***
Across town four police officers arrived at Ashwin Dutta’s house. Strictly speaking, it was his parents’ home, a standard semi-detached in a quiet suburb. Ash being the only unmarried child left, still lived with them.
The situation was explained to shocked parents as the officers stood around in the neat little living room. Ashwin’s mother offered tea, asking if they would prefer English or Chai, sweet and spiced, made with boiled milk. His father, solemn and anxious, showed them up to his son’s room. “Ashwin would do nothing like this,” he told the officer in charge. “Nothing like this has happened to my family.”
“I’m sorry sir. I know how distressing this must be. It would be best if you waited downstairs. Perhaps there’s someone you could call, to come and sit with you.”
Rikesh Dutta nodded his head. “I will call my other sons,” he said. “But I know you’re wrong. My son would never do what you say. He is a dreamer, he spends his spare time watching films.” He gestured, indicating walls that were covered with framed film posters and shelved stacked with videos and DVDs.
“No one ever wants to believe the worst of their children,” the officer told him as gently as he could. “If you’d please go downstairs, I’m sure your wife needs you.”
The older man turned, shaking his head as disbelief. The officer closed the door and he and his men began to take Ashwin’s room apart.
***
A second team had been dispatched to Danny Mayo’s home but here there was no one to let them in. His flat was on the first floor of a purpose built block, housing association owned and with a caretaker on call but not present. It would take a while for the keyholder to be called and to arrive and the four man team chose not to wait. Neighbours emerged on hearing the noise of splintering wood and watched in disbelief as four armed policemen broke into the home of a man they’d thought of as a friend.
“What’s going on?”
“If you’d go back inside, madam.”
“That’s Danny’s flat. Is he in there? Do the association know?”
“If you’d knocked on my door, I’ve got a bloody spare key,” a second woman said. “Danny is forever locking himself out.”
The officer had the grace to look slightly put out by that piece of information, but his professional face was soon back. “If you’d go inside please, there’s nothing to see.”
“Right,” she said. “Like this is nothing.”
Danny Mayo’s flat didn’t have a lot inside. Furniture was sparse to the point of being Spartan. Two armchairs, a small table and a dining chair in the living room. A few flat pack shelves stacked high with books and topped with potted plants. His bedroom held a single bed and a canvas wardrobe. Three storage boxes pushed beneath the bed.
In the kitchen the fridge was empty of all except a pint of milk and a dozen eggs and cupboards held the minimum requirements of a man living alone.
“I’ve seen more personalised hotel rooms,” someone commented.
The bathroom, equally tidy, equally bare, spotlessly clean. One toothbrush in the holder. Soap in a wire rack that had been wiped after use.
The officer in charge began to drag out the storage boxes from beneath the bed. He pulled the lid from the first and rummaged inside. “Army stuff,” he said. “Photos, documents and stuff. Bag and tag,” he ordered. He uncovered the next. “Christ! I don’t think we have to ask where the weapons came from. What’s he plan to do, start a revolution? A second officer peered over his shoulder at the three handguns lying atop of a leather case. He reached down and removed the case, opening it with care. “I suppose we ought to be thankful he didn’t take this with him,” he commented, his finger tracing the lines of telescopic sight and long muzzle of the rifle, neatly broken down and packed in a custom box. The metal gleamed with a faint sheen of oil.
***
Back in the incident room they listened as the first updates arrived. Superintendent Blick and Dick Travers had heard all options and were considering the best next move.
Nothing of significance at the Dutta house; Danny’s finds were of a different order.
“How does this change our opinion of him,” Blick asked.
Sam yawned wearily but shook his head. “I don’t think it should,” he said. “It confirms what we already know. He shows restraint and plays his cards close. If Ted Harper knew more weaponry was available, I’m guessing he would have wanted it. We don’t know how many rounds they have on them, of course, but as the team leader in charge of Danny’s place just told us, there were upward of two hundred and fifty available in various calibre’s. That’s a lot of bullets. A lot of killing power. If Danny was overtly violent, he’d have behaved differently.”
“I concur,” Sarah told them. “I think he’s just out for Danny. I’m not claiming any particular altruism on his behalf, but he’s a survivor and right now he knows his best chance of both survival and leniency is to keep the hostages alive and well cared for. I think he’s gone past thinking he can just walk away from this. He knows he faces arrest and jail, so he’s making the best of a bad job.”
“Unlike our friend Ted Harper.” Alec said heavily.
“What about this Ashwin Dutta. He has no record, no connection that we can find to any of the others. What’s the story on him?”
Hemmings shrugged. “Too early to tell. A fantasist maybe? Bored with life in suburbia? Who knows? But it’s another family torn to bits by this whole escapade.”
“This still doesn’t bring us closer to a decision,” Alec pressed.
“We wait.” Blick decided. “We give them peace tonight and see what the morning brings. You’re on the ground, Alec. If you think the situation warrants incursion, you’ve got my backing. Get a strategy in place with, Sergeant Priestly, the armed response ARV commander.” He sighed. “Alec, I’m still not happy about you even being here, I’ve agreed with DCI Travers decision about you remaining, but …”
“I know, sir. If I’m found wanting…”
Blick nodded. He rose to go, Travers following him. “Tomorrow will be judgement day, whatever happens” he promised. “Beyond the humanitarian concerns, there are budgetary constraints to consider. An operation of this size on the top of two major incidents in the past twelve months. Well, it’s not what we need. Indeed, it’s not what we can cope with.”
Alec, wisely, said nothing.
***
Night became early morning. Darkness settling on a scene of quiet. The cordons were still manned, by journalists and news-crews and by police. By now they’d formed a comfortable, comradely association. Bored, but unable to leave ‘just in case’, they were doing what they could to amuse themselves. Several poker games had started with the betting getting heavy. A book was being kept on just how many hours the siege would last and a second on which rifle officer would have to fire first. Another, more macabre perhaps, on how many months suspension he’d serve before internal inquiries cleared him to return to work – standard procedure if someone was shot and killed. The tacit assumption was that this would not end without the letting of blood.
Alec watched from the window as the street settled for the night. Lights burned in the bank, hazily visible through the frosted glass, suddenly brighter where the pane had been broken. Occasionally in the daytime, he’d noted a shadow crossing the glass as though someone stood and watched from inside, but at night, with the light behind him and therefore an easy target, whoever it was kept clear of the line of fire.
“Tomorrow is judgement day,” Alec remembered what Blick had said. He closed his eyes, almost dead on his feet, then slumped into the nearest chair, exhausted beyond thought, even beyond fear. Alec slept.
CHAPTER 25
Alec woke and realised with shock that it was eight o clock. He’d slept for five straight hours. Sam was at the table, eating breakfast and reading through the updated reports from the raids the night before. He bore the wrinkled look of someone who’d slept in most of his clothes and the grey skin of
someone who’d gone beyond tired. Sarah wandered in, rubbing her eyes, but still managing to look as though she’d slept well and for an adequate time. The denim skirt was crumpled and today it was teamed with a pale blue top decorated with sprigs of flowers.
“Where’s Hemmings?”
“Bathroom,” Sarah told him. “Someone’s left clean clothes for you. They’re downstairs next to the shower room. Someone called Mari, I think.”
“Mari was here?”
“Yeah, arrived an hour or so ago. Just handed your clothes over and told the officer on watch not to disturb you. Oh and she’s staying with the Emmett’s, apparently.”
“Good,” Alec approved. “Mari is Harry’s mother, Patrick’s grandmother.”
“She has a key to your place? Real family affair this is.” She studied him for a moment. “How are you holding up?”
“He nodded. “Fine. I’m fine.” He didn’t bother to explain that Mari didn’t have a key to his house; she just knew where he hid the spare. He didn’t think Sarah would approve of his lack of security. He showered quickly and dressed in clean clothes, bundling the ones he’d been wearing for the past two days into a carrier bag before dumping them back into the holdall. He was glad Mari had gone to the Emmett’s. Simon’s parents were two of the most sensible and comforting people Alec knew. They possessed that rare quality of knowing when not to talk but just to be there and Alec had past reason to know how rare and valuable that was. He must call Mari and thank her later, he thought. He didn’t think he could face it just yet though, any more than she had been able to face him. There was too much at stake and the unspoken sympathy, Alec knew, would be enough to have him break down.
He found Hemmings at the table when he arrived back upstairs. He pushed buttered toast and a mug of tea in Alec’s direction. He’d managed to change his shirt and wash, but he had almost three days growth of beard blackening his chin. Alec rubbed his own ruefully. He hadn’t thought about shaving. Perhaps he should.
Sam grinned and patted his own beardless face. “Sometimes comes in handy,” he said. “I still don’t need to shave more than twice a week and I only do that to make me feel more manly.”
Alec laughed and then sipped his tea. He couldn’t face the toast. “So, he said. What does this new day bring?”
“Well, we had breakfast sent in an hour ago. All seems quiet. We thought we’d wait until you were here before Sarah tried to talk to them again.”
“I’d hoped that Danny might get back to us,” Sarah sounded anxious. “We have to assume that the level of tension is still very high but just hope that a quiet night will have brought it down enough for them to listen. Personally, I think we’re getting close to crisis point. Harper is unstable; the son is probably not an influence. Ashwin Dutta is an unknown quantity, but, judging from his background, I can’t see Ted Harper taking a fat lot of notice. He’s an amateur. Lord knows how he got involved, or why, but I don’t factor him in. Not where Harper’s concerned.”
“And Danny can’t keep the lid on forever,” Sam agreed. “We’ve already had some discussion with the ARV commander, I think we need to firm those plans up and, frankly, expect to have to implement them before the end of the day.”
Alec listened and then nodded. It made sense and, much as he regretted it, he had to agree that their reading of the situation was probably accurate. “Get Bill Priestly up here,” he said. “Get the contingency plans finalised this morning and everyone in place. Sarah, get on the phone and hope Harper’s in a better mood.”
***
Inside the bank, breakfast was over and Danny, with Allan also on escort, had taken the hostages to the toilet. Danny had not spoken to anyone and a depression seemed to have settled overnight that kept the hostages from trying to start a conversation.
The phone rang just as Danny was about to lock the door. He turned, cursing beneath his breath. He’d left the phone on the table in the middle of the room and Ted Harper got to it first.
The silence was so profound that Sarah’s voice could just be heard.
“Good morning, Mr Harper. Did you sleep well? I thought you’d like to know that Mr Steve McGuire was arrested last night. He’s been very helpful. Mr Harper? Can you hear me, Mr Harper? Just give it up and come on out, leave your weapons inside the bank and come out through the front door. No one will fire; no one will be hurt. If you give yourselves up, Mr Harper, it will look much better in court. We can’t believe that you want this to continue any more than we…”
“Look ,you. Sarah or whatever your frigging name is. We’ll come out when I’m good and ready and not before. We’ll come out when you agree to our demands. An hour, I gave you yesterday, and I decided to let it run much longer than that. But I’m done with messing about and I’m done with you taking me for a frigging fool.” He strode across to where Danny stood and pushed him aside.
“Hey, Ted, what?”
Ted ignored him. Instead, he grabbed Naomi by the hair and dragged her from the storeroom, put the phone to her ear. “Talk to the lady,” he demanded. “Tell them who you are.”
Naomi shook her head. Ted yanked hard on her hair and she yelped with pain. “I’ll tell you who she is,” Ted shouted into the phone. “That’s your Naomi Blake. Your ex- policewoman Naomi Blake and I’ll tell you something else for free. You either have that vehicle here within the hour and a plane to fly us out of this dump of a country or she dies. You got that? And don’t kid yourselves that I’m not capable. He released his grip on Naomi, then backhanded her with the fist that held the phone. Unable to see it coming, she took the full force of the blow on the side of her head. She cried out in pain and slumped to the floor.
“Nomi” Patrick yelled. He lunged past Danny and ran to his friend, totally ignoring the fact that Ted Harper had now retrieved his gun from the far table.
“You bastard, you leave her alone.” Patrick stood guard, his wiry body shaking with fury.
“Or you’ll do what,” Ted Harper sneered. “You think you can stop me, Kid?”
“Ted, don’t!” Danny had moved forward to intervene and Harry shot past him going to his son’s aid.
“Hell you playing at?” Danny threw himself at Harry’s legs just as Ted fired. Harry went down. The bullet hit the wall at the level of his head.
Patrick was truly incensed now. Placid and quiet in the general run of things, this overt threat to both his father and Naomi had snapped him and released all usual control. He launched himself at Ted Harper as he raised his gun again.
Allan Harper watched, slack jawed. “Shoot the bloody kid,” Ted Harper ordered him and Allan fired. The shot went wide, coming closer to hitting his father than Patrick. Harry struggled with Danny, desperation giving him a strength he didn’t know he had.
“For God’s sake,” Danny whispered urgently. “Stay down. He’ll kill him if you don’t let me help.”
Patrick was no match for Harper. The big man had grabbed him and now held him with one hand as Patrick struggled. He lifted him bodily from the floor and struck the gun beneath his chin.
“Ted! No!”
Why the hell not? Give me one good reason?”
Patrick kicked out, his boots were in the storeroom and his feet bare but for black socks. He made contact with Ted Harper’s shin and Harper laughed at the futility of his efforts.
“Someone, help him!” Naomi shouted. She didn’t know what was happening; only that Patrick was in trouble.
Patrick kicked again, higher this time, his flailing heel making contact with something soft. Ted Harper grunted, his grip loosened just for a second and Patrick struggled free. As he landed, something blue and chrome and small also hit the floor.
Ted Harper stared at it. If he’d been angry before then that was nothing to now. He bent down and picked up Patrick’s little phone. “I thought you searched them?” His fury now directed at both Allan and Danny.
“We did,” Allan objected.
Harper swung the gun again, this time aimed dire
ctly at Patrick’s head. The boy began to back away, hands outstretched as though pleading with Ted Harper not to.
Naomi heard someone cry out in fear. She heard a shuffling of feet and then the shot. “Patrick. No!” Naomi screamed.
***
Inside the incident room, time seemed frozen. They had heard the shouting, then what sounded like a shot, then the phone had gone dead. The ARV commander, Bill Priestly, was speaking into his radio. “Confirm. Was that a shot? Confirm.”
He nodded at Alec.
“We should go in now,” Hemmings told Alec urgently.
“What if…” Alec seemed unable to respond. “
“Alec!”
“Yes. You’re right. Get your men in position. I don’t see what choice we have.”
The commander nodded and spoke rapidly into his radio. Alec stared at him as though he spoke in a foreign tongue.
***
“Patrick!” Naomi screamed.
“Patrick run” Megan shouted. “Remember the key!”
“Patrick?” Naomi heard running feet, the slamming of a door and the sound of something heavy being dragged across a floor.
Someone took her arm. It was the Brigadier.
“Get back,” Allan’s voice, quavering and unsure. “I said get back in there.”
“Can you get up?” Peter Hebden asked her.
“Yes. What’s happening?”
He helped her to her feet and guided her towards the others. She could hear sounds of a struggle off to her left and Ted Harper shouting. Then a grunt and a thud. A momentary lull into which broke the sound of a man groaning in pain.
“You! Keep that gun pointed at them. Anyone so much as moves, you shoot.”
“Patrick? Harry?”
“Patrick’s in the manager’s office,” someone said. “Harry and Danny attacked Ted Harper.” Naomi realised it was Megan speaking. She sounded scared and impressed in about equal measure. “He shot Danny and he’s hit your friend.”
“I’ve got to go to him.”
“You’ve got to stay put,” the Brigadier told her. “We’ve got a very scared looking boy holding a gun on us. I think we’d better do exactly as he says.
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