The Rebel

by Jaime Raven

  He must be the driver behind the headlights, she thought. The man whose quick thinking had probably saved her life.

  But she had neither the time nor the inclination to show her gratitude. She needed to get up and away from here. But she wasn’t sure how easy that was going to be.

  She could see other faces now, hear more voices, as people were being drawn to the scene of the accident.

  ‘Fuck.’

  ‘Perhaps you should stay where you are until an ambulance gets here,’ someone else said. A woman this time.

  Rosa managed to shake her head. ‘No. No ambulance. I’m fine.’

  And then she struggled to get up, but it proved difficult because she was disoriented and in shock.

  ‘Please help me,’ she said. ‘I need to go.’

  She felt hands on her arms, helping her to her feet. Her head was spinning, but at least her legs didn’t give way beneath her, and that came as a relief.

  She felt a little giddy and stars fell past her eyes. She took a deep breath. Then another.

  She straightened her back, moved her neck from side to side. Flexed her arms. Satisfied herself that all her parts were still in working order.

  Then she looked around and realised that at least three pairs of eyes were watching her. The bearded man started speaking again but the voice was drowned out by the sound of a siren. Was it an ambulance or a police car? She couldn’t be sure. She hadn’t been in London long enough to distinguish between the two.

  She took a step forward, shoving the man out of the way. She needed to locate the bike and get going before the emergency vehicle arrived. Or before these people tried to stop her.

  She saw the bike lying on its side against the kerb a few metres away. It appeared that the engine had cut out but she didn’t see any damage to the wheels or frame.

  Rosa pushed herself towards it, her limbs protesting every step of the way.

  ‘You can’t just leave the scene of an accident,’ someone said behind her. ‘The police will want to talk to you and you’re in no fit state to ride a motorcycle.’

  She was still wearing the hat but it had shifted upwards, revealing her ears and strands of hair that fell across her forehead.

  As she approached the bike she felt a hand on her left shoulder and it caused an explosive pain.

  She whirled round and stared at the bearded man who was shaking his head at her.

  ‘The police will be here any second, miss,’ he said. ‘They’ll want to talk to you.’

  She opened her mouth to warn him off, but at that moment she saw the flashing blue light of the police car speeding towards them.

  ‘Fuck.’

  She turned and rushed towards the bike and somehow she found the strength to pull it up off the kerb.

  She threw herself onto the seat, praying to a God that she had never believed in that it would start up. But the first attempt to kick the engine into life failed. And so did the second.

  ‘Stop her going,’ someone shouted.

  She turned as the bearded man grabbed her sleeve. But he let go when she rammed her elbow into his face.

  Suddenly the wail of the siren filled her head as the police car drew up just behind her.

  Two uniformed cops leapt out, and Rosa knew then that there was only one way she was going to be able to get out of this mess.

  She withdrew the pistol from inside her jacket and with lightning speed she took aim and fired twice.

  The cops were so close she couldn’t have missed them even if she’d tried.

  One of them was blown backwards against the front of the patrol car and the other staggered sideways clutching at his stomach.

  There were gasps and screams all around as Rosa fired another shot into the air to deter anyone from coming at her.

  She decided to have one last go at starting the bike and if it didn’t work then she would leap off and run for it. But this time, to her great relief, the engine ticked over.

  A moment later she was roaring away from the scene and from the two cops who were shedding blood onto the road.

  41

  Laura

  The paramedic managed to stem the blood pouring from Aidan’s wound. He also confirmed what I’d suspected – that the bullet had not struck any vital organs.

  ‘A couple of inches over and it would have hit his heart,’ he said. ‘So in that sense he’s a very lucky man.’

  I broke down then and the tears were pushed out by huge, racking sobs.

  Aidan squeezed my fingers, and I was sure that if he’d been able to speak he would have told me not to cry. But he was only half-conscious, having been given drugs for the shock and pain.

  I stayed right there on the floor with him until the ambulance arrived and he was put on a stretcher. Then I pulled myself together, autopilot taking over, and followed the medics outside where the street was filled with police cars and uniforms.

  It was very bright and noisy and it reminded me of all the crime scenes I’d attended over the years, never dreaming that one day my own home would become one.

  I continued to hold Aidan’s hand in the back of the ambulance, while trying desperately to stay calm.

  But it was far from easy, especially when almost at once we encountered gridlock on Balham High Road, which I knew would delay us getting to the hospital.

  The medic told me he’d heard there had been another incident in which shots were fired, and I immediately jumped to the conclusion that it must be connected to what had happened to us. Surely it couldn’t just be a coincidence.

  Had the assailant been caught or shot? Or had she shot someone else while making her escape?

  By now I was convinced that the shooter was a woman and that I hadn’t imagined it. The more I conjured up the image of the person I saw fleetingly in the garden, the clearer it seemed to become.

  And it wasn’t so much the face. It was more the hourglass figure. The defined waist. The curved hips. No man was shaped like that.

  These things must have registered in my sub-conscious in that moment of sheer terror. And now they were coming to the forefront of my mind, details emerging through a mist whipped up by shock and panic.

  A female assassin, for Christ’s sake.

  The same person no doubt who had murdered Dave Prentiss and Marion Nash.

  I had been the next target on her list. Only she’d cocked up and shot Aidan instead.

  That told me something really important about the bitch. It told me she wasn’t nearly as clever as she thought she was.

  42

  Rosa

  Rosa got quickly lost in the streets of South London. But that was OK because it gave her time to regain her equilibrium and refocus her mind.

  She stuck to the side roads as much as possible to avoid traffic cameras.

  She made her first stop soon after leaving Balham. She put on the helmet and took one of the fake stick-on number plates from the saddlebag and stuck it on the bike. A short while later she stopped again to replace the plate with another.

  Her aim was to make it impossible for her progress to be recorded on CCTV and number plate recognition cameras.

  She stopped a third time and used her phone to pinpoint her location. She was in Putney, about five miles from Vauxhall. She worked out the best route to the hotel and got moving again.

  It was almost seven o’clock and the city was still full of life. Sirens wailed constantly and several police cars whizzed past her with their lights flashing.

  It had been a close call but she’d survived it. There would be time later to analyse her mistakes and berate herself for making them. But right now her priority was to get back to the hotel as fast as possible.

  She needed to assess her injuries and decide if they were the kind that would mend by themselves. She suspected they were. Already the pain in her neck and left leg was subsiding. But her shoulder remained extremely sore. She wouldn’t know if she’d sustained any superficial injuries until she was able to strip off.
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br />   Adrenalin continued to surge through her body as she rode and it helped to ease her discomfort.

  Her thoughts eventually turned to Alice and their dinner date. They were due to meet up in an hour at Alice’s apartment and from there they were planning to walk to the restaurant.

  Rosa was still desperate to go, but she wondered if it would be too much for her battered body. She would have to come up with a lie to explain away the pain and any cuts and bruises that would show up on her body.

  She could say she was hit by a car or knocked to the ground by a mugger who tried to steal her bag. Or she could simply say that she had a bad fall outside the hotel.

  The lie wouldn’t be a problem. It would come easily enough. But Rosa knew that it wouldn’t be so easy to relax and enjoy herself. Partly because of the pain racking her body. And partly because she was furious with herself for failing to kill DI Laura Jefferson.

  She got to Vauxhall by seven fifteen and returned the motorcycle to the garage behind the pub.

  On the walk to the hotel she purchased several packets of strong painkillers from a pharmacy, along with some ointment to reduce the swelling.

  As soon as she entered her room, she took off her clothes and studied her reflection in the full-length mirror behind the door.

  There were bruises on her left shoulder, right thigh and left knee. Her right elbow was badly grazed and so too was the back of her left hand. But at least her face and torso had escaped injury in the fall from the bike.

  It was another reminder, as if she needed one, that luck had been with her. Without it she’d be dead now or sitting in the back of a police car with her wrists cuffed.

  She decided to keep her date with Alice, but as time was pressing she sent her a text to say she would meet her at the restaurant at eight thirty. Alice replied straight away saying no problem. And since Rosa didn’t know the location of the restaurant Alice sent her the address.

  Rosa then took some of the painkillers and had a quick shower to ease her swollen muscles and joints.

  While waiting for the water to heat up she switched on the TV. Once again her exploits were dominating the news channels.

  News was breaking of two shooting incidents in Balham, which had taken place within minutes of each other. In one incident on Balham High Road two police officers had been shot and it was believed that one of them had been killed.

  The other incident took place at a house close by and one person was apparently gunned down. However, the victim hadn’t yet been identified and it wasn’t known how serious his or her injuries were.

  There was no footage as yet from either scene but a reporter, speaking over the phone while on his way to Balham, said, ‘A police source has told me that the shootings are already being linked to the threats against members of Scotland Yard’s organised crime task force and the murders of detective Dave Prentiss and Mrs Marion Nash, the wife of another detective on the force.’

  Rosa felt her spirits lift with the news that one of the bullets she had fired into the darkened kitchen at Laura Jefferson’s house had found a target.

  Was it the detective herself or her boyfriend? She would have to wait to find out.

  But in the meantime she could console herself with the knowledge that the mission hadn’t been an unmitigated disaster after all.

  43

  Laura

  We made it to the hospital in good time despite the traffic snarl-ups.

  Aidan was rushed straight into surgery where a trauma team went to work on him.

  I was told that his condition was serious but not life-threatening.

  It came as such a huge relief that I broke down again and cried into the shoulder of one of the two armed officers who were sent to provide me with protection.

  He led me into a private waiting room and told me that my colleagues from the task force were on their way. He wasn’t able to tell me if the shooter had been apprehended, though.

  I sat on a small leather sofa and drew my legs up to my chest, hugging my arms around my knees. My body was still shaking and it felt like I was under water, struggling for breath.

  At the same time I became aware of a dull ache in my stomach, which I assumed was the muscles contracting.

  I turned my thoughts to my mother and I was so glad she’d gone to Ringwood this morning. But I now faced the task of telling her before she heard it on the news. And then, of course, there were Aidan’s parents in Spain. They also needed to be informed that their son had been shot by a sadistic contract killer.

  I’d had the presence of mind to pick up my bag before I left the house. My mobile phone was inside with the Taser gun. I took it out but had to wait for my tears to dry up before making the calls.

  I rang my mother first and broke the news to her in a slow, measured voice. She was so shocked that she couldn’t speak for several seconds.

  ‘He’s going to be all right, Mum,’ I said. ‘He was lucky.’

  ‘My God this is terrible,’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘I’ll come straight home.’

  ‘No you won’t, Mum. You’ll stay put. I don’t want to have to worry about you.’

  She started to object but I became insistent and she finally agreed to stay with Sylvia. She made me promise to provide her with regular updates on Aidan.

  ‘And stay safe yourself, Laura. Please. You have the key to my house so move in there.’

  I ended the call after telling her I had to get in touch with Aidan’s parents.

  It was his father who answered the phone and I became tearful explaining what had happened.

  ‘I’ve seen plenty of shoulder wounds,’ he said. ‘If they stopped the bleeding and he’s already in surgery then he should be OK. I’m sure of it.’

  I’d forgotten that Tom Bray was a former soldier who had served in various conflicts and been awarded medals for bravery. His words gave me a tiny crumb of comfort.

  ‘We’ll catch the first flight we can to the UK,’ he said after I gave him the hospital details. ‘But it might not be until tomorrow.’

  As soon as I hung up the waiting room door opened and DCS Drummond appeared with two other men, neither of whom I recognised.

  ‘Thank God you’re OK, Laura,’ Drummond said and walked straight over to me. His face was ashen and the sinews in his neck were stretched tight.

  I stood up and let him hug me, and this time there were no tears because I was all cried out and the fear and despair had turned to anger.

  I pulled back from him and said, ‘It was a woman who shot Aidan. I’m sure of it. Please tell me the bitch is dead or in custody. I heard about the other shooting on the High Road.’

  He shook his head and I felt my heart drop into my stomach.

  ‘You’re right about it being a woman, Laura,’ he said. ‘But I’m afraid she got away.’

  An icy dread flowed through me and my breath started thumping in my ears.

  ‘Sit down,’ Drummond said. ‘I’ll tell you everything we know.’

  He gestured towards the two men. ‘These are detectives Bannion and Flynn from Balham CID. They need you to describe what happened back at the house. They were briefed by the uniforms but they want to hear it from you.’

  I sat down and closed my eyes, breathing deeply through my nostrils. When I opened them again I saw that the three men were seated and one of the detectives had his notebook out.

  ‘First tell me about the other shooting,’ I said. ‘Was that her?’

  Drummond nodded. ‘Almost certainly. A woman came off her motorcycle after jumping a red light. Her description matches the one you gave. She was wearing a dark leather suit and woollen hat. She wasn’t badly injured and as she tried to leave the scene a police patrol car pulled up. She produced a pistol and shot both of them.’

  I shook my head. ‘Oh Jesus.’

  ‘One officer was declared dead at the scene,’ Drummond said. ‘He was shot in the chest. The other was shot in the stomach and is receiving treatment in this very hospital.�
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  I tried to speak but a sob lodged in my throat.

  Drummond continued. ‘We’ll be comparing the bullets from Aidan and the officers. And we’ll cross check-them with those taken from Dave Prentiss and Detective Nash’s wife.’

  ‘What about the street camera footage from Clapham?’ I said. ‘That looked like a man in an overcoat.’

  ‘It was obviously a disguise,’ he said. ‘But it had us all fooled.’

  I then told them what had happened at the house. I stayed sitting as I spoke, all hunched up, my hands held tightly in my lap.

  When I was finished, Detective Flynn filled in some of the gaps.

  ‘We suspect the noise that alerted you to an intruder in the garden was the sound of her knocking over some terracotta pots that were piled against the back wall,’ he said. ‘The patio light you switched on was extinguished by a bullet. We believe she then fired blindly into the kitchen five or six times. One of the bullets struck your partner.’

  He added that so far no witnesses had come forward to say they had seen the woman flee along the alley.

  ‘The motorcycle must have been parked close by,’ he said. ‘But in her panic to get away she caused an accident on the High Road. We’ll hopefully have some CCTV footage pretty soon.’

  He also told me that my pistol had been retrieved at the scene.

  ‘I’d be dead now if I hadn’t had it with me,’ I said. ‘I’m assuming the bitch didn’t expect me to be armed.’

  There were more questions I wanted to ask but just then the stomach pain I had experienced earlier returned with a vengeance. This time accompanied by a sudden bout of nausea. I had to excuse myself and rush to the loo, and Drummond said he would call me later.

  In the toilet I shut myself in a cubicle and threw up into the basin. That was bad enough, but when I sat down to relieve myself I was in for another shock.

  It wasn’t just pee that poured out of me. There was also a disturbing amount of blood.

  ‘I’m afraid you’ve had an early-stage miscarriage, Miss Jefferson.’

  The doctor’s words burned into my brain. It was another shock to the system. Another blow from which I knew I would never fully recover.