Siege (27 page)

‘I don’t think that was the SAS,’ said Fox at last, still watching the lobby.

‘Then what was it?’

‘I’m not sure. We need to investigate.’

‘Are you going to go downstairs?’ asked Wolf.

Fox turned round. ‘I’ve got a better idea. Send Cat. She looks like a civilian, so if it is the military, or the police – and I’m pretty damn sure it’s neither of them – they won’t open fire on her.’

Wolf’s eyes narrowed and he looked at Fox suspiciously. Fox knew that, after the discovery of Michael Prior’s body, Wolf no longer trusted him. He’d spent a good five minutes interrogating him about Prior, and it was clear that Cat had stirred matters as well. In this paranoid place, with the tension mounting, Fox’s suggestion could easily be construed as a plan to get rid of Cat, yet it wasn’t. Sending her down seemed to him the logical thing to do. She was relatively inconspicuous, unlike the rest of them.

Wolf looked past Fox into the silence of the lobby. ‘All right,’ he said with a sigh. ‘We’ll send Cat down.’

21.26

IN THE INCIDENT
room, events had taken a sudden and unexpected turn. Officers inside the inner cordon had heard the explosion at the rear of the Stanhope, its exact location obscured by the high wall bordering the courtyard, but the officer who’d called it in said he could see a thin plume of smoke rising up.

Arley glanced at her watch. Her fifteen-minute deadline for calling the kidnappers was up, and she was going to have to make contact again. But she needed more time.

Tina needed more time.

One of the secure phones started ringing and Will Verran, the young police technician, who seemed to be looking younger as the night progressed, picked up. ‘It’s Major Standard for you, ma’am.’

She took the receiver, conscious of the sound of her heart beating in her chest. ‘Major Standard.’

‘Hello, Arley,’ said the major, sounding so calm it made her almost physically sick with jealousy. ‘Our spotters tell me there’s been an explosion at the back of the Stanhope on the ground floor. My understanding is its some kind of ordnance, possibly a booby-trap of some kind. Have you had any explanation for it from the terrorists?’

‘Not yet, sir. But it only happened a few minutes ago, and we’re going to keep trying them. It seems it might be some kind of one-off incident.’

‘Perhaps,’ said Standard, his tone noncommittal. ‘And you’ve got nothing new on Prior’s location?’

‘Nothing yet, but as I mentioned earlier, the lead terrorist calling himself Wolf has promised we can speak to him. As soon as we do, I’ll let you know immediately.’

‘Good. We’re ready to go in at short notice now.’

‘It may be worth waiting until we can speak to Prior.’

‘Keep trying to talk to him, but if you’re still having no joy in fifteen minutes, let me know. We may have to reassess.’

She handed the phone back to Will and left the incident room without a word, knowing that her actions were beginning to look odd, but no longer caring.

She’d got barely ten feet from the building when she dialled Howard’s number.

‘I said fifteen minutes,’ snapped the kidnapper, picking up on the first ring. ‘Not twenty.’

‘I was on the phone to the man in charge of the SAS operation,’ she whispered into the phone. ‘It was a long conversation.’

‘And you have the details of their assault, yes?’

‘I do.’

‘When will it be happening?’

‘Not yet. At the moment they’re waiting until we can find a location inside the building for Prior.’

‘That seems reasonable. Tell me the plan for the assault.’

‘Not until I get visual proof that my family are still alive. Right now. Otherwise I give you nothing.’

‘You’re not in a position to make threats,’ he hissed into the phone.

‘It’s not a threat. I just need to see my family.’

‘I’m not with your family, so it won’t be possible.’

‘Then speak to whoever is and sort something out fast, because otherwise I’m not going to go through with this.’

‘I hope this isn’t some sort of trick to determine their whereabouts. Because if it is—’

‘It isn’t, I promise. I just need to see that they’re still alive. And to prove it, I want to hear my daughter say the name of her former primary school.’

‘Impossible. You’ll do as you’re told.’

‘No,’ she said firmly, remembering Tina’s advice to establish some kind of control. ‘I won’t. Not unless I hear from them.’

There was a pause at the other end of the phone. ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ the man said at last, and the line went dead.

Arley took a deep breath, turning round, and almost jumped out of her skin. John Cheney was standing right behind her, and immediately she wondered what he’d heard of her conversation.

But it seemed he hadn’t heard much. ‘Is everything OK, Arley?’ he asked her, using her Christian name for the first time that night.

She stared at him for a long moment, trying to pull herself together, wondering whether she should tell him everything. He’d always had a solid, reliable air about him – the result of his size, and an expressiveness in his eyes that suggested a real sensitivity. She almost said something, then remembered that the sensitivity and reliability hadn’t stopped him cheating on her. It was just too risky to let another person in on her dark secret.

‘Everything’s fine, thanks, John.’

‘You seem to be going in and out a few times.’

‘I’ve got a personal issue I’ve been having to deal with.’

He thrust his hands in his trouser pockets, shivering against the cold. ‘It’s not like you to let the personal get in the way of business, Arley. Is it anything I can help with?’

She shook her head, suddenly wanting this conversation to end. ‘No, but thanks for your concern. Give me a moment and I’ll be back in.’

Cheney nodded. ‘Of course,’ he said, giving her an appraising look that lasted a second too long, before starting back towards the incident room.

She watched him go, paranoid thoughts flying crazily through her mind. How much had he heard? Was he going to say something to Commissioner Phillips about her ability as a boss?

And most prevalent of all:
how long have I got left to save my children?

21.31

SCOPE CURSED AS
he slammed down the phone receiver.

‘Still no luck?’ asked Abby.

He sighed. ‘No. The lines out are all still busy.’

This had been the problem for more than half an hour now, ever since the terrorists had killed a hostage in the upstairs restaurant, in full view of the TV cameras. It seemed that plenty of the guests trapped in their rooms had seen it too and were panicking and phoning out. Luckily, Ethan wasn’t one of those to witness the killing. He’d fallen asleep beside his mother just before it happened, and had been sleeping ever since.

Scope had last spoken to Steve at a quarter to nine, but at that point the paramedic was still trying to find out where the hotel kept the insulin, and was sounding stressed. He dialled Steve’s number again, but got the engaged tone. Jesus, how many people were blathering on the phone? And who the hell were they talking to?

He turned back to Abby. She was sitting up on the bed, her leg still propped up on the pillow, as it had been all evening, but she looked awful. Her face was thin and drawn, its complexion fish-grey, and he could see that her hands were shaking.

He asked her if she was all right.

‘I’m going to need my next dose and some food soon. I’m feeling pretty weak.’

‘Tell me honestly,’ said Scope, checking that Ethan was still asleep. ‘What happens if you don’t get it?’

‘At some point, my blood sugar will get so high that I’ll start fitting. If it’s still untreated, then eventually I could die.’ She smiled tightly, wiping sweat from her brow. ‘But that’s a ways off yet, I promise. Do you think they’re going to have insulin here on the premises?’

He nodded. ‘I’m sure of it. It’s a big hotel.’

‘If you can’t get through to the man you need to talk to, and something happens to me, please will you promise me that you’ll get Ethan out of here safely?’

Scope stopped in front of the bed, looking down at her, touched by her vulnerability. ‘Nothing’s going to happen to you, I promise. If I have to, I’ll go out there and find the insulin myself.’

‘No,’ she said emphatically. ‘I want you to look after Ethan.’

Scope wondered how much time she had left until she started to deteriorate seriously. She looked bad already. He could also see that she was beginning to panic, although she was trying hard to hide it, and for the first time it struck him that he might not be able to save her. It angered him that the authorities hadn’t made any attempt to save the hostages. He was as aware as anyone of the logistical difficulties involved, but it was also abundantly clear to him that the terrorists were going to have to be confronted at some point. Delaying the inevitable only risked more lives.

‘You know,’ continued Abby, ‘we know almost nothing about you, but I can tell by your eyes that things have happened to you. Bad things.’

‘Bad things happen to everyone,’ said Scope, not liking her gaze, or the questions it seemed to want to pose. Questions to which he didn’t dare give an answer.

‘I don’t feel so great.’ She slurred the words, and as Scope hurried over to her, she closed her eyes and fell sideways on to the bed.

Cursing silently, he leaned over and checked her breathing. Shallow, but enough.

‘Abby?’ he said quietly, giving her cheek a gentle tap. ‘Abby?’

There was no response, so he laid her gently on her side. He stood back up and immediately dialled Steve’s number again, willing it to ring.

It did.

And kept ringing.

‘Answer, you bastard,’ he hissed, through gritted teeth. ‘Answer.’

‘Steve Grantham.’

Thank God.

‘Steve, I’ve been trying to reach you. Have you found out where the insulin is in here?’

‘Yes. There’s a medical station behind the reception area, but it’s kept locked. The keys are in a strongbox, also behind reception, but only the duty manager has the key to it.’

It wasn’t what Scope had wanted to hear, but it was no less than he’d expected. ‘But they have insulin, right?’

‘Yes, they do. In standard pen form.’

‘Thanks, Steve. I appreciate your help.’

‘Listen, it sounds extremely risky going down there. It might be best to stay where you are. I’m sure this situation will be resolved soon.’

‘Are you? I’m not.’

Steve sighed. ‘You’re not going to be any help to anyone if you’re hurt.’

‘I’ll take my chances,’ said Scope, and hung up.

Ethan lay fast asleep beside his mother. He looked so peaceful that Scope wondered whether he should wake him or not. But if Ethan woke up and saw Scope gone, that would panic him even more.

He checked Abby’s breathing and pulse, wondering if she’d gone into some kind of coma, then put a hand on Ethan’s shoulder and roused him.

Ethan looked up at Scope groggily, and smiled. ‘I was asleep.’

Scope smiled back, suddenly seeing an image of Mary Ann as a young girl, with her button nose and curly blonde hair. Remembering those days when she was little and he’d put her to bed with a story. ‘I’m going downstairs to get the insulin. I know where it is now.’

‘Is Mom OK? It’s getting late, isn’t it?’ He sat up and put a hand on her shoulder.

‘She’s asleep, and she needs it soon. That’s why I’m going to get it.’

‘What if something happens to you?’

‘It won’t.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I’m a soldier. And I’ve been a soldier a long time. I’m good at what I do. Nothing will happen to me.’

Ethan looked relieved. ‘Good.’

‘When I come back, it’ll be like the last time I left the room. I’ll knock on the door five times: bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. Nice and slow. That’ll tell you it’s me. Then I’m going to let myself in, and I’ll put my arm round the door first, very slowly, so again you know who it is. In the meantime, you do like I told you. Anyone knocks on the door that doesn’t use the code, ignore them and don’t say a word, even if they beg to come in. Do you understand?’

He nodded. ‘What if they force their way in, like before?’

‘I’m pretty sure they won’t, but if anyone does, hide behind the bed. But I won’t be long. I promise.’

Ethan looked scared but determined. ‘Do you promise you’ll be back?’

‘Yeah,’ said Scope, meaning it. ‘I promise.’

THE SHUFFLING SOUND
was coming from beyond one of the doors.

Cat stopped and listened.

The sound came again, followed by a low moan. Someone was still alive.

She smiled and moved through the gloom of the hotel’s main ground floor kitchen, keeping her gun hidden under her jacket, and out of sight, just in case it was a trap. The smell of spent explosives and smoke was strong in her nostrils. Combined with the stench of corpses, it reminded her all too vividly of times gone by.

Stepping over the body of a young man with curly hair and a beard, she looked through the window to the rear courtyard, being careful to stay well back, but couldn’t see anyone. However, whether they were planning an imminent assault or not, there would be Special Forces spotters round here somewhere, and she hoped it was one of them who’d blown himself up, although somehow she doubted it. If he had, he wouldn’t still be here.

The moaning grew louder as she opened the door, and stepped into a narrow corridor that led through to the delivery entrance.

A badly burned man was lying on his back on the floor, his clothes in shreds and his face blackened. Beyond him was what was left of the fire door, little more than a shredded piece of wood hanging off one of its hinges. It was obvious that he’d been trying to leave the hotel and been caught in one of Fox’s booby-traps. A cold wind blew through the gap in the door, and Cat scanned the courtyard through it. It still looked empty, but she felt exposed and uneasy standing so close to the outside world.

The man had heard her approach, and with a huge effort he managed to lift one of his arms a few inches. ‘Help me,’ he whispered, his voice a hoarse rattle.