The Jonah Read Free Page A

man whose car had crashed into the back of the Granada staggered backwards when the gun was pushed into his
face.
    ‘What’s going on?’ he asked, his hands held out before him as though to ward off any bullets fired from the Smith and Wesson.
    Cook, who had just stepped from the Granada, gave the man a vicious push. ‘Get back into your car and stay there!’ He joined Kelso, and they quickly took in the scene before
them.
    A dozen or so cars lay between them and the security van. Drivers were getting out of their vehicles to see what had happened up ahead; they jumped back in just as smartly when they saw two
hooded figures approaching, both carrying shotguns. The armed men were reaching into the vehicles and snatching out the keys; they tossed them across the road. One driver who tried to protest was
struck with the butt of a shotgun. A metallic whining noise filled the tunnel, spinning off the curved walls and amplified by the acoustics of the confined space. Horns from the held-up line of
traffic which stretched back to the tunnel’s entrance added to the noise. Cook suddenly knew what the cumbersome object carried by the third man was: they were using a chainsaw to open up the
security van, ripping into its armoured side like a tin opener.
    ‘Keep down!’ Cook shouted as he ran forward, his body crouched.
    Kelso ducked and sprinted over to the inside lane, using the stalled vehicles as cover. He moved swiftly past an Allegro and a woman passenger stared out at him curiously, her eyes widening when
she saw the gun he was carrying. Cook was just ahead of him in the opposite lane, Dave Riley following close behind. Kelso raised his head and saw the two gunmen were only a few cars away, one
approaching in the centre of the road, the other on the far side. The one in the centre would soon spot Cook and Riley in the channel created by the two rows of vehicles. He hurried forward, hoping
to draw level with the two villains before his DI and driver were discovered.
    He risked looking over the top of the next car as he ran, and froze when he saw the nearest gunman had stopped and was pointing his weapon down the centre channel.
    ‘Hold it, you!’ he heard the masked figure call out.
    Cook felt naked under the glare of the black twin barrels. He dropped to one knee and raised the .38. ‘Police! Put the gun down!’
    Instead, the masked man raised the shotgun to his shoulder and pulled back the two trigger hammers.
    ‘Drop it!’ Kelso shouted, his arms stretched across the car roof before him, both hands gripping the Smith and Wesson tightly.
    The gunman whirled and released one of the triggers. The shot mangled a broad section of the car’s roof, shredding and scarring its shiny surface, but Kelso had dropped down, reacting by
instinct as soon as the barrels had been swung his way.
    Cook pulled open the passenger door of the car he was kneeling beside, breathing a swift prayer of thanks that it wasn’t locked, and used it as cover. The passenger shrank away from him,
almost crawling into the lap of the driver by his side.
    The sound was deafening as the blast tore into the door, pushing it against the crouching DI, some of the shot passing through to splatter against his clothes. The window above him shattered and
fragments of glass showered his head.
    Without hesitation he pushed the car door away from him and staggered to his feet, knowing the gunman had used up both shots. He went for the villain, grabbing the barrel of the shotgun and
using his own weapon as a club. He relished the jarring sensation as the gun connected with the man’s covered scalp. Both men went down onto the road’s hard concrete surface.
    DC Riley ran forward to help his senior officer and stumbled to a halt when he saw the frightened, staring eyes of the other gunman, who was standing in the gap between two cars which
hadn’t quite connected in the pile-up. The shotgun in his hand was unsteady, but it was aimed at Riley’s