"That was the right thing to do, Abdul, thank you."

"Was it?"

"Yes, you must know it was." She met his gaze and took a breath. "Now…Mr Patel."

"No, no way…"

"Abdul…"

"He's the cause of all this! He started it!" The lighter waved wildly in his hand again. "If he had just listened instead of…of starting that first fire, none of this would be happening!"

"You said he was injured."

"So?"

"So…can I see him? Is he upstairs?" She gestured to the hallway only for him to move in front of her, blocking her exit to the door. "He might need medical attention."

"Do you have a family?" he asked her suddenly, causing her to pause. "Like, parents, brothers and sisters?"

"No," she replied, the word almost surprising her, and clearly the man in front of her. "My parents are dead, and I was an only child."

"So, there's nobody?"

"Well, depends on whether or not you count my husband."

He continued to look at her. "How long have you been married?"

"Not long, a few months."

"Is he a policeman too?"

"Yes."

"Kids?"

"No."

"Do you want kids?"

She hesitated, thinking back to how she had felt when her latest period had arrived. "Yes, I suppose I do. What about you? You've obviously got family." He said nothing. "Are you the only son?"

"Yeah. I've got three sisters."

"Lot of people to look out for."

"I suppose." He looked at her curiously. "Would you have married your husband if your family hadn't liked him, hadn't approved of him?"

The parallels to her own situation were almost comical. In a way, her parents hadn't liked Stewart because he had taken her away from them and at such a young age, part of her had felt it was almost only natural to be defiant. As far as Frank was concerned, well, her father had liked him well enough, enough to kill himself knowing that she had him in her life. "Yes, I probably would have."

"Why?"

"Because I love him." She paused. "Your sister loves Mr Patel's son, doesn't she?"

He bristled slightly. "Like I said, they're not married and she's having his kid."

"But is he good to her?"

"Who?"

"Mr Patel's son. Is he good to your sister? Does he care about her, love her?"

"I don't know."

"You must know something about their relationship."

"I know he got her pregnant."

"Well, it takes two to make a baby, doesn't it? If they got married now, would that make it any better?" He shook his head. "Why not?"

"Because everyone knows that she's pregnant. That baby's going to be a bastard."

"Not if they get married before it's born, surely?"

He shook his head, "You don't get it. You're not one of us, so you have no idea. It's about honour."

"And it's honourable to go about torching people's businesses in your culture?" She knew that she was potentially sailing close to the wind by being confrontational with him, but at that moment, she wasn't quite sure how else to approach it. "Hurting people?"

"I told you; he started it!"

"Yeah, I get that, but you've both been as bad as each other, haven't you? Your family could have come to us after the first attack, and we could have arrested Mr Patel or whoever was responsible. By taking the law into your own hands, you've only made it worse."

"Because your lot would have done something about it?"

"Of course we would have."

"Liar. You're all the same, you pigs. You don't care about us or our community."

"I can assure you; we do. Maybe it hasn't always been that way, but it is now. We care very much about people's property being destroyed or them being injured…like Mr Patel." She looked at him closely. "If he's seriously injured, Abdul, he could die, and that opens up a whole new can of worms, doesn't it. It takes it from arson to murder and I know which one I'd rather deal with." He remained silent. "So please, take me to him so that I can see what help he needs."

In the silence that ensued, she could hear the sound of her heart reverberating around her body, the only other noise coming from the ticking of a nearby clock. Just as he opened his mouth to respond, the phone on the side table suddenly started to ring, causing them both to jump and she found herself cursing the timing. His gaze swivelled to it and then back to meet hers.

"I'm guessing it's you that they want to talk to," she said quietly.

"No," he shook his head, "you answer it."

"But…"

"Do it!" he waved the lighter menacingly at her until she crossed the room and lifted the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Hello, this is Sergeant Ian Crossby, Metropolitan Police. To whom am I speaking?"

"WDS Christina Lewis."

"Right, are you all right? Have you been harmed in any way?"

"I'm fine."

"The hostage taker, is he there?"

She glanced over at Abdul, "Yes, he's here."

"May I speak with him?"

Holding the receiver away from her ear, she turned to look at him again, "Like I said, they want to talk to you."

"Who is it?"

"Sergeant Ian Crossby."

"Do you know him?"

"No." She watched as his brain ticked over, contemplating his choices. "Abdul, the sooner that you speak to them…"

"Your husband," he said suddenly. "You said he was a policeman."

"So?"

"So…he cares about you, right?"

"Well, yes…"

"Then it's him I want to speak to." He nodded, gesturing to the receiver with the lighter. "Tell them I want your husband on the phone."

XXXX

He had no idea of how much time had passed but, eventually, his need to relieve himself grew greater than his need to stand around waiting for information and as he emptied his bladder in an accommodating neighbour's bathroom, he felt a momentary sense of relief that was quickly replaced with the familiar one of dread and uncertainty.

Things were taking far too long. He wanted to be in there with her, instead of her.

When he emerged back onto the street however and saw Peter deep in conversation with the Met's negotiator, a florid faced man he had disliked almost immediately on sight, he could instantly tell that something had changed in the mere moments he had been away.

"Absolutely not," he heard Peter say as he approached. "It's completely out of the question."

"What is?" he asked, re-joining them.

Peter turned to look at him, "Christina must have told Abdul Mahmood that you were in the job. He's said that he'll only speak to you."

"You what?"

"I'm not on board with this either," Crossby said. "You're not trained and he's clearly capable of anything."

"I'll do it."

"Frank…"

"Listen here," he turned to Peter. "She's my wife and if there's something I can do to help get her out of this then I'm going to do it!" The other man looked at him doubtfully. "You don't think I'm capable?"

"Of course I know you're capable Frank but, as you say, she's your wife. If you say the wrong thing…"

"I have talked people down before, you know."

"This is different."

"You can't be neutral," Crossby added.

"Nobody's neutral in this situation."

"You have to be able to establish a rapport with the man."

"And you reckon I can't do that?"

Crossby pinched his lips together, "I reckon your main concern is getting your wife out unharmed."

"Isn't that all of our main concern?"

"There is someone else inside, let's not forget; Mr Patel."

"Look," he sighed irritably, "we're wasting time here. They're in there, we're out here and he wants to talk to me. Are we going to stand around here and debate it or are we going give it a shot? I didn't see you having much success earlier."

Peter and Crossby exchanged glances and the former nodded. "Ok Frank, let's try it your way for now."

The time it took to get him inside the mobile command unit and sat in front of a phone would have been mere moments, but for some reason it felt like hours. As he walked past the windows of the house, he almost fancied that he saw her, looking out, even though he knew it was only an image in his mind. Crossby dialled the number and then handed him the receiver.

"Remember, no heroics. We just want to resolve this peacefully."

He bit back an acerbic response as the phone rang out in his ear and then was quickly answered.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is that Abdul? Abdul Mahmood?"

"Yeah. Who's this?"

"I'm Detective Inspector Frank Burnside, Sun Hill CID."

"Sun Hill? You're a bit off your ground."

"Yeah, well I never say no to a day out." He paused. "You wanted to talk to me."

It was Abdul's turn to pause. "She's all right, you know."

"Who?"

"Your wife. I haven't hurt her or nothing."

A small sliver of relief ran down his spine. "Well, I'm pleased to hear that."

"And she's done all right, talking to me. She's been nice."

"She's a good officer. I'm sure she's said everything to you that I could say." He paused again. "Can I talk to her?"

"Here."

He heard muffled sounds as the phone was clearly passed over and then he heard the voice that meant the most. "Hello?"

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, just like Abdul said."

"You're not hurt?"

"No."

"Good. Do you know what he wants?"

"He's upset about everything that's happened. His sister's pregnant to Mr Patel's son and it's caused a problem between the families."

He glanced down as Crossby shoved a piece of paper in front of him bearing Mr Patel's name. "How is Mr Patel?"

"I don't know, I haven't seen him. Abdul said he was injured in some way. I've been trying to persuade him to let me take a look."

"Get him back on the phone!" Crossby hissed in his other ear.

He restrained himself from physically pushing the other man away. "Can I speak to him again?"

"Yes, of course."

He opened his mouth to tell her that he loved her, but the moment passed too quickly, and he knew that it would likely only play into Crossby's hands that he couldn't be detached enough from the situation. "Abdul?"

"Yeah?"

"It would be good if you'd let WDS Lewis see Mr Patel. We need to know whether or not he needs medical attention."

"Yeah, that's what she said."

"She's right. Can you take her to him?"

"I'll have to put the phone down."

"Ok, just put the receiver down but leave the line open."

"Right."

He heard the sound of the receiver clattering against, what he presumed was a sideboard or table, and then silence. Looking up, he met Crossby's gaze. "Anything you'd like to contribute?"

"Nope, let's just ensure we get everybody out, unharmed, and without any buildings blowing up."

"Yeah," he agreed. "That would be nice."

XXXX

As she climbed the stairs in the house, she was relieved that the smell of petrol began to grow fainter and the carpet was dry, indicating that the only place affected was the downstairs. Why she was relieved, she wasn't quite sure, but it was something. As they moved into the main bedroom, however, her relief quickly dissipated at the sight of the man she assumed was Mr Patel. He was lying propped up against the side of the bed, a clear wound to his chest, blood pooling around him.

"Jesus," she exhaled before she could stop herself and hurried over to him. "What happened?!"

"He had the knife…he came at me…!"

"He needs an ambulance now!" Feeling for a pulse, she was at least gratified to feel it, faint though it was. "Abdul, he needs medical attention. You have to go back downstairs and ask Frank to send the paramedics in." She could feel his hesitation and, turning to look at him, saw him shuffling from foot to foot. "What did we talk about earlier? You don't want him to die, do you? He needs help!"

"I don't know. I don't know what to do!"

"You do know what to do," she rose to her feet again and came to stand in front of him. "You know there's no other choice but to get him some help and for all of us to get out of here."

"Then what? It's all been for nothing then!"

"But what did you want? Mr Patel to die? How does that help anyone? How does that help your sister? Abdul…" she put her hand gingerly on his arm. "She's going to need your help with the baby, isn't she? You don't want this. Please, go back downstairs and tell Frank that we need the paramedics." His gaze flitted between her and the prostrate form of Mr Patel before looking at the lighter in his hand. "Please."

He looked at her again and then nodded slowly. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," she lied, knowing full well as soon as he was arrested, he would be looking at a long stretch and all the apologies in the world would mean nothing. "You can do the right thing now though, yeah?" He nodded again. "Ok, go and tell him. I'll stay here." She turned back to Mr Patel as the sound of Abdul's footsteps disappeared down the stairs. "Mr Patel, can you hear me? Can you hear me?" He groaned slightly and she suddenly wondered if this was what Frank had been confronted with when he had found her after Stewart's attack. Is this what she had looked like? Pale, close to death? No wonder it had affected him as badly as she knew it had. "It's all right," she said as soothingly as she could. "We're getting help for you now."

As the words left her mouth, a sudden whooshing noise reached her ears, like wind being expelled loudly, and an acrid smell immediately wafted up the stairs followed by an unmistakable crackling sound.

"Abdul?" Rising to her feet, she moved into the hallway only to see, to her horror, fire burning at the bottom of the stairs, its edges already licking the carpet that led above. "Abdul!" The sound of a door slamming caused her to hurry back into the bedroom and over to the window that looked out over the back garden, in time to see Abdul, fleeing as though the hounds of hell were pursuing him, away from the house. "Abdul!" She fought with the handle on the window, only to find it locked, with no key in sight and when she moved back to the hallway, saw that the flames were slowly making their way higher. "Oh my God…" she closed the bedroom door over and glanced wildly around, her gaze falling on the phone on the nightstand, hoping that it was an extension, and that Abdul hadn't put the downstairs phone back on the hook before fleeing.

XXXX

He tapped his fingers on the table, wondering how long it really took to go upstairs and see how badly injured some bloke was. The silence was deafening although, at one point, he thought that someone had lifted the receiver again, convinced as he was that he could hear heavy breathing, but when he had offered a greeting, no-one had responded.

"He should have been back on the phone by now," Crossby said pointedly.

"I'm aware of that," he replied shortly, "but what would you like me to do, whistle down my end like I was calling a dog?"

"No, of course not."

"Anything?" Peter asked, sticking his head around the door.

"No, he hasn't come back to the phone yet."

"Well, let's hope that they…" Peter's words were suddenly cut off by an almighty explosion and the piercing sound of breaking glass. "Bloody hell!"

He dropped the receiver without thinking and leapt from his seat, out of the mobile unit and into the street in time to see the ground floor of the Patel home engulfed in flames, smoke billowing out of the windows. Bystanders started screaming as uniformed officers urged them backwards away from the scene and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the waiting firefighters leap from the engine. For a moment, he felt rooted to the spot, unable to move or even process what was happening in front of him as things seemed to slide into slow motion. Then, as there was another loud bang and the sound of more breaking glass, reality suddenly smacked him.

"Chris…Chris!" He was halfway to the front gate before strong hands grabbed him from behind, stronger than he would have anticipated, and dragged him backwards. "Get off me! That's my wife in there! Chris!" He fought against them, writhing and twisting, then more hands joined them, and any fight seemed useless as he was pulled back towards the mobile unit. "I said, get off me!"

"Let us do our job please sir," one of the firefighters said in a calmer tone than he knew he would ever be able to manage.

"My wife is inside that house!"

"We know and we're going to try and get her and the others out. Please don't make it more difficult for us!"

"Frank…" Peter took hold of his arm. "You have to let them do their job."

"I was just…I was just on the phone to him…" his mind raced back over what had been said. "They were going upstairs so she could see how badly injured Mr Patel was…" he trailed off as he watched some of the firefighters approach the house and start churning water through the broken windows whilst others, masked, suited and booted, made their way towards the front door, intent on entry.

Just as he was hoping that she was, as he suspected, upstairs in the house and therefore hopefully free from the raging inferno below, there was another loud bang and the windows on the upper floor of the house suddenly blew out, glass raining down onto the street below, more black smoke mingling with that already permeating the air. In that second, he felt all the air leave his lungs and his legs give way under him so that all he was able to do was slide down the side of the mobile unit onto the road.

"Oh my God…" he heard Peter say faintly as he put his head in his hands, wanting to block out every sight and sound in front of him.

She was dead. She had to be.