Blackout - By Tom Barber Page 0,70

they ducked for cover, the brutal echoes of the gunfire echoing off the buildings, the front lights on the car smashing and the glass tinkling to the ground. The man kept up the rate of fire, Archer pinned down behind the vehicle, Fox and Chalky joining him having dragged Porter out of the line of fire and behind the car.

When there was a break in the assault, Archer peered round the back of the vehicle and saw the man jumping back into the silver getaway car. Archer aimed the hair-trigger of the MP5 and fired back, controlled single shots. The bullets smashed into the side window and front-shield of the car, both the men in balaclavas ducking as the bullets skimmed past them. The driver pulled a U-turn in the road, and the wheels squealed as the vehicle took off down the street, heading the opposite way from Archer.

Behind him, Chalky was already hauling a dazed Porter into the back of their own car. Fox threw himself into the driver’s seat as Archer ran round and jumped into the front passenger seat beside him, just as Fox fired the engine.

‘Go, Fox, go!’ Archer shouted as Fox floored it, and they took off after the two soldiers, speeding down the street.

TWENTY ONE

The two Panthers had a head-start and were already some distance ahead, the speedometer on both cars pushing seventy, parked cars, houses and stunned pedestrians flashing past either side. The silver Fiat pulled a hard sliding right and Fox did the same, not giving an inch. Archer grabbed the mobile phone from the pocket on his vest, calling Nikki. It connected almost straight away.

‘Nikki, we need back-up!' he shouted. 'We’re tailing two of the Panthers. They just took out McCarthy. We’re on Ladbroke Road, heading west.'

'Copy that.'

Fox turned a hard left as Archer ended the call, the wheels of the car squealing as the Ford slid south onto Ladbroke Grove. They could still see the Fiat racing ahead of them. Fox put his foot down harder as pedestrians at a passing crossing jumped back, and the car flashed past, keeping the Fiat in sight, weaving in and out of traffic.

Archer turned and looked back at Porter. 'How you doing, Port?'

He was sitting with his head back, bleeding from cuts to his face and head. He was just beginning to recover some of his hearing, his ears bleeding too. He tipped his head slightly, sensing Archer was looking at him, and nodded, still dazed and out of it. Fox was using every second of his pursuit training and experience in the field. He used to ride in an undercover response vehicle before he joined the ARU, and although it had been a while, Archer saw why he had a reputation as one of the fastest drivers in the Met.

There was a roundabout up ahead, but the silver Fiat carrying the two Panthers barely slowed, racing around it and causing other drivers to brake and swerve. They ignored a red light at the next junction and careered across the intersection, smashing a small VW out of the way. The ARU vehicle followed as the Fiat roared straight on, the street behind them filled with the sounds of blaring horns of cars left in their wake.

Then the two Panthers made a mistake.

The Fiat turned a corner too fast. The driver lost control and the car smashed head on into a lamp-post. The impact dislodged the light above which fell onto the roof of the car and shattered into a thousand pieces. The driver tried throw the car into reverse, but the engine died, so without hesitation, the two soldiers scrambled out, abandoning the car, taking off in opposite directions. One of them ran onto MacFarlane Road, headed west. The other, the guy who’d fired the bazooka, was running towards the Westfield Shopping Centre, one of the largest malls in the city. He still had his AK-47 in his hands. Speeding towards him, Archer watched the guy turn towards them in the middle of the street, aiming the rifle at the front of the Ford.

‘Get down!’ Archer shouted, grabbing Fox, who ducked and braked at the same time.

The guy opened fire, the bullets smashing into the car and through the windshield, the four officers huddled low and just avoiding the fire, some of the rounds thudding into the seats, white fluff protruding through the black cushions from the bullet holes. He was firing on full auto which suddenly stopped as his magazine clicked dry.