he had something to say.
'Phone call,' he said in the corridor, looking worried. 'Your wife, sir. Said it was urgent. She sounded very upset.' Banks had asked that all calls be intercepted while he was interrogating Trevor; he hadn't wanted to be interrupted.
Puzzled, and worried that something might have happened to Brian or Tracy, he told Rowe to keep an eye on the suspect for a few moments and ducked into the nearest empty room to take the call.
'Alan? Thank God,' Sandra breathed. Rowe was right. Banks had never heard her sound like that before.
'What is it? What's wrong?'
'It was Robin, Alan. The peeper. He came here. He had a knife.'
'What happened? Are you all right?'
'Yes, yes, I'm all right. A bit scared and shaky, but he didn't hurt me. Alan, I think I've killed him. I hit him with the camera. Too hard. I wasn't thinking. I was so frightened and angry.'
'Stay there, Sandra,' Banks told her. 'Don't move. I'll be over in a few minutes. Understand?'
'Yes. Hurry, Alan. Please.'
'I will.'
Banks got Rowe out of his office again and told the sergeant that an emergency had arisen and he had to rush home.
'What about those two?' Rowe asked.
'I'll be back,' Banks said, thinking quickly. 'Have Sergeant Hatchley call me at home when they get back with Webster. And don't, under any circumstances, let the two kids see each other.'
'Right, sir, got it,' Rowe said. Banks could tell that he wanted to ask what was wrong or offer some sort of sympathy, but discretion got the better of him and he went back into Banks's office, shutting the door softly behind him. Banks got as far as the front door before PC Craig, on temporary desk duty, shouted after him.
'Sir! Inspector Banks, sir!' Banks turned. 'What is it?' he snapped, still edging toward the door.
'A call, sir. Sergeant Hatchley. Says it's an emergency.'
Banks was of two minds whether to take it or not, but his professional instinct made him reach for the phone. At least Sandra wasn't in immediate danger any longer. A minute or two more wouldn't hurt.
'What is it, Sergeant?'
'The kid, sir. Webster. He gave us the slip.'
'Well, go after him.'
'It's not as simple as that. We know where he is.'
'Get to the bloody point, Sergeant,' Banks growled. 'I've got one bloody emergency on my hands already.'
'He ran across The Green and broke into a woman's house, sir. He's got her held hostage there. He's got a gun.'
Banks felt his stomach tighten. 'Which house?'
'It's that doctor woman, sir. The one I saw coming out of the super's office.'
'Christ,' Banks gasped, rubbing his free hand over his eyes.
'But there's more, sir. He says he wants you there. He asked for you and said if you didn't get here in twenty minutes he'd kill the woman.'
Banks had to think more quickly than he had ever done in his life. It was probably no more than a split second before he gave Hatchley his instructions, but in that period Banks felt as if he had been to hell and back. The two women flashed before his eyes. If he deserted Sandra when she needed him, he thought, things might never be right again; she would never fully trust him. If he didn't go to help Jenny, on the other hand, she would surely die. Banks reasoned that Sandra would, somehow, understand this if she knew, that his duty was to try to save a life rather than console his wife after she had already succeeded in freeing herself from a dangerous, terrifying situation. Though he was thinking specifically that it was Jenny in danger, that he couldn't let Jenny die, he knew he would also have to go even if it was a stranger Mick Webster had taken hostage. It was personal, yes, and this intensified his concern, but his job demanded that he do the same for anyone. Somebody, however, would have to go to Sandra. There was always the chance that the man would return to consciousness again. And if someone else dealt with it, then it would be official business. It was official anyway, he realized. It had gone too far to be covered up as easily as the peeper episode. No matter who went to Sandra now, all the details would have to come out.
'I'll be there, Sergeant,' Banks said quickly. 'Send DC Richmond over to my house. Got it? MY HOUSE. Immediately. I've not got time to explain, but it's urgent. Tell him to hurry and to explain to my wife about the situation here.'
'Yes, sir,' Hatchley said, sounding puzzled.
'And let the super know,' Banks added. 'We'll need him down there if there's any negotiating to be done.'
'He's already on his way,' Hatchley said, and hung up.
Not wasting another moment, Banks rushed through the desk area, picked up the keys to the same car he had driven to York, and, without signing for them, dashed out of the back into the yard where the vehicles were parked. In seven minutes, he was outside Jenny's house.
Hatchley and two uniformed men stood by the low wall at the bottom of the garden, which sloped upwards quite steeply to the bay window. The light in the front room was on, and Banks could hear the strains of Tosca playing in the background.
'Any developments?' he asked Hatchley.
'No, sir,' the sergeant replied. 'Haven't seen hide nor hair of him since he told us to send for you. They're inside, though. I sent Bradley and Jennings around the back. Told them not to do nothing, just keep their eyes open.'
Banks nodded. Hatchley had done well, considering that this was the first time he had had to deal with hostage taking. It was a difficult business, as Banks had found out for himself on one or two occasions down in London, but it was of chief importance to maintain as calm and reasonable an atmosphere as possible for negotiations.
Another car drew up by the curb and Superintendent Gristhorpe got out. He looked like a bulky, absent- minded professor with his unkempt thatch of hair blowing in the breeze and his bushy eyebrows meeting in the middle of his frown. Banks explained the situation to him as quickly as possible.
'Why does he want you here?' Gristhorpe asked.
'I don't know.'
'Have you told him you've arrived?'
'Not yet.'
'Better do it, Alan. He might be getting impatient.'
'Is there a megaphone?' Banks asked.
Gristhorpe smiled wryly. 'Now where the bloody hell would we get a megaphone, Alan?'
Banks acknowledged this fact, then simply spoke out loud toward the broken window.
'Mick! Mick Webster! I'm here. It's Inspector Banks.'
There were sounds of scuffling inside, then Webster appeared at the window, gun pointed at the side of Jenny's head.
'What do you want?' Banks asked. 'Why do you want me here?'
'I want you in here,' Mick shouted back.
'Why do you want me? You've already got the girl.'
'Just do as I say. Get in here. And no tricks.'
'Mick, send the girl out. Send her out and then I'll come in.'
'Nothing doing. Come in now or I'll blow her fucking head off.'
'Come on, Mick, let's play fair. Let her go. We give a little and you give a little. Send her out and I'll come in.'
'I told you, Banks. Either you come in now or she dies. I'll give you thirty seconds.'
'Better do it, Alan,' Gristhorpe said heavily. 'He's not stable, you can't reason with him. Have you dealt with
