Heatwave Page 4

  “Storming the building’s a non-starter then,” Hemmings tried to leaven the mood. “No SAS available, I suppose.”

  Priestly grinned. “Nothing big enough for them to absail off,” he said. “No, we have to focus on opening some sort of negotiation, getting the most vulnerable out first, like your lady with angina. So, what are your recommendations?” This to Sam and Sarah.

  “We have no option but to wait,” Sarah told him. “As Sam pointed out, it’s early days yet, but my guess is they’ll try to confine the hostages, make them more manageable a package.”

  “I’d concur with that,” Sam agreed. “The storeroom is the place I’d choose, in their position. It isn’t air conditioned and it’s going to be hellishly cramped which is going to add to both the physical and emotional stress, so we need to persuade them to make a partial release as soon as possible. My feeling is, once they do start talking to us, that they’ll be open to that. It cuts down the size of their problem. Meantime, the CCTV footage of the earlier robberies would be helpful. Anything that might give us a handle on how to re-open our conversation. Until they decide to do that, our hands are tied.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Naomi listened, trying to make out what was going on. They had been ordered to silence and even Dorothy seemed to have taken this to heart this time. The only sounds were the grunts and heavy breathing of the four hostages assigned to shift furniture and stationary from the storeroom. Naomi had gathered this much from the commands given and the whispered commentary Patrick had managed before big man, as he called him, roared his orders for silence in such a manner none of them could be blinded to the implied threat.

  The only other sound in the room was the sound of smashing metal and plastic as, with an almost ritualistic fervour, he systematically battered mobile phones taken from the hostages with the butt of his gun.

  “It’s done,” someone said.

  “About time.”

  Naomi heard the heavy steps go past and then pause as he inspected the job done.

  “Right,” he said. Search them and get them all inside.”

  “In there?” Dorothy again, but her protest sounded weaker than before. She was genuinely shocked, Naomi realised.

  “Search them? You’ve already taken their stuff.”

  “Do it. Don’t bloody argue.”

  Harry helped Naomi to her feet and she stood close to him, listening as her fellow prisoners were searched. When it came to her turn, she realised, to her surprise that the searches were actually quite cursory and that the man who patted her down was very ill at ease.

  “What the hell do you think I could hide under this?” she demanded in a fierce whisper. The fitted summer dress left little room for anything but her. To her surprise she got a whispered apology.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “It wasn’t meant to be like this, ok?”

  Naomi did not reply, but she made a mental note to listen for that voice and maybe strike up a conversation with its owner. She wondered if they’d removed their masks yet. Even with the now too chill air conditioning, they must be very hot and uncomfortable if not.

  Her thoughts were punctuated by the sound of systematic destruction as the main man continued to take out his frustration on their personal effects and there was something else niggling at her mind as she tried to recall what she had read about the earlier robberies. The big man’s voice. It sounded a familiar note somewhere in her memory. As yet, she’d not been able to access what it was. It came from long ago, from a time, she was sure, in her early days as a serving police officer, long before the accident which had taken her sight and ended her career.

  Her thoughts were drawn back to the present by the consciousness of Napoleon pressing against her side, his fat tail thumping against her leg as he convinced himself they could now leave this place and do something more fun. God, she thought it’s been hours for him.

  “Please,” she said to the man searching her. “My dog. He really needs to go out.”

  “What? What d’you expect me to do about it?” He had a slight accent,” Naomi noticed. It reminded her of her friend’s the Emmett’s, The slight Barbadan lilt.

  “Please,” she repeated. “It’s not his fault.”

  “Oh God,” he breathed, clearly worried about being overheard. “Look, I’ll see what I can do.” He passed on to Harry. “Arms up.” Naomi heard a jingle as Harry’s keys fell to the floor followed by a handful of coins.

  “You OK,” Patrick breathed. He sounded tense.

  “I’m fine. You?”

  “Yeah.”

  Something in his tone caused Naomi to incline her head towards him. ”What?” she whispered.

  “Tell you later. They’re moving us inside. God, I hate small spaces.”

  “You’ll be all right.” She took his hand, Napoleon’s harness grasped tight in the other. The man who’d searched her came back.

  “Give me the dog,” he said. “I’ll give him some water too, yeah?”

  Reluctantly, Naomi relinquished her hold on the harness. “Thanks,” she said, genuinely grateful. “Look, he’s…”

  “Quiet, over there. If you’re going to see to that bloody dog, do it now. You don’t need a conference over it.”

  “I like dogs. I’ll look out for him,” the man whispered. He took the harness. “Come on fella.”

  “You can’t force us all in there,” Dorothy declared, breaking into their muted conversation. “It’s inhuman.”

  “Inhuman, is it? You want to give a good reason why I should care?” He slammed the butt of his gun hard onto the table, the sound of it loud enough to cause them all to jump in renewed shock.

  Loud footsteps again and the sharp crack of flesh impacting upon flesh.

  “You can’t do that!” This from the usually passive Harry

  “Boss, that is well out of order. She’s an old woman. We don’t beat up on old ladies.”

  “She should think herself lucky I used me frigging hand and not the bloody gun,” he retorted angrily.

  “Is she all right,” Naomi demanded? She could hear quiet sobbing now, shuffling feet as though people moved, nervously, to help and Dorothy’s voice, thick and slightly slurred, assuring someone that she would be all right.

  “Inside. Now. Anyone else want to argue?”

  Napoleon whimpered, not understanding what was going on. Biting her lip in agitation, Naomi reluctantly allowed herself to be ushered with the others into their effective prison cell.

  CHAPTER 8

  “I suppose since we’re here, we ought to introduce ourselves.” Surprisingly, it was Harry who spoke up first. “I’m Harry Jones and this is my son Patrick.”

  “Er, Hi,” Patrick said.

  “Um, Naomi Blake,” Naomi said at Harry’s prompting. The bit of her mind that always misbehaved in situations of crisis wondered if there was some sort of etiquette available for hostage introductions.

  “Dorothy Peel,” the familiar voice said.

  “We know who you are,” this from the mother of the two little girls. “You’re a mad woman.”

  “Possibly,” Dorothy accepted with equanimity, “but, my dear, I’ve never in my life allowed anyone to intimidate me and I don’t feel ready to do so now.”

  “We really shouldn’t argue amongst ourselves,” Naomi said. “We’re in this together and whatever our personal opinions might be, we’ve really all got to pull together.”

  “Well said, dear,” Dorothy applauded and Naomi immediately wished the woman had held her tongue. She was thankful when Harry stepped in.

  “I overheard your little girls’ names,” he said. Holly and Clare, isn’t it? But I didn’t quite catch yours.”

  “Sally,” she said. “Sally Harding. Do you think we’re going to get out of here?”

  “Of course, we are,” Harry soothed. “The police will have negotiators talking to those men very soon and we’ll all be home tonight. I’m sure of it.”

  Naomi wished she could be anything l
ike as certain.

  “I’m Fliss Maybury, and this is Alice,” the woman with the baby introduced herself, “and look, I’m really sorry about this, but she’s going to need changing.”

  “Did they leave your stuff with you?” Naomi was surprised.

  “They took my handbag, and searched the baby bag. The young black man threw the bag in after us. He’s the one who took your dog away?” The questioning tone told Naomi that Fliss wasn’t sure this was a good thing or not.

  “I asked him to look after Napoleon,” she explained. “He needed to go out and the man said he’d give him some water.”

  “We could all do with some water,” another voice this time.

  Naomi turned her head expectantly.

  “Paul Hebden. Brigadier. Retired.”

  He sounded tired, Naomi thought and not the least Brigadier like.

  “Mary Parker,” A woman said, next, her voice tremulous. She sounded as though she had been crying. “This is my husband, George.”

  “Pleased to meet you, I’m sure,” George Parker said. “I just wish the circumstances…”

  “I’m sure we all wish the circumstances were different,” Naomi said gently. “Is that everyone?”

  “Um, no, there’s us,” a man told her. “Brian Machin. I’m the manager here and I just want to say how sorry I am….”

  “It’s hardly your fault,” Dorothy informed him, making it, Naomi thought, somehow, sound as though it was.

  “Right.” He seemed to hesitate as though thinking the same as Naomi, then continued. “And my staff. There’s Audrey Shields, one of our long servers. Been with us since long before I came on board and Megan James, one of our younger customer advisors.”

  “Good girl, Megan, ”

  Naomi recognised the voice of the Brigadier.

  “And Tim Barron, of course. Our other lady…well, we hope she was released earlier.”

  The screaming woman, Naomi thought. She recalled the sound of the bank doors opening and then slamming shut and then the sound of a gunshot and the screaming had ceased. “Do we know what happened to her? Did anyone manage to see anything?” she asked and immediately regretted it. Asking the question forced the others to face the possibility that…

  “We hope she was released unharmed,” Brian Machin said firmly.

  “I really do need to change Alice,” Fliss Maybury interrupted fretfully.

  “Well, do it then,” Dorothy told her. “I’m sure it won’t be the first time we’ve seen a baby changed.”

  “Great,” Patrick muttered and Naomi couldn’t help but smile. He wasn’t big on babies, left the room when her sister’s newest arrival had a dirty nappy, but by the time Fliss Maybury had done and the confined space filled with the smell of soiled baby, lilac perfumed lotion and the sickly sweetness of the deodorising nappy bag which, in the confined space, was almost the most nauseating thing, Naomi felt she had some sympathy with his view.

  By the time she’d done, the baby was wailing again.

  “Hungry?” Dorothy asked.

  “Constantly. Um, look, I’m sorry about this. I’ll try,” she giggled, embarrassed, “I’ll try not to let anything hang out, so to speak.”

  There was a rumble of combined amusement and discomfort from the others

  “I think, my dear, that catching a glimpse of breast, at this precise moment, is the least of our worries,” Dorothy told her and, for once, Naomi was forced to agree with her.

  ***

  In the main waiting area of the bank the four men removed their masks. “Christ, that’s a relief.” Alan Harper muttered.

  His father glared at him, then turned his attention to Danny Mayo. “You going to sort that dog out, or what?”

  “I’m just thinking the best thing to do. He ought to go out in the yard, but…”

  “Oh, for God’s sake. Improvise.”

  Danny shrugged and went off to do as he was bid. He took Napoleon into the toilets first and filled one of the wash bowls with water finally getting the big black dog to accept a drink, thirst overcoming training that told him this was not the thing to do.

  The three remaining men stood looking at each other trying to figure what next.

  “Is that phone still working?” Ash Dutta asked, nodding towards the handset behind the cashier’s desk.

  Alan listened to it. “Yeah.” He made to replace it on the cradle.

  “Leave the bloody thing alone.”

  “Dad, we’ve got to talk to them. The police will be out there, waiting. They’ve tried to make contact once, they don’t care how long they have to wait. We’re the ones stuck in here.”

  “You questioning me?”

  “Yeah. I am.”

  Ted Harper pointed at the bruising that was spreading across the younger man’s face from the injured nose. “You know what happened last time you questioned me.”

  “Oh, come off it, dad. What you going to do, kill me?”

  “If I have to. I ain’t going back to prison, boy, I’m telling you that for nothing and I should never have brought you today. Knew you didn’t have the stomach for it. Soft, that’s what you are, just like your Mam.”

  Alan looked about to smart mouth back, but Ash shook his head, the movement almost imperceptible but Alan took note. Reluctantly, he laid the receiver back on the counter. “What are we going to do with them?” he asked, jerking his head towards the storeroom, then wincing as the pain shot through his head from his broken nose. His voice sounded thick and his nose began to bleed again.

  Harper senior gave no answer.

  “Ash, drag that table over there and take a gander out of the window. You, boy, give him a hand.”

  Alan grimaced. He wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand and then smeared it on his jeans before coming back round the counter and lifting one end of the heavy table that Ted had been using as an anvil. They tipped what was left of the mobiles and assorted other objects to the floor, then carried it over to the main door, wedging it into the alcove.

  “Don’t wind him up,” Ash warned. “He’s been off on one since the last job. We both told him, enough was enough, take the money and run. Clear off to Spain or somewhere, like, but he wouldn’t have it. It was all, ‘one more job and Alan’s coming in with us on this one.’ We told him to leave you out of it.”

  “Wish he fucking had. He’s right Ashwin, I’m not cut out for this. Bloody near shit myself when he fired that gun.”

  Ash frowned,” he’s not done that before,” he agreed. “He’s been getting worse. Start off, it was a bit of a laugh, like, with a good pot at the end of it. Danny and me, we just wanted some cash to get out of here. Go somewhere. We didn’t reckon on all this.”

  He climbed onto the table and peered out of the clear pane above the frosted window. “You reckon they can see me,” he asked anxiously.

  Alan thought about it. “No, wouldn’t think so, you’re not back lit or nothing. It’s all shadow in here.”

  “You see oat?” Ted Harper demanded.

  “Nothing. Empty street. I can just about see three, four shops opposite, but that’s about it.”

  “Police?”

  “Told you, I don’t see anyone. There’s not a fly moving out there. Looks like it’s another hot one though,” he added. “You know, Ted, we ought to give them some water. There’s no air conditioning in that little room and that old cashier, she didn’t look too good. We don’t what her dying on us.”

  “You think I give a fuck?”

  Ash jumped down off the table and strode across to where Ted Harper stood. “You should,” he told him. “Ted, we want all our chips intact if we’re going to get out of here. Look, we make our demands. We tell ‘em we want to keep the money, get a fast car to the airport. Police escort and a pilot to fly us wherever we want to go. We release a couple of the hostages, maybe that old woman or the kids or summat. Just to show willing like and then we take others with us, release them when we’re safe. I saw this film once…”
>
  “God, you talk some bollix,” Ted Harper told him

  “No. I don’t. I’m talking sense and you bloody know it.” He reached out and made to shake Ted Harper by the shoulders, then thought better of it and backed away. “Just you think about it, Ted. You’ll see I’m right.”

  The tension was interrupted, though not broken by the return of Danny with Napoleon. The dog looked happier, his tail wafting side to side and his muzzle wet from the water Danny had given him.

  “Great dog, this,” Danny enthused. “You know, he’s that well trained…” He paused, scrutinising the tableaux. Alan standing uneasily by the door, Harper senior and Ash Dutta facing one another, bodies tense and building for a fight. “Hey,” he said softly. “Fighting between ourselves ain’t going to do any good. We got to sit down and talk about this one. See what our options are, not start beatings seven shades.”

  Ash glared at him, then nodded and backed off. Ted Harper strode away in the direction of the toilets.

  “Not looking good,” Danny commented, bending his six foot frame to fondle Napoleons ears. He glanced in the direction of the front entrance, then at the closed inner door leading to the lavatory. “We could walk out now, take our chances?”

  “They’ll have armed police out there,” Alan protested, but he sounded ready to be convinced.

  “And leave him in here with them?” Ash objected. “We’d have a bloody massacre on our hands, way he’s acting just now. Anyway, if there’s a chance of us getting out of here with something, I want to take it. We need to negotiate, that’s all. We’ve got the money from this job and the other cash already stashed, cut four ways, it’s still a fair haul.” He paused and glanced uneasily towards the direction Ted Harper had taken. “Cut three ways, be even better,” he suggested.

  “You’d try to cut him out? Man you got to be mad. He’d find us, no matter how far we run.”

  “He could have a little accident?” Ash suggested. “Way he’s been waving that gun about, anything could happen.”

  “That’s my dad you’re talking about,” Alan had drawn closer to the other two and was listening, an expression caught someway between hope and pure terror frozen on his face.