A/N: I don't own Ashes to Ashes... I wish I did...
After a hiatus while I completed "Charity at Christmas", normal (well, fairly normal) service resumes on TBOAE! Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading it in the meantime, and to my lovely reviewers, with a special thank-you to A2A D2D, who posted a review as a guest, which meant that I couldn't send a PM in reply.
As it's been a couple of months since the last update, here's a brief reminder of what's been going on:
Gene and Alex have arrested Hugo Earnshaw, Stephen Warren's crooked lawyer, and are racing against time to find evidence that will enable them to charge him. Papers found in both Warren's and Earnshaw's offices demonstrate that Warren has been hiring out his thugs to Earnshaw to intimidate witnesses. The gang are off to interview Thomas Traynor, who withdrew his testimony in a murder case...
Traynor's address was in the case file, and proved to be a small, respectable gentlemens' hairdressers with a flat above, in a 'nice' area of Dulwich. Gene flung the door open, making the chimes jangle wildly, and strode in like John Wayne entering a saloon, with the other three at his heels. A small, wiry man in a neat, gleaming white barber's tunic came forward, wiping his hands on a towel.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen. Did you book appointments? If not, I'm sure we can fit you in. I'm sorry, Madam, I'm afraid we don't do ladies' hair at this establishment, but if you'd care to call at Annabel's, just down the road, number 55, I'm sure she'd be able to accommodate you - "
"Shut it." Gene slammed the door, pulled the Closed blind down, and produced his warrant card. "DCI Gene Hunt an' DI Drake, Metropolitan Police. We want to talk to you about the death of Mark Empson on thirteenth of November, 1982."
Traynor had gone as white as his tunic while Gene was speaking. "No! No! I don't know anything about it!"
Gene loomed over him. "We've got evidence to say you do! You witnessed the shooting an' named the killer! Then you withdrew your testimony an' let the scumbag walk!"
Traynor turned and ran into a room behind, but Gene stuck his foot in the door, reached a long arm through the gap, and hauled the luckless Traynor out by the scruff of his tunic.
"Right." He dumped Traynor into a barber's chair. "Talk."
Alex stepped forward. "Guv. We won't get anything out of him by terrifying him." She crouched beside the chair. Traynor was shaking, and she laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Mr Traynor, please forgive my colleague. It's just his bull-in-a-china-shop way." Gene growled, but she paid him no heed. "Evidence has come into our possession that you were intimidated into withdrawing your testimony. We have the gang who leaned on you and their controller in custody, but we need you to give us a statement to enable us to charge them. If you help us, they'll go to prison for a very long time, and you'll be safe. If you don't, they could go free, and then they could continue terrorising you."
Traynor turned haunted eyes on her. "You've got them?"
"All of 'em," Gene confirmed. "Earnshaw, Warren an' their merry men."
Traynor shivered. "But you haven't got Hurst, have you?"
"The gunman? No. I'm afraid we 'aven't."
"I thought not. He always gets away. Gets away with everything." Traynor's voice dropped to a terrified mutter. He seemed to be considering for a moment, then looked up at Alex. "I'm sorry. I know I'll be letting you down. But I can't talk when I know Hurst's still out there."
"Can't try 'im twice for the same offence. Double jeopardy."
Traynor looked terrified. "Hurst works for Norman Hardy."
Gene was alert. "Hardy the Hammer?"
"His right hand man. Hardy's kept this place watched ever since the shooting. He'll know now that you're here, and that means I'm done for. Go, please, all of you, go."
"We're not goin' anywhere!"
"You've got that big car parked outside!" Traynor almost screamed. "He'll see it! Get out!"
"Come with us, then," Alex said gently. "We can look after you."
Traynor looked around him, almost crazed with fear. "If I stay, they'll kill me. If I go, they'll torch this place and I lose everything. Oh, God, why did you come here? Why couldn't you leave me alone?"
"They could torch this place with you in it," Gene said bluntly. "One of Warren's boys tried that on a witness, night before last. Lucky she wasn't at 'ome an' Jack 'ere arrested the bastard before 'e could do any damage."
"We want to save you from living in fear." Alex was in her most trustworthy negotiator mode.
"And making me bait is meant to do that?" Traynor wailed. "You coppers never care about us. Hardy'll know you've been here. He'll send Hurst to do me over. He kills me or wrecks my shop and my home, you can arrest him, you get your result, but what about me?"
Gene towered over him. "Never say Gene Hunt does not care about the people on 'is watch. Nobody's gonna get killed except for the scumbags. Poirot, radio Dulwich CID. I know the Guv there, DCI Frankford. Good bloke. Tell 'im to send a team round 'ere, pronto tonto, an' to keep this place watched an' nick anyone who tries anything." Poirot nodded, took his radio from his pocket, and went into the back room. "Jack, upstairs. Watch the street 'til the Dulwich team get 'ere, but keep out of sight." Slate drew his gun and vanished up the stairs. "Right. Traynor, once the Dulwich mob get 'ere, you'll come with us an' we'll look after you 'til Hurst's in the can."
"No! This is my home! I'm staying!"
"You'll be safe with us. Being where our Guv is, is the right place to be." Alex sounded almost maternal.
"Just GET OUT!" Traynor hid his face in his hands and moaned. "I'm done with facing torturers in court!"
"You mean that they tortured you?" Alex was stunned. Traynor simply wept and moaned.
Poirot emerged from the back room, pocketing his radio. "Guv. Team from Dulwich'll be 'ere in five."
"Right. We're off. Traynor, you're coming with us."
"NO!"
"Either you come with us to give your statement willingly or I arrest you for obstructing an investigation!" He grabbed Traynor's arm and dragged him to his feet.
Alex jumped to her feet. "Guv! If we obtain evidence from him under duress, it'll be useless! Remember the Ska boys!"
"We need 'is evidence now, or Earnshaw could walk!"
"Guv! Down!"
Slate's yell rang out from upstairs and over their radios. Two gunshots rang out, almost simultaneously, and Gene hurled himself to the floor, dragging Alex and Traynor with him, as the plate glass window shattered and a bullet howled over their heads. Poirot had taken refuge behind the counter, but fired over the top as Gene rolled over, got to one knee and started shooting. Slate came tearing down the stairs and nearly blundered into their line of fire.
"It's all right, Guv! I downed him! Bastard was at a top floor window above the shop opposite."
Gene leapt to his feet. "Drake, you stay with Traynor, an' both of you keep down. There might be more than one of 'em. You two tossers, come with me!"
He racd out of the shop, gun in hand, with the other two right behind him.
"There, Guv!" Slate pointed to an open window in the flat above the boarded up shop opposite. "I saw the glint on the gun barrel when 'e was aiming, and I fired."
Bang on cue, three cars charged around the corner, screeched to a halt outside Traynor's shop, and disgorged a large number of gun-toting men. Unsure whether he was facing friend or foe, Gene raised his gun, then lowered it as he saw a familiar face.
"Freddie Frankford! 'Ow are you, you old rascal?"
"Doing fine, Genie-boy." Frankford, a heavy-set, dark-haired man in his mid-forties, clasped his hand. "Take it we 'aven't been in time to stop the gunfight at the OK Corral?"
The last time I met him was before I knew the truth about myself and this place. I know now, he's not a Guardian. Another soul come here to be sorted out.
"We were talking to Traynor the 'airdresser. He's a witness in one of our cases. Jack 'ere downed a sniper on the top floor," he pointed to the window, "but we don't know 'ow badly 'e's 'urt or if there are any more of 'em."
"Any ID?"
"Traynor thinks it might be a bloke called Hurst. Name familiar to you?"
Frankford's eyes gleamed like coals. "If it is, Christmas 'as come early." He turned to address his troops. "Mike! Andy! Jay! Gunman on the top floor. You get in round the back. Sean, Tim, check the shop. Us-uns're taking the front." He strode up to the front door to the flat above the shop and kicked it down. "Come on, Genie."
Gene turned to his men. "Poirot, get back to Drake. The two of you are to guard Traynor. If Hurst's got any friends, they might try getting into the shop while we're over 'ere. Slate, you come 'ere an' show us where this gunman was."
"Guv." Poirot headed back to the shop, where he found Alex still crouched on the floor, comforting the sobbing Traynor. She looked up as he came in.
"What's happening?"
Poirot jerked his thumb behind him. "Posse's arrived from Dulwich. The gunman's in the flat above the shop opposite us, that's 'ow Jack saw 'im. Guv an' Jack are going in there with the Dulwich mob."
Alex got to her knees. "I'll go with them."
Poirot shook his head. "No, you won't, Boss. The Guv said we're to stay 'ere an' guard our witness. The gunman might 'ave been trying to draw us all off an' leave Traynor unprotected."
Alex ached to be with Gene, but she accepted the logic of what Poirot said. She also recognised Gene's sneaky tactic to take her out of the front line.
"Roger that. Mr Traynor, is there an entrance to this shop from the back?"
Traynor was shaking uncontrollably, but he managed to nod and gasp, "Yes. Back door - through there." He jerked his head to the back room.
"Thank you." Alex made herself sound completely calm, although she was torn with fear for Gene. "Poirot, check it out."
Poirot drew his gun, nipped into the back room, and soon returned. "Door locked an' bolted, an' all's quiet. Don't worry, sir, you're safe with us."
"But they could get in upstairs," Traynor groaned. "Climb in from next door's window or use the fire escape. I'll never be safe from them, never..." He buried his face in his hands, and Alex reflected that, whatever his determination to remain in his home, he might have to face relocating, to avoid going mad with terror.
"Poirot, check upstairs. If any windows are open, close and lock them."
Poirot nodded and vanished. Alex moved to a crouching position beside Traynor and drew her gun. She could only hope that they were not in for a siege.
-oO0Oo-
The posse tore up the stairs to the flat above the empty shop, guns in hand, with Frankford leading the way and Gene, Slate and one of Frankford's men close behind them. Two more of Frankford's team had already checked out the shop and radioed that it was empty, and three more were stealing up the fire escape. The two parties met in the hallway on the lower floor of the flat, and the leader of the fire escape party drew close and muttered, "Fire escape padlock bust. Back windows closed. Jay's out there in case anyone tries to leave that way."
"An' if our little shooter 'as a lookout at the back, 'e'll 'ave seen you an' warned 'im," Gene said grimly.
"Yeah." Frankford gestured to his remaining three men to take the first floor rooms, and he, Gene and Slate crept up to the top floor. They listened at the doors, but there was no sound. Slate pointed to the door on the left.
"Gunman was this side," he whispered. Gene nodded and gestured to him to take the room to the right.
"Police!" Frankford bellowed. "Open up!" At the same moment, they heard the crash as his men on the floor below broke a door down.
"Sod this," Gene snarled, and kicked the door in. They surged through. The room was shabby and devoid of furniture. A man lay on the floor by the window, bleeding profusely from a wound in his shoulder, a gun by his side. Seeing them, he seized the gun and feebly tried to raise it. The two of them hurled themselves upon him. Frankford grabbed the gun, and Gene cuffed him.
"Who's with you, Hurst?" Frankford shook him like a rat. "I know you don't go out solo. Too much of a coward for that, aren't we? You've got a backup gunman an' a lookout. C'mon, spill. Tell us where your pals are."
Despite his obvious pain, Hurst smirked. "For me to know an' you to find out."
"Answer, sod you!" Frankford slapped Hurst around the head.
A gunshot rang out somewhere above them.
"Fire escape!" Gene yelled. "Frankford, you stay with 'im." He raced out of the room. Slate was already in the hallway, his gun out, looking out of the fire escape door.
"Gunman on the roof, Guv! He's downed Frankford's man on the fire escape."
Gene grabbed his radio. "DRAKE! Get Traynor into the back. There's a shooter on our roof!"
-oO0Oo-
Alex and Poirot had already heard the gunshot. He took cover behind the door and was watching the gunman through the shattered window while she tried to persuade the half-fainting Traynor to move. "Come on, Mr Traynor. It'll be safer in the back."
"But what if there's someone else there?" he moaned.
"We know someone's firing at us from the front. Come on. We can crouch as we go to keep out of his line of fire." And Poirot will get a grandstand view of my arse. Gene will fry him.
"Go on! You're putting a bird in danger, staying 'ere!" Poirot snapped.
The sound of two more shots outside decided Traynor, and he let Alex guide him along the floor to the half-open door to the back room. Alex shut and bolted it, and Traynor sat on the floor, his back against the wall, breathing heavily, while she stood, gun in hand, and remained alert, taking stock of her surroundings. The room had a desk and chair on one side of the door and a small cooker with a table and an electric kettle on the other. The shadow of the fire escape loomed like a bend sinister across the single window. The back door was bolted. Its upper half was frosted glass, which would allow them some advance warning if anyone approached, but she would not have a clear view unless she were to open the door or window.
So far, so good. But if anyone tries to get in, we're sitting ducks.
-oO0Oo-
Gene hurtled up the fire escape onto the roof, with Slate in his wake. A lone gunman was crouched there, his gun aimed at Traynor's shop front. Hearing them come, the gunman swivelled round and fired, but Gene fired first. The gunman clutched his shoulder and dropped his pistol.
"GUV!" Slate bellowed, pointing. They were just in time to see a man clambering onto the roof of Traynor's shop and head for the back. Both fired at him, but he dived for cover and they saw him jump onto the fire escape.
"Shit!" Gene grabbed his radio. "Drake! Poirot! Gunman coming your way down Traynor's fire escape. Frankford, get your troops in to help 'em. Slate, cuff this bastard."
Sick at heart, he raced down the fire escape. However fast he ran, he knew he would be too late. Bolly's in there... Bolly... not even her fault this time... I told her to stay with Traynor... Bolly...
TBC