The Jonah Read Free

southbound lanes crammed to capacity. Kelso knew its sister tunnel would be just as packed, probably even worse, as car commuters struggled to reach
destinations on the north side of the Thames. Even at under 40mph, their speed seemed unsafe. Grey walls rose on either side and curved towards the centre, the concrete arch holding back the River
Thames above. Just one tiny crack in the structure, Kelso thought, and a million gallons of water would crush their car like an egg shell . . .
    ‘Keep up, Dave!’ Cook’s voice snapped Kelso back to attention.
    ‘I can’t go faster than the bloke in front, guv,’ the driver complained.
    ‘Switch lanes then, get over to the right!’
    Riley quickly glanced over at the adjacent lane. He shook his head, then stabbed down hard on the accelerator. Kelso pushed both feet against the passenger footwell as the car in front rapidly
loomed up. At the last moment, Riley swung the Granada into the next lane. The car whose space it had infringed upon braked sharply and they heard its horn echoing around the tunnel.
    ‘There she is!’ Riley shouted and they saw the blue van ahead. The truck they had watched shoot the lights was two cars in front of it.
    ‘Try and get closer, Dave,’ Cook said, now leaning forward in his seat. ‘I’ve got a nasty feeling . . .’
    As if triggered by the same control, pairs of brake lights appeared in sequence before them as each vehicle screeched to a sliding halt. They heard the crashing of metal against metal as cars
smashed into one another. The three policemen braced themselves, but Riley’s quick reaction prevented serious impact; his foot had been on the brake pedal as soon as the first set of warning
lights had flashed on. The police car rocked backwards and forwards, shifting the three men in their seats. Before they had the chance to recover, they were thrown forward by a backbreaking jolt as
the car behind crashed into their rear. Kelso’s head hit the windscreen and he fell back, momentarily stunned.
    Cook had been thrown forward and he stayed in that position, hands gripped over the backrests of the front seats. ‘What’s happening?’ he shouted.
    ‘It’s the lorry,’ the driver replied, his neck craned forward for a better view. ‘It’s jack-knifed across the bloody road!’
    Their eyes widened as they saw four men jump out from a car which had crashed into the back of the security van. The men’s heads were covered by balaclavas.
    ‘The bastards are pulling it in the Tunnel!’ Cook exclaimed.
    One door at the back of the jack-knifed lorry swung open and three overalled figures dropped to the roadway. Their faces, too, were hidden by masks. Cook just had time to see that two were
carrying snub-nosed objects that could only have been sawn-off shotguns. The third was holding something that looked far more cumbersome.
    ‘Get on the radio,’ he ordered Kelso. ‘Get some back-up down here! I want the entrance and exit sealed off, too!’
    Kelso blinked his eyes, still stunned by the blow he had received. But Cook’s words cut through his confusion. He reached for the transmitter and pressed the button. ‘All Units, this
is Leader One. Request immediate assistance in the Blackwall Tunnel. Robbery in progress.’ He waited for acknowledgements, but no sound came from the receiver. Both he and Cook understood the
problem at the same time.
    The driver stared at Kelso. ‘What’s wrong? Get through to them!’
    ‘He can’t.’ There was anger in Cook’s voice. ‘The fucking tunnel’s blocking the transmission! We’re on our own!’ He reached for the .38 at his hip
and Kelso dug into the pocket of his combat jacket for his own gun.
    ‘Sorry, Dave,’ Cook said to the driver. ‘You’ll have to come in on this.’
    ‘Okay, guv.’ Police drivers usually kept away from the heavy stuff, but Riley knew he had no choice this time.
    Kelso pushed the passenger door open and whirled when a hand grabbed his shoulder. The