by GB Williams
Just the memory of it sent judders of pain down her arm. Her right hand felt unaccountably numb, and she was only distantly aware of the tears burning a path down her cheeks. The story moved on, their return, the prison riot, but Teddington was locked in her memories. It all crowded in on her.
The pain of being shot.
The pain of being manhandled.
The pain of the bullet being removed.
The nearly dying in hospital.
The pain of being pulled to her feet by the scalp.
That hadn’t happened.
Reality snapped back. Teddington realised Mr White had the hair on the crown of her head in his fist. People around her were crying out, Mr White calling her a catalogue of names while she scrambled to find her feet as he dragged her from the chair.
‘Fucking bitch!’ Piper didn’t even try to hold back his exclamation as he moved his attention from the live broadcast report to the camera feed from the bank. One of the men was grabbing Teddington by the hair, dragging her out of shot.
‘Get that reporter over here now.’
Piper was surprised by the anger he heard in Sheldrake’s voice as he saw another officer scurry off in search of Miss Dowling. Her eyes were still blazing as she turned back to him.
‘Can we see anything?’
He shook his head. ‘The man dragged her into the manager’s office. We can’t see through a closed door.’
‘Windows?’
He shook his head, but said nothing as Lawson and the plain clothes officer brought the overly eager Miss Dowling to stand before the commissioner. Another woman followed. Young, the Press Liaison Officer.
‘Miss Dowling.’ Sheldrake was surprisingly controlled as she ignored the reporter’s questions. ‘While I appreciate that you are young and eager, you seem to have misunderstood the role of broadcast news. Are you proud of the release you just made regarding Mrs Teddington?’
Dowling straightened her back. ‘Of course, it’s my job to report the facts. You lot weren’t releasing any names, and I recognised her. It’s not my fault I got there before you did. It was quite a scoop.’
‘It was breath-takingly stupid.’ Sheldrake surprised the woman and the officers with her vehement retort. ‘We knew she was in there, and unlike you, we appreciated the kind of danger that her job puts her in when she’s surrounded by a bunch of armed men.’ The emphasis on the last two words made an obvious impact on Dowling. She didn’t move but she was starting to diminish. ‘By announcing to the world that she’s in there, you’ve announced to the robbers who she is. That increases the danger to her life. We have a very difficult job to do here, Miss Dowling. We release information as and when it is safe to do so, and we withhold information when necessary. When covering a live situation of this nature, you run all information and supposition through Police Liaison before you broadcast it, or not only do you risk breaching laws of prejudice, you risk—as you have today—other people’s lives. Do you understand me?’
Dowling wasn’t as cowed as she should have been. Piper figured her youth was blocking her sense.
‘Hadn’t you heard? This country has a free press.’
Sheldrake moved closer, her voice deceptively soft. ‘Maybe you can remind me of that at Mrs Teddington’s funeral. If she dies, you’re the one who will have killed her. Now get out of my sight before I have you arrested for obstructing a police officer.’
20
Teddington scrambled for balance, forced along by Mr White’s grip on her hair. She was virtually dragged into Presswick’s office.
Her hair was released but a vicious shove propelled her forward; she tripped, landing awkwardly against Presswick’s desk, sending files and pens flying, the wireless keyboard smashing to the floor. Her own phone stopped just short of the edge.
Every breath pulled against her bruised ribs. The corset wasn’t helping, but she suspected that without its steel boning, she’d have broken ribs right now. Taking shallow breaths, she turned to face Mr White. His blow was sudden and hard and she bounced against the wall, fell in a heap on the floor.
‘Stay down.’
Too shocked not to, Teddington watched in horror as Mr White turned to face the man storming through the door after them. Charlie.
‘One more step and you’re a dead man.’
Teddington’s brain wasn’t functioning and she sat staring at the two men pointing guns at each other. In that frozen moment, the office door banged shut behind Charlie. Suddenly the world felt like a very small place. Teddington was struggling to breathe. Yet she had to. She had to stop this. She didn’t want to see anyone die.
‘Stop. Please.’ Neither man reacted to her words. She had to break this up, but she didn’t really want to get between two guns. ‘Please, you didn’t come here to kill anyone.’
Mr White offered a sneer of a laugh. ‘Trying to save your lover?’
‘I am not!’ Teddington wasn’t quite sure where the vehemence in that statement came from, but it obviously affected both men.
‘You don’t even know who he is.’
‘I—’ Teddington caught herself ‘—know who I’ve slept with, which is no one since my divorce.’ Five years and she missed sex. She missed having someone to be close to. That sad thought was enough to put her back on track. ‘Look, let’s take the personal out of this. One shot gets fired in here and the SWAT team will descend on this place like a ton of bricks.’
‘TAC team,’ Charlie corrected, ‘but otherwise she’s right.’
‘And how did they get here so quick?’ Mr White demanded, still locked against Charlie.
‘How the hell would I know?’
‘We’re not,’ Teddington said carefully, ‘all that far from the station, and probably there was no other shout on at the moment. Please, both of you, put the guns down.’
‘What did you tell them?’ Mr White demanded of Charlie, ignoring her. ‘Did you grass us up? Is this a set-up? Did you betray me?’
‘No.’
Teddington could hear Charlie’s voice much more clearly now.
‘I betrayed the Force. They’d never trust me again. Besides, you’ve got your own controls in place, remember?’
Mr White said nothing but his breathing was heavy and audible, his nostrils flaring and his eyes narrowing.
‘I can’t have told the police,’ Charlie said with soft, calm reason. He opened his hands up, to show they were empty, other than the gun, which was now pointed away from Mr White. Mr White did not lower his own gun.
‘You only gave us the name of the bank this morning and I’m not carrying anything by which I could be identified, including a phone. Look.’ The hand that wasn’t holding the gun pulled out the lining of his front left jeans pocket so it hung empty. He just had a small handful of change in his palm. He shoved the cash back into his pocket, turned carefully around and lifted the bottom edge of his jumper to display his back pockets. He pulled out a pair of latex gloves—no, two pairs, one purple, which struck Teddington as odd—and then the pockets were obviously empty over his glutes.
Nice butt. Teddington shook her head to clear it of the stray thought. Then she realised that he hadn’t shown the contents of his right-hand front pocket. Not that she was going to call him on that.
‘What about her?’
She didn’t like the way Mr White sneered the word or nodded toward her.
‘What about me?’
‘Did you call the police?’
‘How? The first I knew of any of this was when you walked in and started shooting.’
Mr White only moved his eyes, yet still she felt pinned. ‘Not even for Charlie Bell?’
She kept her voice soft, not wanting to aggravate the situation, ‘I haven’t seen Charlie Bell since I released him from prison. If I’d known anything was going to go down here today, I wouldn’t be within ten miles of the place. I’m done with being shot—’ Her phone interrupted, nearly dancing off the desk on vibrate ‘—at.’ Still on her knees, she grabbe
d the phone, took one look.
‘It’s the police.’
For a moment she just looked up at Mr White. His mouth was a thin tight line, his nostrils flared. He looked back to Charlie. His jaw moved. Charlie lowered the gun, Mr White lowered his too.
Mr White turned, grabbed her upper arm, almost dragging her to her feet. He nodded once. She accepted the call on speakerphone and leant against the desk for support.
‘Matt?’
‘Ari?’ the voice came back cracklier now. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Fine.’ That word really needs a new definition.
‘You sound odd.’
‘It’s a bad line. Was there something you wanted Mr White and his colleagues to know?’
‘I had reports of a flurry of activity that coincided with a news segment.’
‘Oh.’ She didn’t know what to say. As usual Mr White gave her no direction.
‘There’s an indication that you might have been able to see that report.’
Teddington supported the phone in both hands, afraid her shaking might make it fall.
‘Ari?’
‘We saw it.’
‘That information was not released by us,’ Piper stated, clearly not approving of the report.
Teddington breathed and swallowed, waiting for any indication from Mr White. ‘I appreciate that, Matt, thank you. But frankly the damage was done when I was recognised and that wasn’t anyone’s fault.’ She didn’t like that her voice was trembling and that tears were forcing their way out. ‘Please tell me the van is on its way.’ The squeak in her voice was particularly pathetic and she hated herself for it.
‘We’re on it.’
Mr White moved up close. The gun pushed against her lips. She tasted cold steel and gun oil, some kind of carbide and hot salt. Her whimper was involuntary as she shut her eyes tight.
‘Clock’s ticking, Matt.’ The name was sneered as Mr White reached down and ended the call.
The pressure against her lips moved, mashing the sensitive flesh against her teeth. She felt hot breath against her cheek. In the dark, her world was concentrated on sensation and sound. She was uncomfortably aware of Mr White pressed up against her, her own tight grip on her phone, the weakness of her knees and the stretching of her nerves. Now his breath filled her ears.
‘Are you scared, Ari?’
All she dared do was murmur an unintelligible sound of agreement, a slight nod.
‘Good.’
She felt inexplicably cold as he moved away.
‘You have one minute.’
Then he was gone.
The door slammed.
She was alone and the need to collapse overtook her, only she didn’t fall to the floor. She was being held, supported, and helped to sit back on the edge of the desk.
‘It’s okay.’ Charlie’s soft words weren’t as soothing as his presence. ‘You’re okay.’
She leant her head against his unyielding chest. The bitter laugh escaped her and she tipped her head back to look up at him, her smile wavering. ‘What the hell happened? He’s known I work at Blackmarch for hours. Why lash out now?’
Charlie put his gun on the desk, using both hands to frame her face and stroke her hair back. ‘Because he hadn’t connected you with me until that report.’
Of course. Mr White hadn’t dragged her in here just to threaten her, he’d done it in expectation that Charlie would follow. And he had. She wondered what Mr White would have done if Charlie hadn’t followed. Put a bullet in my brain probably. Had Charlie saved her life simply by following her? Even if that was true, it didn’t make him her hero.
‘Sorry,’ he murmured.
His tentative smile warmed her as much as his thumbs lightly brushing her tears away. Then a new heat flared behind those wrong-colour eyes and he pressed a kiss on her. It was hot and passionate and left her wanting more. ‘God, I’ve missed you.’
For a moment she wasn’t sure he’d said those words, they were such a clear echo of her own thoughts.
‘Then why didn’t you meet me? And what’s wrong with your eyes?’
‘Contacts.’
He moved closer and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her again. Her stomach tightened and her nipples hardened. Only he stopped, rearing back. Her need howled in disappointment. That brow seemed to overhang even more.
‘What do you mean, why didn’t I meet you? When? Where?’
She felt her jaw go slack. ‘When you left Blackmarch. I invited you to meet me.’
For a second, he thought about it. Did he see that moment as clearly as she did? Him, with an archive box of possessions about halfway between the prison door and the gate, turning to look at her?
‘You never gave any invitation, you just pointed to the gate and waved. Go and goodbye.’
She wasn’t sure she believed it. Could he really be so dull? ‘I pointed to the Lock Up pub, and indicated four o’clock.’ She did so again by raising her hand, thumb across her palm and fingers slightly spread.
‘It looked like a wave to me.’
‘Who waves with their thumb across their palm?’
‘Well you could have been a little less obscure.’ He leaned close in order to keep his voice low and still sounded admonishing despite the smile.
‘How?’ she demanded in a similar half-whisper. ‘Did you expect me to shout it across the forecourt? When my colleagues could hear? I still have to work with those guys.’
‘You said you couldn’t get involved with me. “Screws and cons and all that,” you said.’
He was so close now and the anger was fading as hotter emotions rose.
‘I also pointed out you were a free man, and therefore not subject to that rule any more.’
The small sound as he bowed his head could have been either frustration or amusement. ‘Can’t believe I’ve wasted six months.’
His half smile was a small warning before he closed the last gap to press his lips to hers. The temptation to surrender was so great, but now wasn’t the time. She turned her head away to break the kiss and scowl at him.
‘Hold your horses,’ she told him, ‘I’m not sure I forgive you for your part in all this yet. I didn’t even know for sure it was you until we had to face Piper.’
‘Yeah, well I nearly had a heart attack when I walked in and you turned around. Spotting Carlisle seconds later was no better. He wasn’t part of the plan either.’
Teddington frowned up at Charlie, kept her voice low. ‘He’s wearing a wire, so Piper can hear what’s going on.’
She got the impression from the stormy eyes that Charlie was frowning, it didn’t show.
‘That’s a last-minute change. Which isn’t good.’
‘Why?’
‘The operative in the cover situation, me, needs to have all the facts to avoid endangerment or miscalculation. Adding Carlisle and a wire without informing me puts both of us in greater jeopardy.’
‘Maybe that’s why they sent Carlisle, so you’d recognise him straight off. Which apparently you did, so they kind of did inform you. In a way.’
There was no covering up his smile this time. ‘Trust you to see good intentions.’ Again he swooped in for another kiss.
Again, she met him only for a moment. ‘Hell, your make-up tastes worse than mine.’
His chuckle warmed her more than she wanted to admit.
‘When we get out of this I’ll waste no more time.’
‘If we get out of this.’
He looked her in the eye, his eyes steely with determination. ‘When.’
She dragged in a breath, but she wasn’t going to be too soft yet. ‘There’s no guarantee of that.’ She looked at the phone, it was shaking in her hand. She answered and put it to her ear.
‘Chief Inspector?’
That put a pause in the response. ‘Ari? What’s different?’
‘You’re not on speakerphone. Why the call?’
‘We have visual confirmation of one man returning to the
front of the bank, but not you. What’s going on?’
‘Oh, just had my life threatened. Again.’ She didn’t feel quite as breezy as she sounded to her own ears. ‘But I’m okay. Tell me you’ve got their van.’
‘Sheldrake’s holding it up.’
Teddington frowned. ‘Who?’
‘Police and Crime Commissioner,’ Piper told her. ‘She thinks we’re all better off keeping you controlled where you are.’
Ari couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her emotions were boiling so she gave them the only available outlet, pouring all the heat into one bitten-out sentence. ‘Well tell the bitch to get her arse in here and find out how controlled it feels to have a fucking gun pointed at her head.’
21
Piper could hardly blame Teddington for her anger, but it was harder still not to laugh at the black humour he found in the fact that while she hadn’t been using speakerphone, he had been at his end. And ‘the bitch’ was listening in.
He controlled his features as he sat at the rear of the van, and turned to the woman in question. Her pinched reaction was obvious, as was the barely controlled amusement of both Andrews and Wymark, both of whom were safely behind Sheldrake, and out of her line of sight.
‘Apparently,’ Sheldrake grated, ‘the Prison Service needs to learn some respect.’
‘Perhaps, ma’am.’ Piper was suddenly less amused. Sheldrake’s lack of empathy for the hostages was a serious concern. ‘But it’s not necessarily the lesson one learns when there’s a gun pointed at one’s head.’ Sheldrake clearly wasn’t open to the message so Piper ploughed on. ‘The point is, we may seem to have the situation contained right now, but we’re losing what little control we may have had. We have to give them the van.’
Sheldrake’s eyes were cold dark spots. ‘We have to get the hostages out.’
Piper barely controlled the clenching of his jaw. Open insubordination wasn’t going to help the situation. ‘The best way,’ he said calmly, ‘to get the hostages out is to let the robbers think they’re getting away. We have a tracker in place on the van. We let them go, get the hostages back, follow the van discreetly and pounce once they stop.’
