by GB Williams
‘Yeah,’ Piper grumbled, ‘she did that all on her own.’
‘Politics, Piper,’ Broughton growled at his side. ‘It’s not your head they’ll want on the chopping block if this goes wrong.’
‘No, but you’ll want my balls, and it’s not her head that’s got a gun pointed at it right now either.’
The deep rumble from Broughton’s throat was some sort of agreement. ‘What’s the uncertainty about Ari’s identity?’
‘We haven’t seen her.’
‘But everything else suggests it’s her.’
‘Yes sir.’
‘How’s she holding up?’
Piper considered. ‘Better than most. We think she’s been injured, but we can’t be sure.’
Broughton frowned at him. ‘Hickson said she’d been kicked, so why can’t we be sure?’
‘Hickson said she was kicked before he was released, but she might have been hurt again after. The video feed isn’t clear, poor lighting and the window frosting on the bank are making it difficult to tell. However, the sound feed strongly suggests a second attack.’ Piper looked around. Siddig was talking into her radio mike, turning to frown at Piper as she did so. When she signed off, she headed towards him. ‘Something wrong, Siddig?’
‘I hope not, sir,’ she answered as she stopped before him and Broughton. ‘I just got a call from a DS Unwin. He said five of five empty, he also said you’d understand.’
‘I do. Thanks.’ Piper nodded. ‘Oh, Siddig!’ He called the young woman back as she turned away. ‘Lawson tells me you were instrumental in securing use of the hairdresser’s. Well done.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Then he spoke more quietly, to ask what had been bothering him. ‘What did you say to the manager to secure her agreement?’
Her olive complexion turned slightly rosier as she glanced at Broughton. Her gaze slid momentarily away, but only momentarily. When she looked back at Piper, he wondered if she was even aware how tense she suddenly appeared. ‘I said that if she helped, I’d give her a week before I mentioned the greenhouse in the basement.’
Piper blinked, then realisation hit and his brows lifted. ‘You smelt that over the chemicals in there?’
She swallowed again and gave a slight head shake. ‘No, sir. But it’s not exactly warm right now, and I noticed all the staff were barefoot. Even my feet were warming through these soles.’
Automatically Piper glanced down at the thick soled shoes she wore. He had noticed it was warm in the shop, but he’d assumed it was just lack of wind chill. ‘Okay, one week, no notes on today. Thank you, Siddig.’
The tension washing from her, she nodded her thanks and went back to her position on the cordon.
‘That girl will go far,’ Piper commented.
‘Hmm,’ Broughton sort of agreed. ‘And talking of women who go far…’ He nodded over at Sheldrake’s approach. After a cursory greeting, Broughton invited Sheldrake to the field office. As Sheldrake was offered tea and a chair, of which she accepted only the latter, Piper noticed that the manageress was still sitting guard by the door to the back room. An Asian-looking hairdresser stood behind the manageress, tightly plaiting a cornrow. Neither woman wore a smile or anything approaching a welcoming, happy expression. It took him a moment, but he realised they were guarding the way to the basement. Apparently, they didn’t quite trust the grace they’d been offered.
He turned his attention to his superior officers. Neither of them could fairly be described as happy either.
Acknowledging him, Sheldrake spoke. ‘I suppose we have at least established open dialogue?’
‘Not exactly,’ Piper admitted.
‘Why not?’
Piper wasn’t sure how to name his reaction, but he tamped it down. Sheldrake wasn’t impressed and Piper couldn’t blame her. He hadn’t done anything impressive yet. ‘We only got the contact details just before you arrived.’
Her look was cold. ‘Then you’d best get to it, don’t you think, Chief Inspector?’
Piper’s spine stiffened. ‘Yes, ma’am.’ The urge to goose-step away was quite strong but he resisted.
10
Strictly speaking, Teddington no longer needed to lean on Carlisle.
The initial pain had passed, and the lingering pull when she shifted, breathed or otherwise moved had calmed to a dull ache. Yet she couldn’t deny that the human contact was the most comforting thing about the situation. She hardly knew Carlisle, and they had a history of arguing—well, she had a history of wanting to slap him—but here and now none of that mattered. She knew him, and that was as close to trust as she could get in these moments. She wanted so much to ask him the million and one questions that rang through her head, but his manner of dress was clearly for hiding: he was undercover, on an operation. She knew why, and he would have much more information than she did. Right now, knowledge was power; but also right now, questions could prove deadly. So, she rested against Carlisle, aware that his hands on her deltoids weren’t for comfort, but in preparation of having to shove her out the way if he needed to move.
‘It’s your fault I’m stuck in here.’
Surprised by the complaint, Teddington looked around, saw the woman from the counter glaring at Zanti. Zanti looked up at Teddington with big brown eyes. It was an odd moment to notice how beautiful the smudged kohl eye make-up was, but Teddington acknowledged the thought that jumped momentarily into her head before it was chased away by greater urgency.
‘What was the problem with the licence?’ Teddington asked, keeping her voice low and hoping that the others would follow that lead. This brief interlude with the freedom to speak could be good for all of them. ‘Sorry, what was your name?’
‘Judith Montgomery, Judy, and they require two forms of ID.’ The woman nodded towards the bank staff. ‘One has to be a utility bill for proof of address and the other either a passport or a driver’s licence.’
‘Fairly standard,’ Teddington acknowledged.
‘Only they won’t accept my driver’s licence.’
‘It’s not a photo license,’ Zanti said.
‘So what?’
‘We need photo ID,’ Presswick stated.
‘Your literature doesn’t say that,’ Teddington pointed out, having opened a new account a few months ago for receipt of rent, and trying to ignore the odd looks from Mr Blue as they spoke. ‘The new account literature only says driver’s licence, it doesn’t specify you need the photo card section.’
‘All licences are issued with photo sections,’ Presswick said snootily.
Teddington gave him a cool look. ‘Only if they’ve been issued or renewed since 1998.’
‘Which mine hasn’t.’
‘Then it’s not legal. All licences have to be renewed every ten years.’
‘Only photo-based ones,’ Carlisle put forward, ‘and the old paper licences are still legal.’
‘Those new photo card driver’s licences are just ID cards by stealth,’ Judy complained.
There was a general murmur of agreement. Teddington noticed Mr White was glaring at them, so she shook her head towards Judy, who looked about to speak again, and hung her head. Peripheral vision was sufficient to tell Teddington the others had done the same.
Except Presswick. ‘Regardless of your personal opin—’
‘Shut up.’ The order was deceptively calm as Mr Blue pointed his gun at Presswick.
Presswick’s chest puffed up again, but at least this time he had the sense to keep his mouth shut.
Teddington kept her head low, and went back to her silent search for Mr Pink’s identity. To strip searches, she added petty crimes, vicious, and ran the combination through her memory. Ten names came to mind. Not much use really, but it filled the vital seconds until Mr Blue lowered the gun and Mr Pink started pacing again.
The phone rang again and she flinched. Teddington wasn’t sure which wanted out of her most, her heart or lungs. The number was withheld. And never had the music seemed mor
e appropriate—she was definitely on the Highway to Hell.
‘Here you go.’ She held the mobile out to Mr White.
‘You answer it.’
Swallowing hard, she drew her arm back and answered, switching it immediately to loudspeaker.
‘Hello?’
‘Hello, this is DCI Matthew Piper.’
She started at the voice and name, though why, she wasn’t sure. The Neanderthal, Mr Brown, had mentioned Piper, so it was only logical that must have been Piper who’d phoned, especially with Carlisle in the bank.
‘Who am I talking to?’
Teddington took a breath, realising that she had a very delicate line to walk here. ‘I’m one of the customers caught up in this action, officer Ariadne Teddington of Her Majesty’s Prison Service.’
There was a pause. She imagined Piper frowning.
‘Don’t worry, Chief Inspector, they already knew.’
‘Thank you, Miss, Mrs—’
‘Teddington will do.’ She appreciated the fact that Piper was effectively denying their prior acquaintance.
‘May I speak with the man in charge there?’
Teddington looked to Mr White, who simply shook his head.
‘You’re on loudspeaker, Chief Inspector, so, effectively, you are speaking to him. Mr White just shook his head in response to your request.’
‘It’s my job to resolve this situation as quickly and calmly as possible. Can you advise what Mr White requires to bring this to a successful resolution?’
A bullet to the head?
Of course, now was not the time for sarcasm. She looked to Mr White. ‘No response has been made thus far, Chief Inspector.’
‘Call me Matt.’
Teddington would rather keep with Chief Inspector, but she understood the negotiator’s need for humanisation. ‘In that case, call me Ari.’
‘Thank you, Ari,’ the voice said. ‘Is Mr White in charge?’
‘He is.’
‘Can you tell me what’s going on in there?’
Again she had to fight down the sarcasm. Again she looked at Mr White and got no response.
‘All’s calm,’ she said carefully. ‘There are nine remaining hostages, including me.’ She chose her words carefully, used a measured tone, paused between sentences and watched Mr White for any indication that she was going too far. ‘Three male, six female. Three are staff, six are customers.’ Not knowing what else to say, she stopped.
‘Can you give me names?’ The voice came back once she’d paused long enough.
Mr White shook his head.
She swallowed. ‘I’m sorry, Matt, I’m being given a negative indication. Then again, I don’t know most of them anyway.’
‘Can you confirm that you are all well?’
‘We’re fine.’ She was a long way from fine. She was in a great deal of pain. ‘If you want confirmation of what the man released would have told you, yes, one of the men, Mr Orange I think, did punch Samuel Frankford.’
Suddenly Mr Pink was there in front on her, his gun at her head. ‘How’d you know his name? I don’t know his name.’ His voice was too high and too fast. Too far from normal control. ‘How do you?’
Teddington stared up at the gun; no one else dared to move. Eventually, she took a breath, though her voice shook as she replied. ‘I—I’ve banked here for years. Until a few months ago, the bank name badges had both first and surname. Which is why I know Samuel Frankford and Mallory Presswick, but haven’t the foggiest what Zanti’s surname is. She’s newer.’
Mr White pointed his gun at her head. ‘I said,’ his voice was low and she wasn’t sure that it would carry to the phone, ‘no names.’
She switched from looking at Mr Pink to looking at Mr White. She took a careful breath, keeping her voice as neutral as she could. ‘The names I gave are of the staff here. The police probably already have those from the bank’s HQ. I haven’t told them anything they couldn’t have found out for themselves.’
His eyes narrowed at her, his lips straight, but his gun lowered and he stepped away.
‘What do you want?’ she asked again.
‘A van.’ Mr Pink pointed through the window. ‘That van.’
‘What van?’ Teddington asked. ‘I can’t see from here.’
‘It’s a white Transit type,’ Mr Brown said, looking through the door.
Teddington looked up, Mr Brown looked back. He was rather expressionless, yet his eyes looked questioning. Which made Teddington question. ‘Is it inside the police cordon?’
‘So what?’ Mr Pink snarled back.
‘So, when did it get there?’ Mr White was almost whispering.
Mr Pink shrugged. ‘I think it pulled up a few minutes ago.’
‘Then you won’t get that van,’ Teddington said.
‘Why not?’ Mr Pink demanded pointing both guns at Teddington. ‘If we want that van—’
‘You won’t get that one,’ Teddington told him flatly. ‘Inside the cordon, arrived only a few minutes ago means it’s a police vehicle. You don’t want that one, it’ll be trackable. Matt?’ This last was said louder as she picked up the phone and spoke directly too it. ‘You still there?’
‘Still here, Ari.’ His voice was steady, the kind of calm assurance that comforted her.
‘A van,’ she said. ‘They want a van. Unmarked, Transit type.’
‘I see.’
The way he said that made her wonder how much of their conversation he’d heard. Mr White was giving her orders under his breath. She had to listen closely.
‘Did you hear that, Matt?’
‘There was nothing to hear.’
Teddington took a deep audible breath and huffed it out. ‘They’re saying that the van must be unmarked and have a full tank of fuel.’
‘Okay.’
She imagined him nodding, not that that would do much good over the phone.
‘That’ll take us a little time.’
‘Of course, Matt, but please make it as little time as possible.’ She hated the nervousness that she heard in her own voice.
‘I’ll do what I can, but you know how this works. We’ll give them something if they give us something.’
Teddington looked up, Mr White just looked back. He neither said nor did anything that gave her direction.
Damn.
‘They did give you something,’ she said carefully. ‘The man that had my number.’
‘I’ll do what I can.’
‘Call back when you have news. And, Matt?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Soon. Please.’
11
Piper found his heart was thumping as he ended the call. Hearing that voice, even before she had clearly identified herself, was both a blessing and a curse. Ari would keep her head in a bad situation and that should be a calming factor; on the other hand, he knew her, and that ramped up his stress levels. Add in the Charlie factor and this could get explosive.
Which was all before he added in the Sheldrake factor. Oh God, make that ‘this could go nuclear.’
Broughton, he could handle, he could be reasoned with, but Sheldrake? Part of her election campaign had been to make it clear that no man was above the law, and the example she’d used on more than one occasion was Charlie Bell. And now he had to go and face her, with no further excuses for putting that off.
When he returned to the field office, Sheldrake and Broughton were heads together looking at Hickson’s sketch of the men who were inside the bank, which he’d managed to cobble together with his fountain pen and a roll of white paper towel from the hairdresser’s. The ink had blotted on the absorbent material, but blurred was still better than nothing. Hickson himself had gone, taken to the station for an official statement.
The senior officers turned to Piper as he entered.
‘What have you learned?’ Broughton asked.
Surprised by his lack of gruffness, Piper took a steadying breath. ‘They want an unmarked van with a full tank.’
; ‘They don’t get one,’ Sheldrake said. ‘Did you get any details on the conditions inside the bank?’
‘Not a lot, ma’am.’
Sheldrake was watching him. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’
Piper swallowed. He hadn’t considered himself that transparent. But the calm detachment of his training and experience had deserted him today. ‘Our contact, Ari, confirmed what Hickson told us, but failed to mention that she’d been hurt.’
‘How are you sure she was hurt?’
‘We have partial sight from the cameras and sound from our man inside, DS Carlisle.’
‘Are you still sure that this “Ari” isn’t working with the group?’
‘Positive. It was one of the few things that he was sure of.’
‘How?’
Time to come clean. ‘Because I know her.’
Sheldrake regarded him calmly. ‘This is the county town, so it’s not beyond believability that you’d know a victim, I suppose. Who is she?’
Piper had to lick his lips before he could reply. ‘Ariadne Teddington.’
Sheldrake frowned at the name, her lips pursed. ‘You mean the prison officer that was linked to Lucas Bell last year?’
‘He goes by his middle name of Charlie, but yes.’
Sheldrake now turned to Broughton. ‘Who exactly did you say the informant for this operation was?’
Piper turned to Broughton, whose eye line slipped momentarily and accusingly to him. But there was no getting away from it now.
‘Charlie Bell,’ Piper admitted in a low voice.
‘You trust that man?’
‘His information put us in the right place at the right time, ma’am,’ Broughton stated.
Piper felt pinned by her gaze, a moth stuck to card like a specimen. ‘I trust Charlie Bell.’
For a moment the only movement from Sheldrake was the switch of her eyes between Broughton and Piper. It was obvious that she’d been in teaching at some point. He felt as chastised as a naughty school boy. Then she pinned Broughton with a hard stare.
‘You’re sure Teddington’s not part of this?’
‘Yes ma’am.’
She turned to Piper, ‘And you?’
