively we all ducked except Rich who
remained alert and it was he who saw a lime green motorbike screech out with a
man who could only be Ambrose riding it, a large green rifle bag slung over his
back and another tied to the seat.

“Sorry
gents, got to go,” Rich shouted out of the opened window and we sped off
following an armed man who no longer had anything to lose after proving he was
willing to shoot at anyone.

Now
I have had extensive training in vehicle pursuit and although I never worked
traffic I believe I could have made a very good driver in trying to apprehend
reckless and aggressive motorists.  However I don’t think I would ever have
been able to keep up with Rich.  My soldier friend threw his car around as if
he was racing in a rally.  In my entire life there had only been one person I’d
ever seen drive as instinctively as him and that was one of my ex-girlfriend’s
mother.  That woman had nearly broken my shoulder flinging her car into
corners, I swear I’d experienced more gravitational forces in that car than any
plane or rollercoaster I’d been on.

We
raced after the motorbike which wasn’t the most aesthetically appealing or
speedy of models but Ambrose weaved it in and out of traffic as we moved out of
the city travelling north.  I didn’t want to break Rich’s concentration as he
tried to keep us close to the gunman.  It was over an hour before we saw the
police helicopter become part of the chase.

Other
vehicles had tried to slow him down as the North West Motorway Police Group had
been called out.  Rich occasionally grunted and eventually he eased the speed
down whilst still keeping the motorbike in sight, “He’s heading towards the
Lake District.”

I
agreed with his estimation and took his speaking as sign that I could then open
my mouth.  I took out my phone and looked at the number of missed calls and
texts from Spencer, it was nearly fifty different notifications and I’m sure he
had even sent me an e-mail trying to get a response.  Biting the bullet I
returned his call, “Where the hell have you been?” he screamed at me.

“Why,
what’s the matter?”

“I’m
sure you know, in fact I’m positive that you’re in that chasing car that has
been following Ambrose since he left his house.”

“Spencer
he’s on his way to the Lake District.  If he gets into a woodland area this
could get a whole lot worse.  Get on the blower and get people off the streets;
he could want to go down in a hail of gunfire after taking as many people with
him as possible.”

“I’m
not in charge, Harper.”

“Just
make sure it is done,” I said ending the call.  Looking over at Rich I added,
“I’m in a lot of trouble.”

Rich
kept his eyes on the road ahead but responded with, “Don’t worry about it.  If
things go a little squiffy I’ll sort it out.”

“What
do you mean by that?”

He
didn’t reply and as the roads became smaller and winding as we approached the
woodland he once again showed me a master class in driving.  Ambrose must have
been aware that we were following but riding the motorbike was tiring him and
as we rose on one of the many hills we could see that there was a police
roadblock set up in one of the villages.  We’d been travelling so fast that I
hadn’t managed to catch where we were but it didn’t matter as long as we caught
Ambrose.

I
was feeling some responsibility for his actions and I knew I shouldn’t since it
wasn’t like I had put the gun in his hand and told him to shoot at the police. 
Yet I had pointed the police investigation in his direction and his paranoia
wasn’t going to be helped by having Rich and I break into his home.  I still
had no idea how we were possibly going to stop him but it didn’t seem to bother
my partner so I wasn’t too worried.

Ambrose
slowed as he realised that there was a roadblock in his way.  Rich punctuated
the situation for him by braking and swinging the car to block the top of the
hill.  The gunman spun the bike to see us and for a second there was a standoff
as he moved back in our direction before stopping.  We couldn’t see his eyes as
he had a jet-black helmet on, the visor reflecting the light that was fast
fading on the winter day.  Now we saw him from the front I could see that he
was wearing camouflage trousers, boots and the combat vest from before on top
of a green jacket.

I
was peering over Rich’s shoulder and watched as he slowly shook his head as if
challenging Ambrose.  Our suspect wheeled his bike and creating a small cloud
of tire smoke.  In front of the motorbike a low grey stone wall and I saw no way
for him to get over it, beyond the wall a rising hill of brown grass and a line
of trees in the distance.

Rich
reiterated his warning but Ambrose knew he was already in trouble and was not
for coming in without a fight.  His right arm went behind him to the bag and he
fumbled on the zip, we were a lot closer than the police down the road.  The
distance was within range of his rifle easily and there would be no way for us
to retreat or get close to him to disarm him before he drew.  I however wasn’t
counting on Rich opening his door and stepping out, drawing a revolver from his
jacket pocket and unleashing two shots as he slowly walked towards Ambrose.

Now
it was a distance that would be impossible to get an accurate shot on Ambrose
but the bullets hit the ground near him enough for him to struggle even more. 
Rich was advancing and it was enough for Ambrose to ditch the bike and make a
run for the wall.  I unbuckled my seatbelt and ran to the boot of the car
opening it in search of a weapon not wanting to give chase without something to
protect myself with.  Luckily there was a tire iron resting on the black carpet
interior and I grabbed it, running to help my friend without thinking of the
danger.

Rich
was much more measured than me but was quickly moving towards Ambrose
unleashing another shot as he began climbing over the wall.  I angled my run
now so I was going over the wall first, vaulting it with surprising nimbleness
considering my physical condition.  Landing on the hard half frozen earth I was
glad I had put on my comfortable boots and not my shoes as I tried to gain
traction.

Ambrose,
now without his helmet, was over the wall and his heavy duty footwear was
helping him as he ran.  He was still struggling to take a gun out of the bag
but slowly he was succeeding.  I could see the walnut stock of a shotgun slowly
coming into sight and it froze the blood in my veins.  Rich was over the wall
himself and he fired again, from my angle I could see him aim into the air
which gave me confidence not to duck and increase my speed.  Ambrose didn’t
have that luxury and it slowed him again but he brought the weapon out.

I
was now within thirty yards of the man and could easily be cut down by the
shotgun but he was still trying to gain full control of it and I accelerated as
best I could.  Looking back I can honestly say it is one of the most stupid
things I have ever done.  My charge was insane especially considering I was
armed with the most basic of weapons.  I think Rich may have shouted to me but
I don’t recall it, what I do remember was throwing the tire iron with unerring
accuracy.  It struck him just below the right kneecap and he screamed in pain.

Ambrose
fell to the ground and his finger pulled the trigger, detonating a shot into
the turf.  It was enough to stop me but I gritted my teeth and tried to get
closer, but now he raised the weapon towards me, “Don’t come any closer.”

I
held up my hands feeling an uneasy pit in my stomach which wasn’t because of
the lack of food.  Rich was however calm as always in the face of danger and
was now close with the pistol raised, “Drop it, Ambrose!”

This
was the first time I could look upon the face of Lionel Ambrose.  He was a
pasty faced white male with a thick sheen of sweat on his face.  Hair that was
positively hippy-like compared to the shaven heads I had seen in Liverpool was
plastered to his head.  Narrow green eyes peered at me blinking repeatedly as
perspiration ran down his face and hindered his vision.  I took a step back
slowly, which didn’t go down too well as he shouted me, “I said don’t move!”

Titling
my head to the right I replied, “No you didn’t.  You said not to come any
closer, if anything I am doing more than you wanted.”

His
eyes widened and his fingers twitched which scared me into realising I may have
said one of the most stupid things in my life.  It isn’t at all surprising to
people that know me that I would do something like that, often I speak without
thought but right then, with a gun pointed in my face, I probably should have
been a little more delicate.

“He’s
right, now drop the gun and come quietly,” Rich said, now within killing range
with the pistol and in his experienced hands I was certain he could make the
shot.

Ambrose
rounded on Rich which made me feel slightly better that there wasn’t a loaded
shotgun pointed at me but there was a degree of concern for my friend, “That’s
my pistol,” Ambrose said when he recognised the revolver.

“I
don’t think me taking your gun is your biggest problem right now.  You hear
those sirens?  That’s an armed response unit coming to take you to jail.  How
many people have you killed, Leo?  Whatever the number you’re going to spend
the rest of your life in prison,” said Rich as he stood in a firing stance,
behind him the flashing lights of police vehicles.

“I
fired into the car; I didn’t mean to kill anyone.  I didn’t know,” Ambrose
stammered out, his voice subdued.  He wasn’t the tallest of men and seemed to
have lost height with those words.

“How
the hell didn’t you mean to kill anyone?  You shot people in the head with a
rifle,” Rich questioned.

“I
just wanted to be free; I want to live in peace.  You came to take me away.  I
was defending myself.”

Police
officers were slowly approaching, armed men in the front, and I could hear
helicopters hovering overhead.  I decided to play it kinder than Rich, “Leo, if
you put down the gun we can see what we can do for you.  Please, it is for the
best.”

“I
killed coppers, I know you’d never take me in alive.”

“We
don’t know that you killed any coppers, Leo.”

“But
he said I did,” Ambrose whimpered.

This
wasn’t right; my theory on him being the shooter would lend itself to a
confident person, most likely a narcissistic personality.  Ambrose had lost all
confidence now he was cornered and what he was saying only confirmed my suspicions
that there was more to this.  His house didn’t lead towards my profile either,
which meant either I was dramatically wrong about long distance serial killers
or there was indeed another answer to this whole scenario.

The
police armed response unit had completely surrounded us by now and I was sure
they were about to order us all to the ground but my instincts told me that Leo
was on the edge and one false step now could result in more bloodshed.  I knew
the marksmen around me would cut him down with expert accuracy due to extensive
training but I was well aware that all it would take for him to cut Rich in
half with the shotgun was a twitch of the finger.

I
took a step forward hoping I could possibly diffuse the situation, silently
praying that this wouldn’t result in an accidental shooting, “Leo, I’m John,
I’m a detective. You might recognise me from the news recently.  All I’m here
to do is make sure this is all straightened out, hopefully peacefully.  If you
put down the gun we can discuss this inside a nice warm room.  Please, Leo.”

He
looked at me briefly, his eyes nervously flicking over me.  I took another step
forward, “Look Leo, I’m unarmed, unlike the rest of the men around here and
they don’t need much of a reason to pull the trigger and drop you to the
ground.  I, on the other hand, as a homicide detective with years of
experience, don’t really want to see another dead body that I could have saved
if I don’t have to.”

Ambrose
shivered in the cold air, as if the fight had leeched out of him with his body
warmth and then lowered the shotgun.  One of the masked police with an
automatic weapon ordered him to place it on the ground and take two steps
back.  The same order was given to Rich, who discarded the pistol as if it were
a piece of detritus.  My friend put his hands on the back of his head but never
kept his eyes from Ambrose.

“Thank
you Leo, I promise we’ll get this all sorted,” I reassured him with a smile on
my face.

“I’m
sorry, detective,” he replied turning towards me pulling a pistol out from his
vest.  In that brief moment my eyes widened, my breath held in anticipation and
my knees bent slightly.  I heard a report, deafeningly loud to my heightened
senses and echoing on the idyllic hills.  Diving to the ground, I hit the turf
with a heavy thud.  My impact was followed by another; as Ambrose crumpled to
the ground, his head lolled towards me, his eyes still open, a hole slightly
off centre in his forehead.

I
stared at him briefly before closing my eyes and rolling onto my back.  Shaking
my head I futilely hit the ground with balled fists as the armed unit
surrounded the downed man and myself.  Expletives left my mouth as I was lead
towards an awaiting vehicle, just the first part of a long night.