After making the announcement, Waverley made his way up to Happold’s office. The old man’s PA was there for him, as she had been for his predecessor. ‘I’ve moved some of your things in already,’ she said.
Waverley opened the door, savoured the magnificence. He moved to the other side of Happold’s desk and sat down. He leant back and closed his eyes. For once, his mind was at rest. It had been a long battle to reach this point in his life, and now he knew it had been worth it.
The personal assistant came in. Waverley looked at her; she had been with Happold from when the bank had been no more than two offices above a high street shop. It was time for her retirement.
Chapter 26
Charisa could tell that Negril Bob, apart from making sure that she could not leave, did not intend to force himself on her.
If she acquiesced to his demands, would Billy be safe? If she did not, would he let her go free? She didn’t know.
Whatever happened, it was clear that she was in danger. Outside of the house where she was confined, she could see open fields, another house in the distance, but what if she made a run for it? Would Billy be safe, or would Negril Bob get there first? She believed that the man holding her had killed one of her brothers; she didn’t want to be responsible for the other one’s death.
It was late in the evening, four hours since she had briefly spoken to Troy. She knew he would have contacted DCI Cook; she knew they would not let her down. Negril Bob, surprisingly for a violent man, appeared to be besotted with her. Her best defence was to pretend to enjoy his company without allowing it to go too far.
‘Did you kill my brother?’ Charisa asked.
‘Not me,’ Negril Bob said. Charisa did not believe him, and she saw him divert his eyes when he replied.
Apart from that, their conversation was limited. The two of them were sitting in the living room of the house. There were books on a bookcase, but Charisa did not want to read, and Negril Bob kept looking at her in a manner that made her feel uncomfortable. But then, she wondered, why had he brought her to the house? His intention must have been dishonourable, but he made no move. She knew she was in the company of a murderer, but she could not be afraid of the man.
‘Why do this? You intended to rape me, didn’t you?’
‘Yes. That was the deal with Billy.’
‘But you’re not going to.’
‘You are safe with me. I’m just glad of the company.’
‘Then release my bindings. I will not attempt to escape.’
‘Why would you stay?’
‘If you leave here, the police will capture you.’
‘You’ll testify against me?’
‘Not me, as you haven’t done anything.’ Charisa did not know why she felt sorry for the man. Maybe it was because she could see some decency in him.
Negril Bob came over and sat next to her. He removed the cable ties holding her hands together. ‘You remind me of my youngest sister. She’s your age, doing well at school.’
‘Where is she?’
‘Back home in Jamaica. I intended to take you by force when I grabbed you, but now, I can’t.’
Charisa shed a tear, realising that in a moment of contrition the man felt sorrow for the life he had led, the acts of violence he had committed, the anguish he had caused others by his actions. The two people, so different in many ways, shared a moment of mutual trust. She felt as though she wanted to kiss him on the cheek, the same way she would with an older brother, the same as she would with Billy.
Outside the house it was dark, the quiet of the evening disturbed by a barking dog. Negril Bob stood up from where he had been sitting and walked to the window. He looked to the left and the right. ‘I’ll take you home,’ he said.
‘Thank you,’ Charisa said.
Negril Bob walked out of the front door of the house and towards a garage on one side. He bent down to pull up the roller door. On the other side of the road, a police officer trained his weapon. ‘I’ve got a clear shot,’ he said to his superior. ‘There is no chance of collateral damage.’
‘Take the shot,’ the command was given.
Charisa sat in the house, oblivious to what was happening outside. If anyone asked her, she’d say it was not kidnapping and that she had come with him voluntarily. She did not know why she would, but she could not feel the hatred for the man that she had before.
Wendy was on the phone to Isaac, updating him as to what was happening. It had not taken them long to find the house as most of the others within the triangulated location were either empty or had been checked by the police.
There was the sound of a shot, the impact of the bullet, and Negril Bob collapsed to the ground. Inside the house, Charisa heard the noise. She came running out, only to see her kidnapper lying on the ground. ‘Charisa, stay back,’ Wendy shouted. ‘It’s Sergeant Gladstone. He’s not dead.’
Charisa, not sure whether to check on Negril Bob or to retreat into the house, stood still. Two armed officers came rushing forward. One of them levelled his gun at the injured man; the other bent down to check his condition. ‘He’ll live,’ he said.
‘It’s all clear,’
