Another week of slow business
Posted at 9:26 PM
Catch up on part one first.
Meanwhile, in another part of Oxford, someone else was pondering Life. He was also out wandering the streets, seemingly aimlessly. His steps had more purpose, however. He was killing time – waiting for someone. She would be coming out of the Kidlington police station in around half an hour’s time. Then, he was going to shoot her.
The instrument of his profession hidden in a bag on his back (not the kind of thing you hang around your neck in these parts of the world) he paced the pavements impatiently. He’d been waiting for this moment for years – waiting for the right opportunity. It terrified him in some ways that it was finally here. What if he messed up? Years of training himself up; countless hours aiming shots, until he could fire off a few successful rounds in seconds. There was a lot at stake – in some ways his whole career depended on it.
He glanced at his watch, and turned to walk towards the station. Now was the moment of reckoning.
The Kidlington police station was the headquarters for the whole region of the Thames Valley, reaching from the outskirts of London to the hills of the Cotswolds, in an elongated shape rather like a more rotund version of the river that gave it its name. As such, the officers inside were involved less with local cases, and more with the large cases in the area. There had recently been a series of attacks on police officers, and this was concerning many of the minds within. Organised crime was involved. Simultaneously and for no apparent reason, there had been a lessening of public sympathy towards the Force and their work. These things were possibly related to the young man currently approaching the DCI in charge of the investigation of the attacks.
Detective Chief Inspector Robbins left the station by the staff back door – and stopped abruptly as she noticed someone waiting for her. Her heartbeat quickened with the sudden surge of adrenaline. Now was the moment of reckoning.
Comments