RASIM JANET/ DC RUTH WALSH, CHESTER.
The train approached the station at Chester and Rasim stood up and walked to the carriage door. DC Ruth Walsh waited by the carriage door at the opposite end from Rasim, the wheels of the train squealed as it came to a standstill and Rasim exited the carriage. He walked over to a refreshment stand and bought a bottle of mineral water. Rasim gulped down another two stolen painkillers to try and give him some relief from his shoulder wound while he checked the station timetable to see what time his connecting train would arrive. He had an hour to wait so he decided to telephone Yasser.
DC Ruth Walsh headed to a news stand and flicked through the magazines that were laid out there while she watched her quarry. She noticed that Sian`s Glock was in Rasim`s waistband next to his right pocket. The gun was useless apart from the frightening effect it could have on the general public if it was brandished in a crowded place. The Armed Response Unit had searched the hospital grounds and Sian`s stolen Jeep, as soon as they were alerted to Rasim`s possible whereabouts. The gun had been recovered from its hiding place and was made safe by having the firing pin removed before being replaced. They didn’t want to alert Rasim to the fact that he was being followed, but he had already shot one officer so the gun was rendered useless. Rasim was also unaware that the clothes and shoes that he had stolen had been left there purposely for him to steal. Everything he was wearing had microchip trackers in it. DC Ruth Walsh couldn’t lose Rasim if she tried.
Rasim Janet seemed agitated as he made a telephone call from a bank of pay phones. It was obvious that there had been no reply. Rasim scuffed his foot hard, repeatedly against the wall beneath the phone as he waited for his call to be answered. The call had been tracked by a team of surveillance experts that were sitting in a replica furniture van on the station car park. The information from the number dialled was processed at the old Newborough Preparatory School thirty miles away in Woolton. The number that Rasim had dialled was listed as a British Telecom landline at an address in Anfield, Liverpool. Tank and his team would already be on their way to the address by the time Rasim hung up the receiver.
Rasim knew that something had gone wrong. The number that he had dialled at Yasser`s basement flat always had a messaging service attached to it. The caller would leave a coded message and a contact number and Yasser would call back on an untraceable cell phone. This time there was no answer machine. The number just rang and rang. It was as if someone was trying to make the caller stay on the line long enough for a trace to be made on it. Rasim knew that he had made a huge mistake by waiting on the telephone for so long. The pain in his shoulder and the effect of the painkilling drugs had dulled his usually sharp instincts. The only way anybody would be able to trace a call from a public telephone would be if they knew where you were going to, and bugged it prior to you arriving. He realised that he was being followed. This was a set up.
There were six undercover Armed Response agents on the platform including DC Ruth Walsh. She was the lead officer, and so none of them would make a move until she gave the signal. The suspect`s demeanour had changed dramatically since he tried to make a phone call. He was nervous and he was behaving furtively. Rasim looked around the station platform and studied the passengers that he could see. Every one of them could be a police officer for all he knew. Rasim started to panic. The pain in his shoulder was returning as his stress levels increased. He could feel the warmth of blood soaking into the bandage. Sweat trickled down his back as he tried to fathom a way out of the trap that he was in. He felt like a rat in a cage. Rasim spotted a public lavatory block about ten-yards from where he was standing and he decided to buy some time by heading into it quickly.
The white tiled walls were covered in graffiti and the stale smell of urine was overpowering as Rasim entered the toilets. There was a small narrow window at the far end of the block above a stainless steel sink. He ran to the sink, jumped up onto it, and then tried to open the window. It opened enough for him to able to squeeze through, but he swore loudly when he saw the metal bars that were fixed to the outside wall preventing him an escape route. Rasim noticed that the pretty woman he had noticed at Bangor station was talking hurriedly to two men. The men had small earpieces and were looking directly at him. Realisation that they had been spotted made the six agents spring into action. DC Ruth Walsh pulled her Glock 9mm and pointed it toward the toilet block at Rasim`s head.
Rasim dropped quickly from the toilet window and banged his shoulder on the door of a stinking cubicle. The cubicle door flung open revealing a startled punter that was enjoying a blowjob from a local station prostitute who called herself Jo. Rasim hit the man in the face hard knocking him to the floor. He grabbed Jo up from her knees and put his arm around her throat tightly. He pulled out Sian`s gun and put it to the prostitutes head. Rasim could hear the frantic voices that were coming from the platform outside, and it sounded as if at least half a dozen agents were clearing the public away to safety.
Rasim edged slowly out of the stinking lavatory using Jo as a human shield. DC Ruth Walsh couldn’t understand where Rasim had found this tarty looking woman from at first but then it dawned on her. Rasim edged along the toilet wall toward the tracks, sweat was soaking his shirt and stinging his eyes. His shoulder wound was openly bleeding, now he could feel the blood running under his armpit and down the side of his body.
“Rasim Janet. Let the woman go and lie down on the floor, or I will instruct my officers to kill you. Your gun has been rendered useless so just let the girl go and you live. You have got two seconds to comply,” DC Walsh shouted. Rasim could not understand how this pretty policewoman knew his name. He also could not believe that his gun was useless. The pain in his shoulder was making him feel physically sick. Rasim felt a warm sensation running down his thigh and he realised that the prostitute Jo had wet herself in fright. The warm liquid soaked down his jeans and into his stolen trainers. The shock of being peed on made him loosen his grip on the woman and she stamped her foot hard into Rasim`s shin. He lost his grip and she bolted toward the police officers.
A startled looking man staggered out of the toilet block that Rasim had just left. He was bleeding from the nose and his limp penis was hanging out of his trousers.
In all the confusion, Rasim squeezed the trigger of his gun. It made a loud click in his hand. He was devastated. Rasim was sick that his journey had ended here on this station platform far away from his home. Armed police surrounded him, because he had killed a policewoman, and now he had a decommissioned weapon in his hand, and was covered in urine. Rasim heard the roar of an approaching express train and he bolted.
As he ran toward the edge of the platform DC Ruth Walsh fired her Glock 9mm three times. The first bullet hit Rasim in the lower back splintering his spine into dozens of tiny pieces; the second hit his wounded shoulder shattering the ball joint and nearly separated the damaged limb from his body. He stumbled over the edge of the platform and fell onto the dull metal rails. Rasim tried to lift himself up but his ruined spine wouldn’t allow him to move. It took just eight seconds between Rasim Janet landing on the rails, and the 12.45 from Liverpool squashing his head against the dull metal. He had remained conscious as he watched the speeding express come toward him.