Bob Rather turned Carl’s phone over and over in his hand. He’d already seen the text messages and hadn’t said much at all. He’d pursed his lips and shaken his head, but Lesley sat opposite him at the kitchen table, waiting.
She had expected that handing the problem over would be a relief, in truth she was overwhelmed with anxiety, waiting for his comment. She wanted his help, urgently and unequivocally. When he did speak her heart fell.
“I’ve got to take this in. I’ll have to hand it over to the Serious Crime people. I don’t know what to think about all this. I can’t believe you and Jean have let it go on without telling us. I thought she had more sense.”
“No!” As she answered him, Lesley reached out, trying to retrieve the phone. He pulled it away. “No, please, Bob. You can’t. If you tell anyone else they’ll hurt Carl, Carl and Jean.”
“Now don’t you worry. We know how to deal with stuff like this. Of course we do, and we’ll be careful.” Lesley groaned and lowered her head to the table.
“You’ve done the right thing, giving me this. Telling me about what’s happened. You’ve done the right thing. Now we can take over. We can get them back. This phone,” he waved the small handset in the air, “this will lead us to them. We can trace where the calls come from.”
“But, can’t you do that yourself? Just you? That’s what I want, I want you to do that. I want you to help me. I thought you’d help. You’re Jean’s friend.”
Before she had finished speaking he was shaking his head again. “No, of course I can’t. That’s not the way things work. In your sister’s books they might, but not in real life. No, there are rules, ways to do things that have been laid down. It’s for the best. We can’t have people off and running in all directions, it would be chaos. No, this has to go to the people dealing with the murder. They’ll sort it out.”
“You’ll get them killed. If the police are seen coming here. That’s the whole bloody point. That’s why Jean went off to meet them, that’s why she put herself in danger and now, all you can tell me is that there are rules and routines. You’ll get them killed.” She pushed the chair back with such force that it toppled and crashed to the floor.
“It’s no good. I can’t do anything else. We need all the technology, all the expertise, we need to act quickly. Look, I know you’re upset, of course you are, but I think you know don’t you? I think you know deep down, that the right thing to do is to hand this over to us, and let us sort it out.”
It was quiet in the little, dim room. Carl and Jean sat close together, sharing body warmth and comfort. They spoke only in whispers. There had been the sound of raised voices yet again, and then the slam of a door. Now, there was nothing, they had listened carefully, waiting for evidence of activity.
Jean pulled the blanket closer around her shoulders. She had stopped shivering but the room was chilly. Her hair was still damp and her underclothes were cold and clammy. “Carl, can I have your sweatshirt? You’ve got your T on underneath, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, oh yes of course, sorry I should have thought.” As he spoke Carl began to drag the grey hoody over his head. As he moved, the plastic ties which had been wrapped loosely around his wrists fell to the floor. He stopped. “Shit, sorry Aunty Jean. I can’t. If I take my top off they’ll know my hands are free.”
“Oh, yes. I didn’t think. It’s okay, I’ll be okay.”
He stood and dragged the top over his head. “Bugger it, when they come back it won’t matter whether they know or not. Look you put that on. I’m going to get these things off my legs and then I’m getting us out of here.
He handed his hoody over and Jean pulled it gratefully over her head. She wrapped the blanket, skirt like around her waist, and then helped Carl to shuffle on his behind, back to the corner. They worked together to saw away at the ties around his ankles. The plastic broke surprisingly easy once it was attacked with the rough edge of the bracket, but their captors had used many of them. Each time one broke they stopped for a while to listen for noises outside, but there was nothing.
The constant pressure on the broken bracket afforded them an unforeseen benefit when it came away from the wall with a clatter. They gasped and waited, hands clasped, hearts pounding, but still the door remained closed, silence in the building.
Now Jean was able to use the metal as a knife and in no time, they had removed the last of the ties. She turned the broken bracket over in her hand. Gripping it tightly in her fist she jabbed it a couple of times in front of her and then raised her eyes to Carl. He reached for it, this unexpected weapon, but she pulled back her hand. “No.” If there was to be violence, bloodshed, and injury than she would be the one. “Listen, Carl. Whatever happens, no matter what it is I want you to promise me that if there’s a chance for you to get out you’ll go. Just go. I’ll do the same, but don’t try and protect me, don’t wait for me. Just go.”
“Don’t be silly. What are you saying. We’ll get out of this together. No way, am I running off and leaving you here.”
“No, Carl. I want you to promise me. When they come back I’m not giving them a chance to do anything more. As soon as that door opens I’m going for them with this. I’ll take them by surprise but you have to promise me that you’ll just get yourself out of here.” She was crying now and he pulled her to him. “No, Aunty Jean. I just can’t.”