Heatwave

by Jane A. Adams

  “Why would it,” Dorothy demanded.

  Harry frowned, unable to articulate his reasons.

  The others were stirring, voices and tension filtering through into even exhausted sleep.

  “What’s going on,” the brigadier demanded.

  “I’m trying to convince this young man to use his mobile phone.”

  “You kept your mobile?” Megan asked. “Oh, well done. Why didn’t you say.”

  “Because with all the coming and going I thought he should keep it quiet,” Harry told her, irritation clear in his voice.

  “And while the others were here, I think that was sensible,” Dorothy concurred. “The Parkers would have given him away in a heartbeat, but none of us will, I’m sure of that.”

  “I thought I could text Alec,” Patrick said. “What do you think, Naomi?”

  “Who’s Alec?” Tim Barron asked.

  “Apparently, he’s this young woman’s boyfriend.” Dorothy told him

  “And tell him what?” Tim Barron asked. “For that matter, we’d all like to contact family.”

  “Alec is a police officer,” Naomi said quietly.

  “Ah,” Dorothy mused. “You failed to tell me that, young man.”

  Patrick shrugged. He hadn’t been sure Naomi would want that given away. He watched anxiously as she considered. She pushed her matted curls back from her face and bit her lip. “If Alec knew more about those involved,” she said. “It might well give them the edge in negotiations.”

  “What can we tell them that the released hostages can’t?” Tim Barron asked.

  “That Naomi recognised one man,” Dorothy sounded triumphant.

  “What?” Patrick saw Tim Barron turn to stare. “You’re sure? You can identify one. Which one?”

  “The leader,” Dorothy was enjoying this.

  “You’re certain?”

  Naomi sighed heavily. “Before the accident that blinded me, I was a police officer,” she said. “You can understand I’d rather our captors didn’t know that, especially as I was involved in the arrest of the Ted Harper.”

  “Well, that puts a different complexion on things,” Brigadier Hebden said. “Look, my dear, we’ll keep your secret and yours Patrick, but if it can give the police a lead, I don’t see that we’ve any choice.”

  Naomi nodded reluctantly. “Ok, she said. Patrick, You’ve got Alec’s number programmed in.”

  Patrick nodded. His heart suddenly began to beat that little bit faster. He slid the little phone from where he’d been concealing it inside his sock and opened it up. “Can I have your jacket, dad, it chimes when I switch it on, I want to muffle the noise.”

  Harry handed the jacket over without a word and Dorothy immediately managed to conjure up a coughing fit. Even so, the tinny, happy, chime that sounded as Patrick powered up the phone seemed terribly large in the enclosed space. They held their breath and then Patrick began to key in his text.

  “Naomi says the main man Ted Harper. All ok, don’t call back.”

  Patrick pressed send then switched off and tucked it firmly back inside his sock. He was only just in time the storeroom door opened and Ted Harper himself appeared in the doorway.

  “You lot shut your mouths or I’ll shut them for you,” he announced. His gaze travelled suspiciously across their faces and came finally to rest upon Naomi’s. He frowned and in that moment, Patrick knew. He’d begun to see something there. Something familiar, and it would only be a matter of time before he remembered what it was.

  ***

  Alec’s phone bleeped at him as Patrick’s message arrived. He frowned. Who would be sending him a text?

  “What?” Mari questioned.

  “My phone.”

  “You’d better get it then.”

  Alec shrugged and tugged the phone out of his trouser pocket, making a mental note not to keep putting it there. It was ruining the lining. He flipped it open and read.” What the hell.” He stared at Mari. “It’s from Patrick.”

  “Patrick? How?”

  “I don’t know, according to the other hostages, their phones were taken away and smashed.”

  “Harry let him have his new one early,” Mari told him. “It’s a tiny little foldy thing. He must have hidden it somewhere. That is so like Patrick. Always far too impulsive.”

  “What does it say?” Simon had taken the mobile from his hand before Alec thought to stop him. “Who the hell’s Ted Harper?”

  Alec snatched it back “One word, Simon. To anyone.”

  “You think I’m stupid? But who is Ted Harper anyway.”

  Alec shook his head. “I don’t know,” he told them. “Look, Mari, I’ve got to go. You know how to reach me.”

  Mari nodded. “Just you take care,” she said. “ Now go. Find out who this bastard is that’s got our family.”

  Our family, Alec thought as he headed for the door. Yes, he rather supposed it was.

  CHAPTER 16

  Alec returned to the incident room. It was past two in the morning and they were running on a skeleton crew. The negotiators had gone to sleep in the back room, the kids room, Alec guessed from the jumble of toys and the bright pictures on the walls. Alec made a mental note that he must see the residents in the morning. They’d been put up in a local hotel while their house had been requisitioned. He must check that they had everything they needed. The living room, which they were using as their main control centre, was draped with sleeping bodies. Collapsed constables snoring in chairs or occupying the sofa. One asleep on the floor, his legs beneath the coffee table.

  Hemmings sat at the table at the other end of the room eating what smelt like Chinese takeaway. Alec wondered where he’d managed to get that this time of the morning and if there was any left. Then he frowned in puzzlement, noting the identity of the second person at the table.

  “Mr Machin? What are you doing here?”

  Brian Machin held out a hand and shook Alec’s. “I got the liaison officer to bring me back,” he said. “Audrey and I put a sketch together of the one who showed his face. Audrey is a very skilful artist. She does portraits of people’s kids from photos and such. We thought it might be helpful.”

  Alec looked at the picture lying on the table. “Is it a good likeness?” he asked.

  “I would say so, yes.”

  Hemmings had seen him looking at the food. He produced a plate from the sideboard cupboard and began to scoop noodles and chicken with cashew nuts onto it. “Eat,” he said. “I’ve got someone making fresh tea, that is, if he’s not fallen asleep on the way. You pass any unconscious constables on the stairs?

  “Not on the stairs, no,” Alec told him. He was ravenous, he realised as he started to shovel food. “How is Mrs Shields,” he managed between mouthfuls.

  “Oh, much better. She’ll be kept in tonight and maybe tomorrow, but she’s already chafing about going home. She’s tough, thankfully, though there were moments when I thought…”

  “I’m sure. Have you seen your daughter?”

  “Yes. She was at the hospital. Emma was a bit cross that I wanted to come back here instead of going home, but she understood in the end.” He smiled. “She’s like her mother, likes to make a fuss.”

  Alec didn’t feel able to comment on that. Instead, he found his mobile phone and called up the message, handed it to Hemmings. “Did Naomi Blake say anything about recognising one of the men?” he asked

  “Naomi? The blind lady? Not to me, but,” he frowned, “I got the impression she was uneasy about something,” he laughed, “I mean over and above the obvious, and the boy, Patrick, I’m sure he’d managed to keep his phone. I was just praying he wouldn’t let the Parker’s see. It was crowded in that storeroom. Hard to keep things hidden. I noticed she talked to Harry when the rest of us where making noise, as though she wanted advice but didn’t want the rest of us to hear.”

  Alec nodded. Far as it went this was mere speculation, on Brian Machin’s part, but his was the kind of job that encouraged you to t
ake notice of people and Alec was prepared to accept that he was a better than casual observer.

  “Patrick kept his phone,” he confirmed, “but, Mr Machin, I don’t want that to go any further than this room.”

  Brian Machin frowned, “Of course not,” he said, then nodded towards Alec’s mobile. “He got a message out?”

  “Yes,” Alec said, but gave no further details. “What were your impressions of the four men.”

  Brian Machin had obviously been giving this a lot of thought. “The leader seemed unstable. Unpredictable. Constantly angry, even when we were all doing as we were told. Then there was a much younger man. At least, that was the impression I got. I didn’t see his face. He seemed nervous. Overawed by everything. I got the feeling he was almost as scared as we were.”

  “And the other two?”

  “One, I can’t tell you much about. I think he was in my office watching the back, not that he’d have seen very much. You get a nice view of the dustbins if the blinds are open and a brick wall with a row of rather decorative ironwork on top. I think it must predate the bank because it runs along the back of the building next door as well. He had dark skin, from what we saw of his hands and legs.”

  “Legs?”

  “He wore shorts. Red. They stopped at the knees and his calves were bare. Asian, I’d have said, unlike the other man who was definitely black.” He indicated the drawing. “He brought us water, made sure we have opportunity to go to the lavatory and, I think he was probably responsible for getting some of us released.”

  “And his relationship with the main man?”

  “I got the impression that he was the only one of the three the older man took any notice of. The others were….make-weights, I guess you might say. He was a calming influence, but I wouldn’t like to guess how long he might be able to maintain that calm. When they let us go, he was the one organising it, but the other man, you could almost hear him grinding his teeth.”

  “Would you say there was general friction within the group?” Hemmings questioned.

  “Yes, I’d say so. They weren’t prepared for what happened, I don’t think they’d even considered it as a possibility and suddenly things went very much astray.”

  Brian Machin was obviously tiring now, his reserves of adrenaline finally letting him down. Alec suggested they arrange a lift home. When he’d gone Hemmings picked up Alec’s mobile and read the message once again. “Tell me about this Patrick.”

  “Hard to know where to start. He’s almost sixteen. Shy, doesn’t make friends easily, but he’s intensely loyal to those he cares about. I cause him a few worries.”

  “Oh, how’s that?”

  “I’m in the way,” Alec smiled. “Patrick and I get on very well, but his dad, Harry, fancies Naomi as much as I do. I was there first and I think Patrick often wishes I wasn’t. He’s a sensible kid, but a bit impulsive. I’m not surprised he managed to hang on to his phone. I’m more surprised that Harry let him use it. That concerns me.”

  “Any idea who this Ted Harper is?”

  Alec shook his head. “But the fact that they’ve told us, means they think we should be able to find out easily enough. If Naomi recognised him, it’s likely someone she ran across at work.”

  “Someone she arrested?”

  “Maybe, or was involved in investigating.”

  Hemmings thought about it. “No one on any of our lists by that name,” he said, referring to the checks they’d made on criminals whose M.O fitted with these robberies.

  “So, someone from some time ago,” Alec concluded. “Andrews is our man here, memory like an elephant. I’ll have him consult with the collator first thing and get someone down to records.”

  “We should have had Sam and Sarah sitting in on our talk with Brian Machin,” Hemmings said.

  Alec shook his head. “They need some rest,” he said. “We can bring them up to speed.” He yawned and buried his face in his hands. “Those other statements come in?”

  “You should get some sleep too.”

  “Later. Mind’s going nineteen to the dozen”

  Hemmings nodded. He reached across the table and dragged a manila folder into the middle, pushing the remnants of their meal to one side. “Help yourself,” he said. “My betting is the only useful statement to come out will be Machin’s.”

  Alec woke to find the room stirring around him and hazy dawn faltering through the open curtains. He glanced at his watch. Five thirty. He couldn’t recall having fallen asleep. One of the witness statements lay crumpled beneath his hand and he was embarrassed to find that he’d dribbled on another while he slept. Across the table, Hemmings slumbered in a similar undignified, exhausted state. Alec left him where he was and went off to find somewhere to wash his face. He’d have to get home at some point to find a clean shirt; his stank of sweat and stale food. He found the bathroom, bathed his face with cold water and found a spray antiperspirant on the shelf. After a moment’s hesitation, he borrowed a couple of squirts, spraying it up under his shirt, not sure whether it improved the situation or merely added to the discordant cacophony of smells. He thought of Naomi, again. She hated to be without her shower and her clean clothes and it would be driving Harry mad. Harry being Mr Neat. Patrick, well, apart from the fact that Patrick usually smelt ok –if you ignored the feet- it was hard to tell how often he changed his clothes. They were almost always black, though Alec had noticed that the long sleeved t shirts he favoured did have slightly different logos. Patrick had grown rapidly over the past few months. Now, just taller than Naomi he had about him that gangly, untidy look that teenage boys seem to catch once they start with the growth spurt. He was still small for his age though and stick thin despite the fact that he was always eating.

  Alec looked at himself in the mirror. He looked old and grey, his skin ageing over-night and gaining lines around his eyes that he was sure had been absent before.

  “Gov. your phone,” someone was banging on the door. Alec opened it. The officer held his mobile out to him and Alec remembered that he’d left it on the table. “I answered it,” the officer told him. “Someone called Simon.”

  Alec thanked him. “What?” he said.

  “I know who he is.”

  “Who?”

  “Don’t be thick, Alec. Ted Harper. I went to the morgue last night.”

  “Morgue?” Alec wasn’t with it yet.

  “Newspaper archive. Wake up Alec! The night porter knows I research out of hours so he let me in. I’ve been at it since I left you, but I found him. Ted Harper was arrested thirteen years ago come November, armed robbery and assault. The last assault was on his wife. He was convinced she’d grassed him up. Naomi was one of the arresting officers. She gave evidence at his trial.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Day two, eight in the morning, though no one had any way of knowing that, their watches also having been confiscated by Ted Harper. Patrick had suggested turning on his phone both to see what the time was and in case Alec had responded to his message. Harry had vetoed it, saying that use of the phone should be kept to the absolute minimum and Naomi reminded him that he’d told Alec not to respond. She thought that Alec would be likely to take that instruction seriously.

  Breakfast arrived and Danny brought it in. The younger man, still masked in their presence, stood guard at the door.

  “You want to wash up and such before you eat?” Danny asked.

  Wash up, Naomi thought. She’d noticed odd Americanism slipping into the man’s speech before, but it could mean nothing. Maybe he just watched a lot of films.

  “I think that would be a very good idea,” Dorothy approved. “I dread to think what I look like.”

  Naomi couldn’t help but smile.

  “You look fine,” the man’s voice, soft as though he didn’t want to be overheard. “Fine, Naomi noted. The Emmetts said ‘fine’ in that same approving way that meant more than just ok. She shrugged and shook herself to get the tension from her shoulders, wondering if she was
making far too much of someone’s linguistic peculiarities.

  The men in the group were escorted in twos and the three women allowed to go together, something Naomi was grateful for. She used the toilet and then opened the door, and took a few hesitant steps towards the line of basins. She was becoming familiar with the layout now, but it was still disconcerting, finding her way around a new environment, especially without Napoleon to guide her so carefully around the obstacles.

  “It’s bright sunlight again,” Megan commented, taking Naomi’s hand and guiding her the rest of the way. “I am so sick of seeing just four walls. Now I understand what they mean by cabin fever.” She hesitated and then added. “No offence, I mean…”

  Naomi laughed. “I don’t feel any less hemmed in just because I can’t see the walls doing the hemming,” she said. “And it’s lovely to feel the sunlight and actually, it’s bright enough for me to get just a glimmer of red.”

  “Really? I didn’t know that.”

  Naomi felt she would have asked more, but Dorothy breezed over and began to run the tap. “Lord, but I look dreadful,” she announced loudly, then added in a whisper. “The catch is broken in that last window, did you know that?”

  “No,” Megan told her. “But it’s tiny, anyway.”

  “The boy could get through,” Dorothy informed her.

  “So?” Megan queried.

  “Well he could get away.”

  Naomi washed her face, half glad she couldn’t see the way she looked. She ran damp hands through her hair in an effort to untangle it and unstick it from her scalp. “Apart from the fact that neither Harry not I would allow it, what good would it do?”

  “Well,” Dorothy sounded faintly offended. “It’s the duty of all prisoners to try to escape?”