at least basic training in dealing with her situation.’
‘Right… ’
Donnelly had grunted and nodded three or four times as Pascoe had been speaking, but she got the impression he had been looking for something other than chapter and verse from the hostage-negotiator handbook. ‘I think it’s looking good,’ she said.
‘You still think we should wear him down?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Provided the state of play stays the same.’
‘Of course.’
Donnelly nodded again, and not for the first time Pascoe saw an uncertainty that bothered her. She would have been far from happy had the officer in control of the operation been one of those hard-arses unwilling to listen to those around them, but she was nervous nonetheless. Donnelly was starting to look increasingly like someone who needed others to make decisions for him. Who took advice only because it meant he could duck responsibility if things didn’t work out.
‘It was impressive,’ he said. ‘The way you squared up to Chivers earlier.’
‘I was just fighting my corner.’
‘It was good,’ Donnelly said, smirking.
‘Was it?’
‘I don’t think he’s used to people taking him on, you know?’
It had been good, and Pascoe smiled remembering the look on Chivers’ face. Thorne had clearly been impressed too, and she in turn had enjoyed watching him give every bit as good as he got.
Still impossible to say, Bob…
Donnelly said he was going to have another coffee and asked if she wanted one. She handed her cup across. He filled it from one of the vacuum jugs and handed it back to her.
‘Are you married, Sue?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Just asking, that’s all.’ Donnelly slurped at his coffee. ‘I mean I noticed there wasn’t a ring, so just wondered… ’
‘I don’t think that’s part of your job, sir,’ Pascoe said. ‘Is it?’
THIRTY-EIGHT
Though Helen knew what time it was and that it would be dark outside, the light in the storeroom never changed. With no windows to the back and the shutters down in the shop itself, the sickly white wash of the flickering striplight had remained constant and, exhausted as she was, Helen knew that once again there was little possibility of sleep.
Akhtar was lying on his camp bed. He had one arm folded across his eyes, but Helen knew that he was awake.
The most recent call with Sue Pascoe had been brief and uneventful, which Helen knew was a good thing. It was becoming routine. The woman was good at her job, Helen decided; businesslike, but as friendly as she was required to be. Helen guessed that she could also be firm if the need arose, but for now she was doing all that was necessary to keep Akhtar calm and relatively relaxed.
Helen had once again reassured Pascoe that she and Mitchell were fine and in good spirits and, when the call had ended, Akhtar had thanked her for continuing to lie. He had made her more tea, asked her if there was anything she would like to watch on the television, before moving across to his bed and settling down.
Now, while he was still awake and feeling well disposed towards her, she decided to ask him a favour.
‘Javed… ’
He sat up and looked at her.
‘Can I call Thorne?’
‘Why?’
‘I understand why you didn’t want me to call my sister,’ she said. ‘But if I could speak to Thorne, then maybe he could call her. I just need to know that my son’s all right.’
When Akhtar looked at the phone on his desk, Helen knew that he was going to agree. She was still surprised when, instead of pointing the gun and sliding the handset across the floor, he left the gun where it was and handed the phone to her. It was as close as they had been to one another since Akhtar had bent down to uncuff and then remove Stephen Mitchell’s body.
‘Thank you,’ Helen said.
Akhtar nodded and returned to sit on the edge of his bed. ‘So you can tell them how well I am treating you.’
Helen dialled and the call was answered every bit as quickly as she had been expecting. Thorne had obviously recognised the number.
‘Javed?’
‘It’s Helen.’
‘Is everything all right?’
‘It’s fine. Listen, I wondered if you’d be able to call my sister for me? I need to know that everything’s OK with Alfie, that’s all.’
‘No problem,’ Thorne said. ‘What’s the number?’
Helen told him. ‘And tell her that I’m all right and not to worry.’
‘I’ll call you back when I’ve spoken to her,’ Thorne said. ‘Is that OK with him?’
Helen raised her head and asked Akhtar the question. He thought about it for a few seconds, then nodded. ‘It’s fine,’ she said.
They sat in silence, waiting for Thorne to call back, occasionally catching one another’s eye and smiling a little awkwardly like patients in a waiting room. Helen’s stomach rumbled loudly and Akhtar pretended not to hear.
Helen stabbed at the button the instant the phone began to ring.
‘Tom?’
‘Alfie’s fine,’ Thorne said, immediately. ‘He’s asleep now, obviously, but Jenny said he’s in top form. Giving her the runaround by the sound of it.’
Helen’s breath caught in her throat when she tried to speak. She managed to say, ‘Thanks,’ then took a few seconds. ‘Is he eating OK, did she say that? Because sometimes he’s fussy, you know?’
‘He’s fine. I promise.’
‘OK… ’
‘Probably hasn’t even noticed you’re not there,’ Thorne said. ‘You know what kids are like, right?’
Helen managed to laugh, but it felt tight in her chest. ‘Yeah, she’s probably spoiling him rotten.’
‘Course she is.’
‘Is she OK?’
‘She’s worried,’ Thorne said. ‘She’s your sister. But I told her how well you’re doing, and that you’re going to be seeing her very soon.’
‘Did she mention my dad?’
‘Yeah, he’s bearing up, she said. He’s worried too, obviously, but your sister told me she’d send him your love and tell him everything was going to be fine. Helen?’
‘Sorry, yeah… listen, thank you.’ She glanced up at Akhtar. ‘I need to go,’ she said. ‘Thank you, really. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do.’
‘I can’t think of any,’ Thorne said.
Helen laughed and this time it felt a little easier.
‘And it is going to be fine, all right, Helen? So just hold on.’
When Helen had hung up, she held the phone out for Akhtar to take. He stood for a few moments, looking up
