Elena was curious. ‘Why?’
He paused. ‘I came here with a girl once. Twenty-two years ago now. Her name was Carrie. She was the love of my life.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘Christ, I should have stayed with her. I know it sounds cliched, but don’t ever let anything get in the way of love, Elena. It’s the most important thing there is.’
She thought of Rod, and it made her feel happy for the first time since this had begun. ‘I know.’
‘You’re engaged?’ he whispered, looking down at her new ring.
‘Yes. He proposed last night.’
‘God, I’m sorry. Not that you got engaged, but …’ He looked around. ‘Because of all this. You don’t deserve it.’
‘None of us do.’
‘What’s going on over there?’ The voice cut through the quiet of the room like a knife. ‘You were told to keep your mouths shut.’ It was the Scandinavian guard. He’d come back into the room and was limping over to them, the rifle out in front of him, his eyes blazing with anger beneath the balaclava.
Elena felt a flash of sheer terror and bowed her head, hoping he would go away.
He didn’t. He stopped in front of them, the rifle pointing down at her. ‘What were you talking about?’
‘I was just asking if she was OK,’ said Martin, who’d bowed his head too. ‘That’s all.’
‘What did I tell you, shithead? No talking.’ He kicked Martin hard in the chest, knocking him backwards. Martin went down hard on to his side, gasping for air, and the Scandinavian immediately kicked him again. ‘Talk again and I’ll really make you suffer,’ he sneered, before turning away.
‘You coward,’ said Elena, unable to stop the words coming out of her mouth.
The Scandinavian stopped. Then, very slowly, turned round. ‘What did you say?’ he hissed, raising the rifle and pushing the end of the barrel against her forehead.
Elena swallowed. ‘He’s ill. And he can’t fight back.’
‘Please, leave her,’ she heard Martin say, his voice full of tension. ‘She didn’t mean it.’
For several seconds, nothing happened. The Scandinavian didn’t move, and Elena realized with a growing dread that he was debating whether or not to pull the trigger. She closed her eyes. If the end was about to come, then she prayed it would be quick. In the background, she could hear one of the children sobbing again.
Then she heard the ding of the kitchen lift, and the door from the kitchen opening. Instinctively she opened her eyes and saw the terrorist leader, Wolf, walk into the room accompanied by the woman from downstairs. Both of them were masked and armed – he with an assault rifle, she with a handgun – and right then, Elena was hugely relieved to see them, because the Scandinavian immediately lowered his gun and retreated as Wolf beckoned him over.
There followed a hushed debate in the corner involving the four hostage-takers. While this was going on, Elena leaned down and helped Martin back up. His face was twisted in pain, and he’d gone so pale that she thought he might vomit.
Still struggling for breath, he gestured for her to come closer. ‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ he whispered. ‘You could have been killed.’
‘I hate bullies,’ she whispered back, putting a hand on his arm.
Wolf came forward so that he was standing in front of the hostages. It was clear he was about to make an announcement. ‘As a gesture of goodwill, and in an effort to help with negotiations, we’re going to release the children.’
The mother with the little girl who’d wanted to go to the toilet gasped, and clutched her child even closer.
‘They are to come with us now. They will not be harmed and they will be released through the front doors of the hotel within the next fifteen minutes.’
For a few seconds, nobody moved.
‘Do you not want them to be released?’ Wolf shouted. ‘Would you rather they stayed here?’
The mother who’d gasped raised a hand. ‘Are parents able to go with their children? My daughter needs me.’
‘No. They go alone. But we will release them safely. You have our word.’
The mother started to say something else, then thought better of it. Holding her daughter close, she whispered something in her ear, tears streaming down her face. The daughter immediately tightened her grip, but the mother pushed her away, promising that they’d be together again very soon. Across the room, three other sets of parents said goodbye to their children: the eight-year-old girl, the boy of about twelve in his school uniform, and a Japanese boy closer to sixteen.
‘He’s not going,’ said Wolf, pointing to the Japanese boy as he got up.
The boy stopped, looking unsure what to do, and both his parents got to their feet.
‘Please, sir,’ said his mother, ‘let him go. He’s very young.’
‘Not young enough. In my country, he’d be considered a man. Sit down, all of you. Now.’
The mother kept pleading, holding on to her son, her manner bordering on the hysterical, but Wolf stared at her coldly and told her that he’d shoot them unless they did as they’d been instructed. The husband gently took hold of his wife and son, a sorrowful expression on his face, and they sat down slowly, the mother’s sobs quickly subsiding.
It was a heartrending scene, and one that affected all of the hostages, many of whom had tears in their eyes, but it seemed to make no difference to the terrorists. What shocked Elena the most was the expression on the face of the female terrorist as she viewed the pathetic group of frightened children as they clustered together, the two little girls holding the hands of the older boy. It was as if she had a heart made entirely from stone, and it made Elena wonder what could possibly have made someone so pretty on the outside become so ugly within.
And then they were all gone, leaving behind only a hot, frightened silence.
Forty-five
19.18
ARLEY DALE STOOD IN the cold night air of Hyde Park, still stunned by the phone call she’d just received. In the space of a few cruel minutes her whole world had become a nightmare from which it seemed there was no escape.
If she told the man holding her children the details and timing of any SAS entry into the Stanhope she would be betraying them, perhaps even sending the soldiers to their deaths. She would effectively be committing treason. She would also almost certainly be found out, which would mean losing her career, her life as she knew it, and her liberty. Even if a judge took into account the extenuating circumstances behind her betrayal, she could still spend the next ten years of her life in prison.
But if she didn’t do what the caller wanted, what then? There was, of course, the possibility that if she told her bosses they could keep things under wraps while the full resources of the Met were thrown into the hunt for Howard and the children. But the problem was, her family could be anywhere. The only thing she knew for certain was the people they were dealing with were highly organized and utterly ruthless. They’d planted bombs in civilian areas; they’d gunned down members of the public at the Stanhope; they’d even murdered her own au pair, Magda, and forced the children to pose with her corpse. There was therefore absolutely nothing to suggest that they wouldn’t do the same to Howard, Oliver and India if it suited them. And as soon as they realized that she’d given them false information about any planned attack (which she’d have to do if she confided in Commissioner Phillips) they would take their revenge.
She also knew that, even if she did cooperate, there was absolutely no guarantee that her loved ones would be released. In fact, it would be far simpler for the terrorists to kill them, and perhaps even bury them somewhere they’d never be discovered.
She couldn’t believe what was happening to her. It all seemed so bloody surreal. How on earth had they got to her family? How did they even know she’d be involved with the Stanhope Hotel siege? It wasn’t as if the Met’s major incident command structure was decided in advance. It simply depended on who was available and on duty when an incident actually happened. But they had known. Just as they seemed to know that the SAS would be
