Tina suppressed a frustrated sigh. The man dealing with Arley was a canny operator with a thorough knowledge of police tactics, and he was being careful to give away as little information as possible. ‘You need to get me a map of the area where the van could be. I’ve just set up an anonymous hotmail account. Send it to me there.’ Tina gave her the address.
‘Will you be able to go over there right away?’
‘Yes, but it still might take me time when I get there. And I’m guessing that now they’ve killed a hostage, that’s something we haven’t got a lot of.’
‘You know about that?’ Arley sounded surprised.
‘The whole world knows about it, Arley.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Listen, I’ve got an idea. The next time you speak to the kidnapper, demand proof of life. Demand to speak to your family. Say that if you don’t, you won’t cooperate.’
‘What if he doesn’t go for it?’
‘Make him go for it. Put him on the back foot for once. You haven’t got anything to lose.’
‘I’ve got everything to lose, Tina. My children, for God’s sake.’
‘But you need to know they’re still alive. And you need to make him want to keep them alive so that you do what he wants. And the only way you’re going to do that is by being firm. It’s the only way.’
‘OK,’ said Arley uncertainly. ‘But wait, he doesn’t have the children. He told me he was in contact every fifteen minutes with the man holding them.’
‘That doesn’t change anything. Insist on speaking to your family – not just the children, or he’ll know you know that Howard’s dead. And if he won’t go with that – which I suspect he won’t – demand that he send a video message from them, and insist that one of the children says a certain word or phrase, something that tells you that the footage has been taken after you demanded it.’
‘But how will that help us locate them? He’s obviously using a different phone to stay in touch with the man holding the twins.’
‘The man who makes the video will send it via a phone to the man you’re in contact with. He won’t have time to do it all through email. I reckon your man will get him to send the video to Howard’s phone so that he can send it straight on to you, and as soon as he does that we’ve got the other guy’s number, and we’ll be able to track his location.’
‘But he’ll see through it, surely? It seems too obvious.’
‘Not if you sound frightened enough. He’ll think you genuinely want to hear from them, which of course you do. And remember, he’ll be under pressure himself by now, and people under pressure make mistakes.’
There was a silence on the other end of the line. ‘Unless, of course, they’re already dead,’ said Arley at last. ‘They killed Howard easily enough.’
‘We can’t think like that,’ Tina told her firmly. ‘I’m on my way to Willesden.’
Tina ended the call and pulled the car away from the kerb. For the first time that evening she felt in control, now that she was actually doing something rather than sitting around watching events unfold without her.
Sixty-two
21.20
GRAHAM JONES SHOULD HAVE been home for dinner at eight at the absolute latest. He’d told his wife that morning before he left for work that he had a business meeting in Birmingham which was why he’d be home at eight rather than the usual time of six.
In truth, since 1.30 that afternoon Graham Jones had been in the Stanhope Hotel, ensconced in a room on the fifth floor with his lover of more than two years. Like Graham, Victor Grayson was married with children and couldn’t afford for his secret to come out – at least not until his children had grown up and left home. Perhaps then the two of them could live together in peace and quiet. But until that time they had to make do with clandestine meetings at anonymous London hotels where no one would give them a second glance. And today they’d chosen the worst venue possible.
For the last four hours they’d been trapped in their room as the dramatic events of a full-blown siege played out around them. Victor had stayed remarkably calm, saying that they should stay in the room and wait for help to arrive, which it surely had to do eventually. But then Victor had the advantage of not being expected home until much later. His wife seemed to be a lot more laid back than Graham’s wife Carol, who these days acted as if she was permanently suspicious of him, even though he was sure she had no idea about Victor. Carol would have a heart attack if she knew he had a male lover, and who could blame her? It was bad enough losing your husband of more than fifteen years to a woman, but for a conservative, middle-class woman like Carol, who liked to keep up appearances, losing him to a man would be too much to bear. Graham kidded himself that this was the reason he didn’t want her to find out, but deep down he knew it was far more than that. He didn’t want the embarrassment of being outed as a gay man in front of his parents and brother, and he didn’t want a messy divorce while the kids were still young.
But as time kept ticking by, so the chances of his secret being exposed to the world grew greater. Surprisingly, it was this, rather than being caught by the terrorists who’d taken over the hotel, that scared him the most. He was sure Victor was right when he said that they should stay put, but he also knew how long sieges could last. Days in some cases. He’d read once about one in Hackney that had lasted three bloody weeks. He couldn’t have that. He had to get out. Make a break for it somehow.
Victor had told him not to be so stupid. That he’d be risking his neck for no good reason. ‘Text her,’ he’d suggested. ‘Say you’re stuck on the train.’
But when he’d tried to text, the message had bounced back. He’d tried again every fifteen minutes until eventually he’d realized that the signal had been cut deliberately, leaving him with no means of communication with the outside world, other than the hotel phone, and if he used that he’d have to whisper and the stress he was suffering from would be obvious. Also, Carol was technically minded and suspicious enough that she’d be able to trace where the call had come from.
Which was how Graham now found himself alone in the hotel lobby, having walked all the way down the emergency staircase from the fifth floor. It had been the most terrifying journey of his life, and Victor had begged him not to make it. At one point he’d even tried to physically prevent Graham from leaving the room, grabbing him in a bear hug. ‘I can’t lose you,’ he’d whispered, tears in his eyes.
But Graham had made his mind up. ‘I’ll be all right,’ he’d answered. ‘I promise.’ And with that he’d broken free and gone, with barely a goodbye, still hoping that he could come up with a reason Carol would believe as to why he was so late.
Keeping close to the side of the main staircase for cover, he looked over towards the hotel’s front doors, wondering if there was someone guarding them. He couldn’t see anyone, but that didn’t necessarily mean no one was there. One of the glass panes was cracked and it looked as if someone had fired shots through it.
Thirty yards separated him from freedom, and the heavy silence gave him confidence that no one would try to stop him if he made a dash for it.
But there was another problem. He was pretty sure Carol would be watching events on the TV. Since she’d got made redundant earlier in the year, she’d become something of a newshound with an addiction to Al-Jazeera, of all channels. If he went out the front of the hotel, she might see him on TV, and even if she didn’t, someone would, and his secret would be out. It seemed so stupid under the circumstances to worry about something like this, but he couldn’t help it. So much of his life was based on this one major lie that if it were to be discovered, everything else would come crashing down around him. Right then, he’d rather die than face that happening.
He’d go out the back. That would be easier. He knew that the Stanhope backed on to narrow streets where TV cameras would almost certainly be prohibited. He could get out without being seen, at least in public. Then one quick call to Carol, apologizing and bemoaning the state of the British railway system – a perfectly plausible explanation given how appalling it usually was – and everything would be fine. The strange and terrible events of this night would be his and Victor’s secret for ever.
From somewhere up the top of the stairs he thought he heard a moan. It was followed immediately by a barked, unintelligible order. Turning away quickly, Graham made his way across the floor and through a door
