Chapter 2

Veronica Pelham stood stiffly with her arms folded as her boss, an overweight, balding man with a crumpled shirt paced up and down behind his desk that overflowed with papers, books, articles and computer monitors. "Dammit Ronnie! This is big news. Hostage situation. Armed gunmen. It's not just more protests by disgruntled workers."

"I'm sending Jim."

Veronica Pelham's green eyes shot daggers as she planted her beautifully manicured hands on her hips. "The hell you are! Is this because of that bank heist report? I was only doing my job!"

Ronnie rounded on her. "Your job? Heaven Almighty Veronica, I had Greg Parker giving me hell on the phone this morning. You compromised the lives of his team by your over-zealous reporting. What were you thinking? Going live on national television and pointing out their positions? Do you realize what the consequences could have been?"

Veronica huffed irritably, waving a dismissive hand. "He's blowing it out of all proportion. And it's not like it made any difference. Everyone got out and no one was hurt."

"This time!" Ronnie glared at his star reporter. If she wasn't so damn popular and so damned attractive, he'd have fired the cold-blooded, devious vixen years ago. Veronica planted her hands and leaned across his desk, showing more cleavage than was decent and turned those mesmerising eyes on him.

"This is breaking news Ronnie and it's perfect timing for the midday. The time we get there, get set up, get some background. Come on Ronnie! It's gonna be BIG!"

Ronnie grimaced and ran a sweaty hand over his balding head. "Fine, take it! But for God's sake stay out of Greg Parker's way!"

.

Greg stood stiffly with his arms folded. He glanced at Ed. "Thoughts?"

"This is definitely not your usual hostage situation. These guys are organized. They've got very specific demands. They called us. They knew we'd be here. What I'm puzzled about is how did they get here? They've no obvious transport and they have no obvious means of escape. That wasn't part of their demands so either they are going to ask for that later or ..."

"... or they have no intention of escaping!" Greg bit his lip as he pondered the possibilities.

"They might have a helicopter?" suggested Donna.

"Possible." agreed Ed. "At least as a means of escape. Someone would have noticed a helicopter dropping them off unless they landed some distance away and they hiked the rest of the way on foot."

Spike turned round from the monitor. "There have been no reports of stolen Semtex in the last twelve months."

Greg nodded but remained silent. The others waited on him. "Not money, not revenge. This is about ..."

"Justice!" Sam's voice crackled in their ear-pieces. "Sarge, you need to see this!"

The four team members headed for the door and stepped out into the cold to look at the building. From several windows on the fourth floor white sheets hung flapping slightly in the wind. Each sheet was spray-painted with a single red letter. 'J...U...S...T...I...' As they watched a sixth window opened and another sheet appeared. 'C'. A few seconds later the seventh opened. They didn't need to wait to see the letter. Greg turned to Spike as he glanced at his watch. "I need as much background as possible on the protests, on the five people who were arrested and those who have been laid off in the past sixth months." He turned to Ed. "Find Becker and get him to find me the ring-leader of those protesters."

.

Fifteen minutes later, the entire team minus Sam and Ed were crowded in the command truck. Spike and Lou were sat at the consoles.

Lou started them off. "Okay, this started eight months ago when the financial results were announced. There was a significant operating loss, much larger than the previous year's. The harbour management authority announced a cost-cutting programme and two rounds of lay-offs. The first targeted those near to retirement, those on renewable contracts and those in part-time positions. The second affected people across the board and made a hundred and sixty people redundant."

"That's a lot of disgruntled employees," commented Donna.

Spike nodded. "It was the second round of lay-offs that started the protests. It was during the third protest that things got a little out of hand and about twenty people were arrested although only five of them were actually charged : a Brian Hunt, Joshua Blaine, Michael Samson, Harrison Brown and David Melville."

Greg frowned. "Melville?"

Spike looked up surprised. "You know him?"

Greg shook his head. "No but I'd like to speak with him," he said cryptically. "See if you can track him down."

Spike was about to call Kira when the door opened allowing in a cold blast of air. Ed ushered in a heavy-set, man in his mid-thirties with short dark hair and dark brooding eyes. He was dressed in cold weather gear. He glared at the SRU officers with barely-disguised disdain. Ed gave him a little shove. "Allow me to introduce David Melville!"

Greg and Spike couldn't prevent looks of surprise. "Mr Melville, I'm Sergeant Greg Parker. Can you please tell me what's going on here? Who are the people who have taken over the administration building?"

David Melville shifted uncomfortably. "No idea."

Ed hissed in his ear. "That's what you said earlier. But somehow Inspector Becker and I don't believe you especially as their first demand was that the charges against you be dropped. And you have no idea who would do that?" Melville didn't answer but his eyes flicked around the group before looking down at the ground.

Greg stepped forward. "Tell me about Captain Ahab." The man's head snapped up, his face clearly surprised but he remained silent. "Spike, play the recording of the demands." Spike turned to the keyboard in front of him and accessed the file. The team watched David Melville's face pale as he listened to the demands. Greg stepped closer into the man's personnel space. "Who is he?" The man shook his head in denial. "Come on David. Melville. Captain Ahab. Moby Dick." David swallowed. "Is he family?" Greg watched his Adam's Apple jump. "Brother? Father?" The man jumped almost hitting the ceiling. "Spike, who's listed as contact details on Mr Melville's arrest file."

Spike tapped at the keyboard. "Curtis Melville. 62 years old. Scarborough address."

"What do think David? Shall we call him? Is he at home? What about your mom?" Greg pressed.

David Melville seemed to shrink before them. "My mom's dead. Dad's not at home." He buried his face in his hands. "I didn't think this is what he meant."

The door opened once more and Becker put his head in. "Head's up. Press is here." Greg grimaced pinching the bridge of his nose. That was all he needed.

Ed saw the look on his face and raised a hand. "I'll go."

Donna's eyes narrowed. "I'll come with you."

Greg pulled up a chair getting David to sit. "What did he mean David? Tell me what's going on!"

The young man buried his head in his hands. "This is not supposed to be happening. Oh God! What is he doing?"

Greg put a hand on his shoulder. "Let me help. Talk to me David, please."

David Melville looked up utterly distraught. "He just wants to help. I can't believe he's doing this."

.

Ed strode across the tarmac as the Channel 24 news van pulled up just outside the perimeter gates. It had barely pulled to a halt before Veronica Pelham and her camera man jumped out. Ed noticed her look around nervously as she zipped up her jacket and pulled up the hood but soon her eyes lit up. Ed knew she was looking to avoid Greg. When she spied Ed she put on her best smile.

"Veronica Pelham, Channel 24 News," she began.

"I know who you are," Ed answered coldly. Her smile faded slightly and positively wilted as she caught Donna's hard stare. Another van pulled up beside them. Veronica grimaced as she recognized her rival Sean Peters. Ed turned to the uniformed officers guarding the gate. "Keep them outside the perimeter. Under no circumstances are they allowed any closer." He stepped up to Veronica. "I swear to God, if you endanger the lives of any of my team I will not be held responsible for my actions," he hissed.

Veronica had the good grace to pale and look repentant. She nodded. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened. It won't happen again. Now please, give me something to run with ..." She left the sentence hanging.

"No details!" Ed ordered. Again she nodded. Ed sighed knowing he had to give them something to keep them happy. "Armed gunmen have taken a number of hostages inside the building. They have made a number of demands and ..." He held up a hand as she was about to interrupt. "... as you know we don't give into demands but negotiations are under way and we are doing everything we can to ensure the safety of the hostages and bring this situation to a rapid conclusion." She looked dissatisfied so he added in a more conciliatory tone, "I'll give you another update as soon as I can."

.

Sam shuffled uncomfortably trying to restore a little warmth to his arms and legs. Jean Watson and James Mills were still sitting at the conference table poring over documents and working on a computer. The man calling himself Captain Ahab was slowly pacing the room while they worked occasionally stopping to point something out or check on what they were doing. He seemed relaxed. His hand was no longer on the semi-automatic rifle that was slung over his shoulder. In fact the two hostages seemed relaxed in his company too. There was no sign of the other gunmen or hostages though Sam did notice shadows behind the blinds of the corner office. Sam frowned not sure what to make of what he was seeing. This was definitely not your normal hostage situation.

Suddenly Ahab stopped pacing and the two hostages turned around to look at him. Sam watched as Ahab pulled a phone from his pocket and raised it to his ear. He walked to the window and looked out towards the gates. He spoke briefly before pocketing the phone and returning to the conference table. Sam quickly turned his scope towards the entrance. He could see Ed and Donna talking to a woman with platinum blond hair partially hidden by a fur trimmed hood. Behind her a man was pulling camera equipment from the truck. Sam swung the scope back. Ahab and the two harbour management employees were deep in conversation.

"Sarge?"

"Yes Sam. What's up?"

"Our guy just took a call on a cell phone. Someone told him the press is here."

"Copy that. What is he doing?"

"Same as before. They're all sat at the conference table working on the documents. No sign of the others."

"Copy that. Are you okay Sam? Do you need one of the others to replace you?"

Sam would never have admitted he was frozen. "No, I'm good." Greg acknowledged his call and Sam dug a hand into his kit pulling out a flat plastic pouch. Thank God for heat packs he thought to himself as he ripped open the soft, light-weight pouch containing an inert mixture of iron powder, charcoal, salt, water and vermiculite. As it came into contact with the air, its natural exothermic reaction generated a welcome heat. He allowed it to warm his hands for a few minutes before shoving it up his jacket. This was nothing compared to the cold weather training he had been forced to endure in the Rockies in order to get into special forces. He was good for another couple of hours.

.