Siege

Arley picked up the receiver, conscious that all eyes on the room were on her. Briefly she explained the situation, and the fact that they’d all but discounted making contact with Prior.

‘Thank you for keeping me informed, Arley,’ said Major Standard, with a warmth that pained her. He was a good man, and she was going to betray his trust and help send his men to their deaths. She knew this was her last chance to say something. To take this terrible burden and its consequences away.

But they have your children.

‘Are you sticking to your original plan of attack?’ she asked, trying to sound as casual as possible, knowing he was under no obligation to tell her.

‘Yes, we are. We haven’t had enough time or information to formulate anything substantial, so we’ll be going in round the back, out of the glare of the cameras, and making a silent entry. It’s now exactly 21.49 according to my watch. At 22.05, I want your negotiator to call the lead hostage-taker, Wolf, and tell him that the British government will be making an announcement to the world’s media at 23.00 hours tonight, and that it’s a potential breakthrough. Are you clear on that?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘And make sure he keeps Wolf talking, without it looking suspicious. After that, I’ll contact you the moment we need your police, and the emergency medical back-up.’

‘Of course. I’ll have everyone on full standby.’

She put down the phone and looked round the room. On the screen, Commissioner Phillips was no longer patched into the incident room, and instead was talking silently on his phone.

Sixteen minutes. She had sixteen minutes.

‘Well,’ she said evenly. ‘It’s out of our hands now. I need another cigarette.’

Trying to be as casual as possible, Arley went outside, lighting a cigarette with fumbling hands as she checked her mobile.

She’d received a text from Howard’s phone containing a video attachment, plus two missed calls.

She took a deep breath and opened the attachment. It lasted barely ten seconds but it was enough to make her stomach churn. Oliver and India were sitting on the floor side by side, their hands bound behind their backs. Oliver’s mouth and eyes were bound with grey duct tape, while India’s eyes were covered, but a piece of duct tape hung down from her cheek where it had been torn away from her mouth, leaving behind a strip of red skin. It was obvious by the slight shaking of the camera and the picture quality that it was being taken on a mobile phone.

‘Go on,’ prompted an unseen, muffled voice.

‘My primary school was St Mary’s,’ said India, looking round uncertainly as she uttered the response Arley had insisted upon. ‘And I really want to come home, Mum. So does Olly.’

Oliver made a noise behind his gag but then the film ended, leaving Arley staring at the screen, trying to control her breathing, wanting to throw up from the terrible stress of seeing her two children being treated like this.

But there was hope. Jesus, there was hope. They were still alive.

The screen lit up with Howard’s face and Arley pressed the answer button before it even started to ring.

‘Your turn,’ said her tormentor. ‘Tell me the assault plan.’

The time for doubts about her course of action was gone. Now all that mattered was keeping her children alive until Tina could locate them. Speaking as quietly as she could, she began to give him the details of Major Standard’s plan.

‘When are they going in?’ he demanded.

She kept walking further from the incident room, ignoring the icy rain that had started to fall. ‘Our negotiator’s going to make a call to Wolf at 22.05. This’ll be a decoy, so I believe the attack will be starting then.’

‘Thank you. We will talk again soon.’

‘Hold on, I haven’t finished yet—’ But she was talking to a dead phone. ‘Shit,’ she cursed, taking a hard drag on her cigarette, suddenly feeling the terrible vulnerability that comes when you’ve played all your cards. She’d betrayed her colleagues and her country, and at that moment she had nothing to show for it.

And only one hope. That Tina’s hunch was right and the man who’d filmed her children had sent the footage directly to Howard’s phone, because if he had, then she could get a location for him.

The only person who could trace the calls was Phil Rochelle, the police coordinator at Hendon whose job it was to speak to the mobile phone companies on behalf of the Met. Arley had already spoken to him earlier that evening and got him to run a continuous trace on Howard’s number. She dialled his number, praying that he had something useful for her.

He answered on the second ring, with his nasal, slightly pompous greeting, and Arley started speaking immediately, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. ‘Hello, Phil. Have you had any phone traffic to the mobile you’re tracking for us?’

‘Your husband’s. Yes, I have. Two calls were made on it to your phone in the last few minutes. And a call was received on it a few minutes before that from another mobile phone.’

Arley felt her heart lurch into her throat. ‘Do you have the number of that other mobile phone?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Good,’ she said, trying to stay calm. ‘We need a current location on it.’

‘I’m going to need to know what this is about, DAC Dale. We’re talking about your husband’s mobile here, and there is the very real matter of protocol.’

‘I’m afraid the matter is top secret, but I can tell you it’s to do with the current situation at the Stanhope Hotel and the earlier bomb attacks.’

‘With all due respect, I’m still not sure what this has to do with your husband’s mobile phone.’

‘And I can’t give you the answers right now because we’re in the middle of an ongoing and fluid situation.’

‘Then I’m going to need authorization from the Home Secretary, or the chief commissioner at the very least.’

This was what Arley had most feared. Being found out by pushing too hard. It was always going to be a huge gamble trying to convince someone like Rochelle, a by-the-book man if ever there was one, that her husband’s mobile records were essential to the Stanhope siege. But it was also too late to stop now. ‘Neither the Home Secretary nor Chief Commissioner Phillips is available right now, Phil. Believe it or not, they’re bunkered up in the Cabinet briefing room with the Prime Minister and the heads of the security services trying to deal with this crisis. And with all due respect, as Bronze Commander I am the person in charge of the situation on the ground, and I am requesting immediate assistance from you. If you refuse to give it, you may well find yourself having to explain why to the inevitable public inquiry into the events of today. So, are you going to risk lives, or are you going to help us save them?’

She could hear her heart thumping in her chest as she waited for his response. If he didn’t go with it, she was finished.

You’re finished anyway.

He sighed. ‘I’ll have the latest location of the phone in the next few minutes.’

‘Thank you. Please make it top priority.’

Arley ended the call and took a deep breath, fighting down a wave of nausea. It occurred to her for the thousandth time that she should talk to her bosses and tell them what was going on. With Phil Rochelle’s information, they could use armed police to free the twins rather than having to rely on an alcoholic female ex-cop. They could even probably delay any assault on the hotel while they secured the area where the twins were being held and took down the bastard holding them.

But once again she stopped herself. Because, in the end, there was every chance that they wouldn’t delay the assault. Or that they’d try to negotiate with the kidnapper rather than make an immediate arrest. Whichever way Arley cared to look at it, her children were expendable to the authorities, and she couldn’t allow that.

She had to do this her way, whatever the consequences might be.