It barely felt like a couple of hours had passed since they’d last been in the room, since they’d wrapped up the brief for the operation that they were now here to execute. Arms were being stretched, backs cracked. The yawns were wide and the early morning coffee was strong.
The tension in the room was palpable. A real nervous vibe, which was a contrast from the previous evening, when the energy level was one of tired anticipation. There was a mix of experience in the room, with a group of people who didn’t know each other from Adam. They didn’t know how they’d each react in the environment they were about to enter. Training is always consistent. People are not.
Nicky knew how Jen would react, but the rest of the unit were unknown. Even Jack was still relatively unknown as she’d gone through a lot less front doors with him than she had with Jen. You become a different person. The situation, the energy. It morphs you. Nicky knew some placid guys who turned into the Hulk with a dawn raid in front of them, and vice versa.
Jen would like to be as close to the front as possible, adrenalin-fuelled, wanting in on the action, but her DS status required a different level of responsibility . Her youth still provided a feisty edge, a fiery nature. She wanted to shout her way in and ride the wave. The rush. Something Nicky used to enjoy herself, but she was now happy to let those with the desire and drive to go charging in. Happy to wander in afterwards and gently clamber over a shattered door, shortly after anyone from within the property has been dragged out in cuffs. Usually in their underpants and half asleep. Always a treat.
The time had come. The convoy of vans and cars quietly rolled out of the station adjacent to the Albert Dock, and in the shadows of Liverpool ONE. A Thursday morning, the streets near-deserted at this hour with the exception of a few night workers making their way home. The odd taxi was still lurking, waiting to pick up a committed clubber who had overdone it and wandered away from Mathew Street. Often a young woman carrying her shoes.
Nicky and Jen were travelling the short distance in an unmarked car, an Audi S3 Sportback saloon, driven by DS Alison Smith. Nicky liked it, and was switching her gaze between the Audi’s interior and the shiny surroundings of an area she recalled to be less glamorous.
Inhaling the still-new car smell of the Audi was awakening her senses. The aroma of the fabric of the seats and the still-clean carpets and foot-wells. Nicky decided she needed to upgrade.
Alison Smith was in a buoyant mood. She had an energy similar to Nicky’s and was smartly dressed with her hair up. Professional and ready to go, but with the aura of a woman who, like Nicky, was used to this side of the job and was equally happy to hang back and oversee the raid. She had earned the position she held and enjoyed the fact it didn’t demand she be front and centre.
The journey was quiet. The radio’s digital display showed Radio Two, but the sound was turned down. Nicky sat reflectively, and could sense a different energy in Jen, who she knew would prefer to be three or four cars in front. Enjoying the coalface. Relishing it.
Jack was in the car in front, the convoy reflecting the hierarchy in visual form, with a number of marked police vehicles and several vans leading the way. The local boys would be going in first.
Rob remained in the station with DCI James Croft to oversee the arrest; standard procedure with two experienced detective sergeants at the helm and en route to the scene. Rob would listen in over the radio and have access to the body-cams of the lead officers, who would carry out the raid and execute the arrest. He was already comfy in James’ office, surrounded by monitors and tech that were considerably savvier than those in his office at Lodge House. Rob had his own tinge of envy, but like Nicky was comfortable with the fact that his rank didn’t require him to leave the station this morning, exceptional circumstances aside.
The route to Field Street had been predetermined last night, and had been recommended by James Croft. A loop through the centre, past the large frontage of Liverpool’s Lime Street Station, before heading up St Anne Street, a wide promenade of beautiful Edwardian architecture. The cars leading the way had turned off, and were heading towards St Anne Street police station, a small community station and one whose officers had been watching the house since the discovery of Johnathan Alexander several days ago.
Nicky knew the house was close and the journey was short. The roads and route had been clearly displayed last night during the brief, providing those from the Midlands with a mental note of the timings. Only another mile or so, with a small maze of red brick terraces the ‘tell’ that the scene was close.
A radio crackled and broke the silence in Alison Smith’s Audi. The lead units disclosing that they were one minute away and had relieved the officers of duty who had been watching the house for the previous twelve hours. They would now be driving away from Field Street to the north side, with the raid team turning into the narrow Field Street from the south, another detail that had been agreed last night.
Alison gestured with her right hand as she slowed the Audi and followed the Lexus of DC Edward Butterfield-Berridge into Field Street. The vehicles were all parked in a straight line, with the lead vehicle around fifty yards from the front door.
The morning was cold but clear, and Nicky climbed out of the car and onto the pavement with Jen next to her. Jen nudged Nicky’s arm and offered her chewing gum. She was already chomping hard, trying to channel the energy and keep herself from rushing to the door and smashing it in herself.
The lead officers quickly exited their vans and scurried up the narrow pavement between the houses and the parked cars of the residents, who were still tucked up inside the row of terraces that formed Field Street.
A dozen or so officers formed the lead block, each with a protective black helmet, making them look more military than domestic police.
Alison Smith picked a jacket off the back seat of her car and slipped it on. She leaned against the car, standing a large black radio on the roof so Jen and Nicky could listen to what was happening only yards up the street. They’d positioned themselves so they could see the officers from behind, but the best information they’d be getting would be over the radio, with little in the way of a visual.
Back at the station, Rob had a better view of proceedings than Nicky and Jen had. His eyes fixed on the screen, a picture less grainy than he was expecting showed the street as the commanding officer of the entry team, Sergeant Daniel Letts, ran towards the front door. The camera fixed to his breast was bobbing up and down, the motion accompanied by the sound of heavy boots striking the pavement.
Letts stopped outside Number twelve. The camera swung around as he looked at the rest of his team. The man behind him, Sergeant Matt Haddock, was carrying the enforcer, and the bright red steel bar flashed across an otherwise dull screen. Rob flicked a glance to James Croft, then back to the screen.
In the street, Nicky looked at Jen. She was on tiptoes, straining to get a view. Nicky looked at Alison then moved a few inches closer to the radio, breathing out cold air, her hands tucked tightly into her coat pockets.
Letts looked at Haddock, who had positioned himself against the wooden door, which was old and would offer little resistance. The rest of the team stood behind him, arms on each other’s shoulders to space themselves. Dan stood to one side, raised a hand with three fingers and carried out a short and silent countdown.
His closed fist signalled entry. Haddock smashed the door hard with the ‘key’. It buckled immediately, splintering in the frame and falling inwards as the officers behind him stormed in. The energy level erupted. The adrenalin poured.
Jen could see the team flood into the house one after another from her viewpoint, as the silence was broken with loud and clear shouts of ‘POLICE, STAY WHERE YOU ARE!’ The street emptied as officers burst into the house. Several curtains started to twitch from some of the windows across the street. Jen watched Dan Letts become the last member of the unit to enter the house.
The radio crackled. Alison flicked the frequency to clear it.
Rob saw the hallway. Dark and unclear. The screen black and filled with shadows. The staircase was just about visible in the darkness. James Croft had split the screen to show multiple cameras as officers flowed into different rooms of the house.
Nicky and Jen heard the stairs thump as officers ran up them, heading for the bedrooms, expecting to find a sleeping suspect. The thumping slowed down as officers filled a number of rooms within the house. A number of shouts of ‘CLEAR’ came from those which were empty. The volume subsided temporarily, the motion in the house fell.
One section hadn’t reported a clear room. The team who had headed to the back of the house were quiet. Too quiet. Croft enlarged the screen, focusing squarely on the camera of one of the men who had headed into the kitchen. A dark and cramped area. The camera flickered in scarce light as shadows and figures flashed across the screen. The officer stood still as he looked at what was before him. He stared. The camera stared with him.
Rob struggled to get a view in the light but instinctively knew what he was looking at. He mouthed a ‘fuck’ to James Croft.
The radio crackled. Dan Letts’ voice broke the interference, his intonation flat. “Code Black, DS Smith. We need you guys in here.”
The three women outside looked at one another, then started to run up the street, reaching the house together. Alison Smith entered first. She was ushered right into the lounge and towards the back of the house, around a corner and into a small kitchen/dining area.
Nicky and Jen followed her. The house had fallen eerily quiet, and there was still very little light in the room. A curtain had been opened in the lounge, but the morning was dull and afforded little light, just enough to allow the body of Daniel Mortimer to come into view on the floor of the kitchen. Beaten. Bloodied.
Dan Letts stood next to Alison Smith and opened another curtain covering a small window, to allow another fraction of early morning light to enter the house.
The light hit Rob’s screen in the station, and he could now see clearly what he’d already thought he had seen.
Nicky looked at Jen.
“Fuck.”