Our Woman in Jamaica by James Ward

Author:James Ward
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Political thrillers set in Jamaica, MI5 and MI6 spy novels, espionage novels set in Kingston, Secret Service thrillers from the UK, British intelligence novels set in the Caribbean, Multiracial and multicultural thrillers, Black British protagonist, Cuba, Action and adventure
Publisher: Cool Millennium
Published: 2016-10-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17: On the Run

Resist? Surrender? Try to flee? Stay put? Neither woman had chance to process what was happening, much less what to do. They had Hebblethwaite’s gun, but that probably made matters worse. A policeman stood before them with a lowered gun, looking strangely sheepish. Ruby and Vilma faced him.

Three other men came in the room, obviously friends. “It’s not what you think,” the first said. “It’s bits and pieces of a cop uniform we got on the black market.”

“Been very useful before,” the second added. “Shame we have to lose it.”

The first nodded. “We’re going to create a diversion. Get ready to run. Follow me.”

Two of the three men grabbed the man who was half-dressed up as a policeman and put a gun to his head. They went to the front door and threw it open. “Drop your weapons!” Ruby heard one of them yell. “Put your guns down or the cop gets it!”

The man who’d instructed Ruby and Vilma to follow him drew a revolver and signalled for Vilma to follow him. Vilma scooped up Hebblethwaite’s gun and ammunition. She gave Ruby the two notebooks. “Keep your head about you,” she said. “If they find these, you really are finished.” Ruby jammed the books in her pockets, one each, and followed the others to the back door.

“There’s a gap in the gate,” the man said. “Get ready to sprint. Then it’s straight ahead. Four hundred yards, six turns, and I’ve got a friend. He can get us out within thirty minutes if we’re lucky. Assuming we survive. Either of you got any cash?”

“Forty American dollars,” Vilma said.

“More than enough. Shit.”

“What?” Vilma said.

“They’re not putting their guns down. They need to lower their guns.” He was sweating. His eyes bulged. He swallowed. “We’ve been expecting something like this for a long time,” he said. “Goddamn police. The whole organisation’s lined up behind the JLP. WJP, you’ve got to expect to die at any moment.”

Ruby didn’t tell him it was her they wanted. She assumed he’d heard, and her mouth was too dry.

“PUT YOUR GUNS DOWN OR I’LL SHOOT YOUR COLLEAGUE IN THE HEAD!” came the voice from the front of the house.

Ruby could see four policemen, evenly spaced. A radio message came through. One of them took it and signalled to the others to lower their weapons.

The man went out of the back door with his gun raised, pointing it at each of the four policemen in turn. None of them looked inclined to shoot him, or any of them, now. They raised their hands meekly. They obviously knew how easy it was to come by death nowadays.

That was the signal. Vilma grabbed Ruby’s hand and they ran across the garden together and through the gap in the fence. They kept going through the narrow, litter-strewn space between two sets of buildings, expecting at any moment to receive a debilitating puncture in the back or leg, or to stop knowing anything at all. They could hear the sound of gunfire behind them, like popping corn.

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