Good as Dead

THIRTY-THREE

For the final briefing before the call that was scheduled for four o’clock, they gathered in a small room behind the stage in the assembly hall. There were large papier-mache heads lined up on the window ledge and a row of brightly coloured costumes hanging from a clothes rail. Thorne guessed that most of the kids would be relishing their time off school, but that a few might be upset at missing out on performing in the school play.

One kind of drama cancelled out by another.

Donnelly asked Sue Pascoe to summarise her thoughts about Akhtar’s state of mind and, from that, to give her opinion about the degree of threat posed to the two hostages.

‘He’s certainly emotional,’ she said, looking down at her notes. ‘Angry at times… petulant even, but these kind of extreme emotions don’t last, certainly not once real tiredness kicks in. Other than that very first contact, there have been no threats of any sort against the hostages, no deadlines set. Javed hasn’t talked directly about suicide and there’s certainly no previous history of violence.’

‘You make Javed sound like the Archbishop of fucking Canterbury,’ Chivers said. He was smiling, but it didn’t look good on him. ‘Clearly we’re all worrying for nothing. Guns going off are neither here nor there and Weeks and that other poor sod are having a whale of a time in that shop.’

‘All right,’ Donnelly said. He looked back to Pascoe.

‘I don’t see any increase in threat or volatility,’ she said. ‘And unless and until that changes, I would definitely recommend that we keep doing what we are doing. This is all about wearing him down.’

Donnelly turned to Chivers. ‘Bob?’

It was the first time Thorne had heard Chivers’ Christian name and he thought it suited him quite nicely. Just the one syllable, a ‘Bob’ and not a ‘Robert’. Nice and easy to have tattooed somewhere handy in case he ever forgot it.

Thorne glanced at Pascoe, but she would not look at him. He told himself it was because she was afraid she might laugh.

‘Well, you know what I think,’ Chivers said. He nodded in Pascoe’s direction. ‘With all respect, I’ve probably been on a few more of these things than you have, and in the end the only difference between sitting it out and going in early is a lot of wasted time and effort. Usually the same result in the end.’

‘Usually?’ Pascoe asked.

Chivers clearly saw the question for the challenge it was. The invitation to state his credentials. ‘In five years of these operations, my team has discharged their weapons exactly three times,’ he said. ‘One fatality, two woundings and no hostage so much as scratched. Good enough?’

Pascoe considered this. There no longer appeared to be too much chance of her laughing. ‘I’m presuming that you don’t regard that one fatality as any kind of failure.’

‘Look, if you think I’d send my team charging in there without being convinced they could resolve the situation without the use of force, then you’re wrong. But our hostage taker is waving a loaded gun about, let’s not forget that. So I’m not going to sit here and pretend that his safety is every bit as important to me as the well-being of the hostages. Fair enough?’

‘I’d like to get everybody out safely,’ Pascoe said.

She was about to say more, but Donnelly cut across her. ‘I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves,’ he said.

Chivers looked at Thorne. ‘What about you?’

‘I’m not a big fan of guns,’ Thorne said.

Chivers nodded, but clearly thought this was akin to confessing to some outlandish sexual perversion. ‘I was asking how your investigation was going,’ he said. ‘The business with his son.’

‘Do you care?’

‘In so far as you being in a position to give our hostage taker what he wants, which will have a direct bearing on the job I’m trying to do here, yes, of course I bloody care.’

‘I think somebody murdered his son,’ Thorne said. ‘And I’m doing my best to find out who.’

‘Timescale?’

The look on Thorne’s face made it clear he thought the question was every bit as stupid as the last time Chivers had asked it. ‘Ten minutes from now? Next week? Never? Still impossible to say, Bob.’

Donnelly stood up. ‘For now, we’ll carry on as we have been, but I’m taking everything I’ve heard into consideration and obviously we’ll continue to review the situation. OK?’

Nods around the table, some rather more enthusiastic than others.

‘Right, let’s make the call.’

They trooped back into the hall and once everybody was in position and Donnelly had called for silence, Pascoe dialled.

Akhtar answered and Pascoe asked how he was. He thanked her and told her he was fine, so she asked if he would mind providing some proof that the hostages were doing equally well. Akhtar briefly passed the phone to Helen Weeks. She told Pascoe that she and Stephen Mitchell were tired but in good spirits and being well looked after, then handed the phone back to Akhtar. Pascoe thanked him and he asked her if she had heard anything from Tom Thorne.

Thorne leaned in towards Pascoe. Said, ‘I’m here.’

Akhtar said nothing.

‘I just got back from talking to more people about Amin, and I want you to know that I’m making real progress.’ Thorne reached out for Pascoe’s headset, but she seemed reluctant. They both looked for the go-ahead from Donnelly and were given it. Pascoe handed over the headset and Thorne took her seat. ‘OK, Javed?’

‘What kind of progress?’

‘I need to talk to you.’

‘So, go ahead.’

‘In person,’ Thorne said. He was immediately aware of the shock turning quickly to fury around him and of the frantic head-shaking. Donnelly hissed, ‘No way,’ and Pascoe raised a hand in warning.

‘I don’t see how that is going to happen,’ Akthar said. ‘I will not allow anyone in here and I hardly think I will be permitted to just pop outside for a… quick chat.’

‘We can talk through the shutters,’ Thorne said. He waited, trying to ignore the anger of the officers close to him and the pressure of the superintendent’s hand on his arm. He stared at the image of the shopfront on the monitor, listened to the rasp of Akhtar’s breathing. ‘Just come to the door on your side of the shutters and I’ll be on the pavement right outside.’

Akhtar grunted and swallowed. ‘All right.’

‘I’ll be there in five minutes,’ Thorne said.