Heatwave Read online

  “Yes, her son. Look, who the devil are you?”

  Simon smiled. “Thanks, “ he said. “You’ve been very helpful.” He turned and strode back to his car.

  “I’ve a good mind to call the police round.” The woman shouted at him.

  Simon, sitting in his car now and with the engine humming, waved at her. No need, he thought. A police car could be seen rounding the corner of Trigo Place, no doubt coming to make the same inquiry he was making. Careful not to draw attention he drove away. A quarter of a mile down the road he pulled in for long enough to use his phone.

  “I need an address,” he told Millie, the older of the two archivists. She had a soft spot for Simon and he traded on it. Quickly, he told her what he wanted, then set the phone in its cradle and groped in the glove compartment for his headset. With luck, she’d get the information he wanted to him before he got to Pinsent. And hopefully too, before the police headed the same way.

  ***

  Alec had a dislike of press conferences that came from his having to front far too many. Both Superintendent Blick and Alec’s immediate boss, DCI Travers, pushed him into the role as often as they could. Travers said he reckoned Alec’s accent added class to the proceedings, but Alec figured he was only winding him up. Alec, it had to be admitted, was generally pretty good at managing such events. Not easily rattled and at ease with awkward questions that other stumbled over, he had been his own worst enemy in the avoidance game.

  Today was different, though. Today was personal and he was going to find things doubly hard.

  He was uncomfortably aware that his shirt was still creased from the packing. He wore his jacket, despite the heat, partly to convey a more formal air, partly to hide the square creases that decorated him, front and back. He hoped that they would drop out with wear and body heat.

  They had borrowed a function room at a nearby hotel. It was being used by some of the visiting journalists and others were rumoured to have spent most of the night in the bar. It made a convenient location. Across the room, he spotted Dick Travers. He nodded acknowledgement. Alec knew he’d have to talk to him afterwards. He’d avoided two calls from Travers that morning, allowing Hemmings to field them for him. He knew what they’d been about. Travers would have seen the list of remaining hostages. He would have recognised Naomi’s name.

  Alec took his place at the table. Travers came to sit beside him and Andrews, as chief liaison for the families, joined them. It had been agreed, Alec would make a brief statement and they would allow a few questions. After that, they’d then leave, pleading operational confidentiality as reason for not saying more.

  Andrews gave him a brief smile. He looked tense and tired and Alec wondered if he’d managed any sleep.

  “Good morning,” Alec began. “As you are all aware, we have a hostage situation that developed from a failed armed robbery yesterday morning. A number of those held, including three children were released unharmed late last night and all indications are that they were treated well by their captors. Negotiations to facilitate the release of the others are ongoing and will continue for as long as necessary. Our main, in fact our only concern here, is to get everyone safely out of the building and back with their families.”

  “Does that include the hostage takers?”

  “It includes everyone. We’ve no wish to see anyone hurt.”

  “Clement Fry. Pinsent Herald. Do you know how many hostages are still inside?”

  “There are seven,” Dick Travers replied. “Their families have been informed and are being given counselling and support.”

  “”How dangerous are these men?” Someone else asked. She was from a cable news channel, but Alec didn’t catch which one.

  “Anyone armed with a gun has to be perceived as dangerous,” he said. “We are striving to keep the situation as calm and controlled as it’s possible to do.”

  “You understand, I’m sure, that for reasons of operational security, we can’t give details.” Travers added.

  “You’re making use of hostage negotiators? “

  “We have a team of experienced negotiators at our disposal, yes.”

  “And when do you expect this to end. What’s the cost going to be to taxpayers? Do any of the families want to make a statement? Are there terrorist links?”

  The questions had begun to blur, but that last one caught Alec’s attention. It hadn’t occurred to him that such a notion might be raised.

  “These are common or garden criminals,” Dick Travers said heavily. “There’s no reason at all to believe there’s anything more than greed here as a motive or they intended this situation to escalate in the way it has.”

  “And why did it escalate? How did it get to be a hostage situation?” Alec glanced around, recognising the voice. “As I understand it, the police arrived, sirens blaring and tyres screeching and alerted the robbers to what was going on. Surely, Inspector, if they’d arrived quietly, you could have nabbed the beggars as they came out?”

  “Mr er Tyso, isn’t it?” Dick Travers asked, though Alec knew he had no difficulty recalling the name. Tyso was a pain in the proverbial. “Still freelancing are we?”

  Tyso just smiled. “Once in a while we freelancers get lucky,” he said. “I suggest you keep your eye on the evening news, Inspector.”

  Travers frowned and Alec noted Constable Andrews shifting uncomfortably at his side. “Tell you after,” Andrews whispered. “I only just found out.”

  “We will, of course be examining the operational side of this and carrying out a complete analysis once we have brought events to a satisfactory resolution,” Alec said. He was operating on automatic now, resorting to bland, report-speak.

  Travers rose to leave and Alec took his cue. “If that’s all ladies and gentlemen, we’ll give you an update later on today.”

  Numbly, he followed Travers out of the hall

  Travers led him out to his car and motioned him inside. Andrews hopped in beside the driver.

  “Two questions. Why haven’t you stood down and what the hell was Tyso talking about?”

  “I can tell you the answer to the second,” Andrews said, buying Alec some thinking time. “I found out this morning. The Parkers, husband and wife, released last night, they’ve agreed to be interviewed by Tyso. It’s going out live on the six o clock.”

  Travers groaned. “Who was their liaison officer. Why didn’t they try to put a stop or at least give us some warning?”

  “The Parkers didn’t want anyone. Refused point blank, Said they’d handle things their own way. I took their statement and passed it on with the rest. How Tyso got wind, I don’t know, but they were making enough noise at the hospital last night that anyone could have heard. I only found out this morning because Brian Hemmings had given them a call to see how they were and they told him about it. He got straight onto me, but by that time…”

  “Right load of wallies we’re going to look,” Travers said heavily. “What have you done with the gung-ho idiots that made all the noise?”

  “I’ll suspend them when we can do without,” Alec said heavily. “I’ve got them standing the cordon. Full uniform. Compulsory stab vests.”

  Travers made a dismissive sound and Alec knew it was his turn now. He got in first. “I told Hemmings yesterday, about Naomi, we both agreed there was a job to be done and we’d do better to get it done. If you replace me now, after what Tyso said in there, it’ll look like a vote of no-confidence and, frankly, I resent that.”

  “This isn’t about you saving face, Alec. It’s about personal involvement.”

  “Half the team know or knew Naomi,” Alec returned. “You going to pull them off the case.”

  “It’s hardly the same thing,” Travers replied angrily. “Look, Alec, I’ve got a meeting with Superintendent Blick in,” he glanced at his watch, “twenty minutes. “I can’t keep this from him, but I’ll recommend that you remain as SIO, for now, but I’m telling you this as a friend as well as your boss. The first time y
ou show yourself less than up to the job, you are out. Got that?”

  Alec nodded. “I’d expect no less,” he replied with as much dignity as he could muster. “Drop me here, I’ll walk back to the incident room.”

  Travers gave instructions to his driver and Alec left. He watched the car drive off and felt suddenly terribly bereft and very much alone. He was left wondered if he’d done the right thing.

  “Be all right, Naomi. You’ve just got to be alright.” He didn’t think he could live with the alternative.

  ***

  The sound of a telephone shocked them all. Naomi had been dozing and it dragged her rudely back into the waking world.

  “I thought he’d smashed them all,” Megan whispered.

  “They must have sent a mobile in with the food,” Naomi guessed.

  “You think they’ll answer it, or just smash that one to bits too.”

  Naomi didn’t reply, she strained her ears to hear through the storeroom door. The ring was silenced, but there had been no crash, no sounds of breaking. “Sounds as though someone answered it she said.” She shuffled towards the door and the others crowded round her, ears pressed to its surface. A murmur of voices filtered though the thickness of wood and insulation, but hard as they tried, they could hear no more.

  ***

  Danny had picked up the phone. Ted stared at him, his eyes cold and his jaw working, clenching and bunching the muscles, but he said nothing and did not intervene.

  “Yes?” Danny said. Then listened. “Look, Sarah, or whatever your name is, we want to get out of here and we want the power put back on.”

  He listened again. “Well, talk about stating the bloody obvious. Yes it’s getting hot. Yes, we’re all frigging uncomfortable. So, what’s our next move? And don’t give me that ‘it’s up to you’ crap.”

  Ted moved impatiently and Danny shifted further from his reach, keeping an eye on him as he did so. “Look, we’ve got demands and we’ve got seven people in here that would rather be just about anywhere else, so I suggest you listen.” He frowned then and shook the phone. “Hello. Hello. “ He stared at Ted Harper. “She bloody hung up on me.”

  ***

  “Was that wise?” Hemmings asked.

  “He’ll ring me back. The numbers on fast dial, like I just told him.”

  “What if he doesn’t?”

  “He will, “Sam reassured. “It might take a little while, but he will.”

  They had been listening on the speakerphone and Alec was looking far from happy. “That’s not Ted Harper,” he said. “Sounds too young.”

  “No, I’m guessing that’s the man in Brian Machin’s picture,” Sarah suggested. “Slight trace of accent, not local, not strongly anything.”

  “Reasonably well educated, I’d have said,” Sam added.

  “Shouldn’t you have listened to their demands?”

  “We will,” Sarah reassured Hemmings. “When he calls back.”

  ***

  Danny paced the length of the bank reception. Ted had said nothing, just growled something under his breath as though letting Danny know this was exactly what he had expected. Allan was twittering with anxiety, but Danny wasn’t listening to him.

  “I’m going to try again,” Danny said to no one in particular. “Call them, tell them what we want.”

  “You know what we want, do you?” Ted Harper mocked. “What’s that then? A helicopter loaded with cash to land on the roof and fly us over the rainbow?”

  “Why not?” Allan wanted to know. “We’ve got them in there. We could make them give us anything we want.”

  Danny’s look pitied. “It won’t be that easy,” he said. “Allan, our main concern here is to stay out of jail, remember. Anything else is a bonus. Right, the lady said to press one if we wanted a little chat, so…” He held the phone at arm’s length and pressed a button, then hesitated for a moment before lifting it to his ear.

  ***

  Sarah let the phone ring. Twice, three times, four. Alec’s nerve was breaking when she finally, casually, reached to pick it up. “Good afternoon, this is Sarah.”

  “Right, hang up on me again and I’ll make sure someone suffers for it.”

  “I don’t think you will. I think you’ve got more sense. More compassion, for that matter.”

  “You’re assuming a hell of a lot, lady.”

  “I’m making my assumptions based on sound evidence. You got yourself into this by following the wrong man into the wrong situation, now your main concern is to get yourself out with as little of the shitty stuff clinging to you as possible. Stop me if I’m reading you wrong.”

  “No. Maybe. I don’t know. Look, we want the power back on. We released those people last night..."

  “And we rewarded you with food, drink and a phone. Same again this morning. Now, what do you have to offer us?”

  “The lives of seven people, that’s what.” His tone had changed and Sarah was quick to recognise it.

  “Your boss listening to you, is he?” she asked softly. “Now, hear me. You can salvage this. So far, no one’s been hurt and you’ve gone out of your way to make sure people have been taken care of. That’s in your favour. Apart from trying to rob the place in the first instance, you’ve got everything right so far, so don’t screw up now. He’s not worth it.”

  “How would you know?”

  “No one is. Not this. No one. Nothing. What amount of money would make this right?”

  The man on the phone took a deep breath and released it slowly. “We want a car. No, we need a mini bus. Take us and the hostages to the nearest airfield. Then, we want a plane. When we’re free and clear we let the rest go.”

  “And where would you want to fly to?”

  “Spain. Yeah, you’ll fly us to Spain.” His confidence seemed to be growing now she’d not denied him out of hand. Sarah was silent for all of thirty seconds before she spoke again.

  “I have people to talk to,” she said. “I can’t authorise anything, you understand that?”

  “Yeah,” he sounded slightly deflated. “Well you talk to those people and you make sure we get what we want.”

  He hung up that time.

  “Well, what do you think?” Alec said.

  “About what? It’ll be bloody tough to get authorisation for that lot. It’s against policy, you know that, Alec.”

  “We give them time,” Sam said quietly. “Time to consider what they’ve asked for and to make them think we’re taking their requests seriously. And, Sarah, next time, remind him that these are requests. He’s in no position to be making demands.”

  Sarah nodded. “Right you are. You taking the next call?”

  “Yes. I think that might be best.”

  Hemmings was puzzled. “I thought the idea was for you to build a rapport? Wouldn’t it be better for them just to bond with the same person?”

  “We have to play it by ear,” Sam told him. “If this was a suicide, then yes, you allow that rapport to be built and you keep consistency right the way through. In a case like this, you want to keep your subject on the edge of their comfort zone, gradually guide them in to where you have the control.”

  “You make it sound like a game,” Alec said harshly.

  Sam regarded him thoughtfully for several seconds before replying. “I don’t play games with people’s lives,” he said.

  ***

  Two in the afternoon and Simon was lost in the middle of Pinsent. The roads that led back from the seafront narrowed dramatically and suddenly once you got away from the promenade and larger residences converted to bed and breakfast accommodation. Beyond that, a network of terraced streets and old factories told the story of the town’s industrial past. There had been complaints a few years before of commuters using these streets as rat runs to get to the new industrial estate built on the outskirts and the local council had made many of them one way. The result was, you could see the street you wanted; it just took a bit of working out, how to get to it. In the end, Simon p
arked his car and walked.

  He was trying to get to Alexandra Road. The streets either side were named for other members of the royal family – the Victorian royal family. Albert and Edward and Victoria herself plus her cousins and many offspring. Alexandra had a shabby, run down look to it. The houses were flat fronted and opened from the pavement directly into the living room. The front steps were grimy and the doors that hadn’t been replaced by UPVC mostly needed a coat of paint. A few stood out from the rest because they’d been far more carefully maintained. Three in a row had cascading hanging baskets suspended between front door and living room window. They were a little garish for Simon’s taste, but a welcome splash of red and blue in a street of dull brick and grey net curtains. He was surprised to find that one of these decorated abodes was home to Nan Harper.

  The door was white plastic and the bell next to it bore a sticky label that told him to ring three times. Simon did as he was told. He wondered if he’d find anyone at home that time of day, but he was in luck. The woman who opened the door and asked him what he wanted was a faded blond. A scar ran from the side of her nose and marred the corner of her mouth and another, faded but still visible, pulled at the corner of her eye. He wondered if she’d ever tried to do anything about them, then wondered if they’d show as much if her skin was less tanned. “Nan Harper?” he asked. “Ex-wife of Ted Harper?”

  She started, stared at him in something close to horror and then she slammed the door.

  Simon had expected many reactions, but not that one. He rang the bell again.

  “Piss off, or I’ll call the police.”

  “I half expected you to change your name,” Simon told her. “Go back to your maiden name, or something. He leaned back against the corner of the wall and the doorpost and crossed his arms comfortably. “I wondered if you’d seen him lately, Mrs Harper. If you knew what he’d been up to.”

  “I don’t know and I don’t care. Anyway, he’s still in prison.” He heard the doubt in her voice and a moment later the door opened a crack. Simon pushed away from the wall and turned to face her. “Isn’t he?” she asked.