‘That’s fine, thank you.’
The newsagent walked out into the shop and as soon as he was gone Mitchell leaned across to Helen. ‘We have to do something now,’ he said.
‘ What? ’
‘I can’t do this, I told you.’
‘Just calm down, Stephen, all right?’
‘I can’t.’ He shook his head. ‘Who knows how long we could be stuck here and he might just kill us anyway.’
‘He won’t kill us if we do as he says.’
‘Come on, you’re a copper. You should be working out a way to get us out of this.’
‘Trust me, I am.’
‘We can’t just sit here.’
‘Yes we can,’ Helen said. ‘We don’t have to do anything.’
‘We could try and get the gun.’
‘Please, just-’
‘I’ve thought about it.’
‘ No… ’
She leaned quickly away from him as Akhtar came back in. She hoped he would not notice that she was suddenly breathing heavily. With the gun in his right hand, Akhtar leaned down and handed Mitchell the can with his left.
‘Thanks,’ Mitchell said. He opened the can and took a drink. ‘It’s just so hot, that’s all.’ He smiled, too wide and wavering a little at the corners of his mouth. ‘We’re never happy about the weather in this country, are we?’
Akhtar went back to the desk and sat down.
Helen listened to Mitchell gulping down the drink. She could not look at him. She kept her eyes on the gun that Akhtar had once again laid down on the desk, praying that Mitchell had listened to her. That he would not do anything stupid.
‘Sorry,’ Mitchell said. ‘Now I need the toilet.’
Helen turned and looked hard at him, but Mitchell would not meet her eye. She said his name quietly, but he ignored her.
Akhtar thought about Mitchell’s request for a few seconds, then nodded. He stood up slowly and reached for the gun. Then he picked up the key to the handcuffs.
‘Thanks,’ Mitchell said. ‘Bursting… ’
Akhtar tossed the key across to Helen, then pointed the revolver at her. ‘Please do it slowly,’ he said.
She picked up the key, inched over to her right and gradually leaned across Mitchell’s lap. She could smell the sweat as she pressed against him. He kept his eyes on Akhtar, refusing to engage with her though their faces were only inches apart.
Her hand shook as she struggled to fit the tiny key into the lock.
‘OK, now stand up slowly, please.’
Mitchell climbed to his feet, rolling his wrist around and groaning as he stretched his legs. He let out a long breath and pointed towards the toilet door. ‘OK?’
Akhtar nodded. The hand that was holding the gun shifted to track Mitchell’s movements as he took the few steps across and opened the toilet door. Helen caught a glimpse of the grubby-looking bowl and black plastic seat just before Mitchell turned to pull the door closed behind him. He finally looked at her, only for a second or two, but she could not read the expression.
Blank or focused, it was hard to tell, but the eyes were empty.
Helen and Akhtar looked at one another as fifteen seconds passed without any noise from inside the toilet. Helen listened for the sound of Mitchell pissing, but heard nothing until, a minute or more after he had gone inside, he began to sob.
They both turned and stared at the scarred wooden door. The noise from behind it was deep and regular. It could almost have been a laugh were it not for the high catch in the throat as Mitchell struggled to find the breath between each tattoo of sobs.
It subsided after a minute or so. There were sniffs then and a bout of coughing, until the toilet flushed and the door finally opened.
‘OK, Stephen?’ Helen asked.
Mitchell did not respond, standing perfectly still just outside the toilet door and making no attempt to conceal what had been happening inside. He stared, unblinking, at Akhtar, until the newsagent raised the gun and told him to sit down.
Mitchell did not move. Akhtar took a small step in his direction and told him again.
‘Better out than in, eh?’ Helen said, trying to laugh. ‘Stephen?’
Mitchell turned to look at her as if he had only just noticed she was there. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, then opened them again and began walking slowly back towards the radiator.
‘Nice and easy,’ Helen said.
Akhtar glanced at her. ‘Yes… please.’
Helen held her breath – keeping her eyes fixed on Mitchell’s, searching for the desire, the intent to make any sudden move – and did not release it until her weight was once again across him and she was leaning over to fasten the handcuff back around his wrist.
EIGHTEEN
‘He’s got someone with him.’
The secretary’s warning was somewhat half-hearted, so after giving her the nicest smile he could summon up, Thorne went ahead and knocked on the governor’s door anyway.
He walked in without waiting to be invited.
Bracewell was talking to Shakir.
They were standing close together in front of the governor’s desk and both turned to stare at Thorne when they saw him come in. Thorne said he was sorry to interrupt, that he just needed a moment. There were a few seconds of silent nodding.
Then the governor and the imam spoke at the same time.
‘It’s really not a problem… ’
‘We were just finishing up… ’
Thorne said that he was about ready to go and that he’d just come to thank the governor for all his help before he left. He looked at Shakir, thanked him too.
‘Really, there is no need,’ Shakir said. ‘It would have been nice to talk for longer.’
‘Absolutely.’ Thorne smiled and wondered which of them was being the less sincere.
The governor stepped forward to shake Thorne’s hand. ‘And if there’s anything else you need, you have my direct line?’
Thorne said that he did and gave the governor a card with his mobile number and home email address on it. ‘Oh, I do need that name before I go. The boy you thought was responsible for the attack on Amin?’
‘Yes, of course. I meant to… ’ The governor walked back to his desk and picked up a piece of paper. He handed it to Thorne. ‘Name, address and a contact at the local probation office if you need it.’
Thorne said thanks and slipped the piece of paper into one of the files. He turned to go, then stopped and turned back. ‘By the way, Dr McCarthy was going to let me know about the thefts from the Dispensary,’ he said. ‘The DDA cupboard.’
The governor nodded, said, ‘Right.’
‘I’m sure he’s busy, but I’d be grateful if you could chase that up for me. Get him to give me a call.’
‘Of course.’
