'I don't know.'
Shepherd's jaw dropped. 'You what?'
'I don't know and I don't want to know. My guys have taken them somewhere. Once you've let me go, they'll let your boy and his grandparents go. That's the deal.'
'We can't trust him,' said Mitchell. 'After what he just did, we can't believe a thing he says.'
'You've no choice,' said Carpenter. 'There's nothing you can do to me to make me tell you where his boy is, because I don't know. And if you kill me . . .' He left the sentence unfinished.
'It's your call, Spider,' said O'Brien, scratching at his ski mask.
Shepherd picked up the gun. He stared at Carpenter as he tapped the gun against his leg. If he let Carpenter go, there was no guarantee he'd release Liam, Moira and Tom. Mitchell was right, there was no way they could trust him.
'Yeah, Spider,' said Carpenter. 'It's your call.'
'Your guys have mobiles, yeah?' said Shepherd. 'Throwaways?'
'Sure.'
'Okay, here's what you do. You call your guys and tell them to release Moira and the boy. They're to give them a mobile and let them go. As soon as they're safe, they can call me. We release you, and then you call your men to let Tom go.'
'Nice,' said Carpenter. 'That way the most you'll lose is your father-in-law.'
'He's my boy's grandfather,' said Shepherd. 'His life means more to me than a thousand of you. You hurt him- you hurt any of them - and you're dead.'
'Sticks and stones,' said Carpenter.
Shepherd raised his gun to smash it across Carpenter's face, but held himself in check. There was nothing to be gained from hitting Carpenter. All he wanted was to get Liam back safely. He lowered the weapon. Carpenter grinned. 'Give him a phone,' said Shepherd, pushing Carpenter into the van. 'Let's get the hell out of here.'
Fletcher was picking his teeth with a playing card when the mobile rang. He answered it immediately. Carpenter was the only person who had the number. 'Yes, boss.'
'I'm out, Kim. Free and clear.'
'Great news, boss.'
'How are they?'
'They're behaving. I had to give the old man a slap but they're as right as rain now.'
Neary looked over from the sofa where he was stretched out reading the latest Harry Potter. Fletcher flashed him a thumbs-up.
'Right, here's what we do. Let the grandmother and the boy go. Give them a mobile and get them to call this number as soon as they're away from the house. Keep the old man with you until I call you again. Then, assuming everything's still okay, leave him and come and get me.'
'No sweat,' said Fletcher. The phone went dead. Fletcher smiled at Neary and shrugged. 'We let them go,' he said.
Neary sighed. 'Good,' he said. 'I never like hurting women and kids. Doesn't seem right, you know?'
Fletcher nodded.
Carpenter handed the mobile back to Shortt. 'Next time that rings, it'll be to say that the boy and his grandmother are free,' he said.
Shortt took the phone. 'Why don't we just slot him?' asked O'Brien.
'Because if I don't call back in ten minutes to say I'm okay, the old man gets shot,' said Carpenter.
O'Brien shrugged. 'We slot you then we hit the redial button and tell your guys you're dead so they might as well knock it on the head.'
'They'll still take care of him, whatever you say.'
'Leave him alone, Martin,' said Shortt.
'Who are you guys, anyway?' asked Carpenter.
'They're friends of mine, that's all you need to know,' said Shepherd.
Carpenter ignored him and continued talking to Shortt. 'I could use a crew like you.' He gestured at Shepherd. 'I don't know what he's paying you, but I can give you ten times as much.'
'He's not paying us a penny,' said O'Brien.
'Skills you've got, you could be rich men,' said Carpenter.
'This isn't about money,' said Shortt. 'Now, shut the fuck up.'
Carpenter settled back in the van. They waited in silence until the mobile rang. Shortt gave it to Shepherd. It was Moira, sobbing.
'Are you okay?' he asked.
Through her tears she told him that she and Liam were safe but that she didn't know where her husband was. Shepherd told her that Tom would soon be with her. 'What's happening, Daniel?' she asked.
'I'll explain later,' he said. 'First thing is to get you all home. Where are you?'
Moira sniffed. 'There's a road ahead of us. I saw a bus go by.'
'Go to the road and find out its name. Call me back and we'll come and get you.'
'I'll call the police,' said Moira.
'No,' said Shepherd quickly. 'Don't do that.'
'We've been kidnapped, Daniel. They had guns. They said they'd kill us.'
'Moira, please, listen to me. Whatever you do, don't call the police. I'll explain everything, I promise, but there's nothing the police can do right now. Trust me.'
'Daniel . . .'
'I mean it, Moira. Wait until Tom's back with you and I can talk it through with you. Just get to the road and call me.'
'All right . . .'
'Can I talk to Liam?' He heard the phone change hands.
'Dad?'
'Are you okay?'
'They hit Granddad. With a gun.'
'It's over now, Liam. You're safe.'
'Who are they, Dad?'
'Just bad guys. Don't worry, it's all over now. I'm coming to get you.'
'Are you out of prison?'
'Yes.'
'So you're coming home?'
'Definitely,' said Shepherd.
He cut the connection and held out the phone to Carpenter. 'Okay, now let my father-in-law go.'
Carpenter grinned. 'That's not how it works, Shepherd.' He held out his hand. 'I'll need some money for the call-box.'
O'Brien tossed him a handful of change.
'You screw me over and I'll hunt you down and kill you,' said Shepherd.
'Of course you will,' said Carpenter.
Armstrong and Mitchell opened the rear door of the van. They'd parked in a side-street a short walk from Brent Cross tube station. Carpenter climbed out. He turned to Shepherd. 'Be lucky,' he said, then jogged down the road towards the station.
Armstrong scratched his ski mask. 'Didn't even thank us,' he said.
'He's probably going to write,' said Mitchell.
'A card would be nice.' Armstrong pulled the door shut. 'Or flowers.'
Even though the road was clear behind the Rover, Stan Yates still switched on his indicator before pulling over to the side. Force of habit. Twenty-seven years as a professional driver and never an accident - not even a speeding fine - but what did he have to show for it? A clean driving licence and a one-bedroomed basement flat in east London, and somewhere up north an ex-wife and two kids who didn't know him. Didn't need to know him, either, not now his ex-wife had her fancy-man solicitor with his detached house and his yacht moored in
