‘How’re you feeling?’ Simon asked, as Maya walked into the kitchen.
She couldn’t answer. There were no words.
‘Oh, you’ve changed,’ he said, glancing up from the wires he was connecting. ‘Good idea, fresh clothes. Your gran will be back in a minute. She’s been keeping the neighbours at bay down on the lane.’
Maya nodded. ‘OK. Fine.’
The kitchen had been turned into a computer lab, nothing looked familiar any more; wires, aerials, monitors, hard drives and metal boxes cluttered the kitchen table.
‘Did you find anything else on Mum’s laptop?’ Maya asked, plonking herself down beside a monitor that was screening a view of the front gate.
‘Yep. Useful stuff,’ Simon answered. ‘I’ve got people working on it.’
Maya watched as he tested levers and switches. Was he really the whiz-kid Pam thought he was? She wanted to ask him if there was any news of the jeep, but his mobile went off and he disappeared into the hall, closing the door behind him.
Staring out at the garden, Maya saw the sun was still shining; the weather was beautiful. She leaned her aching head on her hands. It was torture, just sitting doing nothing, but she didn’t seem to be able to move. On one of the monitors she saw TV news vans and reporters arriving at the bottom of the drive. The gate opened and a car came through. A few minutes later the car arrived on the back drive and Helen got out, followed by two agents.
‘Any news?’ Helen asked as she came in.
Maya lifted her head. ‘No. A few phone calls, people offering to help, but there’s nothing anybody can do at the moment.’
‘No, I suppose not,’ Helen said.
‘Did the investigators find anything down at the lane?’
‘Tyre marks, spent cartridges. Hope they can make something of it.’
Helen’s body was stiff, her face tense and strained. Slowly she went over to the sink and washed her hands. Then, abruptly, she went into a flurry of activity, tidying the kitchen and making food. She asked Maya if she wanted a sandwich. Maya refused; she was too miserable to eat, and instead, she sat idly picking at the new bandage she’d wrapped round her hand.
The hall door opened and Simon walked in with a look of triumph on his face. ‘They’ve traced the jeep. It’s at a farmhouse in Hertfordshire, just north of London. They think Pam’s inside the building.’
Maya’s heart leapt in hope.
‘I’ve ordered all units there,’ Simon added.
‘Are we going in?’ Olivia asked.
‘Not yet. We don’t know what ammo they’ve got. We surround them, then we wait – try and psyche them out.’
Helen dropped the knife she was holding and started to shake. Maya went over to her. ‘It’ll be all right, Gran, it’ll be all right.’
She led Helen to a chair and sat her down. ‘They won’t hurt Mum, will they?’ she asked Simon, her eyes pleading.
Simon glanced at her, then averted his eyes. He didn’t say anything and Maya knew he couldn’t. Nobody knew what was going to happen.
‘Do you think the kidnappers will try and bargain?’ she asked.
‘Possibly,’ Simon answered. ‘But don’t get too hopeful. Government policy is strictly no deals with terrorists.’
His words thumped into Maya as if he’d punched her. ‘What?’ she demanded. ‘If we can’t make a deal, how the hell is Mum going to be set free?’
Olivia looked up from the keyboard she was using. ‘We have a skilled negotiating team. They’ll wear them down.’
‘And if that fails?’ Helen asked.
‘Then we’ll have to send in a team of firearms officers,’ Olivia said.
‘You mean, blast the place apart?’ Maya asked incredulously.
‘Let’s hope it won’t come to that,’ Simon said.
‘You’re not giving me much hope,’ Maya said angrily. ‘The government won’t bargain; the kidnappers might shoot her! But if Mum does survive, chances are she’ll die in the rescue operation. Great!’
‘Maya!’ Helen called but Maya didn’t stop as she ran out of the kitchen and up into the bathroom. Her legs were like straw, her stomach was in her throat. A wave of sickness overwhelmed her. Closing her eyes, she had an image of her mum tied up, her face scared in a way she’d never seen it before. She hung over the sink and splashed her face with cold water.
Breathing in quickly and sharply, she stared at herself in the mirror. She looked grim, her mouth puckered into a thin slash of crimson, lines etched on her forehead, a haunted look in her eyes – a dark ghost.
* * *
Pam moved her shoulders and neck, trying to ease the stiffness. She’d been sitting in the same position – ankles bound to the crude wooden chair, hands tied behind her back, mouth taped up – for what seemed like hours. Earlier, a woman had brought her a pair of long black trousers and an oversized black T-shirt that hung almost to her knees, so at least she wasn’t cold, but every time she moved, the bindings bit into her ankles and wrists. How long would they leave her like this? What were they going to do with her?
She listened intently to every sound and heard a car engine, the clang of metal, the scuffing of heavy sacks or boxes being pulled across the floor. Then footsteps rapped on the floorboards outside, the door opened and two people came into the room, – not the small, stocky man who’d seemed to be in charge, but a tall, thin man and a woman. The room was so dim that she could only see their outlines, but the tall thin man came towards her, put his hands on either side of her head then ripped the tape from her mouth.
‘Thank you,’ Pam said, although her lips were stinging so much, it hurt to speak.
The man drew out a sharp knife. Pam gulped and shuddered as he bent down, his beard close to her face. For a moment she stared into his cold eyes, then he pushed her shoulders forward and leaned down to cut the binding from her hands.
Straightening her arms, she rubbed at her sore wrists. The woman, dressed in jeans, black T-shirt and black headscarf, set down a tray and offered Pam a plate of food. ‘Please eat,’ she said.
Pam waved the food away – she wasn’t hungry.
‘You must eat something. It might be a long time before you get anything again,’ the young woman said.
‘Why?’ Pam asked.
‘You’re going to be moved.’
‘Where are you taking me?’ Pam asked.
‘That’s none of your business,’ the man butted in. He motioned towards the plate of food with his knife. ‘Eat,’ he said.
Pam thought she’d better humour them, so, taking the plate, she placed it on her lap, spooned up a bit of rice and chewed. It was soggy and tasteless and made her feel sick.
‘I can’t eat this,’ she said.
The young woman leaned forward. ‘Two more spoonfuls,’ she said, quite gently, as one would bargain with a child.
Obediently, Pam ate two more spoonfuls of the grey rice. Then she handed back the plate.
Immediately the tall bearded man waved a mobile phone at her. It was hers – the one they’d taken from her.
‘Before you leave here, you can phone your daughter. Tell her you’re safe,’ he said.
Pam had to clench her fists to stop herself from snatching the phone. She longed to hear Maya’s voice, and if she phoned the cottage they’d get a trace on the call. She reached for the phone, but before she could take it the man grabbed her wrist, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh.
‘Wait a moment,’ he snapped. ‘You say only this. Read it!’
He pulled the phone away and held up a piece of paper scrawled with big letters.
‘I can’t see it properly,’ Pam said quietly.
‘Here.’ The woman shone a torch onto the paper.
In a quivering voice Pam read the words aloud. ‘This is Pamela Brown. I’m not hurt or injured. If no attempt is made to find me and no suspects are rounded up, the Brotherhood will state their terms for my release. I repeat: do not try and find me. Do not arrest any Muslim brothers. We will contact you again in three days.’
As she finished reading, she was aware of the bearded man staring at her with hatred. ‘If you say anything else, add anything at all, your daughter will suffer.’
* * *
Slamming into her bedroom, Maya had a major stress attack, pacing up and down, thumping the furniture, kicking the wall. Finally exhausted, she fell onto the bed and lay looking up at the ceiling. If Pam was a prisoner in the farmhouse, what would happen to her? Please let her be OK, she prayed.
Rolling onto her side she stared up at the tattered target pinned to her noticeboard – a souvenir from the birthday treat at the Training Academy. Just two months ago, when she’d shot out the middle of the target and roared round the driving circuit, she’d had no idea that her life was about to take such a dark turn. Pam had been so proud of her that day. If only she could put her skills to use and do something to help.
Down in the hall the phone was ringing. The three house phones had been going all morning, so Maya didn’t take much notice. Next moment, though, she was fully alert. Somebody was screaming her name and footsteps came running up the stairs. When Olivia burst in, Maya was already at the bedroom door.
Olivia grabbed her arm. ‘It’s Pam. Quick! Down in the kitchen.’
Before Olivia had finished speaking, Maya was ahead of her, racing down the stairs and flying into the kitchen. She picked up the receiver lying on the worktop.
‘Mum!’
She jammed the phone to her ear, her body shaking with excitement. Simon had flicked a switch to tape the call, and he watched as Maya listened. For a few seconds he saw Maya straight-backed, focused, then her shoulders sagged, her head drooped and she shouted desperately three times, ‘Mum, Mum, Mum!’
Helen moved in quickly. ‘What did she say, darling? What did she say?’
Maya’s mouth was slack with shock. Her eyes stared without seeing.
‘She told me to look for the moon.’