Condemned, R.C. Bridgestock [most romantic novels TXT] 📗

ma’am. There are two people on board, both wearing identical black leathers and helmets. We are unable to ascertain which is Brad, and which Brittany, at this time. The pair are having a good look around them. A large holdall is being taken from the rear pannier. They are now making their way to the mobile home.’

‘I’m on my way,’ Charley said. To Tattie’s surprise she jumped to her feet, threw on her jacket, picked up her bag and bid her goodbye in a matter of seconds.

‘Mike, it’s started. I’m on my way.’

As she sat inside Tim’s car Charley caught her breath. Game on, she tried to control the adrenaline racing through her veins. Any firearms operation was dangerous for all involved.

‘Doggy bag?’ said Tim. One hand on the wheel, he passed Charley a brown paper bag before setting off, meanwhile finishing the half-eaten sandwich hanging from his mouth. ‘We don’t know when we are going to eat again, so I thought I’d grab us some food to eat on the way. It’ll take us approx an hour and fifteen minutes to get to York at this time of day.’

Charley took off her coat, tossed it into the back of the car, and rolled up her sleeves. Taking the bottle of cold water from the paper bag, she drank thirstily. When she finished, she gasped for air, wiping the sweat from her brow with her forearm.

‘Not hungry?’ asked Tim, watching her place the bag on the floor between her feet.

Charley rested against the headrest and shook her head from side to side.

He looked concerned. ‘You okay? Your face looks as if you’ve run a marathon.’

The rush of adrenaline had subsided, and Charley suddenly felt drained. ‘I’m good,’ she said, with a deep sigh and a sideways smile.

Tim enthusiastically continued to air some of the aspects of the operation. ‘Steve is waiting for us in Enterprise. Enterprise!’ he laughed. ‘Sounds like something out of a space movie doesn’t it, not a make-do transit van. I wonder who named it?’

Charley raised her eyebrows. ‘I guess some wanker they pay to sit on his arse all day, procrastinating.’

Tim continued as if he hadn’t heard. ‘Sounds like the Dixons might have bedded down. Might ’ave had a long drive. For how long is anyone’s guess. Doesn’t help me, not knowing how long to keep this present team in a state of readiness, before replacing them. They can’t be on high alert for too long.’

Charley watched the two Firearms Tactical Team advisors greet each other. It was apparent that the two were well-acquainted, having been together on incidents and courses over the years, judging by the tales they told about each other, many of them humorous. Despite Steve being slightly built, he had powerful shoulders. She was relieved that the pair had restored her good spirits, because being driven on the northbound A1 in a windowless tin can, which acted as her temporary mobile office, was certainly not a comfortable experience. As they neared the location, her buoyant feelings gave way to tension, and the hour’s journey in Enterprise became even less enjoyable as the three concentrated on their upcoming roles in the imminent operation. Waiting for the off was an anxious time. They had to hope that their preparations would cover all eventualities.

Suddenly, the voice of a member of the observation team came over the dedicated radio channel. Instantly all banter stopped dead, and there was silence. Holding their breath, they listened intently.

‘It looks like we may have an off. Two bikers in black leathers with backpacks, at the motorbike now. Repeating two bikers in black leathers believed to be targets one and two at the motorbike now.’

All members of the team listening to the channel heard the news. The Dixons were on the move.

The next message came with a heightened edge to the officer’s tone. ‘We have an off, off, towards exit of the site. Keeping within the requested speed restrictions of five miles an hour at this time.’

Charley concentrated hard, glad that the officer with ‘eyeball’ repeated for clarity and changes in direction.

‘We are presuming that the rider is Brad, and Brittany is the passenger. According to intelligence gleaned from the campsite, Brittany had only ever been seen as the pillion passenger,’ said Steve.

‘At the exit of the campsite we now have a left, left onto the A165 heading north towards Scarborough, speed is a steady fifty miles an hour.’

The plain-clothes surveillance unit who were following at a distance, took over the running commentary as they had ‘eyeball’. The motorbike continued north, onto the A615. It wasn’t long before they were taking a right turn onto A64 towards York.

Charley’s heartbeat had increased dramatically, and she expected her colleagues’ had too. It didn’t matter how many times she had been in this situation, when the targets were armed, and lives were at risk, it always affected her the same.

The update from the unmarked car following came minutes later. ‘Speed increased to seventy, seven zero, still heading in the direction of York on the A614.’

‘I’m confident they’re heading to the repeated location that’s showed up on ANPR,’ said Steve.

‘The Tradesman’s Cafe,’ said Tim.

‘Breakfast or a drop?’ said Charley. ‘Or both. Let’s hope we’re right, because that’s what we anticipated and planned for.’

‘At their speed it won’t be long now before they reach the location of the intended intercept,’ said Steve. ‘What works best from experience, is choosing a point on the road where our temporary traffic lights bring the traffic into a single lane. Road blocks are ready to move into place front and behind the suspect, so that the only vehicles on this stretch of road will be the motorbike and the armed police unit. Nothing, and no one else.’

‘An off-road bike and rider is now in place at the rear of the surveillance, ready to be called forward if required, just in case they go where the four-by-fours can’t,’ confirmed Tim, in line with their earlier discussions.

‘Where’s the helicopter?’ asked Charley,