“No, he’s most definitely not. But don’t fret, if he’d been after you I think you’d have had a visit by now, he’s been out near on eighteen months.”
Nan Harper started at him. “The probation service was supposed to let me know,” she said. “They gave their word they’d tell victim support.” She lifted a shaking finger to touch her face. “He damn near killed me…if it hadn’t been for that girl.”
“I know,” Simon told her. “I found the old reports in the papers.”
She was puzzled. “What the hell made you look for them? You’d have been a kid at school when Ted Harper made the news. “ She frowned, peering more closely at him. “Who are you, anyway?”
Simon had thought of many excuses to give Nan Harper – a long dead relative; a survey from the British Crime Institute, a double glazing salesman with a distinct absence of samples and an odd curiosity concerning the wives of armed robbers. He’d finally settled on the truth, or something close to it. “I’m a journalist,” he said. He found that the word journalist had more kudos than reporter did. The likes of Kate Adie and John Snow were journalists. Reporters were, somehow, a cheaper lot. “I’m doing a series of articles on the rehabilitation of criminals, particularly those involved in violent crime. I’m interested in the victims’ point of view as well. Do you believe that rehabilitation can ever work. What you would want to say to the…”
“What would I want to say to Ted Harper? You wouldn’t be able to print it. I live with what he did to me and I wake up at night scared to death in case he comes back.” She was retreating again, about to close the door. Simon thought about putting his foot in the way, but he’d done that once before and ended up with a broken toe. Instead he used a more metaphorical wedge.
“What effect did it have on your son, Ted going to prison. Did he know what his father had done to you.”
Nan Harper recoiled as though he’d slapped her.
“Allan was like his dad,” she said bitterly. “Never thought. Just did what he wanted. I couldn’t cope with him before his dad went and after, afterward he were even worse. His gran took him for a while, then my sister. I was in and out of hospital. Neither of them could understand him or control him. He ran wild, didn’t want to talk, didn’t play like other kids. He just went quiet and withdrew like no one in the world was worth talking to.”
“The night Ted assaulted you for the last time, was Allan there. Did he see?”
Her expression was contemptuous. “You’re all alike,” she said. “Talking about Allan like he were the victim. Yes, he saw. He saw what his dad did to me time and time again and you know what he said? Dad didn’t mean it. Dad told me he didn’t mean it. Don’t make him go away. Ted trained him like that. Trained him to take his side. Well, I couldn’t cope with him anymore, no more than I could cope with his dad. He got taken into care when he was nine and I signed the papers. Maybe I was an unfit mother, I don’t know, but he was sure as hell an unfit son.”
Her gaze flickered past him and Simon turned. A police car had parked a little way down the street and two uniformed officers approached. They were staring at Simon and Nan Harper.
“What the hell do they want?”
“Probably, to ask if you’ve seen Ted,” Simon told her. “Thanks, Mrs Harper, you’ve been very helpful.
Nan Harper looked from him to the officers and them stepped back and shut the door.
“Doing a survey,” Simon said to the approaching officers. “I don’t think she’s buying today.”
He decided not to push his luck any further and was glad that he hadn’t given his name. Word would get back to Alec, he supposed and Alec would put two and two together. Afro Caribbean men asking difficult questions about a certain armed robber were likely to be thin on the ground.
He sobered, thinking about Naomi and the others. They’d been good friends to him when he’d really needed them. What was happening back there?
The reports in the newspapers had made no mention of the boy, Allan. Was he still using his father’s name? People did, more often than not. Changing your identity in the normal run of things, without access to big money and false passports, could be a major pain, especially if you still lived in the same area and - he acknowledged, this might be the snob in him coming out - but he didn’t see any of the Harper clan going through the legal complications of deed pole. That seemed too sophisticated by half.
So. Back to the electoral roll? Look for Allan Harper. Or back to the cordon, see if anything had changed in his absence. He decided on the latter option, then, he’d go back to finding Allan Harper, see if he’d seen his father since his release, could guess at the names of his associates.
Unless, of course, Allan Harper knew exactly where his father was because he was with him inside the bank
CHAPTER 19
In the middle of the afternoon, Danny used the mobile again. Sam answered.
“Where’s Sarah?”
“She’s taking a break right now. “
“A break.” Danny was silent for a moment. “Nice for some. Maybe I’ll call back later.”
Sam caught the ironic note, but ignored it. “If you’d prefer that,” he said. “Or you could talk to me. Then choice is yours.”
“I wanted answers,” Danny told him. “She told you what our demands were?”
“Sarah relayed your requests, yes.”
There was another hesitation. “Well?”
“They’re being considered.”
“Considered! You’ve had long enough to consider. You’re playing games with us, man. I know it.”
“I’m not playing games,” Sam told him. “Look, I’d feel a lot more comfortable if I knew what to call you. You have a name I can use?”
“Why should I give you my name?”
“I didn’t suggest that. I said any name. Just something I can use. Make things a little more comfortable.”
“Danny. Call me Danny.” Then as though catching himself and pulling back, “ look, I don’t bloody care what makes you comfortable. I want answers and if you can’t give them to me, I want to talk to someone that can.”
“Ok, Danny, I’ll get onto it,” Sam told him. He frowned, there seemed to be some kind of altercation going on in the background and Danny could be heard remonstrating. Then a second voice came over the speakerphone.
“Enough bloody stalling. You’ll get us what we asked for and you’ll do it now. You’ve got an hour, then I start hurting people.”
“You hurt anyone,” Sam warned, “and you’ll get nothing.”
“So, no change then? That supposed to be persuasive, is it? Way I see it we hold all the cards, all seven of them. They’d be any less valuable, would they if we reduced that to six? Five maybe? Think about it, copper. An hour.”
He hung up and left Sam staring thoughtfully at the phone.
“That how you intended it to go?” Hemmings asked.
“It’s what I half expected,” Sam told him.
“Do you think he’ll carry out his threat?” Alec was anxious.
“We need to stall him,” Sarah said. “Make him think there’s some chance of him getting what he wants. That the threat is working, but also that if he carries it out, we’d act, regardless of the hostages.
“We wouldn’t though,” Alec said. “Not unless the situation got desperate. Ted Harper may not realise that, but this Danny certainly would. What are the odds on it being his real name?”
“I’d say pretty high,” was Sarah’s opinion. “There was no thinking time. He came up with the name very quickly.”
“Danny wants out of there,” Sam sounded certain. “I think Danny’s getting to the point when he doesn’t even much care about the consequences. He knows they’re in a no win situation and he’s making the best he can of it.”
“We should let them know we’re aware of Harper’s identity.“ Hemmings had put this view before. A decision had been held over.
“Maybe,” Sam was still hedging. “The wife’s sti
ll refusing to come and talk to him?”
Alec nodded. “I’ve had two teams of officers talk to her. The first lot didn’t even get a response and the second had to argue through a closed door.”
“We should have pulled your reporter friend,” Hemmings was severely narked at what he saw as Simon’s interference.
“He did nothing illegal, and probably did nothing to alter Nan Harper’s decision” Alec reminded him “and it’s highly unlikely she could have got through to Ted anyway.”
“Might have shocked him into some kind of response.”
“The wrong kind, possibly,” Sam reminded him. He’d been against Nan’s involvement, feeling she’d be the wrong kind of trigger. “Nothing on the son either?”
“He’s not at his home address. He has a record for minor offences. Nothing violent. He stole a couple of cars, was caught third time out, but the neighbours reckoned someone matching Harper senior’s description visited several times over the past few weeks, which gives us probable cause. I’ve got Dick Travers arranging a warrant.”
“You think he’s in there with his father?” Sarah asked. She shrugged, “it would fit with what we know.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me. So, we wait a while and then call back, tell them what? That we’re making progress? Think they’ll buy that? How long does it take to obtain a minibus?” Hemmings was as impatient as Harper in his own way.
“We tell them the plane will take more organising.” Alec advised. “He might not buy it, but he’ll want to. It puts the ball back in his court. He can believe we’re dancing to his tune for a while and that buys us valuable time. Then we try to get Danny back on the phone. Danny’s our fifth columnist.”
“Divide and conquer,” Hemmings said but he didn’t look happy. “It could go the other way, you know that. Nothing more dangerous than a cornered animal and if Harper decides he’s being manipulated…”
“The alternative is to do nothing,” Sam reminded him. He pushed the dull blond hair back off his face and stretched. He looked as crumpled and tired as Alec felt. Sarah, by contrast, in her short denim skirt and fuchsia top, looked cool and neat. He braided hair, caught back in a band, lay prettily around her shoulders. Some people, Alec had noticed, seem to have that knack of always looking good.
Alec thought about Naomi. She’d let her hair grow over the past months, after years of keeping it short. It curled now it was longer, slightly wiry unruly waves that resisted her efforts at control. A little imagination and he could feel it, twining about his fingers.
“Alec?”
He realised belatedly that Hemmings had been talking to him. “Sorry. What.”
“Reports just in, they’ve found the car, the Granada the thieves used yesterday. Its been burned out in a lane about a mile from Morton Park. A local farmer called the fire brigade and they called us, he was worried about his wheat catching. Reckons he saw someone running away across towards the main Pinsent road. It’s a long way to walk back to town from there, good chance someone will have picked him up.”
“Do we have the manpower for a road block?” Alec wondered.
“Is it worth it? Any car that gave him a lift would be well away by now and might have turned in any of four directions at the next crossroads.”
“No, you’re right. We get a checkpoint up tomorrow afternoon, catch any regulars that might have seen someone. Forensics?”
“Have to wait until the car cools down,” Hemmings reminded him. “But we can always hope.”
CHAPTER 20
The hour deadline passed and nothing was heard from inside the bank. At four thirty it was decided that Sarah should call them, tell them that the plane might take a bit longer to organise and see what reaction came of that. Alec handed charge to Hemmings and left them to it. They’d decided to try again with Nan Harper, now she’s had time to think about her earlier encounters with the police - not to mention reporter - that day. Alec figured she may be able to shed some light on Ted’s associates, though according to what she’d told the police officers and the information that Simon had relayed to him, she had seen nothing of Ted since his committal and didn’t even know he’d been released. Discussion with the probation service confirmed this was probably true. They’d tried to contact her to tell her Ted was out, but she was no longer at Trigo Place and had given no forwarding address. Evidently, no one had thought to use the electoral register, or to ask a neighbour where she might have gone, as Simon had done.
***
Inside the bank it had become unbearably hot. Allan had given up his watch and slumped against the wall, his legs out straight on the table top, feet pointing at opposite angles as he dozed in the heat.
Danny sat with his back to the wall, close to the main door watching Ted Harper. He had the phone to hand, intending to be the first to answer should it ring again. He worried about Ted; the man had been pacing that same path across the floor for the past hour. Danny half expected to see a track worn in the heavy-duty carpet and it was evident he had something pressing on his mind. Danny wasn’t certain what it was, but he didn’t think it had anything to do with the ultimatum. That, he was pretty certain, was Ted style bluster...though you could never be sure with Harper. Nine times out of ten he’d just make a lot of noise about something. It was that tenth time you had to watch for, preferably from a safe distance away.
He wiped a hand across a perspiring forehead and then dried the hand on damp jeans. The hostages, confined in a room with absolutely no airflow were suffering. He should take them to the toilet again soon – and add more soap and toilet paper to their demands maybe. Instinct told him that now would not be a good time. Ted’s agitated pacing described a trackway between Danny and the storeroom and Danny was not inclined to cross it just yet.
A smell hung on the still air. They’d pulled the managers door closed, but it seeped out from beneath. Danny had been in to look earlier. Body fluids stained the carpet and the face had begun to bloat, eyes sunken back into the head. Flies crawled and buzzed at the corners of the eyeballs, inside the nostrils, miring themselves in the dried blood on Ash's mouth. In his mind's eye, Danny could see the maggots that would hatch, the corpse revitalised by their creeping, writhing mass.
It had always surprised him just how swiftly decay began. That the smell of death could be there almost from the split second life departed and how fast nature set about the job of returning what was left back to the earth.
His reverie was broken by the harsh shriek of the phone. He silenced it at once, answering on the second ring, eyes fixed on Ted Harper in case he should try to take it from him again.
It was Sarah. Danny smiled. He liked her voice.
***
“We’ve been talking to our superiors, Sarah told him and they’re doing what they can to accede to your requests, but we have to have assurances about….”
“It’s all right,” Danny’s voice was soft. “He seems to have forgotten you for the moment. Look, I know the score here. You stall us hoping we’ll just give up, but I’m telling you, he won’t do it. He don’t think like the rest of us. You want to get your people out; you’ve got to help me out here. Give me something to work with.”
Sarah nodded, glancing meaningfully at Hemmings and Sam.
Like what? Sam wrote on a pad and pushed towards her.
“Like what? Sarah asked. “Tell me what you want, Danny, and I’ll do everything I can.”
Danny laughed quietly. “I’d suggest dinner in a nice restaurant,” he said, “That would help me a lot, but I don’t suppose it’s on?”
“I guess not,” Sarah confirmed. “Come on, Danny, what do we do to resolve this?”
He started to reply, then, “Hold it. Look, I’ll get right back.” He broke the connection, leaving them staring at the speaker phone.
“Try and get him back,” Hemmings demanded.
“No, wait,” Sam told her. “Let him make the call. Something must have been happening to make him ring off. We don’t want to
aggravate it.”
Hemmings was angry and disturbed. “You heard the way he sounded.”
“All the more reason why we shouldn’t add to the situation,” Sam told him firmly. Let him deal with it”
“And if he can’t?”
Sam didn’t answer.
***
Ted Harper had stopped pacing and crossed to the storeroom door. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before turning the key and flinging it wide.
“Ted, Danny shouted to him. “Ted, what’s up man?”
Allan, startled awake, scrambled up to peer out of the window, then, realising that this wasn’t the cause of the alarm, clambered down and began to cross the room in Danny’s wake.
“What’s wrong with him?”
Danny shook his head. “I don’t know. Hey, Ted, don’t get rough with the lady. Ted!”
Ted Harper had his weapon in his left hand and he raised it briefly in Danny’s direction. “You stay out of this. “
“Ted? “ Danny halted. Puzzled and scared. Until now Ted had distanced himself form the hostages. This new development was frightening. He had the blind woman, Naomi, his fingers in her hair, dragging her to her feet. He was staring hard into her face.
Satisfied that Danny had halted, Ted swung the gun back and pressed it against her head.
“What’s your name?” he demanded. “No lies. I’ll bloody know.”
“It’s Naomi, Ted. I could have told you that. You don’t need…”
“I didn’t ask you!” The weapon swung back again and Danny wondered how good a shot he was with his left. He backed off, deciding he didn’t want to be the one to find out.
“Naomi what?”
“Blake. Naomi Blake.”
All things considered, she sounded very calm and controlled, Danny thought. He wasn’t sure he’d sound that calm with a gun against his temple. He’d be wetting himself.
“What happened to your eyes?” Ted Harper growled.
Danny was startled. What kind of a question was that?
“I lost my sight in an accident.”
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