Sergeant Norman Willis checked that Paul Harvey was securely strapped down in the back of the ambulance before making his way back to the waiting Panda close by. He slid into the passenger seat, watching as the rear doors of the emergency vehicle were pulled shut. The blue light was spinning but the siren was turned off. Willis looked at his watch and saw that it was approaching 10.08 p.m. The ambulance pulled away, behind it PC Fowler started the engine of the police car and both vehicles pulled out into traffic.
Willis and Fowler had both been ordered by Randall to remain at Fairvale while Harvey was treated for his injuries (a hair-line fracture of the skull and a broken nose) and then to ensure that the captured prisoner reached Cornford prison.
Willis yawned and rubbed his eyes, blowing out his cheeks.
“It’s bloody hot in here, isn’t it?” he said.
“The heater’s up the creek, Sarge,” Fowler told him, without taking his eyes off the ambulance which was travelling at a steady thirty about forty yards ahead of them.
“I think you’d’ better wake me up when we get to Cornford,” said the sergeant, smiling.
Inside the ambulance itself a uniformed attendant sat on the seat opposite the stretcher where Harvey lay. He was reading an old copy of “Reader’s Digest”, alternately looking up to see if Harvey was OK. The big man moved occasionally, once even moaning softly and the attendant got to his feet and looked down at the patient. Harvey’s head was heavily bandaged and a large dressing covered his nose and most of his cheeks. His mouth, however, was open and there was a dribble of thick saliva coming from one corner. The attendant, identified as Peter Smart by the small blue badge on his jacket, looked at the restraining straps and stroked his chin thoughtfully. Harvey was making even louder gurgling sounds now and Smart was worried in case the big man should choke on his own spittle. He hesitated a second longer then began to undo the first of the straps, intending to roll Harvey over onto his side.
The first strap came loose and Smart set to work on the second, the one which secured Harvey’s feet.
With his back to the prisoner, Smart didn’t see Harvey’s eyes flicker open.
For long moments he tried to reorientate himself with his surroundings, with what was going on. There was a dull ache in his head and it felt as if someone were standing on his face but, as he saw the uniformed man undoing the strap on his legs, Harvey realized what was happening.
As the strap came free, he lashed out with his large foot, catching Smart in the solar plexus. The impact of the blow sent the ambulanceman flying backward and he thumped his head hard against the far wall of the vehicle.
Harvey, meantime, was sitting up, tugging wildly at the third and final strap which was across his midsection.
Smart reached for the small box close by, trying to get to the syringe, desperate to inject the prisoner with the 25mg of Promazine before it was too late. He scrambled towards Harvey who, by this time, had managed to free himself and was in the process of getting to his feet.
Smart brought the needle down in a stabbing action, aiming for the big man’s chest but Harvey was too fast for him and he clamped one huge hand around Smart’s wrist, squeezing it like a vice until the appendage went white. With a despairing groan, Smart dropped the syringe. Harvey drove a powerful fist into the uniformed man’s face, feeling bone splinter under the impact. He held his victim by the wrist for a second longer then, using both hands, hurled him against the other wall of the ambulance.
The driver felt the thump and slowed down.
Fowler, following close behind, saw the ambulance brake lights flare and nudged Willis.
“Sarge,” he said, anxiously. “They’re stopping.”
Willis yawned.
“One of them probably wants to have a piss,” he said.
By this time the emergency vehicle had indeed stopped. Fowler brought the Panda to a halt about twenty yards behind, watching as the driver got out and walked to the back of the vehicle. He fumbled with the doors, finally turning the handle.
Harvey came crashing out of the ambulance like a tank through a wall. The door slammed into the driver, knocking him flat and, before anyone could react, he was dashing off into the darkened woods to the left, disappearing like a fading nightmare.
Both Willis and Fowler leapt out of the car, the sergeant dashing after Harvey but it was useless. He saw the big man crashing through the undergrowth in his wild flight but the sergeant knew that he could never catch him. He ran back across the road to check on the injured ambulancemen. The driver was bleeding from a cut on the forehead, his companion inside lay unconscious.
“Get on the two-way, quick,” Willis told Fowler. “Alert all cars. Tell them what’s happened.”
Fowler ran back to the car and snatched up the radio.
Within minutes, every man on the Exham force was picking up his frantic message.
Outside the pub, Maggie pulled up the collar of her coat and waited as Randall fumbled in his pocket for the car keys. A slight fog had come down during the evening and Maggie noticed how halos seemed to have formed around the sodium street lamps. Objects looked blurred and indistinct through the thin film of mist.
Randall finally found the keys and unlocked the car. Both of them climbed in. He was about to start the engine when the two-way hissed into life. Randall picked it up.
“Randall here, what is it?” he asked.
“It’s Harvey,” the voice at the other end said.
Maggie saw Randall’s expression darken.
“Harvey’s loose,” the voice said.