Page 55

She kept her eyes glued to the back of the house, searching for any signs of movement.

Straining to hear, Emilia could just make out the sound of sirens now, faint but slowly getting louder.

Had Tommy Barnes heard them too? If so, how would he react?

The success or failure of Emilia’s plan depended on his decision-making in the next five minutes.

Having deliberated for twenty minutes or more on the best way forward, Emilia had made her decision.

Ideally, she would have liked to have seen inside the house first, to ensure that the stash of gold was still there, but there was no question of sneaking in as Tommy Barnes was obviously up and active, nor did she fancy a face-to-face confrontation, even though she felt sure she could have handled herself.

She had no idea who else might be in the house with Barnes, providing extra security or potential obstacles, and even now that remained a complicating factor, which is why Emilia felt agitated and tense.

Assuming the patrol cars would screech to a halt outside Barnes’ front door, Emilia had retreated to the rear, parking her patched-up Corsa on an adjacent road, which afforded her a clear view of the upper stories of the building.

The shabby terraced house was divided into flats and, as she’d clocked Barnes in the first-floor flat, she guessed that he had no easy access to the garden.

This, of course, was all supposition. Whether she was right or not only time would tell, but the success of her plan depended on her having gambled correctly.

Still, the scream of the sirens grew louder.

Barnes must have heard them by now and surely his first instinct would be sheer alarm, given his track record of arrest and the fact that he was actively dealing, despite being on probation.

Was it possible he’d make a break for it out front?

Try and get to his moped? If so, he would be disappointed, Emilia already having let the air out of the tyres, but if he did opt for that method of escape, it would not serve the journalist’s purpose at all.

No, she needed him to be smart, if she was to benefit.

Right on cue, she saw movement. The curtains in the rear bedroom were pulled apart, then the sash window yanked open.

A head emerged, shaven and pale, swinging erratically left and right, as if scanning the scene for signs of danger.

Barnes was clearly agitated, the dealer visibly reacting now to the sound of police cars screeching to a halt in the street outside.

Moments later, there was a heavy pounding on the door and loud shouting as the police officers identified themselves.

This seemed to decide Barnes, who disappeared inside for a moment, before re-emerging clutching a dark blue holdall, stepping carefully out onto the roof of the tired, single-storey extension.

Amused, Emilia watched as he crept across the flat roof, his white sports socks clearly visible.

The terrified crook hadn’t even had time to put his shoes on, so desperate was he to escape arrest – no surprise perhaps given the hugely valuable stash of gold he had in his possession.

Reaching the edge of the roof, Barnes paused now, picking his spot carefully before dropping the bag into the garden below.

As he did so, Emilia heard the unmistakable sound of the front door caving in as the attending officers finally breached the property.

Barnes still had the lead on them, however, and took full advantage, sliding down the drainpipe, before disappearing from view.

The rear wall of the property now obscured the fugitive, prompting Emilia to brace herself for action. It was time.

Hurrying back to her car, she zapped it open.

As she did so, she heard footsteps pounding towards the rear gate, before it was roughly wrenched open.

Though she now had her back to Barnes, Emilia could see him in the reflection of the driver’s window.

What would he do now? Take a chance on foot?

Seek out public transport? Or would the urgency of his plight prompt more desperate measures?

Emilia tugged the car door open, pulling out her keys before deliberately dropping them to the ground in a jangling pantomime of incompetence.

Clocking her, Barnes made his decision. As Emilia scooped up the errant keys and opened the driver’s door fully, she heard the desperate dealer pounding towards her.

Seconds later, he was upon her, grasping her by the shoulder and spinning her round.

‘Right, bitch, give me your keys or—’

He didn’t get any further, Emilia raising her pepper spray and shooting a jet of vile liquid directly into the startled thug’s eyes.

For a moment, Barnes stumbled backwards in shock, before the screaming started, the injured man falling to the ground, his hands clamped to his eyes.

It was an arresting sight and in days gone by Emilia might have whipped out her camera, but this evening, she simply reached down to pick up the discarded holdall, tossing it into the passenger footwell, before climbing inside and slamming the car door shut.

Firing up the engine, she was soon on her way.

It wouldn’t do for her to get pulled into the unfolding police drama, so she drove quickly to the end of the street.

Only once she’d reached the junction a hundred feet or more away, did she take her foot off the gas, pausing to look in the rear-view mirror.

Barnes was still rolling on the ground, stricken, but now to her immense satisfaction, she spotted a couple of uniformed police officers running down the back alley towards the injured fugitive.

Smiling happily to herself, Emilia slipped her Corsa into gear and eased around the corner, disappearing from view.