Sir Ben tilted his head as he looked at Jo. ‘Get away from my mother and take your masks off,’ he said to both Jo and Saira.
Saira made a bolt for Sir Ben but Tony pistol-whipped her, splitting her cheek under her right eye. As she fell, she made a grab for the gun but Evans’s boot to her chest was too much and she crashed to the floor.
‘Oh do play nicely children, or you’ll all have to go home,’ said Audrey.
No one took any notice. Sir Ben spun Jo round and ripped her mask off. ‘Chief Superintendent Howe,’ he said. ‘Aren’t you people supposed to have warrants before you trespass on private property? Take her mask off,’ he said to Dr Blaketon.
Plainly not used to this, he pleaded with his eyes before Tony pointed the gun at him. ‘You heard.’ He stepped forward, knelt to where Saira was groaning on the floor and gently slipped off the mask.
‘This is going to need stitches,’ said the doctor, looking up at Sir Ben.
‘You’ll need a military field dressing if you don’t shut the fuck up,’ said Tony, still guarding the two terrified paramedics. ‘Stand her up.’ Dr Blaketon obeyed. Saira stumbled but the doctor held her tight. ‘Turn her 325round.’ As soon as Saira was face to face with Evans, she spat square in his eye which earned her another gun butt to the face. This time she ducked and the pistol caught her on the top of her head. Still the doctor held her, his horror plain in his expression. ‘I know you,’ said Evans. ‘You’re Sergeant Scott’s bitch. What is it? That’s it, Bannerjee. PC Bannerjee. You need to choose more carefully who you work with.’
‘This has got nothing to do with her,’ said Jo. ‘I told her to come with me. We don’t want any trouble.’
Sir Ben stepped up close. ‘No trouble? You’re the Old Bill. Of course you want trouble.’
Jo had so many horrors she wanted to spell out to this evil narcissist, but that would have to wait. ‘I only want to know what your guy used to poison my little boys. If the hospital don’t find out, they’ll die.’
‘I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ said Sir Ben, but his eyes told a different story. Jo could tell from the doctor’s look, on the other hand, that he really was in the dark. Tony’s smirk confirmed what she already knew.
‘Your thug here was seen passing the bottle that Terry Murphy used to contaminate their lunches and now they are on life support, so you better start thinking if you want to avoid a life sentence.’
One of the captured paramedics whimpered in the corner but Jo needed to focus on what was happening in front of her. On cue, Evans stepped forward and thrust the pistol at Jo’s face. ‘You fucking reckon,’ he said.
‘That’s it, I’m calling your mothers to come and collect you,’ said Audrey.
‘Shut her up,’ said Evans.
‘That’s my mum,’ said Sir Ben. ‘Treat her with respect. Trevor, see what you can do to calm her down.’
‘What have my boys done to you?’ Jo said to Sir Ben, hoping to capitalise on his apparent soft spot for family. ‘I don’t care what else you’ve done, just don’t let them die.’
She saw his steel falter, then Trevor said, ‘I’m not sure she’s fit to fly any 326more.’ Oh, that’s what FTF stands for, thought Jo.
‘Think again,’ said Sir Ben. ‘And now we’ve got the real paramedics, we can get back to what we are all here for. Get her ready.’
Suddenly, Audrey Parsons shouted out, a strained, panicked moan. Everyone in the room whipped round to face her.
‘What’s happening?’ said Sir Ben in a state of dread. Dr Blaketon ignored him and dashed to the old lady. All her muscles were as taut as anchor rope and her crimson face bore a look of sheer terror. Her body tremored and her legs and arms thrashed with a ferocity such a frail woman shouldn’t have been able to manage.
‘Do something, Trevor.’
‘There’s nothing to do. It has to work its course, I’m afraid.’
‘There must be something you can do,’ said Tony Evans.
Sir Ben glared at him. ‘Let the doctor work.’
Blaketon watched on as the seizure showed no sign of abating. He appeared to busy himself as if to distract Sir Ben and Evans.
‘Once she’s stable, hand her over to these two,’ said Sir Ben, pointing to the paramedics cowering in the corner.
‘This has to stop,’ said Jo, vaguely aware of movement over her right shoulder.
‘That’s not your call, said Evans, standing at the apex of a triangle with Jo and the doctor at the other corners.
Dr Blaketon looked up. ‘She can’t travel now. Look at the state of her. We’ll be lucky to get her to hospital, let alone New York.’
‘Nothing’s changed, Trevor. You’ve signed the paperwork, so get her sorted or we’re going to miss that bloody flight slot.’
Trevor faced Sir Ben. ‘That was then. Look at her. How the hell will she survive a nine-hour flight? She’ll barely see the night out here.’
‘GET HER READY!’ yelled Sir Ben.
‘This has gone far enough,’ said the doctor as he bolted for the door. Sir Ben went to grab him but a gunshot stopped him in his tracks.