CHAPTER ELEVEN
Imogen had sat down next to Angela on the floor. The gunman, whoever he was, didn't seem to be paying much attention to his hostages, simply giving them a quick glance every few seconds to make sure they hadn't moved. Imogen had noticed several other work colleagues sitting by their desks throughout the office. "Who is he?"she asked quietly.
Angela gave a quick shrug. "Don't know his name. From what I can make out, he's involved in a family law case that Kathy's working on."
Imogen noticed for the first time that one of her colleagues was the main focus of the gunman's attention. She was leafing through files as though looking for something, although Imogen had an odd feeling she was actually stalling. "He's a client?"
"His wife is. She's filing for divorce and for custody of their children, with accusations of domestic violence. She's holed up at a charity halfway house somewhere."
Imogen finally understood what was going on. "And he wants the address." Angela nodded. The gunman looked over at them, as though realising he was being talked about, and Imogen did her best to keep her expression as neutral as possible. "He's not going to be happy if he doesn't get it,"she concluded.
When they heard sirens a moment later, Imogen didn't know whether to be relieved or scared. Help was there, but the chances of their captor getting what he wanted and going had just been drastically reduced.
Mark got out of the car as soon as it ground to a halt. Several officers were there already and he picked out a sergeant from another station, stood by one of the cars which had formed a cordon around the entrance. He went over and flashed his badge. "Who's in charge here?"
The sergeant briefly glanced at the badge. "No-one at the moment. We're waiting on a specialist negotiator."
"Do we know what it's about?"
"We've IDed the gunman. Greg North. A bunch of arrests for assault but no-one's ever pressed charges."
"How many hostages?"
"We're estimating about eight, judging by how many staff are meant to have been in work. They're all holed up in an office on the ground floor, round the back of the building. We've had a hard time getting a visual on them: We don't want to get too close."
Mark weighed this up. He shouldn't even be there, since he hadn't been assigned to the case. And even though he was there, what he should do was stay back and let the people handle it. But soon people would arrive and start giving orders, and none of those people would care as much as he did about the fact Imogen was in there. If he was going to do something, it would have to be now. "I'm going in,"he declared.
The sergeant looked at him as if he'd just declared he was going into space. "You're what?"
"Just to talk." And then Mark started walking towards the building, across the big empty space that had been cleared in front of it.
"Detective! Detective!"
The sergeant was calling after him and Mark kept walking, afraid that any minute the sergeant would send men to drag him back. But apparently they'd decided to let him be stupid if it was what he wanted. So he carried on walking until he was pushing open the door and heading into the building.
"Hello, is there anyone there? My name's Detective Mark Brennan."
Imogen froze as the voice drifted through from the reception area. She tried very hard not to let any reaction or recognition show on her face. Her feelings of relief and fear had both just intensified. He was here, with her. She wasn't alone anymore. Which meant he was in danger as well.
Mark's voice continued to sound through from the reception, coming closer. "I'm on my own and I'm unarmed. I just want to talk, okay? I'm coming through."
The gunman was waiting by the door, as Mark came in with his hands raised in a non-threatening manner. The gun was in his face as the man holding it frisked him and then took a step back, the gun never wavering. "What do you want?"he demanded.
"Just to talk,"Mark repeated. "What do you think's gonna happen?"
"I'm…I'm gonna get out of here,"the gunman replied. "Get my family back."
"The police outside know who you are,"Mark told him. "Greg North." From the flicker of surprise on the man's face, it was clearly right. "Even if you get away from here, they're going to know who you are and come after you."
The man, North, waved his gun in Imogen and Angela's direction. "And what if I shoot hostages, huh?"
"At the moment, this is just kidnapping,"Mark pointed out. "They're not going to go any easier on you if you murdered someone." The gun was back in his face and he took a step backwards. "Including a police officer."
The moment when the gun might be fired passed for the moment but North wasn't in the mood to negotiate. "Just sit down with the others."
Trying to make it look as random as possible, Mark sat down with Imogen and her co-worker. He didn't look at her but he reached out a hand to grasp hers and was relieved when she held onto it. He couldn't shake the feeling that the main reason he'd gone in there was to hold her hand.
He thought about what would be going on outside. There would probably be a lot of shouting once someone senior arrived, much of it likely involving his name. There would be negotiators…a theory that was proven when a phone rang. Reluctantly, North snatched it up but his side of the conversation revealed little that they didn't already know. "What do I want? I want my family! No, I'm not going to give up the hostages! Just go away and leave me alone!"
He slammed the phone down and waved the gun at Mark who, as unobtrusively as possible, moved to block his view of Imogen. "Why can't your lot just get out of my way?"
"They're not going to do that, Greg,"Mark told him, as calmly as possible. "Why don't you just give yourself up? It'll be easier."
North turned away in disgust. Imogen had apparently given up any pretense of pretending they were strangers. She edged closer to him and he slipped his arm round her shoulders. Then he said the only thing that seemed right in the circumstances. "Marry me."
Imogen wasn't quite sure if she'd heard right. Mark was still looking away from her, towards their captor, and it would be easy to think he hadn't said anything. "What?"
He turned and looked at her. "When we get out of here…marry me."
Imogen tried to move her mouth to formulate a response but her thought process was interrupted by a series of shouts "Armed police! Don't move! Armed police!"
She looked past Mark to see a group of armoured police officers piling in through the door, guns trained on North, who thankfully dropped to his knees and put his hands on his head, letting them push him down on the floor and cuff him.
Angela spoke for the first time since Mark's entrance. "Is he your boyfriend?"
Imogen was waiting outside the building. Her colleagues were all long gone, grateful to be free. Even Angela had made a quick exit, after making Imogen promise that they'd talk later. Imogen had been checked over by medics, who'd confirmed her insistence that she was fine, and then she'd waited.
Eventually, Mark finished the rather intense and somewhat one-sided conversation he'd had with some senior officers, which seemed to involve a lot of angry tirades on their parts and a lot of contrite looks on his, and came over to her. "What did they say?"she asked.
"Well, they're not happy I broke protocol,"Mark replied. "But I should get off with a reprimand."
"Why did you break protocol?"
Mark seemed to consider the question for a moment. "Because I've put rules ahead of people I love in the past. And I've broken rules for people I love in the past. I guess I thought I should have a go at… bending them a bit? See if it works out."
Imogen smiled. "Yes."
Mark looked confused. "Yes?"
"You said something to me, just before the police came in. And I'm saying yes."
It took a moment for the penny to drop, then Mark's face lit up. "We're getting married?"
"Yes." Imogen was suddenly concerned. "If that's what you want? I mean, if you just said it because you thought we were going to die and you were trying to be romantic, that's fine, we don't have to…"
Mark silenced her with a kiss and gave her a smile. "Yes,"he confirmed.