Thomas West woke with a start and reached for the pistol on the coffee table before trying to work out what had caused him to jump out of his slumber. He lay there on the sofa holding the Glock and after a pause clicked off the safety, the metalic snap of the action being the only sound he could hear in the flat and from the street outside. His eyes adjusted to the gloom lit only by the dim daylight coming through the firmly closed curtains above his head, showing everything in it's place as he had left it last night. The clock on the wall across from him read 8.20am which should have meant rush hour in this part of London, even with the trouble over the last year. Instead there was deathly silence, and after a minute with his breath half held he was halfway through putting his pistol back down and cursing himself for being so jumpy before he heard what woke him up again.
"This is the Police. Please remain in your homes and ensure your doors and windows are securely locked. Do not leave your homes for any reason." The voice said, the sound reverberating around the streets outside loud enough it could only have come from some kind of megaphone. Tom sat up and twitched the curtains open slightly to see the Police armoured Landrover Defender slowly crawl down the street with the two visible officers inside glancing around them as they made their way towards the Westminster area.
"Shit" He said aloud, rubbing his face with his left hand and stretching once before pulling off the blanket and going in search of some running water for a shave and wash. He shook his head as he made his way to the bathroom at the irony of the situation. Yesterday he was in prison with certain death ahead of him, then he was free with the wide world before him and now the police were asking everyone to stay indoors, inluding by default him. He knew the warning had nothing to do with his escape, as the Metropolitan Police's way was to do a dawn raid on whatever address the fugitive was hiding at before they even woke up. An armoured 4x4 playing a warning message through a roof mounted megaphone smelled like the worst kind of trouble. Escaping London on a coach or train was most likely out of the picture now, and he would spend his time getting washed working out what the hell to do next. This was because quite frankly he didn't have the faintest clue what that should be.