Harper got up on his feet and gestured at his son. “You, out first.”
“But, dad…” Allan peered fearfully out of the front windscreen. “What if…?”
“You see anyone out there?” Harper senior demanded. “Stay between the plane and the bus.”
“You, Naomi, Get your backside down here.”
He waited for her to conform. Alec half turned, but Harper caught the movement and swung the shotgun back his way. “Eyes front” he demanded. “Hurry it up or I’ll shoot the old woman.”
Dorothy Peel tutted beneath her breath. Alec heard. He closed his eyes and bit his tongue, trying to restrain the totally inappropriate impulse to laugh. She sounded as if she disapproved of some small social faux pas. He heard Naomi getting up and moving forward.
“What do you think you’re doing,” Ted Harper demanded.”
“I’m helping her,” Harry’s voice was firm.
“She need help to walk, does she? Sit back down.”
“It’s all right, Harry. I’ll be fine,”
Alec’s heart almost stopped at the sound of her voice. His chest felt so tight it was hard for him to breath. He heard her soft footsteps. She was barefoot, he remembered. None of the hostages had been wearing shoes.
“Now, open the door and you get out first.”
Allan pressed the button that activated the doors. There were two. One on the dash board and a second beside the doors themselves that was marked only for emergency use.
Allan stepped out cautiously, swinging his gun from side to side in some bad imitation of a soldier on patrol. Ted Harper motioned Naomi to follow, forgetting for a second that she could not see. He muttered something in exasperation and Alec said. “Take me, not her. It doesn’t have to be her.”
“No? Well copper, you’re not the one making the decisions here, are you?”
Alec noted that the pilot was now out of his plane and standing on the runway. He was watching Alec though the window. Catching Alec’s eye, he patted his side and nodded. He was armed, Alec thought. Just what they needed, another man with a gun. Alec looked past him at the thickening cloud. As Naomi emerged and came past the front of the vehicle, the rising wind whipped at her hair.
He waited until he could see Ted Harper outside, then he turned on the ignition, praying that it would catch first time.
Furious, Ted Harper stepped back, intending to return.
“Harry,” Alec shouted. “Get them out of here. Now.”
He sensed, rather than saw Harry rising from his seat. Alec threw himself out of the door and into Harper’s path. The big man shouted in rage and struck out at Alec who was clinging, terrier like to his arm.
Harry had his foot on the accelerator. He missed the struggling pair by mere inches.
“Shoot the bastard,” Harper senior yelled. Allan raised the sawn off and fired. He hit the bus, but Harry had his foot to the floor.
Then there was a second shot. It shocked them all; Alec letting go of Harper’s arm and Ted Harper stumbling back. For an instant they both stared in disbelief. Allan Harper lay stretched out on the floor. A tiny entrance wound marked the centre of his forehead. The massive exit wound had spread the contents of his skull in a widening pool upon the ground.
CHAPTER 32
“Christ, he shot him!” Simon was incredulous. “You get that,” he shouted at Bobby Rowe.
“Course I bloody did. Shit. The way he just went down.”
“Where did the shot come from? I don’t see anyone?”
The photographer turned his head just long enough to deliver of look of complete contempt. “Don’t you think that’s the whole point?” He said. “Wouldn’t be much of a sniper if you could see where he was.”
“OK, “Simon wasn’t used to this. He’d known people who were. War correspondents and photojournalists whose lives were spent avoiding being shot at, but that wasn’t him. “We stay put. We don’t try to get in any closer. “How many do you reckon there are?”
“Enough. I thought I told you two to keep moving?”
Simon swung around and groaned as he came face to face with the officer they’d met on the roadblock. He had four friends with him and they didn’t look impressed. Simon held up his hands in mock surrender. “You can’t blame us for giving it a try.”
“This isn’t a game. You get shot, we look bad and, frankly, I don’t think you’re worth any of my colleagues being suspended over. Got that?”
“Got that,” Simon agreed. But deep down he was elated. They’d seen it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see a man shot. Not really, but they had it on film. No one else would have that.
A police officer drove his car back to the gates.
“Are we under arrest?” Simon asked.
“Not up to me. My instructions are to keep you out of the way.”
He turned abruptly. There was a commotion at the gate. Simon got out of the car and watched in astonishment as the mini bus hurtled towards the cordon. His first thought was that the second gunman had somehow regained control. He’d seen the bus take off just before the younger guy was shot, but the relevance of that hadn’t registered until now and then he saw who was at the wheel.
“Harry? It’s Harry!”
Simon was jumping up and down like an excited child, all pretence at journalistic adulthood forgotten. The mini bus skidded to a halt just inside the gate, scattering officers in all directions. Armed police surrounded it, covering the door.
“Don’t be daft,” Simon shouted at them. “That’s Harry Jones. He’s a hostage. He’s Patrick’s dad.”
***
Ted Harper was the first to recover from the shock and he grabbed Naomi, wrapping his arm around her neck and pulling her backward towards him.
Alec made to move towards him but the pilot held him back.
“ Naomi!”
“Don’t be stupid. Anyone gets the chance to take a shot, they will. You could well block them.”
Alec gazed at him in horror. “They won’t shoot while she’s that close?”
“If they get a clear shot, of course they will. A good man could take him out and not touch the girl at all.”
“Stay back!” Ted Harper warned. “You want to see what she looks like with her head blasted off?”
“You kill her, you’ll have nothing to protect you,” Alec told him.
“Want to take that chance, do you?”
A crack of thunder startled them all. The rain followed fast on its heels.
“You. Fly me out of here.”
“I can’t not in this.”
Alec looked at the pilot. He had no idea if that was true or not, but he knew for sure that he had to keep Ted Harper there. That once he took off, he'd kill Naomi and he'd have himself another hostage in the form of the pilot and, frankly, Alec didn't think the fact that the pilot was armed would make much difference to that scenario. It's hard to fight a gun-battle and fly a plane.
“He’s right Ted. He can’t take off in this. If the lightning hits you’re all finished. Ted, let her go. You’re making it worse for yourself. Just let her go.”
“Oh no, I’m getting out of here. One way or another I’m getting out of here.”
He’s lost it, Alec thought. He’s completely off his head. He doesn’t know what’s real any more.
Naomi whimpered, her feet scrabbling against the ground, her fingers pulling at the arm across her throat. Ted started to back up, heading towards the tower. He turned abruptly as he went, shifting left and right, jinking like an aircraft in a dog fight.
Alec watched him in despair. The rain fell so heavily that Ted Harper and Naomi disappeared from view within ten feet, no way was anyone going to fire with that restriction on visibility. Alec could hear the pilot talking and realised he had a radio.
“The bus is at the gate, he told Alec. They’re getting ready to board it now.”
***
Naomi had warned them that if the police came into the bank, they would have to treat everyone
as suspicious until proven otherwise. It was not unknown, she said, for hostage takers to pose as hostages in order to escape.
Lie flat on the floor, she had said. Arms out to the side to show you’re not armed and identify yourselves immediately.
It was this that Harry remembered now. It wasn’t possible to lie flat on the floor, but he raised his hands and told the others to do the same. “I’m Harry Jones,” he said. “Don’t shoot. Please don’t shoot.”
Two armed officers came on board. One by one they escorted the hostages off the bus and patted them down and checked their names against a list they had. Harry saw that they also had photographs. His was an unflattering picture that he used on his work ID. “Couldn’t you have found a better picture?” he asked, then giggled like a child at his own stupidity.
He held his face up towards the sky, feeling the cold rain on his face and he laughed aloud until he cried. Someone gently wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and led him to one of the waiting cars.
“Naomi? What’s happening with Naomi?” Guilt at that brief moment of elation overwhelmed him. “Oh God. She’s still out there.”
“Drink this,” a paper cup of scalding tea was placed between his hands.
“Is everyone all right?”
“Everyone is fine.”
“And Patrick? My son. He’s all right?”
“Was your son on the bus?” Sudden concern and confusion.
“No. He got away before we left the bank. Alec told me he was alright, but I’ve heard nothing after that.”
“I’ll see what I can find out. You just sit tight.”
The man went and a few moments later the car doors opened once again. “We thought you might not want to be alone,” Dorothy told him as she clambered into the front passenger seat of the car. The brigadier got in the back beside Harry.
“They’ll be all right, you know. Your friends. We’ve all come this far,” Dorothy spoke with authority. “Providence and young men with guns will take care of that.” Then her lips trembled and she put up her hand to cover her mouth. “Oh look at me. What a fuss I’m making.”
“Not at all,” Paul Hebden told her kindly. “You’ve been wonderful. I was wondering, in fact, when this is all sorted out…maybe the cinema, or dinner somewhere?”
“That would be nice. Yes, in fact that would be more than nice.”
Harry closed his eyes and chuckled softly. “Dorothy, will you do something for me. I should myself, but I don’t think I have your style.”
“Anything. Of course.” She sniffed emphatically and wiped her eyes.
“Go and tell Tim that he must propose to Megan. “
***
Patrick had found Mari’s house, but she wasn’t there. And the neighbour who had the spare key, she wasn’t home either. Patrick didn’t know what else to do. He sat down on Mari’s doorstep and pulled Napoleon under the now soaked blanket, trying to protect them both from the freezing rain. He thought that summer rain was meant to be warm, but this must be coming off the ocean. Naomi always told him that the rain was cold when it came from out at sea. He closed his eyes, drawing up his knees and curling into a tight little ball in the corner of the doorway. Napoleon edged closer and lay his head on Patrick’s raised knees. Glad he was there when the rest of the world seemed to have abandoned him, Patrick rested his hand on the big dog’s neck. Then he fell asleep
Patrick dreamed. In his dream it was his birthday and it was early morning. He was just a little kid and his dad was carrying him on his shoulders. They were going to the park, and then into town to buy something special and then to Mari’s to have his Birthday cake. But there was something wrong with the park. It was dissolving before his eyes, melting in the sun and then sliding into the river as the rain got heavier and heavier and the river began to rise. Patrick woke up in panic to find someone bending over him. For a moment, he was back in the bank and the shadow was Ted Harper. Ted Harper with a gun.
“No!”
“It’s all right lad. No one’s going to hurt you.” The man crouched down eye level with Patrick and he saw the uniform and the sunburnt face of DC Andrews and behind him two women, one black and one white, gazing at him with a mixture of fear and relief.
“Gran? Lillian?”
Mari bent down. “What possessed you to go off like that. You’re soaked through. Oh for goodness sake.” They pulled him to his feet, pausing to fuss the dog that wriggled tail and body at them, almost beside himself with excitement.
Patrick allowed himself to be chided and loved and calmed as they led him towards the waiting car.
“Your dad and the others are all right,” Mari told him as she settled him in the back seat and helped Napoleon in beside him.
“They’re freed?”
“Yes?”
But there was something wrong. He knew there was something wrong. “And Naomi?”
Mari bit her lip. “Patrick, I’m sorry. Ted Harper still has Naomi.”
Patrick closed his eyes. There was still the rest of the nightmare to endure
CHAPTER 33
Naomi could hear Alec calling to her.
Ted Harper’s breathing sounded ragged and uneven and she could feel his heart hammering against her body. His arm around her neck forced her chin high and her head back and made it hard to breathe. She grabbed at his arm, digging her nails deep and twisting against him to try to free her airway but he seemed not to notice. Blood pounded in her ears and she was certain she’d pass out. Almost wished it. Ted Harper would then have her dead weight to contend with and he’d either have to drop or carry her; neither would be a good option for him.
A clap of thunder startled her. Ted Harper seemed oblivious to it. The lightning that followed was bright enough for her to see, triggering what little residual vision she had left. It left her feeling even more exposed and just increased her sense of panic. Up until now, she had remained in control. Most of her ordeal she’d actually coped with well, but now, she could feel herself letting go of what little control remained. She clawed harder at his arm, digging her nails into the tough, hairy, flesh until she felt the blood flow, warm against her fingers then chilled by the rain.
Her feet stubbed against the concrete bruising her toes as she fought for purchase. Much of the time, Ted carried her along, suspended by her neck and the grip she tried hard to keep on the steel of his arm.
“Armed Police. Put your weapon down!” The shout seemed muffled by the force of the rain, or was it just the surf-like pounding in her ears?
“Like hell!” Ted Harper fired the shotgun, both barrels. She felt the recoil in his body and heard herself scream. Only, she didn’t have the breath to scream. It sounded in her ears like a pathetic choking and left her more faint and breathless than before.
“Shut up bitch.” Ted Harper told her.
“Officer down,” she heard the shout. Ted Harper laughed. He threw the shotgun to the ground and for an instant as she heard its metallic clatter Naomi thought that might be it. He was now unarmed. But then he reached down to pull the pistol from his belt and fired again. She had forgotten about that or not known about it, she could no longer be sure. Harry had told her they had handguns; preoccupied with the larger weapons, she’d just not remembered it until now.
The surface beneath her feet had changed. Smoother, slippery, like polished granite or limestone. She felt the drag of his arm tighten against her neck and found herself being lifted bodily. Steps.
Trying to get her footing, she trod on Harper’s foot. He grunted and shifted her weight sideways. Naomi took that moment of opportunity. She struck backward with the heel of her hand, but he was too fast for her. He snapped at her wrist with the butt of the pistol, hitting the bone at the base of her palm. Numbness and then pain spread through her hand.
“Keep still,” he told her. “Remember, I could enjoy myself hurting you.”
They’d reached the door and Harper kicked out at it, then tried the handle. Encumbered by Naomi and the nee
d to keep his weapon free, it was no easy task.
“Naomi!” Alec calling to her again. Or was that just her imagination. The wind, channelled along the contours of the building skittered round. It blew the rain hard in her face. “Naomi. Stay calm, we’re with you.”
She heard Ted Harper swear and then he was pulling her down the steps again, moving sideways now, crab-wise as though protecting his back.
“Any closer and I’ll shoot another,” he yelled. His voice sounded small and weak against the storm.
“Just put the weapon down and let her go. You’ve nowhere to run to. Nowhere to go.”
“I told you. Keep back.”
Naomi had tried to count the steps they’d taken, but her brain wouldn’t function. He must be keeping close to the building, she guessed, because the feel of wind and rain against her face and body had changed as though they were in partial shelter. She was desperate not to let him take her inside. Alone with Ted Harper…the thought terrified her. She sensed that he’d gone beyond reasoning. Never a stable man, he seemed to have lost what residual hold he had on reality. Now, he was cornered and he was responding as a cornered animal would do. Back to the wall and snarling at the world, ready to attack and not discriminating over the size of its foe.
He was right up against the wall now. She could hear the scraping of his belt against the stone or concrete and the heels of his boots against the brick. He was feeling his way. They must be in close, the armed officers, she guessed. So close, he dare not take his eyes from them for long enough to examine his surroundings.
She heard a chink of metal as he kicked something and them felt him pause. His breath seemed even more laboured and hers more strained. She noticed a change in him then, his breathing quickened as though suddenly excited or relieved.
The arm moved from her throat. For an instant, he cupped his hand against her chin and pulled back. You move and I swear I’ll blast your brains.
She felt the cold metal against her temple and she froze.
“That’s good,” Ted Harper told her. “Now just hold it there.”
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