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pavement outside one of the blocks. It was one of the cars LeShawn sometimes used, and a young black guy sat in the driver’s seat.
    Cecil drove towards him. The road was narrow with cars lining one side, and he had to go quite slow. LeShawn always carried the bag containing the takings with him, never letting it out of his sight as he went into each of the crackhouses, and he was always accompanied by one of his crew. So the plan was to relieve them of the cash when they were en route back to the car. That way we had the whole three-man crew together where we could control them. But the thing was, it required perfect timing. If we were too early making our approach then we’d have to come back round the block again, and as soon as the X5 driver saw our car a second time, he’d be as suspicious as hell. These guys were armed, and if they got nervous, anything could happen. Plus, there were only two of us, when really you needed four or five for a job like this.
    It struck me as we crawled towards our targets, and my heart thudded hard and fast in my ears, that this really wasn’t such a clever idea.
    But then, lo and behold, there was LeShawn and his wingman sauntering across the stretch of grass at the front of the building towards the X5 with the kind of confidence that only men with guns have. LeShawn had the holdall with the loot slung over one shoulder, and both men had their right hands in the pockets of their jackets, doubtless clutching weapons.
    LeShawn’s head turned slowly in our direction.
    ‘OK,’ said Cecil, still staring straight ahead, speaking as casually as possible. ‘I’m going to count to three, then you do it.’
    Without looking down, I removed the jacket that had been sitting on my lap, revealing a brand-new Heckler and Koch MP5 machine pistol and the type of black police cap worn by armed CO19 cops.
    One … two …
    LeShawn and his mate were only five yards away from the X5. He was still staring straight at me as he walked, but making no move for his weapon.
    Three.
    Our car was still moving as I threw open the door, lifting the MP5 and flinging on the cap, and leapt out. ‘Armed police! Get on the ground now!’ I ran towards them, MP5 pointed straight at LeShawn, who I knew was the one most likely to go for his gun. ‘Now! Now! Now!’
    This is the pivotal moment. You’ve made your move, now you’ve just got to wait that single second to see how they react. Most people are so caught out they instinctively do as they’re told, but a few are wired differently. They either bolt for it or, very occasionally, they stand and fight. And if anyone was going to stand and fight it was going to be LeShawn Lambden.
    LeShawn didn’t move. Neither did the other guy. They just stared at me, calling my bluff.
    I kept coming, yelling at them to get down, pulling the cap down, trying to obscure my face, knowing that if I fired I’d ruin everything, and if I didn’t fire I’d ruin everything as well. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the X5 driver try to reverse the car, then heard Cecil’s barked commands followed by an explosion of gunfire from his MP5 as he blew out the car’s front tyres and one of its headlights.
    The sound of automatic gunfire’s a hell of a lot louder than most people expect, and if you’re on a narrow street without ear protectors on, you jump when you hear it.
    I took another step forward, my finger tensing on the trigger. ‘On your knees now, both of you, or I’ll blow your fucking heads off!’ I didn’t bother shouting ‘armed police’ again since it was abundantly clear now that we weren’t. If anything, though, this did a better job of securing their cooperation, because they both finally did what they were told.
    LeShawn stared me down, a look of simmering anger in his coal-black eyes. ‘You don’t know who the fuck you’re dealing with here,’ he spat.
    ‘Yeah, I do. An idiot who gets caught with his pants down because he’s too cocky. Now remove your