No answer.
“If you’ve harmed her…”
“No,” said Mountjoy, responding to a jab from the gun. “She’s all right. Get off me, will you?”
“Where?”
“Over there, behind the big tank.”
“Where’s that?”
The big tank could have been anywhere. The searchlight had shifted again.
“Just a few feet away.”
“Lead me to her,” said Diamon. “You’re sure she’s all right? Why hasn’t she said anything?”
“She’s gagged.”
He eased himself off, allowing Mountjoy to get to his knees, groaning. It seemed unlikely at this stage that he was capable of counterattacking, but the gun was a wise safeguard. He kept it pressed against the sore back, ignoring the wincing and groaning while Mount joy got himself upright and started stumbling over joists and pipes. He reached what was evidently the cold water tank and edged around it to the far side, sliding his hands along the surface.
“Here. Careful. Don’t tread on her. There’s a torch down here somewhere.”
“I’d shoot you,” Diamond warned him. His senses were compensating for the dark. He could hear how close he was to Mountjoy and he was primed for any sudden movement. And he was conscious of the closeness of someone else, whether through body heat or scent he was not sure.
“Got it.”
The light came on and discovered a young girl lying face upward in the cavity between two of the joists. Her ankles and thighs were tied with white flex and her hands were strapped behind her back. A brown adhesive strip was across her mouth. One of her eyes was bloodshot and her forehead was bruised.
“It’s all right, love,” Diamond told her. “It’s over.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Of the major players in the Empire Hotel drama, Diamond was the only one to take part in the final act. When the crucial interviews were conducted late that evening at Manvers Street Police Station, John Mountjoy was face down and naked in a treatment room at the Royal United Hospital having pellets of shot removed from his back and buttocks. Commander Warrilow and two armed officers were in attendance and the patient was in no doubt that if he made one false move he would require further treatment.
Samantha allowed her father to drive her home for a hot meal, a bath and a night between clean sheets in the family home. Exhausted as she was, she insisted that she would return to the squat the next day, although she conceded that busking was not in her plans.
After making statements about the firing of the shotgun, G.B. and Una were given a stern dressing-down by Keith Halliwell and told that a decision would be taken later about possible prosecution. This was something of a charade; they knew it wouldn’t happen. They left the police station before midnight.
In the room upstairs with the oval table and the portrait of the Queen, where the assignment had first been given to Diamond, the Chief Constable thanked him warmly for securing the safe release of Miss Tott and the recapture of Mountjoy.
“It’s what I undertook to do,” said Diamond, adding, after a pause, “… sir. I think I should address you in the proper manner now.”
“Er… really?”
“I mean, in view of our agreement.”
“That, yes,” Farr-Jones said vacantly.
“My part of the deal was to bring the siege to a peaceful end by midnight,” Diamond reminded him.
“True-although Mountjoy might argue with that.‘Peaceful’ isn’t the word I would use to describe the state of his end-his rear end.” Farr-Jones grinned like a shark.
“He’s alive, sir.”
“And kicking, I dare say.” Farr-Jones was in cracking form.
Diamond waited.
“Well, I can’t say I approve of everything you’ve said and done in the last couple of days, Diamond, but I certainly gave my word and I’ll see what I can do about getting you reinstated. You’re quite sure you want to resume your police career?”
“My CID career, sir.”
Farr-Jones nodded. “The Police Authority will be duly advised, then, with a recommendation from me. You acted bravely. We’re not ungrateful.”
Diamond grasped the firm, stubby hand that was extended.
Farr-Jones took the camaraderie a stage further by placing his left hand over Diamond’s right shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “What is more, you reeled him in without any nonsense.”
“Nonsense, sir?”
“About reopening the Britt Strand case.”
“Ah, that’s right, sir,” said Diamond smoothly and amiably. “There wasn’t any nonsense about it.”
This cheerful assurance dented the Chief Constable’s smile. “What exactly are you saying?”
“We cracked the case, DI Hargreaves and I. That’s why Mountjoy surrendered. I gave him a solemn promise to get a signed confession from the real killer of Britt Strand. Incontestable evidence. We need nothing less to get the original verdict overturned.”
Farr-Jones reddened ominously. “You’re not serious? The man’s in custody again. That particular case is closed as far as I’m concerned, and you, too, if you’ve got any sense at all.”
“It isn’t a question of my sense, sir. It’s about our sense of justice, isn’t it? Reopening the case may be damaging to my reputation, but it’s right that justice is done. I’m getting that confession tonight.”
“Like hell you are! Where from?”
“Here, sir. While we were in the spotlight at the hotel, Julie Hargreaves was quietly putting the final touches to our investigation. She’s one of your best detectives.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“But I don’t think you’re aware that earlier this evening she brought in a man for questioning.”
The Chief Constable’s eyebrows lifted like the Tower Bridge.
“He’s in an interview room downstairs and I understand he’s willing to make a statement.”
As if struck speechless, he mouthed the word “Who?”
“Jake Pinkerton.”
“The pop singer?”
“Producer, sir. His performance days are over.” The low-key style Diamond was employing was deceptive; secretly, he was savoring the Chief Constable’s appalled reaction. “Would you care to observe? I said I’d assist Julie. She seems to think my presence will be useful.”
Dressed this time in a pale blue tracksuit with reflective strips, Pinkerton was waiting in the interview room absorbed in pressing back the skin from his fingernails, giving a fair impression of nonchalance.
“He was at home, making phone calls,” Julie told Diamond.
“Have you said what it’s about?”
“I didn’t need to. It’s obvious someone has told him.”
“Has he put up his hand, then?”
“I doubt if he will,” she said. “But I think he’ll crack.”
In an adjoining room, the Chief Constable watched the interview through one-way glass.
“Mr. Pinkerton, I don’t believe in prolonging things,” Diamond said after the tape had been switched on and
