‘That seems reasonable. Tell me the plan for the assault.’
‘Not until I get visual proof that my family are still alive. Right now. Otherwise I give you nothing.’
‘You’re not in a position to make threats,’ he hissed into the phone.
‘It’s not a threat. I just need to see my family.’
‘I’m not with your family, so it won’t be possible.’
‘Then speak to whoever is and sort something out fast, because otherwise I’m not going to go through with this.’
‘I hope this isn’t some sort of trick to determine their whereabouts. Because if it is—’
‘It isn’t, I promise. I just need to see that they’re still alive. And to prove it, I want to hear my daughter say the name of her former primary school.’
‘Impossible. You’ll do as you’re told.’
‘No,’ she said firmly, remembering Tina’s advice to establish some kind of control. ‘I won’t. Not unless I hear from them.’
There was a pause at the other end of the phone. ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ the man said at last, and the line went dead.
Arley took a deep breath, turning round, and almost jumped out of her skin. John Cheney was standing right behind her, and immediately she wondered what he’d heard of her conversation.
But it seemed he hadn’t heard much. ‘Is everything OK, Arley?’ he asked her, using her Christian name for the first time that night.
She stared at him for a long moment, trying to pull herself together, wondering whether she should tell him everything. He’d always had a solid, reliable air about him – the result of his size, and an expressiveness in his eyes that suggested a real sensitivity. She almost said something, then remembered that the sensitivity and reliability hadn’t stopped him cheating on her. It was just too risky to let another person in on her dark secret.
‘Everything’s fine, thanks, John.’
‘You seem to be going in and out a few times.’
‘I’ve got a personal issue I’ve been having to deal with.’
He thrust his hands in his trouser pockets, shivering against the cold. ‘It’s not like you to let the personal get in the way of business, Arley. Is it anything I can help with?’
She shook her head, suddenly wanting this conversation to end. ‘No, but thanks for your concern. Give me a moment and I’ll be back in.’
Cheney nodded. ‘Of course,’ he said, giving her an appraising look that lasted a second too long, before starting back towards the incident room.
She watched him go, paranoid thoughts flying crazily through her mind. How much had he heard? Was he going to say something to Commissioner Phillips about her ability as a boss?
And most prevalent of all:
Sixty-five
21.31
SCOPE CURSED AS he slammed down the phone receiver.
‘Still no luck?’ asked Abby.
He sighed. ‘No. The lines out are all still busy.’
This had been the problem for more than half an hour now, ever since the terrorists had killed a hostage in the upstairs restaurant, in full view of the TV cameras. It seemed that plenty of the guests trapped in their rooms had seen it too and were panicking and phoning out. Luckily, Ethan wasn’t one of those to witness the killing. He’d fallen asleep beside his mother just before it happened, and had been sleeping ever since.
Scope had last spoken to Steve at a quarter to nine, but at that point the paramedic was still trying to find out where the hotel kept the insulin, and was sounding stressed. He dialled Steve’s number again, but got the engaged tone. Jesus, how many people were blathering on the phone? And who the hell were they talking to?
He turned back to Abby. She was sitting up on the bed, her leg still propped up on the pillow, as it had been all evening, but she looked awful. Her face was thin and drawn, its complexion fish-grey, and he could see that her hands were shaking.
He asked her if she was all right.
‘I’m going to need my next dose and some food soon. I’m feeling pretty weak.’
‘Tell me honestly,’ said Scope, checking that Ethan was still asleep. ‘What happens if you don’t get it?’
‘At some point, my blood sugar will get so high that I’ll start fitting. If it’s still untreated, then eventually I could die.’ She smiled tightly, wiping sweat from her brow. ‘But that’s a ways off yet, I promise. Do you think they’re going to have insulin here on the premises?’
He nodded. ‘I’m sure of it. It’s a big hotel.’
‘If you can’t get through to the man you need to talk to, and something happens to me, please will you promise me that you’ll get Ethan out of here safely?’
Scope stopped in front of the bed, looking down at her, touched by her vulnerability. ‘Nothing’s going to happen to you, I promise. If I have to, I’ll go out there and find the insulin myself.’
‘No,’ she said emphatically. ‘I want you to look after Ethan.’
Scope wondered how much time she had left until she started to deteriorate seriously. She looked bad already. He could also see that she was beginning to panic, although she was trying hard to hide it, and for the first time it struck him that he might not be able to save her. It angered him that the authorities hadn’t made any attempt to save the hostages. He was as aware as anyone of the logistical difficulties involved, but it was also abundantly clear to him that the terrorists were going to have to be confronted at some point. Delaying the inevitable only risked more lives.
‘You know,’ continued Abby, ‘we know almost nothing about you, but I can tell by your eyes that things have happened to you. Bad things.’
‘Bad things happen to everyone,’ said Scope, not liking her gaze, or the questions it seemed to want to pose. Questions to which he didn’t dare give an answer.
‘I don’t feel so great.’ She slurred the words, and as Scope hurried over to her, she closed her eyes and fell sideways on to the bed.
Cursing silently, he leaned over and checked her breathing. Shallow, but enough.
‘Abby?’ he said quietly, giving her cheek a gentle tap. ‘Abby?’
There was no response, so he laid her gently on her side. He stood back up and immediately dialled Steve’s number again, willing it to ring.
It did.
And kept ringing.
‘Answer, you bastard,’ he hissed, through gritted teeth. ‘Answer.’
‘Steve Grantham.’
Thank God.
‘Steve, I’ve been trying to reach you. Have you found out where the insulin is in here?’
‘Yes. There’s a medical station behind the reception area, but it’s kept locked. The keys are in a strongbox, also behind reception, but only the duty manager has the key to it.’
It wasn’t what Scope had wanted to hear, but it was no less than he’d expected. ‘But they have insulin, right?’
‘Yes, they do. In standard pen form.’
‘Thanks, Steve. I appreciate your help.’
‘Listen, it sounds extremely risky going down there. It might be best to stay where you are. I’m sure this situation will be resolved soon.’
‘Are you? I’m not.’
Steve sighed. ‘You’re not going to be any help to anyone if you’re hurt.’
‘I’ll take my chances,’ said Scope, and hung up.
