who was armed, covered the car park at the rear of the block of flats while other officers went to the front door. ‘Everyone,’ admitted Baldry, ‘was a bit twitchy at the time,’ which probably explained why a furtive gluesniffer in the car park suddenly found the business end of a Smith & Wesson Model 10 revolver shoved up his left nostril.
A confidential wanted poster (For Police Eyes Only) for Martin was quickly assembled. Headed ‘THIS MAN IS VERY DANGEROUS’, it featured two photographs of the subject, one in drag, the other not. ‘BE ON YOUR GUARD’, the officers were warned. ‘HE WILL NOT HESITATE TO SHOOT’ and since five of the handguns from the gunsmiths burglary were still unaccounted for, this was a chilling warning. Lastly, ‘DO NOT TAKE ANY CHANCES’ and this too was prescient advice; it would be a reckless officer who did.
The Chelsea Kitchen restaurant is now situated in the Fulham Road, but at the time of the hunt for Martin, it was sited at the ‘smart’ end of the King’s Road, near Sloane Square. Clive Cox was then a detective constable at Chelsea police station and he received a call from the restaurant to say that Martin was in the premises. He had been recognised by the manager since he had been a regular customer. Cox and other officers were detailed to go to the restaurant and, if necessary, follow Martin until the ‘D’ Division officers could arrive. Martin emerged from the restaurant; he was followed by a waitress who shook a napkin in his direction to identify him to the police. Martin later told Stephens that he had seen this rather overt signal, plus he was relying on his anti-surveillance instincts so he walked slowly along King’s Road, using the shop windows as mirrors and with his hands in his pockets he walked across the road, saw Cox and instantly identified him as being a police officer. There was no sign of the other officers so, as Cox told me, ‘At this point I thought I would try to follow him.’
Martin walked into Cheltenham Terrace, a one-way street next to the Duke of York’s Territorial Army base headquarters and got into a dark saloon car, correctly parked, facing the King’s Road. But then he turned the car around, driving off against the oncoming traffic; Cox flagged down an area car but it was too late. ‘I knew he was dangerous,’ Cox said. ‘He kept two guns, one to hand over, the other to shoot you with.’
Therefore it was decided to keep up observation, and follow Martin’s girlfriend. On New Year’s Eve, following her return from her parents’ home, Superintendent Ness and DS Martin had interviewed Stephens and left her in no doubt that in the event of David Martin contacting her, she should inform them immediately.
According to Stephens, during a three-hour interview she was told, ‘You know that if we see him, we’re going to have to kill him? This time there can’t be any mistakes.’ Was that really said? And if it was, was it done, not as a threat of future intentions but to promote a positive, helpful reaction?
What I do know is that I used a ploy, similar to the one allegedly suggested to Stephens, when I was looking for a south London tearaway who had escaped from prison and was allegedly in possession of a firearm with which, he had supposedly stated, he would use on any police officer impertinent enough to try to arrest him. I spent the best part of a week fruitlessly searching for him while spending fairly substantial amounts of the commissioner’s budget for information, which prompted the detective inspector to scrawl caustically across the ‘expenses’ section of my CID diary, ‘Try nicking your informant!’ Eventually, I confronted the escapee’s brother – not the sharpest knife in the drawer – and made a suggestion which caused a look of near-imbecile consternation to appear on his acne-marked face. ‘Wot?’ he gasped. ‘Yew expect me to stick up me own bwuvver?’
‘Look at it this way,’ I said
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