years of policing, it’s you can’t afford to think in terms of what might have been.’
‘Are you going to the Cabinet briefing, sir?’
Simmonds asked.
‘They want me there within the hour.’
Heddingham rubbed his chin. He needed to shave and acquire a clean shirt. Thank God for Simmonds; he was good at organising domestic comforts – if nothing else.
‘I’ll order you a helicopter, sir?’
‘Very good, Simmonds. The minister overseeing this incident wants a full report. I suggest we check the sequence of events, to ensure that we are in agreement about what happened, superintendent.’
‘A joint police/army report sounds like a good idea,’ the superintendent answered.
‘I don’t know about “a good idea”,’ Heddingham said acidly. ‘In the army we call it covering our rear.’
Simmonds went to the bank of telephones that connected directly to the nearest Army HQ, leaving the superintendent and lieutenant-colonel staring glumly at a road map of Britain.
‘He could be anywhere by now,’ Heddingham declared in disgust.
‘As he seems to think like your chaps, it might be a good idea to bring in someone who can analyze information as and when we get it. Someone able to determine whether a pattern’s emerging that could help us forecast his next move.’ He glanced sideways at Heddingham. ‘How about that special forces officer who was in the hospital last night?’
‘He’s back with his unit.’
‘Could you ask for him to be transferred to us?’ the superintendent asked.
The lieutenant-colonel looked to Simmonds, who’d just replaced the receiver. ‘Simmonds will arrange it.’
West opened his eyes and turned on the inside light of the car to read the clock. It was just after eleven. He checked Elizabeth, and saw her eyes were open above the gag he’d retied around her mouth. She made a noise when he opened the car door and stepped outside. His feet squelched into icy mud that oozed over the top of his trainers. It took him a moment to extricate himself from the mire and by the time he finished, both his socks were sodden and filthy as well as the trainers, but there were plenty of clean pairs in the case. He tiptoed through the puddles to the fringe of woodland and relieved himself.
On his return, he discovered Elizabeth sitting upright. He opened the back door and cut through her bonds. She pulled down her gag.
‘It’s all that beer,’ she apologized. She stumbled out of the car door and he followed her.
‘Can’t I do anything in private?’ she complained.
‘I can’t risk losing you.’
‘Damn you, and damn you to hell, John West.’ She stepped behind a tree, but to her chagrin he didn’t return to the car until she did. ‘If I promise not to make a sound will you leave off the gag,’ she begged.
‘Not a chance.’
He trussed her up exactly as he had done before, laid her head on the pillow, her feet on the seat and covered her to the chin with a blanket.
‘Looks like you’ve had practice putting children to bed.’
It was the last thing she said before he pulled the bandage tight around her mouth.
Children! The thought hadn’t occurred to him. Did he have a child? A wife waiting, wondering why he hadn’t come home? If so, why hadn’t she answered the press appeals?
He reversed down the path, into the car park and switched on the car radio. The first thing he had to do was find another car or van; a vehicle that wouldn’t be missed until morning in case the local police had already put out the description of the estate.
He drove down a secondary road to the accompaniment of an unmelodic pop song, covering two miles before he reached a straggle of upmarket houses built around a pub, a church and, further along, a small school. He opened the side window slightly.
The cold wind froze his ear, but he had a long drive ahead and didn’t want to risk falling asleep at the wheel. He continued north, by-passing the signs for the motorway, not wanting to
‘Are you going to the Cabinet briefing, sir?’
Simmonds asked.
‘They want me there within the hour.’
Heddingham rubbed his chin. He needed to shave and acquire a clean shirt. Thank God for Simmonds; he was good at organising domestic comforts – if nothing else.
‘I’ll order you a helicopter, sir?’
‘Very good, Simmonds. The minister overseeing this incident wants a full report. I suggest we check the sequence of events, to ensure that we are in agreement about what happened, superintendent.’
‘A joint police/army report sounds like a good idea,’ the superintendent answered.
‘I don’t know about “a good idea”,’ Heddingham said acidly. ‘In the army we call it covering our rear.’
Simmonds went to the bank of telephones that connected directly to the nearest Army HQ, leaving the superintendent and lieutenant-colonel staring glumly at a road map of Britain.
‘He could be anywhere by now,’ Heddingham declared in disgust.
‘As he seems to think like your chaps, it might be a good idea to bring in someone who can analyze information as and when we get it. Someone able to determine whether a pattern’s emerging that could help us forecast his next move.’ He glanced sideways at Heddingham. ‘How about that special forces officer who was in the hospital last night?’
‘He’s back with his unit.’
‘Could you ask for him to be transferred to us?’ the superintendent asked.
The lieutenant-colonel looked to Simmonds, who’d just replaced the receiver. ‘Simmonds will arrange it.’
West opened his eyes and turned on the inside light of the car to read the clock. It was just after eleven. He checked Elizabeth, and saw her eyes were open above the gag he’d retied around her mouth. She made a noise when he opened the car door and stepped outside. His feet squelched into icy mud that oozed over the top of his trainers. It took him a moment to extricate himself from the mire and by the time he finished, both his socks were sodden and filthy as well as the trainers, but there were plenty of clean pairs in the case. He tiptoed through the puddles to the fringe of woodland and relieved himself.
On his return, he discovered Elizabeth sitting upright. He opened the back door and cut through her bonds. She pulled down her gag.
‘It’s all that beer,’ she apologized. She stumbled out of the car door and he followed her.
‘Can’t I do anything in private?’ she complained.
‘I can’t risk losing you.’
‘Damn you, and damn you to hell, John West.’ She stepped behind a tree, but to her chagrin he didn’t return to the car until she did. ‘If I promise not to make a sound will you leave off the gag,’ she begged.
‘Not a chance.’
He trussed her up exactly as he had done before, laid her head on the pillow, her feet on the seat and covered her to the chin with a blanket.
‘Looks like you’ve had practice putting children to bed.’
It was the last thing she said before he pulled the bandage tight around her mouth.
Children! The thought hadn’t occurred to him. Did he have a child? A wife waiting, wondering why he hadn’t come home? If so, why hadn’t she answered the press appeals?
He reversed down the path, into the car park and switched on the car radio. The first thing he had to do was find another car or van; a vehicle that wouldn’t be missed until morning in case the local police had already put out the description of the estate.
He drove down a secondary road to the accompaniment of an unmelodic pop song, covering two miles before he reached a straggle of upmarket houses built around a pub, a church and, further along, a small school. He opened the side window slightly.
The cold wind froze his ear, but he had a long drive ahead and didn’t want to risk falling asleep at the wheel. He continued north, by-passing the signs for the motorway, not wanting to
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