Siege

Forty-five

19.18

ARLEY DALE STOOD IN the cold night air of Hyde Park, still stunned by the phone call she’d just received. In the space of a few cruel minutes her whole world had become a nightmare from which it seemed there was no escape.

If she told the man holding her children the details and timing of any SAS entry into the Stanhope she would be betraying them, perhaps even sending the soldiers to their deaths. She would effectively be committing treason. She would also almost certainly be found out, which would mean losing her career, her life as she knew it, and her liberty. Even if a judge took into account the extenuating circumstances behind her betrayal, she could still spend the next ten years of her life in prison.

But if she didn’t do what the caller wanted, what then? There was, of course, the possibility that if she told her bosses they could keep things under wraps while the full resources of the Met were thrown into the hunt for Howard and the children. But the problem was, her family could be anywhere. The only thing she knew for certain was the people they were dealing with were highly organized and utterly ruthless. They’d planted bombs in civilian areas; they’d gunned down members of the public at the Stanhope; they’d even murdered her own au pair, Magda, and forced the children to pose with her corpse. There was therefore absolutely nothing to suggest that they wouldn’t do the same to Howard, Oliver and India if it suited them. And as soon as they realized that she’d given them false information about any planned attack (which she’d have to do if she confided in Commissioner Phillips) they would take their revenge.

She also knew that, even if she did cooperate, there was absolutely no guarantee that her loved ones would be released. In fact, it would be far simpler for the terrorists to kill them, and perhaps even bury them somewhere they’d never be discovered.

She couldn’t believe what was happening to her. It all seemed so bloody surreal. How on earth had they got to her family? How did they even know she’d be involved with the Stanhope Hotel siege? It wasn’t as if the Met’s major incident command structure was decided in advance. It simply depended on who was available and on duty when an incident actually happened. But they had known. Just as they seemed to know that the SAS would be launching a rescue operation later that night.

Arley felt physically sick as she lit another cigarette with shaking hands, and looked over towards the incident room. She was going to have to go back there soon, act as if nothing had happened and run a huge and stressful operation.

She pictured Oliver and India. How would she ever live with herself if they died? She thought of Howard too. She loved him too, of course, but not in the same desperate, all-encompassing way she loved her children.

She dragged hard on the cigarette. Thinking. Weighing up her options.

What fucking options?

Unless …

She looked down at the phone in her gloved hand. There was one person who might be able to help her; one person she felt she could trust with this, the darkest of secrets.

It was a hard call to make, but as Arley flicked through her contacts until she found the number she was looking for, she knew it was worth the risk.

In the end, she’d destroy anyone, whoever it was, to save her children.