Owning Jacob - SA (38 page)

Where are they? His mouth was dry. He went into the kitchen for a glass of water. Even that had to be forced down. He poured half of it away, and as he put the tumbler in the sink his hand caught the edge of the draining rack. The glass slipped from his fingers and smashed.

He mechanical y bent down and began picking the pieces up. The smal er fragments were scattered across the kitchen floor. They reminded him of something. It hovered at the brink of recognition. He stared down at them, unaware that he'd stopped moving as it came to him. The shattered windscreen in the road. The damaged police car. The bumper from Kale's battered Escort. Where would Kale go?

'Oh, Jesus.' He ran to the phone, dial ed Norris's number. A policewoman answered. Ben's voice shook as he asked to speak to the inspector. His urgency must have convinced her.

She told him to hold. Norris came on, sounding tired.

'They're at the scrapyard,' Ben saiA

The drive to Tunford, the second in twenty-four hours, was both the fastest and the longest. The roads were empty and he kept his foot flat on the accelerator once he reached the motorway. The car rattled. He could feel the vibrations through the steering wheel as he appealed to a God he didn't believe in, offering deals, making promises. Let him he al right. Il believe.

Take me instead.

It fel into the empty air.

He hadn't told Norris he was going. He hadn't planned it himself. The inspector had promised to check out the scrapyard, but it had been impossible simply to sit and wait.

He was certain that Kale had taken Jacob there. With Kale's own scrap col ection out of bounds, there was nowhere else for him to go.

It was inevitable.

He resented having to slow down once he came off the motorway. The roads were unlit, and once he instinctively stabbed at the brake as something darted from a hedge in front of him. The flowing tail of a fox disappeared through a fence on the other side. He crashed the gears and accelerated again.

A police cordon blocked the road. Beyond it he could see the scrapyard's wal s, il uminated by a forest of flashing lights.

Oh God. He wound down the window as a policeman came towards him.

'What's happening?'

'Sorry, sir, the road's blocked. You'l have to turn-'

'Have you caught Kale?'

'I'm sorry, sir, but you'l have to-'

'Tel Inspector Norris that Ben Murray needs to see him! Please, it's urgent!' The policeman grudgingly went back to his car. He crouched down and picked up the radio handset An age past before he straightened.

He waved Ben through.

Police cars and vans lined the road outside the scrapyard, canted at crazy angles. Two waiting ambulances stood amongst them. The flashing lights gave the scene a fairground appearance.

He pul ed in as soon as there was room and left the car without locking it. Uniformed police surrounded the yard's wal s from behind the cover of their vehicles.

Most of them carried guns. One of them saw him and hurried over. Ben pre-empted any questions by asking for Norris. The policeman regarded him suspiciously and told him to wait. Ben looked towards the yard's tal gates. They were closed, but parked in front of them was Kale's Ford Escort.

He felt sick.

The policeman came back and led him through the confusion to what could have been the same white trailer that had been outside the Kales' that morning. It seemed much longer ago than that. Norris stood by its steps, talking to a tal man in a bul et-proof vest. Their breath steamed in the cold air. He broke off when he saw Ben.

'Mr Murray, I don't tliink-'

'Are they in there? Is Jacob al right?' Norris drew a breath as if he was going to argue, then let it out as a sigh, 'Kale's car's here, so we're assuming he is. We don't know any more than that. The owner's on his way with the key to the main gates.'

'Can't you go over the wal ?' The tal man broke in. 'It's topped with broken glass and barbed wire. I'm not sending anyone over that when there might be someone waiting with a shotgun on the other side.' His scalp showed through his cropped blond hair. He didn't attempt to hide his antagonism at a civilian presence.

'This is Sergeant O'Donnel / Norris said. 'He's in charge of the Tactical Firearms Unit. Now if you don't mind, we've got a lot to do, so-'

'If Kale's in there you might need me,' Ben said, quickly.

'I know him.'

'I don't think-'

'Please. I won't get in the way.' Norris considered. Til tel the superintendent you're here.

He might want the negotiator to talk to you.' He went up the steps into the trailer. The policeman cal ed O'Donnel detached himself and walked away without another word. After a moment the trailer door opened and Norris beckoned Ben in.

The light inside was bright, the atmosphere foul with coffee and cigarettes. The smal space seemed ful of activity.

A heavily built man with a moustache and bloodshot eyes was perched with one meaty thigh on the corner of a desk. A smal cigar burned down between his thick nicotined fingers.

The man next to him had sandy hair swept sideways to cover his bald scalp like a groundsheet at Wimbledon. Neither wore uniforms. Both looked tired and crumpled.

Norris said, 'Mr Murray, this is Detective Superintendent Bates and Detective Inspector Greene. Inspector Greene is our negotiator. He'l be handling communications with Kale.

Assuming he's in there,' he added, dryly.

'He is,' Ben said.

The superintendent was the heavily built man. 'Let's hope

you're right,' he said, with the air of a man who didn't like being roused in the early hours. 'Ken, see where the bloody owner's got to, wil you? He should be here by now.' Norris quickly left. The man he'd introduced as the negotiator turned to Ben. 'What can you tel us about Kale?' Ben tried to assemble his thoughts. 'Uh, he's … he's unstable. Unbalanced.

Violent, very fit, except for his leg. He got shot when he was in the army. In Northern Ireland.' An irritable sigh from the superintendent stopped him.

'We're not interested in his CV. We want to know what his state of mind's like, so we know what we're dealing with.' He ground out his cigar with an expression of barely concealed impatience. Ben tried again. 'He's obsessed with his son. Nothing else matters to him. I think …' The words had to be forced. 'I think he'd kil both of them rather than let anyone take him away again.' The negotiator nodded, calmly. 'What's your relationship with him like? Do you think he might listen to you?' Ben felt them al looking at him. 'I'm the reason he's in there.' He told them, as clearly as he could, his role in Kale's madness. 'So he's not going to chuck his gun out of the window at your say-so, then, is he?' the superintendent commented when he'd finished. Greene looked annoyed but made no comment. The trailer door opened and Norris put his head inside.

"Scuse me, sir. The owner's arrived.' The superintendent heaved himself to his feet and went out. The negotiator gave Ben the first friendly smile he'd had al night. 'It'l be al right if you wait in here. We'l let you know if anything happens.'

'What happens now?' Ben asked, struck with a fresh fear at the prospect of action.

'When we've got the gates open we'l see what the situation is inside. If Kale and his son are in there, we'l establish a line of communication. Get him talking, find out what he wants, reassure him.' Ben thought of the superintendent's impatience. "You won't just rush straight in?'I Greene seemed to know what he was thinking. 'The last thing anybody wants is a confrontation. In most situations like this it's just a case of waiting them out' He gave him another smile. 'Don't worry. We know what we're doing.' So does Kale, Ben thought, but said nothing.

The negotiator left. Ben waited as long as he could stand it and then walked to the door. No one stopped him from leaving the trailer. He saw the senior police officers gathered by a car. The scrap dealer was widi them, an overcoat thrown over his pyjamas. His stomach strained against them like a pregnant woman's. He looked confused and frightened as he answered their questions.

Final y, he was led away. O'Donnel , the sergeant in charge of the firearms team, went at a half-run to a group of policemen clustered behind a white Land Rover. The superintendent, the negotiator and Norris came back towards the trailer. Ben stood back, but none of them so much as glanced at where he stood in the shadows as they went inside.

Ben shivered and realised how cold he was. He looked down and saw he hadn't fastened his coat. He zipped it and turned up the col ar. But his body had already lost too much of its heat for it to make any immediate difference. His skin felt icy and dead.

There was movement over by the gates. Two policemen in body armour ran towards them in a crouch. Others aimed guns at the top of the wal . The two men huddled over the lock, then the gates were swinging open. The Land Rover's engine growled to life. It pul ed slowly up to the entrance and stopped. Its headlamps shone into the darkened scrapyard, but from where Ben was standing he couldn't see inside. Armed police disappeared through the gates, black figures briefly lit by the car's lights. Ben could hear the crackle of radios, make out snatches of words. After a moment the Land Rover drove slowly inside.

He couldn't bear it. He edged away from the trailer, al the time expecting someone to shout and stop him, but no one did.

He didn't have to move far to see through the open gates.

Kale had been busy. The Land Rover had pul ed up just inside the yard. Its headlamps and the beam from a spotlight on its roof lit the area inside the gates with a harsh, surreal white light. In it Ben could see that the drive leading to the office building had been blocked with wrecked cars. They had been piled on top of each other in an untidy heap three and four deep, crammed between the neater stacks on either side.

The jib of the crane was visible above them. He could just make out the black shape of the office behind it.

The police who'd gone into the yard were making no attempt to climb the barricade. Nothing seemed to happen for a while. Then the trailer door opened and the negotiator came out. He would have walked past if Ben hadn't spoken.

"What's going on?' Greene looked startled to see him. 'Go back to the trailer, please, Mr Murray. We haven't secured the area yet.'

'I won't go near the gates, I just want to know what's happening. Please, tel me if they've found anything!' The negotiator appeared to reach a decision. 'Not yet.

He's barricaded himself in, and we've been unable to reach him on the scrapyard's phone. He's either ignoring it or … or he can't hear it.' Ben noticed the hesitation and knew what it meant. His voice was unsteady as he asked, What are you going to do?' We'l have to try talking to him another way. Now, please, Mr Murray, if you don't go back to the command post I'l have to ask you to leave the area.' His face was grim with concentration as he hurried away.

Ben noticed for the first time that the man had put on a

m

bul et-proof vest himself. He drifted back towards the trailer in token obedience, but couldn't bring himself to go back inside. He watched as Greene went through the gates to where O'Donnel stood in the shelter of one of the Land Rover's open doors. Other police were crouched by the barricade, facing the office building beyond. Ben saw Greene raise something to his mouth.

'JOHN KALE.' Ben jumped as the amplified voice rol ed across the night. The echo hung in the cold air, slowly diminishing. Kale-ale-ah.

'ARE YOU IN THERE, JOHN? THIS IS THE POLICE.

NOBODY'S GOING TO HARM YOU. WE'D JUST LIKE TO TALK.' Talk-alk-alk. The echo died away. There was no answer.

The wrecked cars towered silently around them, broken and blind mechanical corpses. The negotiator tried again. Every now and then he would pause, waiting for some response, a sign of life, and then continue on a different tack, speaking in a steady, reassuring voice. The dark scrapyard absorbed his words, offering nothing in return. Ben hugged himself. Please, God.

Greene and O'Donnel conferred. Ben could see them talking on the radio, presumably to the superintendent in the trailer. He felt like screaming. As if in response the scrum by the car broke up. Two officers tentatively began to climb the barricade. Ben could hear the metal ic scrape ofI their progress, the teetering of bonnet and roof under their weight. The wrecks were precariously balanced, but eventual y Πthe policemen reached the top.ΠThe boom from the office was almost drowned out by a sound like hail hitting a tin roof. One of the policemen climbing the barricade cried out, and then both were tumbling down in a riot of confusion. The uppermost cars shifted in a screech of metal, then toppled off with an appal ing crash. Ben

saw the police scatter as the whole thing col apsed. There was chaos, people yel ing, pounding footsteps, and over it al the shotgun cracked out again and again. Someone was shouting, 'Move, move, move!', and through his shock Ben felt an utterly devastating relief, because Kale was stil alive, and if Kale was alive then Jacob would be too.

'Thank God,' he said, not caring that he was crying.

'Thank God.' But his relief turned to shame as he saw the figures running from the yard, carrying the injured to safety, not just the two men who'd been on the barricade but others who'd been caught by the fal ing wrecks. There were frantic cal s for ambulances as they set the bloody, groaning or unconscious figures down away from the gates, shouts that someone was stil trapped.

One man's face was a gleaming black mask that reflected the lights from the police cars as he was dragged out. Ben watched as he was laid down, the protective vest that had proved useless stripped from him and used to support his head. There were sirens now as die ambulances drew up and the attendants leaped out. In the background he could hear Greene's voice through the loudhailer. Without realising he was doing it he began moving forwards, walking through the injured policemen with no fixed idea in his mind, only the urgent need to stop this from going further. Someone grabbed him, roughly.