First Response Read Free

said Baz Waterford, leaning forward to get his ear closer to the speaker. He was in the passenger seat of a high-powered BMW X5.
    ‘We’re getting nine-nine-nine calls from people saying that parishioners at the Corpus Christi church are being held hostage by a suicide bomber.’
    Waterford looked at Bill Collins, who was driving the armed-response vehicle with the casual professionalism that came from more than a decade in the job.
    ‘On our way, Control,’ said Waterford. He looked at Collins. ‘Blues and twos?’
    Collins grinned. ‘Probably a hoax,’ he said. ‘But if it isn’t, sirens will only spook him. Anyway, we’re five minutes away at most and the traffic’s light.’ He pressed down the accelerator and the car leaped forward.
    ‘A suicide bomber in a church sounds a bit unlikely,’ said Mickey Davies, from the back seat. He was a relative newcomer to the ARV team, but had already proved himself calm under pressure. All his shooting to date had been on the range but he was a first-class shot. Unlike Waterford, who was greying, and Collins, whose hair was receding by the day, Davies had a head of jet-black locks that he held in place with a smattering of gel.
    ‘You never know,’ said Waterford.
    Collins got to the church in a little over four minutes. He brought the car to a halt close to the railings at the entrance. Immediately Davies began unpacking the three SIG Sauer 516 assault rifles. The SIG 516, with its telescoping stock and thirty-round magazine, had replaced the Heckler & Koch G36 as the Met’s assault rifle of choice.
    Davies handed out the weapons and all three officers checked they were locked and loaded.
    ‘Right, in we go,’ said Waterford, looking up at the red-brick building with its tall spire and vaulted stained-glass windows overlooking the street. ‘Softly softly, a quick recce and that’s all. If we see anything like a suicide bomber we fall back and set up a primary and secondary perimeter.’
    Waterford led the way through a gate in the railings and up the path to the entrance. Davies and Collins were either side but further back. All clicked their safeties off with the thumbs of their left hands but kept their trigger fingers outside the trigger guard.
    The door to the church was closed. Waterford reached out slowly for the handle. It turned but the door wouldn’t budge. He looked at Collins. ‘Do they lock churches?’
    ‘It’s Brixton, they lock everything,’ said Collins. ‘But there should be a mass about this time of the day.’
    Waterford pushed harder but the door wouldn’t budge. He put his ear to it but the wood was thick and he doubted he’d hear anything even if there was a choir in full song on the other side.
    ‘There’ll be a back entrance,’ said Collins, heading to the rear of the church, which butted onto a Catholic school. Waterford and Davies followed him, cradling their SIGs.
    There was another, smaller, door at the back that led to what appeared to be an office. There were a couple of computers, a printer and shelves full of filing cabinets. One door led to a toilet and another opened into a corridor that went into the church. Waterford took the lead, with Davies and Collins spaced out behind him.
    There was another door at the end of the corridor. Waterford turned the handle slowly, then pulled it towards him. He nodded at his companions, then opened the door fully. They stepped into the rear of the church. Ahead of them was the altar, and beyond that the pews. The parishioners were packed into the front two rows and most of them seemed to have their heads down as if they were praying. As Waterford moved towards them, he realised they were all holding phones. He stopped and raised his hand. Davies and Collins froze behind him.
    Waterford frowned. There was no priest at the altar, and the only sound was the faint clicks as the parishioners tapped on their phones. He took a tentative step forward and froze again as he spotted the priest