Chapter Eleven

"Dad."

Ed's eyes flicked open at the sound of his son's voice and he blinked rapidly, bringing the boy's face into focus.

"You okay, Clark?" he asked, instantly alert. The boy nodded unsteadily, and Ed followed the direction of his gaze to the door at the top of the staircase, which was starting to open. He had no idea how long he had been out for; once the pain killers had kicked in it hadn't taken him long to fall asleep. He took a quick mental inventory of his injuries: his headache was gone but the gash on his face was stiff and starting to itch, which he took to be a good sign. His ribs were throbbing but the pain was muted; they would take time to heal but the painkillers were doing their job. The fogginess brought on by exhaustion had left his mind, which was just as well – he would need to be sharp to get himself and his son out of the basement alive. He'd been so close to convincing the ex-soldiers to let Clark go that morning. Dan had definitely been interested in his offer. If only he could get the man alone…but that didn't seem likely to happen.

A sharp stabbing pain started up behind his eyes, which he recognised as the beginnings of dehydration. He picked up the bottle of water from beside him and drank deeply from it as the two masked gunmen came down the steps. Dan carried a backpack and had his weapon tucked into his waistband, but Jake's was in his hand, pointed at the hostages.

He felt Clark tremble against him and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"It's alright. We'll be home soon."

"Not much longer, kid," Dan said, crossing the room but stopping several feet short of the pair.

"It's not too late to change your mind," Ed said, looking up at his captor and making eye contact.

Dan looked away, but not before Ed saw the flash of guilt in his eyes. "Stand up, hands against the wall," Dan told him, his tone soft but leaving no room for argument.

Ed rose to his feet and turned to face the wall. The chain tethered to his wrist rattled as he raised his arms and pressed his palms against the brickwork.

"I can still make those calls," he added, looking back over his shoulder. "It doesn't have to happen this way."

"Dan wants to check your kid over again," Jake's voice cut in, "but it's no skin off my nose if he doesn't. So shut your mouth and face the wall before I save him the bother." The weapon in his hand left no doubt as to his meaning.

Ed nodded mutely but held eye contact with Dan for a moment longer before looking away.

Dan crouched in front of Clark, and Ed sensed Jake's gun level at him as his comrade adopted the vulnerable position. Dan unslung the backpack and took off his leather gloves, replacing them with a latex pair. He pulled out a penlight and reached one hand towards Clark's head. The boy flinched and shrunk back.

"Easy, kid. I'm not going to hurt you."

He reached out again and gently opened Clark's eyelids wider, shining the light into his eye and watching the pupil's reaction. He released him and then repeated the procedure on the other eye, nodding in satisfaction.

He dropped the flashlight back into the bag and took hold of Clark's uninjured arm, pressing his fingers to the boy's wrist to measure his pulse.

"Good," he said after a moment of silence. "How's your pain?"

The boy didn't respond, and Dan looked up at the father.

"I need to know, scale of one to ten."

"Seven," Clark answered quietly. Dan nodded again.

"Okay. I'm going to check your arm. This might hurt, but I'll be quick."

"Wait."

Dan and Ed looked at Jake simultaneously as the gunman's voice broke the air. Jake gave a meaningful nod at the cop.

"Are you forgetting something?"

Dan rubbed his hand on the back of his neck as he turned to look at the father, no doubt remembering the chain wrapped around it the day before, and Ed's reaction to Jake beating Clark. Ed kept his eyes averted and his posture unthreatening.

"I'm not going to give you any trouble," he promised them.

"You'll forgive me for not taking your word," Jake said, a trace of humour colouring his words. "You've got a pretty poor track record of controlling yourself when your kid's in pain." To Dan he added, "You sure that's a good idea?"

Dan shook his head. "No. But I need to make sure the splint hasn't moved."

"Alright," Jake nodded. "Cop, face down on the floor."

Ed manoeuvred himself into position, lying flat on the ribbed concrete. The soldiers were going to great lengths to lessen Clark's suffering, and Ed didn't plan on doing anything to jeopardise that. He recognised the classic signs of guilt over the injuries they had inflicted: though their captivity in Afghanistan had desensitised them to violence, they were clearly still sympathetic to the boy. Whatever they'd been through there hadn't completely destroyed their humanity – but it was buried deep where the cop was concerned.

"Further away."

Ed shuffled farther away from Clark, and it wasn't until he had moved the full length of the chain that Jake was satisfied. The gunman levelled his weapon at the cop.

"Eyes down, hands on the back of your head. And remember, I don't need both of you. Your wife will do whatever I say to get her kid home."

"So will I," Ed promised, lowering his eyes to look at the floor and interlocking his fingers behind his head. "I just want Clark to be safe."

The gunman was clearly still on edge. He would have to reassure them that he wasn't a threat if he wanted them to accept his offer. And the clock was ticking, because was no way the SRU would let Sophie meet their demands and murder a man.

"Not a muscle," Jake warned him.

Clark whimpered and the cop stiffened, then pushed the tension from his shoulders. Every nerve in his body was screaming to turn and help his son but he forced himself to remain motionless.

A cry of pain filled the air and he almost broke his position, but he caught himself just in time. His jaw clenched as he battled his instincts, and his heart pounded as he strained to hear what was happening.

"Clark, are you okay?"

The boy whimpered again and Ed clenched his jaw tighter, his knuckles turning white behind his head.

"He's fine," Jake said. "Get up, back against the wall."

Ed complied willingly, relief flooding him as his eyes fell on Clark. Dan had moved away and was standing beside Jake again. Ed shuffled across to his son, wrapped an arm around his shoulder and drew him close.

Dan looked away from the pair awkwardly, then glanced down at his watch.

"How long to go?" Jake asked him.

"Three hours."

Three hours. Time was running out for all of them. Ed could hear the tension in their voices. Dan perched himself on the bottom step of the staircase, and Jake paced the room, tapping his gun against his thigh.

"You wanna make the call yet?" Dan asked his comrade. Jake rubbed his hand against the back of his balaclava'd head, then came to a decision.

"Yeah, what the hell. Let's do it."

Dan nodded and pulled a cell from his pocket. Jake pulled out a battery and tossed it to his partner, who assembled the device and switched it on. Immediately the phone started to ring. Dan shot a look at Jake, who dropped back and covered the hostages, finding the cop with his weapon. Ed raised a placating hand.

"Yeah?" Dan answered the device, and listened in silence for a moment. "What? No, that wasn't supposed to happen-"

"What's going on?" Jake asked, his eyes flicking between the hostages and his comrade.

"Hold on." Dan lowered the phone and looked at his partner. "Fletcher's holed up, no-one can get near him. He's already booked his flights out."

"Shit! That spineless-"

"The wife called in the SRU, it was supposed to draw him out, that's what you said: we threaten Keaney, it leaves Fletcher exposed."

Ed's head spun. This was what they'd planned the whole time, they'd known Soph would ignore them and go to Greg, they'd planned everything to the last detail. They weren't relying on her to kill their man, she was just a distraction. Team One were guarding the wrong man.

"I know what I said." Jake jabbed his gun in the air. "I knew he was a coward, but this…"

"Dammit!" Dan spun on his heel and dropped back onto the bottom step. "That's it, it's over."

"We've been looking for him for five years, Dan. We let him walk now, we'll never see him again." He lowered his gun and reached his hand out for the phone. "Give me that."

He turned his back on the hostages and started speaking into the device.

"It's me. We can still make this work. Yeah, leave it with me. I've got an idea. Oh, and James, get me a room number."

He ended the call and pried the battery from the back of the device, then turned to his comrade.

"Dan, I need to know, are you still up for this?"

"Yeah, I'm in."

"You sure?" Jake asked, scrutinising the other man. "Because this morning you were having some doubts."

"You were right, this is the only way. What do you need?"

"I can think of one person who can get close to Fletcher." He looked across at Ed, and Dan nodded.

"Yeah. Let's do it." He rose and pulled a small silver key from his pocket while Jake advanced on Ed, his gun levelled at him. Ed's heart rate accelerated. These guys weren't thinking about collateral damage any more. Nothing was going to come between them and Fletcher.

"Let's just slow it down," he said, raising his hands and looking for eye contact. "I can still help you, you say the word and I will-"

Jake's gun smashed down across his face again.

"Dad!"

"It's okay, Clark," Ed said, gritting his teeth through the pain and trying to shake the dizziness from his head. "It's going to be fine."

"Shut up! Down on your stomach!"

"Okay, just take it easy." Ed lowered himself onto his stomach, and placed his hands on the back of his head again. The gunmen were agitated, and he didn't want to provoke another over-reaction that might be taken out on Clark.

Dan moved round him to Clark and squatted in front of the terrified boy. Ed kept very still, watching from the corner of his eye lest he incur his captors' wrath. The gunman reached for the cuffs shackling Clark's feet, inserted his key into the lock, and removed them. Then he approached Ed from behind, vanishing from his line of sight. Off to his side, Jake shifted his weight from one foot to the other, but his gun never wavered.

"You move, Clark dies," he warned the hostage cop.

"I hear you."

A hand took hold of his wrist and he relaxed his arm as Dan pulled it down behind his back. He allowed his other hand to be moved next to it and held still as the metal handcuffs snapped shut around his wrists. Lastly, Dan removed the single metal cuff chaining him to the wall and stepped back.

"Are you sure about this?" Dan asked his comrade.

"I'm sure we won't get another shot."

Ed felt a hand pulling on his arm.

"Up."

He allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, and kept his eyes adverted. He could feel the tension pouring out of the men as they anticipated resistance from him.

"Move." Jake shoved him in the back and he stumbled forwards, his ribs screaming in protest as he struggled to stay on his feet.

"Dad, don't leave me here!" Clark begged from across the room. Ed's head pivoted to him, and his horrified eyes fell on the chain that was locked around his ankle. They weren't taking Clark with them. They were going to leave him locked in this basement.

"Please," he turned to Jake. "Just let him go. I'll do whatever you want, just let him go."

"You want him back, you get to Fletcher." He gave Ed another shove. "Let's go."

As an afterthought, he turned to Dan. "If you don't hear from me every fifteen minutes, kill the kid."

"You don't have to do this."

"Up the stairs. Move. MOVE!"

Another shove sent him crashing into the wall at the foot of the staircase, but the pain barely registered as he looked desperately at his son.

"Dan, hurt the kid."

"No!" Ed struggled upright and started reluctantly up the steps, not taking his eyes from his son. A hand entwined in the back of his t-shirt, driving him forwards, and he could feel Jake's proximity behind him. A quick turn and a kick – even with his bound hands impairing his balance – would send the gunman crashing to the bottom of the steps. A stamp to the neck would take him out of the equation… And sign Clark's death warrant at the same time. No matter his sympathies, Dan would hardly just stand by while he attacked Jake.

The hand jerked him roughly to a halt. He heard movement behind him and then a sack was pulled over his head. The sudden darkness was disorientating, and the sounds around him muffled by the rasping of his own breath, shrinking his world to a few claustrophobic square feet. Clark's terrified face was burned into his retinas, and his pleas still echoed in his ears. But if he was going to get through this – get Clark through this – then he was going to have to stop acting like a father, and start acting like a negotiator.

The door creaked open in front of him.

"Move."