Siege

Thirty-seven

FOX SLIPPED INTO room 316, shutting the door quietly behind him and bolting it from the inside.

Michael Prior, the director of MI6 and their VIP prisoner, was still in the tub chair where they’d left him earlier, and he was staring cautiously at Fox from behind the gag. He seemed to be quite calm for a man who had a bomb strapped to him.

‘You know they wanted to kill you on film,’ said Fox, reverting to his normal accent as he threw his rifle on the bed and pulled off his backpack. He leaned round behind Prior’s head and unstrapped the ball gag, letting it fall to the floor.

‘If you let me go, I’ll do everything I can to minimize your prison sentence.’ Prior’s voice was deep and authoritative, his expression stern and unwavering. It was obvious that he was accustomed to giving orders and being obeyed.

Fox ignored him. He was just another public-school establishment man used to getting his own way. Perhaps he thought that because Fox spoke with a local accent and was clearly English, he could be reasoned with. ‘They wanted to shoot you dead as a show of strength to the UK government. I stopped them.’

‘Thank you. You don’t sound very much like a member of the Pan-Arab Front, or whatever you people are calling yourselves. So, why are you involved?’

Fox sat down on the bed, facing him. Even trussed up like a chicken, Michael Prior exuded a certain gravitas. With his silver hair and finely delineated features, he had the distinguished, well-fed look of confidence backed by old money. ‘I told the man who was holding the gun to your head that you were much more useful to them alive.’

‘You keep saying “them” and “they”. If you’re not a part of them, then who are you?’

‘That doesn’t really matter right now. What matters is that you have information that I need.’

Prior’s eyes widened just a little. ‘I know a lot less than you think.’

‘Don’t try to bullshit me. We haven’t got time. I need a name. A name that only you and a handful of other people know.’

Prior swallowed, and Fox could tell that he knew exactly who he was referring to. ‘I thought this was a terrorist attack.’

Fox stood up. ‘It is. Now, we can do this the hard way, or we can do it the easy way, but the result’s going to be the same. You’re going to give up that name, and if you do it quickly, then it’ll be a lot less painful.’

‘Please, if you have any decency or patriotism …’

He stopped talking as Fox produced a scalpel and a small container of liquid from the backpack.

‘Give me the name and as soon as I’ve verified it I’ll unstrap the bomb, untie you, and let you go. You’ll have to take your chances, but you’ll probably make it out alive.’

‘I can’t. Please. I’ll give you any information you want, but not that.’

‘Last chance,’ said Fox. ‘Then I’ll have to replace the gag while I go to work on you.’

He lifted the scalpel, and Michael Prior’s eyes grew wide with fear.