‘They’ve run out of booze and food and cigarettes,’ said Bella. ‘They can’t hold out much longer.’
‘If they get hungry, they’ll get bloody-minded,’ said Chrissie. ‘If they starve them out, there’ll be more chance of a shoot-out.’
There was no sound or sign of life from outside. The transistor was crackling like distant gunfire as they waited for the next news bulletin. It was the same as the one before, except it added that the police knew the gunmen had run out of food and drink, and included an interview with a doctor on the effects of long-term starvation.
‘It is likely to sharpen the wits, but decrease physical efficiency,’ said the doctor in a calm, flat voice.
‘Great,’ said Bella. ‘We’ll all be cracking jokes soon.’
‘Then the pangs of hunger will give way to dull, painless lethargy, probably accompanied by headaches,’ went on the doctor.
‘How soon will the hostages be in any physical danger through lack of food?’ said the interviewer.
‘Man can live without permanent ill effects up to six weeks on water alone,’ said the doctor.
‘Jesus,’ muttered Bella. ‘It’s a hell of a way to go on a crash diet.’
The voice faded and crackled again when Eduardo shook the wireless. The batteries are running out, thought Bella. She moved slightly. Her side ached where the floorboards were biting into her flesh.
She started on The Lord’s Prayer. It was too serious a time to make bargains with God she couldn’t keep. Please let me out, she prayed, and I’ll try to be good for the rest of my life, and try not to want Lazlo too much if he doesn’t want me.
The wind came in a sudden blast, rattling the trees against the roof of the house. Next moment, the arc lights went out.
‘This is your chance,’ said Carlos.
‘They’re trying to tempt one of us out,’ said Eduardo.
Ricardo tiptoed downstairs and slowly opened the front door. The next moment the lights went on and a volley of bullets was fired over the house.
‘Your blackmail has failed,’ said the loudspeaker. ‘Send the girls out at once if you want to save your lives.’
They heard whispering and breathing on the loudspeaker. Then everything went quiet.
Chapter Twenty-two
Somehow it was dawn. It seemed to Bella that they had been left to their fate. She had terrible cramp down her side. The floodlights had lost their brilliance under the door. The loudspeaker had been silent for hours. She had even dozed fitfully. Even Chrissie, having coughed half the night, was asleep, snoring gently, perhaps dreaming of Rupert and her soft bed at home.
Carlos was dozing now, curled up like an embryo. Ricardo guarded the front door still, Eduardo the window. Pablo had his gun trained on her and Chrissie.
How can she sleep so peacefully, Bella wondered.
Eduardo reached out and switched on the transistor, but it spluttered and finally gave out.
They were arguing again now in low voices. Ricardo was obviously the one suffering most; he was desperate for cigarettes and alcohol, his nails bitten down to the quick.
The loudspeaker began again, making them all jump.
‘Take the only way out and surrender. Take the only way out.’
‘I must go to the loo,’ said Bella.
Ricardo looked at Eduardo who nodded tersely. Ricardo undid Bella’s legs and, at gunpoint, led her to the lavatory at the end of the passage. For a second, she was able to peer out of a crack between the boarded windows. The sight cheered her up. Across the grass on the edge of a wood she could see rows of policemen, motionless and intent, with revolvers raised to the window. Other policemen moved around behind rows of sandbags. Beyond were television cameras and television catering vans and hundreds of Special Branch men, and handlers with Alsatians on leads, eyes alert, tails wagging expectantly.
She strained her eyes to catch a glimpse of Lazlo or Rupert.
‘Come on, you’ve been in there long enough,’ said Ricardo. Feeling slightly dizzy, she stumbled back to the living-room, where Chrissie had just woken up, and realizing where she was, had started the interminable coughing and crying. Bella felt her head; she was boiling hot.
‘Why don’t you let her go?’ she said, turning furiously on Eduardo. ‘You know you’re finished.’
Ricardo raised his gun at her.
‘Juan will rescue us,’ said Eduardo quietly.
‘Rubbish,’ said Bella. ‘Didn’t you hear Lazlo saying he’d been arrested, and even if he hadn’t been, you know the kind of man he is, that he’d disown you the moment things got awkward.’
‘Not me,’ said Eduardo, with sudden hauteur, ‘Juan would never let me down, nor I him.’
The day began to take on a nightmare quality. Eduardo was constantly having to rally the others as, over and over again, the loudspeaker made offers of food and cigarettes in return for releasing one of the hostages, all of which were refused.
In all the big kidnapping cases Bella had read about recently, the besieged gunmen had eventually capitulated. But this is different, she thought. It’s a hatred thing, all tied up with Eduardo’s damn machismo. He’ll never give in without a struggle.
At dusk the lights in the living-room went out. Carlos stumbled out to the hall and tried the light switch there. No light came on. ‘They’ve turned the bloody electricity off,’ he shouted.
For several hours they waited, trembling in pitch dark; then, suddenly, brilliant super arc lights blazed into the room, making them all cover their eyes. These lights were switched on, off, on, off, making sleep absolutely impossible. They all moved into one of the boarded-up rooms.
Chrissie seemed to have sunk into a dull torpor, which worried Bella far more than the coughing, sobbing and shivering.
The police are going about it the wrong way, she thought. We’re going to crack before the gunmen.
Another dawn slowly reduced the power of the arc lights. Bella had lost the ability to feel anything.
Ricardo and Eduardo and Carlos were all at each other’s throats. If they start offering them cigarettes today, thought Bella, Eduardo’s going to have the devil’s own job stopping them accepting.
The loudspeaker crackled.
Chrissie woke up. ‘What’s that?’ she said listlessly.
‘It’s Lazlo,’ said Bella.
He was talking in Spanish again.
‘Tell me what he’s saying.’
Chrissie wriggled into a sitting position and listened.
‘He says he’s got something of particular interest for both Ricardo and Carlos. Ricardo first. He wants them to listen carefully.’
Suddenly there was a woman’s voice, pleading, sobbing, beseeching, choking with emotion. Intensified a hundred times by the loudspeaker, it sounded terrible.
Ricardo gave a groan and sat down with his hands over his ears.
‘What’s she saying?’ Bella hissed to Chrissie.
‘It’s his mother,’ said Chrissie. ‘She’s pleading with him to give himself up and let us go free. She says she’s an old woman, and if he gets killed her life will be meaningless and, as she’ll never be able to afford to come to England, she’ll never see him again. Now she’s asking him to think of his sister, who’s about the same age as us. Now she’s saying that Juan has been arrested, and what are five years in prison, which he’ll get if he gives himself up, compared to death when he hasn’t even said his confession.’
She finished speaking and started to cry.
Ricardo got to his feet. ‘Stop it! Stop it!’ he screamed. ‘I can’t stand it.’
‘Pull yourself together,’ said Eduardo icily. ‘Can’t you see she’s been forced into doing it.’