Part 15

As they neared the police station, Steve scribbled his address and telephone number onto a piece of paper and gave it to the driver. "I appreciate you doing this. Contact me and I'll get your car cleaned as promised." It needs it, he thought, looking at the mess the lake water from their clothes had made of the back seats, but he wasn't going to get preoccupied with that now. As the car pulled to a stop he leapt from the car and ran inside, followed by Jesse, pastpolice officers who gave bemused glances at their wet clothes and haste, until he reached his department and found Cheryl on a telephone giving orders. He saw Amanda and Mark sitting on chairs over to one side; he gave them a brief smile and turned back to Cheryl. "What's the news?" he asked, trying to get his breath.

He noticed Mark and Amanda catch sight of Jesse's black eye and they gave Steve reproachful looks. I can explain later, he told himself, hearing Jesse reassuring them with "I'm fine, and so is Steve," and Mark's confused tone as he exclaimed, "You're soaked!"

"The men only got back to the warehouse about half an hour ago," Cheryl said, going straight in as she could see from Steve's urgent expression that he wouldn't have patience with pleasantries.

Steve nodded. That made sense, they had had to drive back from the lake too.

"We've got surveillance teams watching from a distance ready to move in when needed. The large main front door of the storage place has been opened and they have been packing up boxes and bringing them to the door. I've just heard that the person you described for us, Terrell Clark, has just arrived with a small lorry and they are starting to load it with the boxes. Looks like they are moving out. There's five men there in total, is that all?"

"Yes, that's everyone that is involved," Steve said with satisfaction.

"Great, then I'll tell the teams to move in," Cheryl said, reaching for the phone.

"Wait," Steve said, putting his hand on her arm. "I want to be there. Please," he said.

Mark spoke up. "Steve, don't you think it's time you had a rest, and let Cheryl take care of things now? You've done your share. You look done in."

"I have to be there for this, Dad," Steve said. "It's important that these guys are all caught. This was my operation, I've earned the right to be there at the end." He looked hard at Cheryl, who avoided Mark's gaze and shrugged.

"Okay, but be quick."

Steve smiled his thanks and rushed off. He rapidly changed into dry clothes and put on a bullet proof vest. He collected a gun and drove swiftly to the warehouse, a now familiar drive.

As he approached the warehouse Steve saw a contingent of police men hiding behind one of the buildings, one of whom waved him in. He parked his car and got out. "Cheryl told us you were coming," the police officer in charge said. "It looks like they are almost ready to leave, we don't want to wait a minute longer."

"I'm ready," Steve said determinedly.

With the addition of Steve the arresting group now numbered ten. Weapons at the ready, they ran quietly and swiftly down the road towards the warehouse belonging to Terrell Clark.

Steve saw Max ahead of them, loading a box onto the back of the lorry, whose doors at the rear were open and backed up to the entrance. He gave a yell and started to run in the opposite direction. As the police reached the warehouse two officers peeled off and went after Max. Steve kept with the group that ran into the warehouse.

"Police, hands in the air!" someone shouted, and Steve felt great satisfaction as he saw the surprise and dismay register on the faces of his would-be killers.

Terrell Clark didn't try to run; he put his hands up slowly and waited for an officer to approach him and arrest him, but he wore a look of fury. Carter similarly realised it was all over and didn't fight. An officer pulled a gun from Carter's pocket and confiscated it.

Greg looked as if he were looking for a way out, but with eight police officers blocking the only exit there wasn't much chance of escape. "This is your fault Carter. You are an idiot for answering that cell phone!" Greg yelled as he was bundled to the floor and handcuffed. He looked up at Carter, and followed his gaze. Carter was staring in astonishment at Steve, who couldn't help himself and gave a friendly wave. Hang on, someone is missing, Steve thought. Where's Harley?

Greg struggled on the floor under the weight of three police officers. "Hey! You're dead! We killed you!"

"Shut the hell up!" a voice from above bellowed out. Steve and the other officers spun around to look for the source of the voice. Vincent Harley was standing at the top of the stairs by the open door. He raised the gun in his hand and before anyone could move he fired a volley of bullets into the warehouse below. Steve ducked but heard a loud grunt from beside him. The officer standing next to him fell to the floor clutching his thigh – he had been hit.

It had all been going so well up to that point. Steve felt anger rise within him. Now I'm mad, he thought, sprinting for the stairs, followed by three other officers. Harley aimed a shot at him but luckily it missed, hitting the concrete floor a few feet to his right. Harley seemed to realise that he couldn't fight off four policemen by himself and he disappeared out of sight.

"There's nowhere to go, Harley!" Steve shouted, pounding up the stairs. "Give it up!" He arrived in the upstairs corridor in time to see the last door, belonging to the bathroom, bang shut. He ran along to it and paused outside the door. The three officers who had followed him stopped beside him. They spread out, two on each side of the door, then Steve counted to three and they burst through the door. Directly ahead was a small window, and Steve saw Harley's head disappear, then his hands as he let himself drop from the window feet first. There was a clang, and Steve rushed over to the window and saw that Harley had landed on a large commercial trash container that was positioned just in the right spot beneath the window.

"Go down and make sure he doesn't get away!" Steve told his back-up. They ran back along the corridor. Steve stuck his head back out of the window and eyed up the drop. Harley had just picked himself up from the landing on the ground and raised his gun and fired a round at Steve. Steve withdrew his head quickly, banging it on the window frame, but then he heard the gun click as Harley tried to fire a second time. He's out of bullets! he thought jubilantly, and wasted no more time in swinging his legs out of the window and letting go before he could get concerned about the drop.

He bent his knees as he landed with a loud resounding clang onto the lid of the container. He pulled himself to the edge and rolled off onto the ground. Before he could find his balance Harley stepped out of the shadow of the container and hit him hard against the side of the head with the gun. Then he ran. Steve was sent sprawling on to the floor, feeling dizzy, but forced himself to his feet as quickly as he could. Harley was heading away from the industrial site, across scrubland towards the road and houses in the distance. If he reached there Steve would quickly lose him.

His head still reeling, Steve started after him. His body was aching and worn out from lack of sleep, being bounced about in the back of the van and the stress of having to escape drowning, but as he ran events from the last few days flickered through his mind: giving a bomb to little Kaitlyn Brown, the kidnap of Jesse and his subsequent mistreatment, the attempted murder of himself and Jesse. His anger grew anew, and these thoughts gave his exhausted body strength to find an extra burst of speed, and the gap between him and Harley lessened. With a final effort he closed the gap and launched forwards, tackling Harley to the ground. They both fell heavily, sending up a cloud of dust, just as the other police officers appeared around the side of the building and came running towards them.

Steve forced Harley's arms behind him and held tightly. He squirmed, but gave up when he realised there were now four police surrounding him, and his body sagged in defeat. Steve took the handcuffs from his belt and secured them round Harley's wrists. "Read him his rights," he panted, feeling the tiredness hit him like a truck.

X X X

"Look, I've told you already, I'm fine," Steve protested for the third time. "I'm not going to the hospital."

Mark turned to face Jesse but Jesse stopped him before he could get any words out. "Same for me," he said. "All I need is a good meal and then a sleep."

"And a bath," Amanda said, wrinkling up her nose.

Steve had to admit, there was a certain odour hanging around him and Jesse. Must be the water from the lake, he thought. Mark hadn't been happy with Steve rushing straight off back to the people who had tried to kill him. He had made excuses to stay around the police station and wait for news, and Jesse and Amanda had stayed with him. They were relieved to get the call from Steve saying that they had all been arrested. Steve had arrived back at the police station to find Jesse almost asleep on a chair and his father ready with all sorts of arguments to persuade him to go for a check up at the hospital.

"But your eye," Mark tried with Jesse, hoping to get at least one of them to get some medical attention.

"It's just a bruise. You know there is no need for hospitalisation for a black eye," Jesse said. "What would be most medicinal is a nice meal," he hinted again.

"Let's just go home," Steve said wearily. "If you really have to you can check me over there to make sure I'm not hiding a horrendous injury somewhere. But I'm not," he added firmly.

"Okay," Mark agreed in defeat. "I'll rustle us up a meal while you have a shower. Jesse, Amanda?"

"I'm there!" Jesse exclaimed. "I dread to think what the food in my apartment looks like after… how many days has it been?"

"Who cares?" Steve said. "Let's just go!"

THE END

A/N: Thanks so much to all of you who have taken the time to review this story and who have stuck with it over the last couple of months. Hope you enjoyed reading it - I enjoyed writing it!