'Cuff her and bring her along,' he said briskly, then he went to help Tariq muster the kids by the fire exit. I pulled a set of genuine cuffs from my pack.
'Wrists,' I said curtly. She held out her arms and gave me a sarcastic smile. I shook my head and indicated for her to turn around. She got up on her knees, shuffled so she was facing the wall, and put her arms behind her back.
I snapped the cuffs closed and used them to drag her to her feet.
There were about twenty children gathered by the door now, each with a blanket pulled tight around their shoulders. As I marched the woman across the hall towards them I could see that the boys and girls ranged in age from toddlers right up to fourteen or maybe fifteen year-olds. Every one of them looked hollow cheeked and had dark rings around their eyes where hardship and lack of food had taken its toll, but their eyes all told different stories, speaking of everything from broken defeat to spirited resistance.
As I approached, one of them, a slight girl with a scowl on her face, stepped up to my Dad.
'Why should we believe you?' she said primly, folding her arms and sticking out her chin. 'How do we know you're not just going to sell us yourselves?'
I could see that Dad didn't know how to respond to this. Even though he'd spent two years as a de facto staff member at St Mark's he still wasn't very good at talking to children. He tended to be brusque and uncomfortable around them. He wasn't unkind, but he didn't really understand that kids need to be handled with more sensitivity and patience than, say, a squaddie on a parade ground. He liked kids, he just didn't get them.
Tariq smiled and reached for the gun he had taken from the guard. He handed it to the girl, who took it warily.
'This is the safety,' he said, demonstrating. 'It's cocked and ready to fire now, so all you need to do is flick the safety off, point and shoot. But not at me, please. Okay?'
The little girl nodded at him in mute, wide-eyed astonishment.
'Good girl. I'm Tariq, by the way.'
'Jenni,' she whispered. 'Pleased to meet you.'
'And you!'
'If you've quite finished flirting, can we get a move on?' I said. Dad and I laughed as Jenni blushed bright red.
'Jane, let's go,' said Dad.
She ran to join us and we led the children — cold, hungry, holding hands in a long chain, but quiet and co- operative — out of the hall and into the open. Tariq ran to the corner and peered around. He signalled the all clear and we moved as quickly as we could to the playground gate.
'One sound,' I whispered to my prisoner, 'and I'll slit your throat.' Even so, I was surprised she didn't try and raise the alarm.
Dad pushed open the gate and stood watching the school for signs of pursuit as the children filed outside. When they were all out, and the gate was closed behind us, I gave a short laugh of relief.
'We're not clear yet,' warned Jane, but I could see she was feeling it too. She smiled at me then ran down the road to get the minibus, which was parked down the side alley. It started first time and she drove quickly to the gate where we loaded the children inside.
When they were all safely stashed I leapt up into the front passenger seat with Dad and pulled the door closed. Just Guria and the other kids to collect, and we'd be on our way.
'Turn the heater on, I'm bloody frozen,' I said. But Jane wasn't listening.
'Look,' she said softly.
I glanced up and cursed.
Five men were standing in the road ahead of us, motionless, watching, waiting for us to make a move. They were dressed in camouflage gear. Dark green hoods obscured their faces. The outlying two had swords in their hands; the two inside them held strong wooden bows raised with arrows poised to fire. The middle one stood with his bow down, casual. Waiting for us to make the first move.
'And it was all going so well,' muttered Tariq, over my shoulder.
Chapter Three
'I'll handle this,' says John.
But I've seen the way he handles things, and I'm not prepared to let him screw this up. This calls for diplomacy, not violence.
I'm out of the cab and walking before he can stop me.
The middle of the five men raises his bow, notches an arrow, draws the catgut back slowly and sights on me as I step into the road.
'Put your hands above your head and get on your knees,' he shouts.
I put my hands up, but start walking towards them. I figure the last thing they'll be expecting is politeness, so as I approach I smile and say: 'could you keep the noise down please, we're trying to stage an escape here.'
I can see this throws him, and he doesn't try to stop me approaching. I stop about three metres in front of him, hands above my head, ensuring that my body language is as passive as possible. His arrow is still pointing straight at my head, and now the two men either side of him are aiming at the cab of the minibus behind me.
He cocks his head, inviting me to explain.
'At a guess, you're Rangers,' I say. 'From Nottingham, yes?'
He gives me nothing.
'My name's Jane Crowther, I run a school called St Mark's. You may have heard of us.'
The man shakes his head once.
'Right, well, your boss invited me to send an envoy up to you last week. One of my people is talking to you guys in Nottingham right now.'
He shrugs; what has this got to do with him?
'I imagine you're here to take down the snatchers and rescue the kids,' I continue. 'Thing is, we just did that. Or at least, we got the kids out of the building and into the minibus. Most of the snatchers are still inside, asleep. And the longer we stand around here making noise, the greater the chance of them waking up and starting to shoot at us. So can we please,
He considers me carefully, then gives a tiny nod.
'Crossroads. One hour,' he says to his men. Then he gestures for me to walk back to the bus. 'I'll be right behind you,' he growls. His men peel off and begin heading back into the shadows. I turn on my heels, but before I can start walking there's a sharp report, a dull impact, and a grunt. Instinctively, I drop to my knees and draw my weapon. I don't even need to look behind me to realise that the leader of the Rangers is slowly toppling backwards — I felt the spray of blood and brains splash across the back of my neck.
I can see Lee leaping out of the minibus cab while his father jumps across to the driver's seat and prepares to pull away.
But I'm confused. I scan the walls of the primary school and can't see anyone at all. The snatchers must still be in bed or, more likely, reaching sleepily for their guns now they've heard shooting. And then I process the fact that the blood hit the back of my neck. The bullet came from the other end of the road. I drop and roll, coming up facing the other way. I can see two Rangers bolting for cover in the terraced houses on either side of the road, and two more dragging their leader away by his wrists.
I'm totally exposed, a sitting duck, and I still can't see the shooter.
'No! Don't!' shouts Lee as he runs towards me. He dives sideways as an arrow comes whistling past me, meant for him. One of the Rangers is shooting at him.
'Dammit,' I yell. 'We didn't shoot your boss!'
And then I realise, with a sinking feeling, that we did.
'Guria, you fuckwit, where are you?' yells Lee as he staggers to his feet and scurries for cover.
I see a Ranger take aim at the minibus cab and I have no choice. I send two rounds past his head and force
