CHAPTER 59
I did my best to keep track of the trial, but it was a typical ‘heavy case’: a lot of information at the start, then nothing until it was actually well underway or completed. We would find out as and when the court, or the press, thought it appropriate, or maybe when they needed more clicks on their websites, or whatever. Work was another factor, of course, and I got introduced to one more delight of the job one Thursday afternoon.
“What’s your location, Foxtrot one five?”
I thought that a truthful answer of ‘outside FP Bakery’ might be a bit cheeky, but Tom had the radio.
“Cathays, Central”
“Can you make to Grangetown? Junction Corporation and Penarth, hold at Grange pub and await instructions from Bronze Commander on scene”
“Casualties?”
“Four; three are gunshot wounds. Am trying to arrange further crews to assist. Be careful, Tom”
“On my way, Central. ETA ten minutes”
“Understood. Hold at Grange pub, await ARU instructions”
Well, shit. At least it was still light. Tom hurled us down North Street and Castle Street, turning for the underpass by the tramsheds and down Clare Road to the six-way junction by the Grange, and I realised I was only about two hundred yards away from my old flat. Shit, yet again.
Some sergeant I didn’t know steered us through a maze of parked vehicles.
“Could you leave your wagon here? Bit messy up front”
Tom took lead.
“What we got?”
“Armed robbery, money-changer firm. Two suspects, both down; up that way. Sorry to be brusque, but one of ours is down in the shop, along with a staff member. Quick as, please. No more shooters, but we’re still twitchy”
A BGB each, and Tom was off up the street while I entered the shop, Airwaves on local. Screaming; not good, but it meant breathing was working. I did a quick scan of the shop: one policewoman down, blood up her right side. Smashed but intact security screen. One woman in salwar kameez on her back, no movement. I pulled in my triage training: if they’re screaming, they’re breathing; go for the quiet ones first.
As I got closer, I realised that she was actually making noises, an odd gurgling. Dump the bag, work head on, fuck, and fuck again Head looked bruised, and her neck….
“Copper! Don’t care who!”
Bryn was at my shoulder, thank god.
“What you need, Jen?”
“Oxy tank and mask, ASAP, butt. Going to… shit, that’ll do”
She had a pen clipped to her collar, one of the refillable ones, and I broke it down as quickly as I could before grabbing a scalpel from my BGB. A bit of blood, that horrible grind as I cut through the cartilage, slip the empty barrel of the pen in, and thank fuck, her chest expanded in a surge as the air bypassed her ruined throat. I caught my own breath, forcing myself to relax as I stabilised the tracheotomy with some surgical tape, just as Bryn returned.
“Going to need someone to watch her, butt, while I deal with your mate there. Not exactly approved, but her blood oxygen’s going back up. I am going to tape the mask over the incision, but she’s likely to grab it when she wakes. Don’t know what they used, but she’s either got a collapsed trachea—windpipe—or a smashed larynx. Hospital job. Your mate?”
“Sawn-off, Jen”
“Arse. Keep an eye here; moving now”
A quick visual check, and the pattern was clearer: police officer moving or jumping to one side just as the shotgun had fired. Sawn-offs have no choke effect, so it’s just a spray of pellets, but a bloody wide one. That would be the screen, then.
“Hi. I’m Jen, a paramedic. What’s your name, love?”
“Ke---fuck! Kerry!”
“Good news is that I can’t see any real nasties. Missed your face, and the blood is not spurting, so no major blood vessels. You’re going to be fine”
“Hurts like buggery!”
“Never done that, so can’t comment. You allergic to anything?”
“Hay fever, that’s all”
“Right. Now, going to get a canular in so I can do more than one thing at a time. Might hurt a bit”
“Fuck!”
“Sorry. That’s in. Bryn?”
“Aye?”
“Can you pull that coat stand over for me? Ta!”
I strung a couple of bags up, one being a simple saline, just in case there was a bigger bleed I’d missed, then my usual nuclear-grade paracetamol, which brought a sigh from Kerry as it hit, and I then started a quick survey of her wounds.
A job for some nurse at Casualty under a local, I decided. Out with the Airwave.
“Tom? What you got?”
“Busy busy, Jen. One deceased, one sucking chest wound. Gary and Shona have just arrived”
“You grab them, butt. Under control here’ next crew on scene can be mine. Got one tracheotomy, one relatively minor shotgun damage. Sure your spare is decesased?”
“Nothing viable in heart area, Jen. ARU”
“Ah”
“Gary and Shona with me now. Will wave next lot to you. Busy, girl. Out”
Angie was with me five minutes later, raising her eyebrows at my impromptu oxy line, so I shrugged.
“I was a bit busy, love, as you can see. Not happy about her head; suspect fracture, maybe worse. Kerry?”
“Yeah?”
“Both of the drips are done. What I want to do is walk you to my ambulance, get you settled on a trolley. You up to that?”
She nodded, and I disassembled her bags and lines, packing away the BGB as Angie got down and dirty with the other woman. Bryn came with me as far as the wagon to support Kerry, but as soon as she was on the trolley and safe, he turned away, dropping his voice to a whisper.
“Barry’s in a bad way, Jen”
“Why? He get shot as well?”
A shake of the head.
“No. He took down both of the shooters. Shotgun man was about to fire; Barry took him centre of mass, good shooting. Second man had a handgun, and he was turning. That’s the one Tom’s sweating over”
“So how’s Barry hurt?”
A very old-fashioned look from Bryn.
“Barry’s just killed a man, Jen. Possibly two. That’s how. He’s going to be suspended now, not because he’s done anything wrong; just normal practice in a fatal shooting. And he is going to be going over the what-ifs every bloody hour of every day. Big softy is our mate”
“But he--- never mind. I need to make tracks, so once Tom’s back we’ll be off to St Dai’s. Tell the big lump that if he needs company, and I’m about, not to be shy, okay?”
“Thanks, Jen; I will. Kerry going to be okay?”
“Pretty much, but a load of scars, and tonight will be a long one, cause some poor nurse will be picking pellets out of her. Not a job either will enjoy”
Angie’s mucker went past with their trolley for the other woman, and once they were loading her up, I asked Angie to sit with Kerry for a few seconds while I went to check on Tom.
He looked up as I arrived.
“Close one, Jen. Thought I was going to lose him. Bullet went right through, missed all the ribs, don’t know how, and he was sucking front and bloody back. Thank god the others got here. How are you doing?”
“One in the wagon ready to roll. Angie’s loading number two. The deceased?”
“Two wounds, Jen, about two inches apart. From what I could see, one did for the left ventricle, the other opened his aorta. Not a snowball’s chance. Bloody good shooting”
“I don’t think Barry’s seeing it that way right now, butt”
“Right… He’ll be coming off duties for a while, then. Who’ve we got in the van?”
“Kerry. Policewoman. From what I can see, she was caught by the edge of the pellet cloud. Nothing serious”
“Just messy and painful, though. Get moving?”
“Yeah. Bryn’s giving the details to that sergeant for us. Let Angie and her passenger go in first at Casualty, though. Smashed larynx or trachea, and I suspect a cranial fracture. As far as I can see, she was wrong side of the security screen, and Mr Sawn-off got annoyed at her. I suspect there’ll be bits of her scalp on the weapon. Off we jolly well, then”
We drove in after Angie, decanted our patient, and then, shit, we were free, so back we went, with a body bag for Barry’s short-term friend. At least Mr Handgun survived.
On our next weekend off, Amina, Tom, Connie, Paul and I dragged Barry out to the Smugglers, where we got the big, soft lump absolutely rat-arsed. I saw that other copper, the one with the facial scar, watching us from a corner, and when he caught my eye, he just nodded.
No words were needed, none at all.