other two men shuffled out of the cell with Lincoln wedged between them. ‘You’ve just been signed over to FBI custody.’ He smiled coolly. ‘Your sorry, murdering, terrorist, scumbag butt is ours now.’
Maddy turned to the others, standing together on the forecourt outside the precinct station. ‘All right, it’s half past nine. I guess there’ll be some police clerical staff at their desks by now who can sign a release form for us.’
She looked at Liam, Sal, Bob and Becks. ‘So … Liam, you come with me. The rest of you, just … just stay here.’
‘But what if they won’t let him go?’ asked Liam. He opened his mouth again and was about to point to both support units, Bob reaching inside an old mackintosh he was wearing to pull Foster’s old shotgun from the waistband of his trousers. Quite clearly eager to bring the thing out of retirement and use it once again.
‘No! We’re not shooting this place up! I said that already. If they say no , then we’ll just have to figure something else out.’ She pointed up at the sky, where a solitary column of dark smoke arced across the cloudless blue morning. ‘See that? Everyone’s watching the news. Everyone’s watching nine-eleven unfold. People are angry and very, very frightened … and that includes the cops. As far as they know, right now, this could be the first of a whole wave of terrorist attacks.’
She took a fluttering edgy breath. Nervous. ‘The last thing we want to do this morning is kick up a disturbance, OK?’
Liam shrugged. ‘All right.’
She reached out and grabbed his arm. ‘Come on.’
They climbed a couple of steps off the pavement and crossed a small forecourt that would normally have been filled with patrol cars and police bikes. Pretty much all of them were out this morning. Crowd control. Panic control.
They stepped in through swing doors and ahead of them was a counter and a thick panel of perspex behind which two female uniformed officers and several plainclothes officers stood, all of them staring at a small portable TV perched on the corner of one of the desks beyond.
Maddy stepped up and wrapped her knuckles lightly on the barrier. ‘Excuse me?’
Maybe they heard, maybe they didn’t.
‘Excuse me!’
One of the women in uniform managed to tear herself away from the screen. Maddy could see her eyes were red with tears. ‘Oh my God,’ she whispered to Maddy, as if they were old friends, ‘it’s awful, isn’t it?’
Maddy nodded. Right now, she felt disconnected from the disaster slowly developing at the south end of Manhattan, but she certainly remembered the emotions all around her back at school, while they, like these police officers, had sat and gasped and cried as they watched the flames climbing the sides of both the north and south towers.
‘We’re here to collect our … uh … well, our cousin. He was brought in last night and cautioned, I think.’
The woman on the far side sniffed and dabbed at her eyes. ‘Right … yes …’ She seemed a little relieved to have something to put her mind to. ‘Gonna need a name, please.’
‘Madelaine Carter. And this is Liam O’Connor.’
‘No, I need the name of the arrested.’
‘Oh, right … it’s Abraham Lincoln.’
The woman nodded. Pulled out a clipboard with a computer-generated event log clipped to it. ‘Lemmesee … lemmesee …’ Her finger ran down the printed page. ‘Abraham Lincoln? A D&D …’ She looked up at them. ‘Drunk and disorderly. Looks like he was booked in at ten fifteen last night.’
‘That’s him,’ sighed Liam. ‘He … uh … he does like a drink every now and then.’
‘Gets him into all kinds of trouble,’ added Maddy.
‘We’re going to give him a right telling off, so we are.’ Liam shook his head sternly. ‘I wouldn’t want to be him when we get the fool home.’
The woman nodded absently. She picked out a reference number and began entering it on to a computer.
Maddy turned to the others, standing together on the forecourt outside the precinct station. ‘All right, it’s half past nine. I guess there’ll be some police clerical staff at their desks by now who can sign a release form for us.’
She looked at Liam, Sal, Bob and Becks. ‘So … Liam, you come with me. The rest of you, just … just stay here.’
‘But what if they won’t let him go?’ asked Liam. He opened his mouth again and was about to point to both support units, Bob reaching inside an old mackintosh he was wearing to pull Foster’s old shotgun from the waistband of his trousers. Quite clearly eager to bring the thing out of retirement and use it once again.
‘No! We’re not shooting this place up! I said that already. If they say no , then we’ll just have to figure something else out.’ She pointed up at the sky, where a solitary column of dark smoke arced across the cloudless blue morning. ‘See that? Everyone’s watching the news. Everyone’s watching nine-eleven unfold. People are angry and very, very frightened … and that includes the cops. As far as they know, right now, this could be the first of a whole wave of terrorist attacks.’
She took a fluttering edgy breath. Nervous. ‘The last thing we want to do this morning is kick up a disturbance, OK?’
Liam shrugged. ‘All right.’
She reached out and grabbed his arm. ‘Come on.’
They climbed a couple of steps off the pavement and crossed a small forecourt that would normally have been filled with patrol cars and police bikes. Pretty much all of them were out this morning. Crowd control. Panic control.
They stepped in through swing doors and ahead of them was a counter and a thick panel of perspex behind which two female uniformed officers and several plainclothes officers stood, all of them staring at a small portable TV perched on the corner of one of the desks beyond.
Maddy stepped up and wrapped her knuckles lightly on the barrier. ‘Excuse me?’
Maybe they heard, maybe they didn’t.
‘Excuse me!’
One of the women in uniform managed to tear herself away from the screen. Maddy could see her eyes were red with tears. ‘Oh my God,’ she whispered to Maddy, as if they were old friends, ‘it’s awful, isn’t it?’
Maddy nodded. Right now, she felt disconnected from the disaster slowly developing at the south end of Manhattan, but she certainly remembered the emotions all around her back at school, while they, like these police officers, had sat and gasped and cried as they watched the flames climbing the sides of both the north and south towers.
‘We’re here to collect our … uh … well, our cousin. He was brought in last night and cautioned, I think.’
The woman on the far side sniffed and dabbed at her eyes. ‘Right … yes …’ She seemed a little relieved to have something to put her mind to. ‘Gonna need a name, please.’
‘Madelaine Carter. And this is Liam O’Connor.’
‘No, I need the name of the arrested.’
‘Oh, right … it’s Abraham Lincoln.’
The woman nodded. Pulled out a clipboard with a computer-generated event log clipped to it. ‘Lemmesee … lemmesee …’ Her finger ran down the printed page. ‘Abraham Lincoln? A D&D …’ She looked up at them. ‘Drunk and disorderly. Looks like he was booked in at ten fifteen last night.’
‘That’s him,’ sighed Liam. ‘He … uh … he does like a drink every now and then.’
‘Gets him into all kinds of trouble,’ added Maddy.
‘We’re going to give him a right telling off, so we are.’ Liam shook his head sternly. ‘I wouldn’t want to be him when we get the fool home.’
The woman nodded absently. She picked out a reference number and began entering it on to a computer.
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