The Bank Job
Holly Turner dusted the toast crumbs from her fingers and set her mug and plate on the draining board. She heard footsteps, and before she had time to turn around, she felt a familiar pair of arms encircle her waist.
"Good morning," she said, allowing herself to enjoy this customary greeting.
"'Morning," Slade murmured sleepily, nuzzling in to her neck.
"Where's your shirt?" Holly asked, noting the satisfying warmth from the bare chest against her back. She could smell, too, that he had used her shampoo again.
"I was going to ask you the same question," he replied. "I seem to recall you discarding it fairly quickly last night."
Holly twisted around to face him, an eyebrow raised.
"That's not how I remember it."
He grinned.
"Really? Do you want to travel back and check?"
Holly rolled her eyes.
"You're going to be late," she told him, checking around for her keys.
"You're not going into the office?"
She shook her head.
"No, I've got that medical, remember?"
"Oh yes. The fittest specimen of manhood they had ever seen – that's what the doctor told me at mine last week."
"So you said. You offered to prove it to me, remember? In my office, wasn't it?"
So far, Holly had managed to repel Slade's advances in the workplace, but it only seemed to encourage his efforts. This was despite the fact that the changed nature of their relationship had not been divulged to the wider workforce; in fact, not even Grisham knew. Relationships between police officers were supposed to be disclosed to your direct superior, but Slade had argued that as Holly wasn't technically a police officer, it didn't count. Holly's reason for keeping quiet was not for the clandestine thrill of it all; everything was going so well that she simply didn't want to tempt fate.
Slade started to look around in a half-hearted attempt to locate his shirt, his damp hair still mussed from the towel. Holly watched him get distracted and start to make himself a mug of coffee. She couldn't complain; it would take a long time to get sick of the sight of a semi-naked Slade in her kitchen.
"So what are you going to tell Grisham when you get to your desk half an hour late?" she asked, pulling on her jacket.
"Same as I always tell her," he said, taking the milk out of the fridge. "That you were keeping me prisoner as your love slave."
Holly offered him a sarcastic laugh.
"For that comment you forfeit your right to a goodbye kiss," she said, disappearing into the hallway.
"You wouldn't do that to me," Slade said, following her.
"Try me," she smiled, hitching her bag onto her shoulder.
"Okay, I'm sorry," he said.
"What was that?" Holly said, cupping her hand to her ear in an exaggerated gesture. "Sorry, I didn't catch that?"
"I'm sorry. Now, come here."
Holly allowed herself to be drawn towards Slade for a long, lingering kiss. Moments like this made leaving the flat very difficult.
Things had moved at quite a pace since that evening in her flat, when Slade had brought her the purloined crystal from Webb Biotech. On accepting it, she had noticed the blisters on his hand, acquired while retrieving the electromagnetic crystal from the fire. Holly had managed to evade his loaded question about the two of them by insisting on dressing the burns, but his patience had run out and as soon as she had finished, he leaned forward and kissed her. In the moments that followed, there had been a mumbled agreement that they would take things slowly, but this resolution was broken within twenty-four hours. Holly, not normally an avid breaker of rules, found herself enjoying this walk on the wild side. It wasn't until she had been kissed by Slade that she realised how astounding a kiss could be.
They broke apart, and Holly checked her watch.
"Great! Now I'm going to be late."
"I was going to ask if you wanted to meet for lunch."
Holly nodded and told him she would be back in the office by late morning.
"If I don't see you, Giovanni's at twelve-thirty?"
"Go and find that shirt!" Holly called, as she hurried down the hallway to the lift.
As Holly drove to the police medical centre she thought about how different her life now was. At the very start she still had lingering worries about why Slade had made his move when he did. Was it because his jealousy over her past with Stephen Marlowe had brought him to his senses? Or was it simply because he wanted to mark his territory, ensure no other man would know about the machine? Slade had clearly sensed her hesitance and had assured her of his feelings – not only that, but since they started to share a bed he hadn't made a single request to use the machine. Holly wasn't naive enough to assume this would last, but she knew he was trying his best to show her the seriousness of his intentions.
The fact was that she now couldn't keep Slade away from her flat even if she wanted to. One night, after working late on a case, he had nearly driven Danny to call the police when he forgot Holly's spare key and tried to pry open the door to the service entry. Both men were embarrassed by the situation, with Danny left in no doubt about why Slade would be arriving so late in the evening. Even when he was on a nightshift, he liked to go to Holly's before he went home to sleep; she would hear the front door close, and wait for Slade to climb in bed beside her for the couple of hours before her alarm would go off. Occasionally, he would chance a suggestion of sex, which she often found hard to resist.
The wait in the medical centre was surprisingly short, barely enough time for Holly to read through the reports she had brought with her, and she was ushered into a room by a nurse carrying a clipboard. Holly complied with the usual questions and tests and was then asked to wait in the reception area again. Before too long, the doctor, a woman around her own age, beckoned Holly into a consultation room.
"Is it okay if I call you Holly?" the doctor asked.
Holly agreed.
"Well, Holly, I'm really pleased with your results – everything looks great, you're basically very healthy. I also wanted to offer you my congratulations."
Holly looked blankly at the doctor, feeling as though she had missed something.
"I'm sorry?"
She saw the doctor's brow furrow slightly.
"You're pregnant."
"What?" Holly exclaimed, before her brain had a chance to catch up with her mouth. "No, that's not possible."
The doctor, who had clearly seen this scenario before, smiled slightly, and held a sheet of paper out to Holly.
"I know you're a Science Officer, so I don't need to explain the terminology and the methodology we use, but these are the test results. See for yourself."
Holly took the paper, looked at the charts and tried to take in the words, but she felt as though she had been spun on a merry-go-round, and had yet to fully recover her balance.
"I...take it this wasn't planned?" the doctor ventured.
"Um, no – I mean, no, no it wasn't. How did it...? I mean, we were being careful."
"Well, as you probably know, no method is a hundred per cent preventative. I see from the forms you filled in that you've been taking the combined contraceptive pill; have you been at all ill recently? A bug maybe?"
Holly started to rack her brain, her mind racing wildly.
"I...I had to take antibiotics several weeks ago, but it was nothing serious."
"There are some antibiotics that affect how much of the Pill your body is able to absorb."
Holly left the doctor's office in a daze; she now knew what was meant by a state of shock. The doctor had told her that she was probably about six weeks pregnant and had given her a folder of information for expectant mothers, along with a bottle of folic acid tablets. In the toilets, she washed down one of the tablets with a cup of water. The doctor had warned her that she could start feeling nauseous any time now, and there would be no chance of keeping something like that from Slade. The alternative, however, seemed just as hard. They had been together as a couple for less than three months and the subject of children had, understandably, not yet come up.
She examined her reflection in the mirror, turning sideways on to look at herself, before chiding herself for being so stupid. It would be months before anyone would be able to tell.
Until she met Slade and started developing feelings for him, Holly had barely even considered having children. The secrecy around the machine dominated her life, and settling down with a man and having a family just didn't seem like an option. The concept of motherhood was still one that filled her with fear. So how was she going to tell Slade that he was going to be a father?
The day was turning out to be quieter than Jeff Slade expected. He filed some much-overdue paperwork, and then accompanied Nicky to the scene of a shoplifting in the city. It was kids' stuff, really, and in fact had involved kids; uniforms would usually handle that sort of thing, but Grisham was keen for Nicky to learn police work from the bottom up. The whole thing was tied up by mid-morning, which gave Slade plenty of time to run the errand that had been dominating his thoughts for a couple of days.
"Aren't you coming, too, Slade?" Nicky asked, as he climbed into the patrol car containing the two recalcitrant youths.
"Something I need to do," he replied. "Won't take long. If Grisham asks, tell her I'm taking my lunch break early."
The first stop he made was the window of the vintage jeweller and antique dealer, where his ideas had fallen into place two days earlier. He was relieved to see it was still there, nestling in the midnight blue velvet box in the middle of the window. There was a 'sold' ticket beside it, which wasn't technically true; Slade had had to convince the jeweller that he would be back before the weekend with the rest of the money. In order to keep his promise, he needed to make a stop at the bank which, conveniently enough was just across the road from the jewellers.
As he approached the bank, his mind turned to Holly, imagining that she would soon be arriving at the office. He had missed travelling to work with her, even though it usually involved him being dropped off a couple of blocks away to avoid arousing suspicion. What he really wanted was for it to be out in the open, to demonstrate to Holly that now he had made the commitment, it was for good; more than just a best-friends-with-benefits arrangement. That said, the benefits were working out pretty well, and it was hard not to walk around with a permanent grin on his face.
Slade pulled the door to the bank and found it was locked. He automatically looked at his watch, but knew the bank should have been open hours ago. He cupped his hands to the glass and peered in. He could see an employee coming towards the door, but instead of opening it as Slade assumed she would, the woman flipped the sign to 'closed'.
"Hey!" Slade called, but the woman was already walking back into the bank. As he watched her go, he realised that the bank was unusually dark, as though there had been a power cut. He was about to turn away when a streak of movement caught his eye. Someone in dark clothes had darted across the lobby of the bank, and Slade immediately knew that something wasn't right.
The bank was on the corner of the street, and he quickly made his way around the side. Pulling himself up on the sill, he was able to see through a small, greasy window, and what he saw made his heart leap into his throat. There must have been a dozen people in the back office, and the the way they were positioned there left no room for speculation. It was a classic scenario. Each one of them was sitting on the floor with their back to a wall, and each had their hands behind them, almost certainly tied. Slade kept himself low, anxious not to catch anyone's eye in case they gave him away, or vice versa. He looked for the individual or individuals responsible for the situation but saw no-one. This was not good.
There was a phone box across the street, and he went straight to it, shuffling through the contents of his pocket for loose change. The call went through to the front desk.
"Frank! I need you to put me through to Grisham," Slade said, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the bank.
"Sorry Slade, she's out at a meeting with the Commissioner. Can I take a message?"
"Just patch me through to the office," he said, praying that it wouldn't be Morris who picked up the phone. Instead, it was Nicky, which wasn't a great deal better.
"Slade! I thought you were having an early lunch?" the young man said, clearly puzzled. "But then Holly said she was meeting you for lunch around the corner. What's going on?"
"Holly's there?"
"Yes. She just got back. Do you want to speak to her?"
It was tempting, just to hear Holly's voice, but he couldn't ignore the more pressing matter at hand.
"Listen Nicky, and write this down. There's a robbery in progress at the bank on Porter Street. Several hostages, number of perpetrators currently unknown."
"Is this a wind-up?" Nicky asked, incredulous.
""No, Nicky, this is real, this is happening. I'm right across the road from the bank now. Grisham needs to send a team down here. Can you get hold of her?"
"I'll try, but she's -"
"With the Commissioner, I know. Just...when you manage to speak to her, tell her what I've told you and that I'll call back."
"And what are going to do?" Nicky asked.
Slade swallowed, fixing his focus on the front door of the bank. It didn't seem as though he had any choice.
"I'm going to see if I can find a way in."
"But Slade -"
"I'll be in touch as soon as I can. Tell Holly we might have to postpone lunch."
Pushing open the door to the phone box, his jaw set, Slade jogged back across the road to the bank.
Holly was finding it hard to focus on work, particularly as it was now nearly midday and she was due to meet Slade very shortly. She had tried rehearsing the words in her head, but she was starting to realise that there was no easy way to deliver news like this. As she got up to look for a report in her in-tray, she realised there was a commotion in the office; everywhere she looked, detectives were donning coats and abandoning their desks. She opened her office door just in time to catch Nicky.
"Nicky, what's going on?"
"Bank robbery in the city; some hostages involved too, apparently."
"Should I send Slade along when I see him?"
As soon as Holly said it, she knew something was wrong; Nicky, like her, had a horrible poker face.
"He's already there," Nicky said, finally. "When I spoke to him, he was heading inside the bank."
"Alone?" Holly said.
Nicky didn't reply, but he didn't need to.
"I'm coming with you," she told him, grabbing her coat from the stand in her office.
"Do you think that's wise, Holly?" Nicky asked. "I mean, you might be needed back here."
"I can't do anything back here," she told him, as she set off in pursuit of the other detectives. "I need to know what's going on."
By the time they arrived at the scene, Holly could tell this was being treated as a major incident. The road had been blocked off, with squad cars positioned at both ends to prevent access, and officers unravelling a yellow cordon. Detectives and uniforms milled around uncertainly, clearly trying to look as though they were meaningfully engaged. The car had barely stopped before Holly had got out and was looking up and down the road for that familiar yellow jacket. This wasn't the first time Slade had managed to get mixed up in something dangerous, but she couldn't deny that there was even more at stake now. When it came to work, he often acted like he didn't care, but this had never fooled Holly; she knew how strong his sense of duty was, and that he must have felt he didn't have a choice. Still, some part of her couldn't help but be exasperated with him, too.
Holly spotted Grisham talking to a small cluster of detectives gathered outside a jewellers shop. Ordinarily, she would have feared too much for her professional reputation, but she couldn't wait any longer.
"Chief," she said, manoeuvring between the detectives until she could be seen.
"Turner! What are you doing here?"
"I...do you know where Slade is?"
Grisham seemed to forgive the fact that Holly hadn't answered her question.
"As best as we can tell," she said with a hefty sigh, "he's in the bank. We're trying to establish visual contact without compromising the situation. That man is going to be the death of me."
"So you're just waiting for something to happen?" Holly asked, trying to temper the rising panic in her voice.
"We're devising a strategy now, Turner. There's protocol to follow."
The expression on Grisham's face changed, and she drew Holly aside slightly.
"Go back to the roadblock. As soon as we know something, I'll make sure someone comes to find you."
Slade had just gained entrance to an upstairs office when he heard the sirens getting closer - so much for the element of surprise. Still, Grisham followed the rules as closely as he disregarded them, so he couldn't have expected it to go any other way. He was glad Holly hadn't been there to witness him climbing up the air-conditioning duct; he could just imagine what she would have had to say about that. Still, at least she was safe back at the office. He just hoped the jeweller would look on his situation with understanding.
From the muffled voices he could hear, Slade deduced that the bank staff and their captor were directly beneath him. There seemed to be only one of them, which surprised him; banks of this size were usually targeted by much larger teams of criminals and they didn't usually hang around. He had to get closer. Just as he was about to leave the room, the office telephone rang, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He saw the light on the telephone dashboard stop flashing; someone in the building had answered the call. Gingerly, he lifted the receiver, holding his breath as he did so.
"This is Kate Grisham," he heard the voice say. "Who am I talking to?"
There was a pause before a quavering voice replied.
"My name is Lucy Spalding. I'm one of the clerks here."
"Can I speak to the person who is holding you?" Grisham asked.
Another pause.
"He won't talk to you."
"How many people are in there with you?"
"There are nine of us. Six of us work for the bank, the others are customers."
Slade's heart sank. He must have arrived at the bank just as this had all taken place.
"Can you tell me what he wants?" Grisham said.
Slade heard the woman consulting with someone away from the phone.
"He says there's a bomb in the building, and he'll detonate it if he doesn't get what he wants."
Slade involuntarily took in a breath. This was taking a very different turn from what he was expecting.
"Do you know where the bomb is?" Grisham asked.
"No. He won't say."
"Do you know what he wants? Tell him that we can't help him if he won't give us his demands."
"He...he wants the police to leave."
"Tell him we can't do that. Not while he's holding you all in the building."
"He wants...he says he wants his house back."
"His what?"
"I have to go."
At that moment, the line went dead, the robber having apparently decided that the conversation was achieving nothing. Slade silently crept from the back office to the next room, clearly a manager's office, which was at the front of the building. From there, he could see the developing melee on the street. There, behind one of the unmarked cars, was the unmistakable figure of his boss. He needed to speak to her, but how? If he knew Nicky's mobile number, he could have tried that. Then he was struck by a bolt of inspiration. Reaching into his pocket, he drew out the reservation card from the jewellers store and dialled the number printed on it.
"Come on, come on," he whispered, desperately hoping that Grisham hadn't ordered a complete evacuation of the street.
It turned out he was in luck.
Holly had been watching events unfold, could see Grisham making telephone contact with the bank. Was it Slade? There was no way of telling unless she could get closer. She saw Grisham hand the phone back to one of the detectives. At that moment, Morris approached her.
"Chief?"
"Not now, Morris."
"But Chief, there's a phone call for you - at the jewellers."
"What?" Grisham said, incredulously.
"It's Slade."
Holly's heart performed a somersault. What did this mean? She broke away from the road block, shrugging off Nicky's attempt to hold her back. Grisham did nothing to stop her from approaching.
"Slade, where are you?" Grisham asked.
Holly felt a deep sense of frustration, able as she was to only hear one side of the conversation.
"Can you see what's going on?" Grisham continued. "The perpetrator claims to have planted a bomb...how do you know?...does anyone else know you're in there?...well, can you safely establish visual contact?"
Suddenly, her tone changed.
"Absolutely not! It was reckless enough that you decided to go into the building on your own and without approval from me – I should suspend you for that alone – but there is no way I'm going to allow you to do what you're suggesting. It would be totally irresponsible, a dereliction of my duty as your superior officer. I've got an armed response team on the way."
This, Holly knew, was not good. Part of her had thought that perhaps now they were together, Slade would think twice before he risked life and limb, before he acted on impulse. He knew how many people she had lost to tragic circumstance, so why did he continue to behave this way?
"Hang on a moment," Holly heard Grisham say. "Turner, he wants to speak to you."
Holly took the phone, her hand shaking.
"Holly?"
"Slade!"
She knew that Grisham, and several other detectives were watching her, but maintaining a professional veneer was almost impossible.
"Sorry I missed our lunch date," he continued. "Something came up. Maybe you noticed."
"Where are you?"
"On the first floor. I can see you, but don't look up – it's important nobody in the building knows I'm up here."
"What's going on? What is it that Grisham won't let you do?"
"It's just one guy, he's not a professional. Grisham wants to send in the cavalry, but who knows what the man will do if that happens. I think I can handle it myself."
"You think?"
She heard Slade laugh softly.
"I know, I know, it's dangerous when I start thinking. But while he doesn't know I'm here, I've got the advantage. But I'm going to need your help – can we talk privately?"
"Slade, there are fifty police officers out here!"
"Just...can you get out of Grisham's earshot?"
Holly glanced at Grisham before turning her back and taking a couple of steps away.
"Holly, I can handle one bank robber, but I need to know where he set that bomb. I need you to travel back and find out."
As soon as he said it, Holly knew the decision was out of her hands. She hadn't considered it yet, hadn't had time to, but the news she had been given that morning changed everything.
"Slade, I can't."
"Why not?"
She thought she could detect alarm in his voice; he wasn't expecting this response. She had travelled back to save his job, she had travelled back to try and save his life, but she couldn't do it this time.
"Holly, why not?" he insisted.
"Because...I..."
"Is it the machine? It was fine this morning when you left, wasn't it?"
"It's not the machine, Slade."
"Then what?"
She couldn't tell him, not in these circumstances. All the debates she and her father had had about time travel, all the research and theories she had read, and nobody had said anything about the effects time travel could have on an unborn child. Holly realised she was in the process of making the most difficult, gut-wrenching choice she had ever had to make; she knew nothing of this tiny life inside her, but instinctively she also knew she couldn't risk doing anything that might put it in jeopardy.
"I just can't," she told him, her eyes pricked with tears. "I wish I could tell you why, but I can't. I'm sorry."
There was a pause before he spoke again. Holly was surprised to hear there was no anger or frustration in his voice.
"You must have a good reason," he said.
"I do," she told him. "And I'll tell you. Just get yourself out of there safely."
"Don't worry, Holly, you can't get rid of me that easily."
She sensed he was about to hang up the phone.
"Slade!"
"What is it?"
"I..."
"I know," Slade said. "I love you, too, Holly."
Once the words had left his lips it felt completely right. Slade knew Holly loved him and he knew he felt the same way – it was probably about time that one of them swallowed their pride and came out with it. He just didn't expect it to be him. But the strange thing was that it seemed to have given him renewed purpose; now more than ever, he knew he had to solve this.
Slade tried to picture the room layout, from what he'd seen through the window. The key was to take the robber by surprise, and to do that he had to be able to see inside the room. He reached for his gun, and was immediately struck by the most terrible gut-punch of realisation; in his hurry to leave Holly's flat that morning, he had left it behind. On the coffee table, if he remembered correctly, not far from where he found his shirt. Suddenly, his assertion to Grisham that he could handle this was looking far less credible. But he had seen far too many heavy-handed police operations end in chaos. The only option left to Slade was the most direct.
He stood outside the cash office door and knocked.
"Who's there?"
The voice was male, and not as young as Slade was expecting.
"The police," he answered. "But I'm here alone."
"How did you get in?"
"It doesn't matter. I'm here now and I want to help you."
There was a pause, and Slade thought he could hear movement.
"I'm not armed," he added.
"Maybe not, but that lot out there are," the man said.
"They won't shoot you, not while there are people in here with you," Slade said. "What's your name?"
He heard the man laugh – nervously, he thought.
"Why would I tell you that? You lot don't care about anyone like me."
Slade frowned to himself. This was not panning out as he thought it would.
"I'm Jeff Slade," he said. "I'm a detective. Now, I need you to let me in there so I can check that everyone's okay."
"Everyone's fine," the voice replied. "I've told the police what I want, and there's nothing they can do to help. This lot in here, they're the ones I need."
Slade closed his eyes for a moment, and offered up a silent plea to Holly to forgive him for what he was about to do.
"Okay, but I'm going to have to come in anyway," he said. "Please don't shoot me."
"Stay where you are!" the man yelled, and Slade heard gasps from within the room.
"What good is this doing anyone?" Slade said, his heart starting to thump in his chest. "If you're ever going to get what you came for, we're going to have to talk."
Suddenly, the door was flung open and Slade was faced with the sight of a young woman being used as a human shield, her captor right behind her. The look on her face was one of barely repressed terror. Slade tried not to look at her for fear that he would lose his wits.
"If you try anything, she gets it," the man said, moving back just enough to let Slade enter the room, which he did with his hands up.
"Sit down over there," the man ordered, pointing to a space on the floor next to a filing cabinet. Once Slade had done as he was told, the man allowed the young woman to return to her seat. She was immediately comforted by the elderly man beside her.
Once seated, Slade was able to get the first good look at the bank robber. One thing was clear: he didn't fit the profile. For a start, he wasn't wearing any sort of mask, and was dressed simply in jeans and a jacket. What he did have, very clearly, was a gun, but not the standard-issue handgun that most street hoodlums or career criminals could get their hands on; this one looked like an antique. The man himself was older than Slade, maybe in his early forties, and squat, with thinning grey hair and a few days' stubble.
"None of you move!" he ordered the bank staff and customers, as he set about tying Slade's hands in front of him with a plastic strap.
Slade looked around himself and was relieved to see that everyone looked okay, physically at least. All of their eyes were on him now, waiting for him to resolve the situation and probably wondering why a police detective would allow himself to be taken hostage. What he had to keep in mind was that this man didn't know that he had overheard the conversation with Grisham.
"Are you going to tell me your name now?" he asked the man, who was pacing nervously.
"You can call me George," he replied.
"Okay. George. Now, what is it you want from these people?"
"I want my house back."
Slade couldn't make the connection work.
"What happened to your house?"
The man ran a hand through his hair, almost like a nervous tic, and jabbed his gun in the direction of a bearded man sitting under the window.
"You! You tell him what happened to my house!"
The man swallowed, looking to Slade as though he might be sick.
"Mr...George...wasn't keeping up with his mortgage payments, so the bank had to foreclose on his house. The repossession order is for this afternoon."
"You didn't give me a chance to sort it out!"
"You were given sixth months," the man continued. "We extended you a courtesy we don't offer to everyone."
Slade groaned inwardly. This was a disgruntled bank customer taking the complaints process to its very limits.
"They can't do anything about that right here, right now," he said. "Why don't you and I and the manager here go and sit down somewhere, and try to sort this out?"
"You don't think I've tried sitting and talking? No-one listens, no-one wants to know. That's why I had to be more persuasive."
"What do you mean?"
"There's a bomb somewhere in this building."
One of the bank customers started to cry.
"Where is the bomb, George?" Slade asked.
"Not until I get my house back. If they refuse, I can detonate it whenever I like."
Slade looked around him, felt the weight of time ticking by and the fact that he had so far done nothing to reduce the risk to these people.
"Look, George, you've got the bank staff here. Why not let the other customers go? They can't help you, and it will mean fewer people to keep an eye on."
There was a pause. The man looked to the three bank customers, two women and the elderly man, and then back at Slade.
"Fine. They can go."
"Thank you."
"But the rest of them stay – you included."
The man opened the office door and stood back. Nobody moved.
"Well, go on," he said, waving towards the open door.
The three people scrambled to their feet and disappeared through the door. Slade could hear their feet clatter across the foyer floor, and the sound of one of them banging on the glass door to be let out. He wondered what was going on out there, imagined some of Grisham's armed officers ushering the hostages away. They would be questioned almost immediately, and he prayed they would give Grisham a glowing review of his actions.
Three down, six to go, seven including himself. And just the small matter of a device that could blow them all sky high.
When Holly had seen the door to the bank open and three people spill out onto the street, she knew it was too much to hope that one of them would be Slade. Grisham had shouted for the armed officers to escort the people away, one of the customers shrieking as the men with guns rushed in their direction. Holly was still reeling from the last thing Slade had said to her; he had told her that he loved her, and it felt like a bolt from the blue. The funny thing was, she never expected to hear those words from Slade, just thought it remain one of those implicitly understood things between two people who mean a lot to each other. Now she wished more than anything that she had said the same thing back to him.
Now Grisham was back at her vantage point outside the jewellers, and Holly could see that she was deep in discussion with some of the detectives.
"What do you think is going on, Nicky?" she asked.
They were both sitting in the front of one of the squad cars, Nicky clearly frustrated not to be more directly involved in the action.
"Well, according to the Handbook of Policing, Grisham must treat the hostages as the first priority. She could follow section 17c of chapter 9 to try and resolve the situation via traditional hostage negotiation methods, but that can be overruled by clause 6, when the perpetrator is threatening destruction of property as well as harm to person."
"And what happens in that situation?" Holly asked, fairly sure she was not going to like the answer.
"She would have to ask the Commissioner whether she can send in the armed response unit, followed by bomb disposal," Nicky said. "In that situation, subsection 2b applies, and the safety of members of the public takes precedence over the safety of police officers."
He caught Holly's eye for a moment, before looking down at the radio in his hand.
"I'm sure Slade will be fine," he added, "He does have his gun after all."
At that moment, the radio crackled into life.
"The officer inside is unarmed," the voice said. "Repeat: the officer inside is unarmed. Standing by for instructions."
Holly and Nicky exchanged glances.
"They...they must have debriefed the hostages," he stammered, clearly seeing the horror on Holly's face.
Slade had willingly walked into a bank heist and hostage situation, and he had done it unarmed. If she ever saw him alive again, Holly didn't know whether she would kiss him or throttle him. She was about to ask Nicky to get on the radio when she saw Morris heading down the road towards them.
"Morris!"
The lanky detective strolled over with more than a little self-importance in his swagger.
"What's going on?" Holly asked. "Why is nothing happening?"
"We're waiting for the hostage negotiator to arrive," Morris said.
"And until then..?"
Morris shrugged.
"I dunno. But there's nothing going on here and I'm starving – do you want anything from the sandwich shop, Nicky?"
Holly couldn't believe what she was hearing, but she couldn't just sit there any longer.
"Where are you going, Holly?" Nicky asked, as she got out of the car. "I think we should probably stay here, like the Chief said."
"I'm just stretching my legs, Nicky," she told him.
As Holly stood by the cordon, she surveyed the scene, taking in where the officers were standing and where their attention was. In her head, she started to calculate how far it was to the front door of the bank, and the decision was made.
By the time anyone realised what she was doing, and the shouts and sounds of running feet could be heard, Holly was metres from the front door. As some of the hostages had exited that way, she knew the door couldn't be locked from the inside, and although common sense was telling her to stop and turn around, she opened the door and stepped into the bank.
The yelling and commotion from the road outside made everyone in the office start, and Slade felt a rush of panic surge through him: in the context, those sorts of noises were never good.
"What's going on?" the man demanded. "What are they doing?"
"I don't know," Slade told him. "Just stay calm."
In the silent anticipation that fell over the room, footsteps could clearly be heard in the hallway outside. One individual – one individual wearing shoes with heels. Not Grisham? She wouldn't veer so wildly from the rulebook.
"There's someone out there!" the man said. "Someone's coming!"
He dragged Slade to his feet and wrestled him towards the door, and Slade found himself taking on the role of human shield. The footsteps had stopped.
"Who's there?" the man called out.
"I'm here to negotiate," the voice said.
Slade reacted with horror; there was no mistaking that voice. But why? And how?
"Are you with them?" the man said.
Slade heard Holly reply that she was. He had to try and get rid of her; the last thing he wanted was to endanger her life as well.
"Everything's under control," Slade called, hoping Holly would heed the subtext. "A negotiator isn't necessary."
"I've got your detective here," the man said, yanking Slade's arm in anger. "And if you try anything he's going to get it first."
"Can I come in?" Holly asked.
"I want your gun," the man told her.
"She doesn't have a gun," Slade found himself saying.
"How do you know?"
"Standard negotiator policy," Slade said, covering himself as best as he could.
"Open it," the man told Slade, nodding towards the door.
Feeling the muzzle of the gun between his shoulder blades, Slade slowly eased open the door with his tied hands to reveal Holly standing there. For a split second it was just the two of them facing each other, and Slade had an overpowering instinct to protect her, or at least tell her to run. But he knew, too, that there were other lives at stake. Perhaps Holly knew something about the bomb – otherwise, why would she be there? How had Grisham let this happen? The questioning look he gave her went unanswered, as the man then ordered Holly into the room, grabbing her by the arm.
"Stay there," the man told Slade, returning him to his place by the filing cabinet. Slade watched as the man quickly searched Holly for a weapon, preparing himself to do whatever he had to, should the man threaten Holly's safety. If this was a better option than using the machine, he hated to imagine what the alternative must be.
"You're the negotiator," the man said, stepping back from Holly, who hovered nervously in the middle of the room. "So, negotiate."
"Listen, George -" Slade started.
"Let her do her job!" the man replied with a growl.
"I need to understand your predicament," Holly began slowly. "So I can come up with a way to get us all out of here."
The man ordered the bank manager to fill in the details, and Slade watched Holly taking this all in. He had to concede that if anyone could figure a way out of this mess, it might just be Holly, but for him, her presence meant that the jeopardy of the situation had increased tenfold.
"Tell them to stop the bailiffs," the man said.
"They can't," Holly responded. "The police have blocked all outgoing calls. We're going to need to find another way."
"Without my house, there is no other way. You know I've got a bomb, and I can set it off any time I like?"
Holly nodded.
"Well, don't you want to know where it is?"
"We can talk about that later. If we can solve this problem here and now, then there'll be no need to blow up the building and harm all of these people."
Slade wondered where she was going with this, and found himself praying for Grisham to send in the armed response team to bring an end to it all. The only reason she hadn't done it yet had to be the presence of not only Slade, but now Holly, too.
"What's your name?" the man asked.
"Holly Turner," she replied. "What's yours?"
"This lot are calling me George," he said, with a snort. "So, Holly, are you married?"
She shook her head.
"Do you have children?"
"No."
"Take my advice, don't do either," the man said, sitting down on one of the desks. "Or you might find yourself doing this one day."
"What do your wife and children have to do with this, George?" Holly asked. "You haven't harmed them?"
"Of course not!" he replied. "I would never do that!"
Slade felt himself breathing a sigh of relief.
"But because of this...place," the man said, gesturing around him, "I haven't seen my kids for over a month!"
"Because of the bank?"
"Yes, because of the bank. I was having a little trouble with my business, things had dipped a bit, but things were going to start picking up at any time. The bank didn't care about that, though – all they saw is that I couldn't pay the bills for a couple of months, and the next thing I knew, they send me a letter telling me they're taking my house."
"I'm sorry," Holly said in a careful tone.
"Well, my wife found out how much trouble we were in and she left. She took the kids with her, and now she's managed to persuade the courts that I'm not fit to spend time with them. If I can get my house back, she'll see that I'm sorting myself out and I'll get to see my kids again."
"I understand," Holly told him. "But what do you think your children would think of what you're doing? Or your wife?"
"Doesn't it prove that I love them?"
"What would prove that you love them, that you really want to resolve things, would be if you put down the gun, tell us where the bomb is and let these people go."
Slade expected the man to explode again, and was surprised when instead he momentarily dropped his head to his hands. There was an eerie silence as they all seemed to be collectively holding their breaths. Slade tried to catch Holly's eye, but her focus was on the man. With the man's back to him, Slade started to quietly ease himself to his feet, a plan formulating in his mind. He could do this.
At that moment, the silence was brutally shattered. Things seemed to move in agonising slow motion as the door to the office kicked back on its hinges and a flurry of black-clad officers stormed the room. Slade saw one of them bundle Holly out of the room; he saw the man, George, dive sideways, and at the same moment a searing pain in his shoulder sent him reeling backwards. He collapsed on the floor, the darkness closing in.
Holly's feet barely touched the ground as she was lifted forcibly by two large, armed police officers and quickly removed from the building. She struggled against them, heard herself shouting Slade's name. She'd heard a single gunshot, but didn't know who fired it or who was on the receiving end. As they left the bank, she tripped on one of the steps, and was only just caught by one of the officers; the two of them almost had to drag her to safety. The next person Holly saw was Grisham.
"Be careful!" Grisham said, reprimanding the officers.
"Where's Slade?" Holly asked, undisguised panic in her voice. She tried to get a view of the bank, but all she could see was the second wave of armed officers, poised at different vantage points around the outside of the building.
"We're taking care of it. The tactical team has taken over," Grisham said. "Are you all right?"
Holly nodded, without actually giving it a thought.
"I'm fine, but I heard a gun."
"We're securing the building now. I've got to ask you, Turner, what on earth possessed you to go into the bank? You know you could have been killed."
"I had to," Holly said. "I mean, we were wasting time. I had to do something."
Grisham nodded. She went to the squad car behind her and returned with Holly's bag, which she handed to her.
"You're pregnant, aren't you?" Grisham said, in a tone softer than Holly was used to hearing.
This was not what she was expecting to hear, and she felt her eloquence leave her.
"How...how did you know?"
"When Nicky gave me your bag, I saw the tablets," Grisham said, with a smile. "I've had two children myself, you know, so I had my suspicions. Then I saw you nearly fall when you left the building just now; you probably didn't even realise you were doing it, but the first thing you did was put your hand to your stomach."
Holly shook her head, unsure what else there was to say.
"Does Slade know?" Grisham asked.
Holly looked up. Grisham obviously felt no need to ask who the father was.
"I only just found out myself," she replied.
"I think maybe you should have told him," Grisham said with a sigh. "That way, he might not have gone storming in there like Dirty Harry."
Over Grisham's shoulder, Holly could see Nicky coming towards them with a grave expression.
"Chief?" he said, and Holly watched as the two of them conferred.
Across the street, the noise level rose again as armed officers escorted the bank employees from the building. They had only just been hustled to safety when the front door opened again and Holly recognised the figure of the man, George, who was now handcuffed and weeping. But that meant only one thing...
"Nicky," Holly said, taking hold of the younger man's arm. "Where's Slade?"
"He's...um.."
Nicky was looking to Grisham for guidance.
"Nicky, you have to tell me. What happened to Slade? Why haven't they brought him out yet?"
Nicky was saved from having to reply as, instead, Grisham took hold of her arm. Holly knew this was not good, and started to feel the dread rise within her.
"He's been shot," Grisham said, without letting go of Holly's arm. "By all accounts it was an accident, but the paramedics are working on him now."
Holly couldn't believe what she was hearing, and she wondered momentarily whether it was the shock that was preventing the tears. She managed to recover brain function just as a paramedic backed out of the bank, holding a drip. Right behind him was a gurney being pushed by another medic, and there was no mistaking the identity of the patient.
"Let her through," Holly heard Grisham tell the officers, as she elbowed her way through the crowd of police.
Holly reached the gurney just as the paramedics were poised to lift Slade into the ambulance. She felt a rush of relief when she saw that his eyes were open, followed by another surge of panic when she saw the blood. Slade's shirt was open and his left shoulder heavily and hastily bandaged. When he saw her, Holly saw his face break into a smile, and he stretched out his fingers for her to take.
"I told you that you couldn't get rid of me that easily."
"Don't say that!" Holly replied, feeling the tears finally starting to fall.
"I'm going to be okay," he said, slurring his words a little. "The bullet went right through me."
"We need to take him now," one of the paramedics told her.
Holly nodded that she understood.
"Why did he shoot you?"
"He didn't. One of our lot tried to shoot him. I just sort of got in the way."
"Ma'am?" the paramedic said, insistently.
"I'll be right behind you," Holly said.
Slade pointed to his cheek, expectedly, but instead of planting a kiss there, Holly leaned down and kissed him on the mouth. He tasted like coffee and something sweet. When she pulled away, Slade was grinning.
"I think Grisham might have seen that," he said.
"She already knows."
"Great," Slade replied. "Now I'm definitely in trouble."
Slade surveyed the room and decided that in the circumstances, it would have to do. After all, when he had woken up that morning he hadn't expected to be taken hostage and accidentally shot in the shoulder by a police marksman. Not that there had been a detailed plan in the first place – he'd imagined the right time would just present itself.
Holly had apparently stayed at the hospital during his operation, but once he had been moved into recovery and still under sedation, Grisham and the consultant had been able to persuade her to go home for some rest. Visiting hours were now over, but Grisham had managed to pull some strings that would allow him to put his plan into action. Slade had been braced for a verbal hurricane to come his way, but Grisham had been surprisingly easy on him – of course, there would have to be a report explaining to the Commissioner why he did what he did, but the fact that he had been shot seemed to be working in his favour. He suspected, too, that Grisham was treating him more favourably now that she knew about Holly and him. He had assumed he would be in trouble for 'neglecting' to inform Grisham about the change in their relationship, as per the guidelines in the Police Handbook, but instead she had just issued him with a stern warning to behave himself.
Confined as he was to his bed, Slade had been reliant on Nicky to help him with the logistics. Once the nurses got wind of what Slade was doing, they had mostly been happy to turn a blind eye – the more romantically-inclined among them had even lent a hand. His private room was now decked out in fairy lights, and he had just taken a delivery from Francesco's, the restaurant where he and Holly had first had dinner together, after the Lombard case. Of course, he wasn't yet allowed to eat solid food, but it was the gesture that counted. Before he was given the general anaesthetic, he had sent Nicky out with instructions for obtaining his order from the jewellers, which left an excited Nicky in little doubt about what Slade had planned.
The final favour he asked of Nicky was to play chauffeur and collect Holly from Sundown Court. Slade knew she hated surprises, but he hoped she might make an exception this time. As he waited, his shoulder a throbbing reminder of what he'd been through that day, he couldn't help reflect on what Holly had done – and more pointedly, what she hadn't done. If the machine wasn't broken, why had she refused to use it when he asked? In the past, his personal jeopardy had been more than reason enough for her. Why would she refuse to use the machine, but then be perfectly happy to walk into a potentially life-threatening hostage situation? Over the past few months he had been getting better at reading Holly, but this one had him flummoxed.
Slade heard murmured conversation in the hallway outside, followed by a tentative knock at his door. Holly came into the room, the look on her face a mixture of concern and apprehension.
"Slade, what's going on? Are you okay?"
She came over to the bed and took hold of his hand.
"I'm fine. The only reason I'm not jumping you right this minute is because I've been warned not to exert myself."
He saw her smile momentarily, but then her expression became more solemn again.
"Please don't ever do anything like that ever again," Holly said.
Slade knew he had this coming to him, and with good reason, too. He squeezed the hand that was holding his.
"I won't."
Holly raised an eyebrow at him.
"I promise," he added. "Although I've got to hand it to you; if Grisham hadn't sent in the troops when she did, I think you would have resolved that situation all on your own. He was starting to cave."
"What happened to him?"
"Taken away for questioning. He's going to be lucky if he doesn't get jail time. You know, he apparently told Grisham that he never intended to hold up the bank at all. He was on his way to a meeting with the bank's manager, and stopped off at the jeweller's opposite to try and sell a few things, including that antique pistol. But instead, he decided he could put the pistol to better use."
"And the bomb?"
"There never was a bomb," Slade told her. "He panicked and made that up when the manager wouldn't take his first threats seriously. That gun wasn't even loaded – it was just an old family heirloom."
He saw Holly's whole body sink slightly.
"We could have both saved ourselves a whole lot of trouble," Slade said. "I'd been looking forward to that lunch, too."
"So...why all of the subterfuge tonight, getting Nicky to come and get me?"
"Ah. I'm glad you asked that."
Slade reached above him and pulled the cord to the main light. He then flipped the socket switch beside his bed and the room was illuminated by the fairy lights. It didn't quite mimic the lights on the Seine or even a semi-decent Christmas display, but he felt he deserved points for ingenuity at short notice.
"What's going on?" Holly asked, suspiciously.
"Well, I spoke to Grisham, and apparently she's decided against having me transferred to the Orkneys, so..."
Slade reached under the blanket and produced the blue velvet box, which he held out to Holly. Without opening it, she looked up at him, questioningly. Was he really going to have to spell it out?
"Holly, I would get down on one knee if I didn't think it would bring a ward sister and four nurses running into the room."
"Are you...is this...?" Holly said, although the look on her face wasn't filling Slade with optimism.
"Yes," he said, trying to get Holly to look at him, to see that he was completely serious. "I am; it is."
He saw her set the box, unopened, back on the bed.
"Grisham told you," she said, as though everything now made sense to her. It was now Slade's turn to be confused.
"Told me what? To do this?"
"No, I mean she told you about the baby."
For a second, Slade started to wonder whether he had administered too high a dose of painkiller into his drip; the conversation really wasn't making much sense any more. Then, he experienced a jolt to the mind not unlike the jolt to the body he had received several hours earlier. Before he could arrange his thoughts into a coherent sentence, Holly was talking again. And this time there was a distinct tone of both irritation and upset in her voice.
"Because if you think you have to do this because of some outdated, horribly conservative notion of what's right, that you have to make an 'honest woman' out of me, Slade, then firstly I would like to remind you what decade we're living in, and secondly I would like to assure you that I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself and was doing so quite capably for many years before you came along."
Slade was only half listening to this outpouring, and instead found himself unable to remove his gaze from Holly's face. And smiling. He couldn't help smiling.
"I'm going to be a dad?"
Holly suddenly stopped talking and looked at him, clearly confused.
"What? Yes – I just didn't think that Grisham would tell you."
"This is amazing!" Slade exclaimed. It was taking all of his self-control not to jump out of bed and start running around the room. "I can't believe it. You're sure?"
Holly was looking at him now like he was clinically insane, but she was nodding at him, slowly, perplexedly.
"Holly, Grisham didn't tell me anything," he said. "You don't honestly think I would do this just because you're pregnant?"
Saying the word out loud still sounded strange to Slade.
"So you had planned this?"
He nodded.
"That's why I didn't go back to the office with Nicky. I had to go to the bank before I could go to the jewellers over the road. Of course, I hadn't pictured myself hooked up to a drip and wearing really unflattering hospital pyjamas when asking you."
Now he noticed that there were tears in Holly's eyes again.
"When were you going to tell me?" he asked, gently. "When he's about to leave for university?"
Holly smiled through her tears.
"I only found out this morning, at my medical. I had no idea."
"Wait, is that why you couldn't use the machine? You were worried about what might happen?"
"I couldn't risk it. I'm sorry."
Slade felt himself break into a smile. He beckoned Holly to come closer, so he could stretch his good arm around her. He saw her reach out and start to finger the velvet box on the bed.
"Probably a good idea to give up the hostage negotiation career, given the circumstances," he said. He realised that in these last few moments, everything had changed. If he'd felt protective towards Holly before, the feeling was now intensified. He knew that if he started to think about what could have happened in the bank, he would feel sick.
Holly picked up the box and opened it. Slade saw her take a sharp breath.
"What do you think?" he asked.
"It's beautiful, Slade."
"I thought about hiding it in the cheese soufflé," he said, indicating to the dinner laid out on a hospital trolley. "But I thought one of us being in hospital was probably enough."
Holly laughed softly.
"And what do you think about the question behind it?" he pressed. "I should remind you that I've been shot today, so if you're going to turn me down you should do it gently."
"You're expecting the sympathy vote?"
"From you?" he grinned. "I know better."
Holly reached up to take his face in her hand, and brought him closer for a kiss, slow and tender. It reminded Slade of the first time they had kissed, right there on the sofa in her flat; he was getting that dazed, heady feeling again, although this time it could have something to do with the drugs he was on.
"Is that a yes?" he asked, his tongue suddenly feeling too thick for his mouth.
Holly nodded.
"I owe you something," she said.
"What's that?"
"A certain three words," she continued, blushing slightly. "I do love you, Slade."
"That's five words."
"I can think of a few more choice words if you'd prefer."
He laughed.
"You think the hospital would agree to a sleepover?"
"That might be pushing it," Holly said.
She was, by now, wearing the ring, and Slade felt his ego skyrocket. It was a primal thing, he told himself as an excuse. He watched as Holly pulled the hospital trolley towards her and took the lids off the food, inhaling appreciatively. He then saw her pause for something.
"Hold on a second, how do you know it will be a boy?"
"What?"
"Just before; you said when he's about to leave for university."
"Did I?" Slade replied, with an air of innocence. "Boy, girl, who cares when it will have its mother's brains and good looks."
Holly smiled.
"I'm more concerned about it inheriting its father's unending capacity for getting into trouble."
"Hey, you never know," Slade said, relaxing back onto the bed. "Maybe it will be twins..."
THE END