by John Marrs
“This is a reality television programme,” she replied, suddenly beginning to doubt herself. “We are on Celebs Against the Odds. Has no one told you?”
“No, we are not! The only television programme we are on is the news. I am not a celebrity, neither is my wife, nor any of the other people trapped in these cars apart from you. We are all being held against our will, and someone is killing us off, one by one.”
Sofia opened her mouth but no words came out. “Oh my,” she said eventually, and placed an arm around her dog. “But I don’t . . . I don’t understand . . . why me?”
“Why not you?” the man replied. “Just because you’re famous, do you think you should be immune?”
“Well . . . yes.”
“Think again, because we’re all in the same boat. You’re no better than any of us.”
Sofia didn’t need him to remind her of that. She knew better than most that some of the decisions she had made to protect her career and her image would horrify her fans. Her chest tightened as she worried she had been picked precisely for that reason, and that her darkest secrets were about to come to light.
CHAPTER 32
BedfordAgendaOnline.co.uk
BY EMMA BARNETT-VINCENT, REPORTER 9:58 a.m.
Bedfordshire Police claim all is being done to free local hostage Detective Sergeant Heidi Cole from her hijacked car. Chief Inspector Richard Molloy told the Agenda online: “DS Cole is a popular, hard-working member of the Luton team and we hope that she will return to us safely.”
SAM & HEIDI COLE
If Sam had been able to switch off his monitor so that he didn’t have to see or hear Sofia, he would have.
His anger towards his own hijacking was compounded by her stupidity. He was sick of hearing the deluded actress continually grasping the wrong end of the stick while no one saw fit to correct her. Finally, he could hold his tongue no longer. But after delivering the truth and witnessing the actress’s crestfallen face, he began to question himself. Perhaps being naive to their dire circumstances was better than facing reality.
Meanwhile, from her car, Heidi was willing her husband to bring an end to his rant. “Sam, please stop,” she said through gritted teeth. “She’s an elderly woman and you’re bullying her.”
“We’ve been told we’re about to die, and she’s begging for her bloody agent!” he replied. “I tell you, if she manages to find a way out of this just because she’s famous, then I’ll drive this car into her myself.”
“Sam . . .”
“No, stop trying to silence me. She won support from one of the jurors just because she’s on the telly. How is that fair? She’s had her life, we are the ones with children who need us, and what do I get? Nothing. If they hadn’t killed that Asian woman, what would’ve happened to me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes you do, we both do. You’d be watching me burning to death in this car.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s the truth, isn’t it? Did any of the jurors stick their necks out and choose me?” Heidi didn’t say anything. “Exactly,” Sam continued, and folded his arms.
“If the kids are watching this, they don’t need to be reminded of the threat we’re under, do they?” added Heidi. Sam shook his head.
The last thirty minutes had seen a switch in the mindsets of husband and wife. Heidi was beginning to put her police training to use and talked herself into a calmer state of mind. And learning she had the support of at least one juror gave her belief that perhaps with a little more time, she could win more over. To survive this ordeal for the sake of her children, she must toughen up. The only person she could rely on was herself; it was a lesson she had been forced to learn weeks earlier.
As her and Sam’s tenth anniversary loomed, Heidi had known it was the last one she would spend as his wife. Unbeknown to her husband, she had twice met with a local solicitor to discuss how to separate and the implications it would bring. She was determined to keep the family home and would offer to share custody of the children, not that he deserved them. As much as she had longed to make him suffer, she would not do it by using James and Beccy.
For years, the family had survived mainly upon her wages as Sam established and grew his construction and refurbishment business. She had paid for so much, from foreign family holidays to new furniture. And throughout that time, she had also been both mother and father to their kids while he had worked away for several days each week.
Today was supposed to be the day that everything changed, when all that had been so wrong in their marriage was to come out into the open. Only the Hacker put paid to that. Now she would need Sam on her side.
Meanwhile he was now convinced he wasn’t to blame for the mess they’d found themselves caught up in. There was no evidence that his lies were responsible for their predicament. Shabana’s murder, while unfortunate, was a brief reprieve, offering husband and wife a stay of execution. It meant a juror was free to help him whether they favoured him or not. Quietly he hoped that Shabana wouldn’t be the last to die before the planned collision.
But it also released inside him something he had not anticipated—a bitterness towards Heidi. Why was she favoured above him?
“We don’t know that we’re about to die,” Heidi continued. “We don’t know anything right now.”
“Didn’t you hear what the Hacker said?” he replied. “And what if the kids are in one of those schools with the bombs inside?”
“Sam, you need to take a breath and think about this. The odds of that happening are remote. I’m sure the kids will be okay.”
The more Sam pictured their faces when they discovered what was happening to their parents, the more he began to sweat. “What are they going to think when they see us on TV? They’ll be terrified.”
“They might not know yet.”
“You said earlier they probably knew! Every kid of their age is on social media. Even if they haven’t seen it, their friends will have told them by now. Sometimes I don’t think you want to admit to what’s going on around you.”
Heidi felt her muscles knot and she opened her mouth, ready to attack, then thought better of it. With just a few words, she knew she could cut her husband down to size. Not now, she told herself. Wait until you really need to fire that bullet. Then a darker thought rose to the surface. Or perhaps you should let him continue ranting and wait until he buries himself? She shook her head. She was cool and collected, but that wasn’t her style.
The nickname Elsa the Ice Queen from her workmates hadn’t bothered Heidi. She didn’t know many police officers without an epithet, or who hadn’t had their surname shortened or extended or had a “y” tacked onto the end. Before she joined the police, she had volunteered as a community support officer in her spare time, patrolling the neglected council estate in which she was born and raised. Unafraid of the threats made to her by gangs and drug dealers, her high citizens’ arrest rate and fearless approach to the job brought her to the attention of her bosses, who encouraged her to apply for a full-time position. Once she’d settled into the Criminal Investigations department, they too appreciated her ability to remain composed even in the most testing of cases. And with her long, blond hair and delicate features, they awarded her the new nickname Elsa, inspired by the Disney cartoon Frozen.
If they were watching her now, they might struggle to recognise the woman before them. This Elsa was racked with fear. The threat of being blown up or in a collision would do that to anyone, she thought. And for the first time in as long as she could remember, she wished she had Sam’s hand to hold for comfort.
This isn’t you, she told herself. Whatever the hell is happening here, this is not how you respond. Calm yourself down—and you don’t need Sam to do that for you.
However, there was a decision that needed to be made. She would rather Sam came to the conclusion himself than have viewers s
ee her bringing it up and risk appearing mercenary. But time was running out, and she couldn’t wait any longer to broach the subject.
“There’s something we need to talk about,” she said carefully. “Only one person is going to survive this. Because the public and the jurors aren’t being asked to vote for us as a married couple, the kids aren’t going to get both of us back. So we need to start thinking about how we’re going to play this.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that it makes sense if one of us takes ourselves out of the running to give the other a fighting chance.”
“You mean sacrifice our own life?”
“If it comes to that, then yes. If we both start getting votes, we risk cancelling one another out.”
Sam paused as he processed her suggestion. You heartless bitch, he thought. She assumed it was unlikely he would garner much support, so she had written him off already. He ran his hands through his hair, then pushed upon his anxious leg to try to stop his foot from bouncing up and down again. Heidi was right—they both couldn’t survive until the end of the morning. However, there was one thing she hadn’t considered—he didn’t want to die.
Because Sam’s life wasn’t just about Heidi and their children. There was much more to him than that, which she was not party to. And the more he considered her proposal, the more he was sure of what needed to be done. He would have to convince the jury and the public that Heidi should die, not him.
CHAPTER 33
| | | JAZEERA GLOBAL ONLINE
* NEWS ALERT *
DOZENS FEARED DEAD AS HACKER DETONATES CAR IN CROWD.
Luton (UK): A second explosive device has killed at least ten people, injuring dozens more on a busy road. An overzealous public mobbed the vehicle, containing Passenger Shabana Khartri, when the explosion took place. Local police warn the death toll is likely to rise considerably throughout the morning.
The room was silent as each person in it absorbed the graphic aftermath of Shabana’s murder.
News networks used mobile footage, drones, and helicopter cameras to try to eclipse one another with the most shocking pictures they could find.
“How can they be showing this?” Libby asked.
“Live feeds on social media have changed the way television news is broadcast,” Cadman replied. “The only way for the networks to compete and stay relevant is not to censor what’s happening, and instead, go balls-out with the same attack on the senses.”
“At least it means they’re not focusing on us,” said Fiona.
Muriel, the only person to lend support to Shabana, took her gaze away from the screen and faced the table instead. She turned a wooden crucifix hanging around her neck the opposite way around, as if to hide Jesus from the wickedness of the world he’d left behind. “Why would the Hacker do this?” she muttered in disbelief.
“People have been killing people since Cain and Abel; you of all people should know that,” muttered Jack. “And I’m sorry to say it will continue for generations to come until there is no one left in this world to either kill or be killed.”
“Oh, Jack,” said the Hacker. “One might glean from your maudlin words that somewhere deep inside you remains a beating heart. What’s making you so unhappy? Is it that you brought these vehicles onto our roads and now they’re killing people? Or is it that after today, your pipe dream of fully autonomous roads will lie in ruins?”
“You are killing people, not my dream,” Jack replied.
“And these people died because they failed to follow the rules, which I clearly spelled out when this began. Interfere with my cars, and you will suffer the consequences. This is what happens when rules aren’t adhered to—disarray and bloodshed.”
“You’re going to kill them all, aren’t you?” Libby asked, her eyes lingering on Jude’s face. “Every single Passenger.”
“No, I give you my word that one of them will survive this process.”
Libby laughed. “Your word? What does that mean?”
“I’m afraid it’s all you have. Time, on the other hand, is something you don’t. So shall we begin the interview process? Jack, I would like you to go first. You have ten minutes to keep Claire Arden and her baby alive.”
CHAPTER 34
CLAIRE ARDEN
Before she climbed into the car that morning, Claire made herself a promise that, come what may, she wouldn’t give in to her emotions until much later in the day. Only when each part of the plan was complete would she allow herself to cry over what Ben had done.
Her pledge had lasted approximately ten minutes before the Hacker’s voice appeared and informed her of the hijack. She had cried constantly for much of the last hour and a half. Now, just as she thought she was empty, it was time to draw further from the well to win the support of the room. It was imperative to her and Tate’s survival that she tugged harder on their heartstrings.
Along with her pregnancy, it was likely that her appearance might also go in her favour. If the argument she’d heard the jurors having about race and Bilquis’s death was to be believed, the fact she was white, young, and attractive might go in her favour. She felt ashamed that the racism she had spent much of her adult life rallying against might actually benefit her. She wondered how the jury and public might react if they were to learn her husband was of Afro-Caribbean descent and that she was carrying a mixed-race child.
Craving their pity went against Claire’s values. She’d had her fill of wanting to be everything to everybody during a childhood spent on show at social services’ open days; she and her brother dressed in their best clothes and were on their best behaviour in the hope of catching the eye and sympathy of prospective adoptive parents. Ben had helped her to understand she needed to impress no one to feel self-worth. But now history was repeating itself and she was that little girl again, relying on the compassion of strangers for a future.
She jumped at the sound of a klaxon, and a digital clock appeared on her screen. White numerals began at the ten-minute mark. She braced herself as the countdown began.
“Hello, Miss Arden, this is MP Jack Larsson,” Jack began stiffly.
“Hi, please call me Claire,” she replied. She stared directly into the camera and blinked to allow the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes to begin their descent. It appeared to catch him off guard.
“Please don’t upset yourself. How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better.”
“How’s the baby? Are you in need of medical attention?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
Jack hesitated, and glanced around the room, tugging nervously at his collar and clearing his throat. It was the first time since being thrust into his company that Libby had seen him awkward and edgy. “Can you tell us a little about yourself, please, Claire?”
She picked her words carefully. “I’m not sure what to say. I’ve been married to my husband, Ben, for three and a half years, and I work as a teaching assistant at Bellview School in Peterborough—it’s for children with learning difficulties. Ben and I . . .” She paused for dramatic effect. “Ben and I are expecting our first baby in two months and we’re very excited. It’s going to be a boy; we’ve nicknamed him Tate. And he’s our little miracle. Before I fell pregnant, I had eight miscarriages and an ectopic pregnancy. We were told it was unlikely I’d ever be able to conceive, or if I did, then I couldn’t carry it to full term.” She cradled her stomach and gave a sad smile. “So this little one means everything to us.”
“I understand, I really do . . . I have no doubt how frightened you must be by what’s happened. But let’s try and remain positive. What kind of mother do you think you’ll make?”
“A really good one, I hope. I didn’t really have a mum. My brother and I were in care for much of our lives, so I want to be the mother to Tate that mine wasn’t to me. After everything Ben and I have been
through in trying to conceive, this baby is already so loved. Every day of the week I see the children in my class who need a bit of extra attention and effort because of their differing abilities. And I care about them so much and they’re not even mine. We decided not to have any pre-pregnancy tests for abnormalities because it’ll make no difference to us if Tate has any problems; we’ll love him just the same. To me he’ll always be perfect.”
Jack pinched the bridge of his nose and spoke unexpectedly candidly, as though they were the only two present. “I have walked in your shoes, Claire. My first wife and I went through close to a dozen losses before we finally admitted defeat. As a man, I felt quite helpless because there was nothing I could do or say that made it any better for her . . .” Jack drifted into silence as if he were reliving the pain.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Claire replied.
“I am happy for you and your husband, I truly am. I’m only sorry that what is supposed to be such a wondrous time for you both has descended into this mess. If you can just cling onto hope for that little bit longer, I’m sure my fellow jurors and the public vote will do the right thing and carry you and your son to safety.”
Claire curled her trembling lip into a grateful smile.
Libby listened, carefully making mental notes of Jack’s approach to get the best out of his subject with his line of questioning. Next, he guided Claire into talking about her plans for Tate’s future before asking her to expand on her time in care and what her family life now meant to her. Libby handed it to him, albeit reluctantly: Claire was fortunate to have him on her side.
“You have two minutes left,” the Hacker interrupted.
“Can you tell everybody, why do you want to live, Claire?” continued Jack.
Her response was to look down towards her bump again and then to the camera. “For my baby’s sake. All I want is to bring him into the world and to see him grow up happy and healthy.”