'Need to see your ID, sir,' the man replied firmly.
'Of course,' Amit said, putting a hand to his inside pocket. Then, as though he had spotted someone behind the policeman, he smiled and waved. As the officer turned, Amit broke into a run, arms pumping hard by his sides, heart thudding at his own audacity.
Marianne felt her legs buckle beneath her as Max pulled her off the chair, her bonds cut free by a knife he had produced from somewhere.
'Come on,' he told her, flicking her hair back from her face with the blade of the knife. 'Get going.'
As the hit man pocketed the knife and picked up the gun again, Marianne bit her lip. She had to go, she just had to…
Too terrified to reach out and touch his arm, the woman watched his every move until finally she caught his eye.
'Please,' she begged. Van I go to the toilet?'
He seemed to hesitate for a moment then shrugged. 'Okay, but make it quick.'
With a sigh, Marianne sat on the pan and closed her eyes. It was humiliating to have him standing there, watching, but the relief as her bladder finally gave up its contents overcame any residual embarrassment.
'Right, move it,' the hit man told her.
Somehow she managed to stumble towards the doorway and out into the darkened corridor. All the lights were out, she noticed. Had the hotel staff cut off the power? A flicker of hope entered the woman's heart. Maybe the police outside would save her from the man who was pushing her steadily along, that gun pressed into her back, urging her towards the end of the corridor.
Or would Max relent? Tell her it was all a mistake? That he never intended to harm her?
The fresh air made her gasp as the door was thrust open and Marianne was bundled onto the roof. Her nightdress billowed upwards, exposing her bare legs and for a moment Marianne feared that she would be blown straight off into the river below 'I can't…' she said, holding back, her eyes pleading with the gunman.
'Move,' he said, twisting her arm painfully so that now she was in front of him, a human shield, protection from whoever tried to fire on them.
'Please,' Marianne whimpered, her bare feet taking steps against their will. Sharp bits of gravel cut into the soles, making her wince.
The edge of the roof began to come so close. Too close…
'No!' she said, struggling in his grip. 'Don't make me! Please!'
But her words blew away in the wind as he forced her nearer and nearer to that dizzying drop.
Amit walked slowly around the corner of the street, aware at any minute that he might be made to return. The undercover policewoman had disappeared and there were several police vehicles parked around the outside of the hotel.
He stopped, lingering in the shadow of a building, wondering what was going on. Ahead of him, crouched low beside a white van, was a police marksman, his rifle trained on something he could not see.
Amit looked up.
Just as two figures appeared on the roof, Lorimer's voice sounded from a nearby loudhailer.
'Stop right where you are, Stevens. Leave the woman and come back down!'
'Stay back or I'll shoot her!' the hit man yelled.
Amit took a step forward, eyes fixed on the man who was drawing closer to the edge of the roof and the woman he held in his grasp, her red hair blowing in the wind.
Then he began to run.
'Marianne!' he called, waving his arms at them. 'Marianne!'
The moment he saw the little Asian, Detective Constable Omar Fathy leapt from the transporter. Where the hell had this crazy man come from? 'Stop!' he cried out, lunging towards the running figure. 'Don't go…' but his words failed as Stevens' shot rang out.
'No!' Annie screamed, feeling other arms pulling her back as she tried to leave the van and reach her friend.
'No,' she whimpered, her eyes refusing to believe what she was seeing. 'No, please God, no..
Omar lay there, motionless, arms flung out, one dark stain bloodying his forehead.
Annie stared at him, willing the Egyptian to move. 'Get up, Omar. Please get up..
Then, as strong hands turned her away from the sight, she began to sob into the shoulder of the officer next to her.
There was a man dead at his feet. Amit could see that. A young man, dark-skinned. His life taken by a bullet that had been meant for him.
Amit stood there, shock rooting him to the ground.
Then he heard a second crack of gunfire ripping through the air.
He watched as though in a dream, that figure tumbling from the edge of the roof, a dark shape outlined against the pure, pale sky then falling with a thud onto the concrete below When he looked back up, Marianne was crouched on the rooftop. Her thin, eerie wail floating down to the scene below, shattering the silence.
Then, as he saw other figures come up behind her and take her in their arms, Amit sank to his knees beside the body of the young policeman and wept. et me speak to her, first,' Solly said quietly, his hand on j Lorimer's sleeve.
They were back in divisional headquarters. It was hard to believe that it was barely two hours since they had left, such was the difference in the place. Before, there had been that tense anticipation when adrenalin and testosterone filled the veins of so many officers; now there was only a sullen silence.
Solly had taken his body armour off with the others, waiting to hear murmurs of regret, anything that would ease the pain of this deathly hush. That would come, he told himself. Maybe tonight when the police officers could feel safe in their own homes, maybe tomorrow when they reported for duty. Or perhaps not until they stood at the graveside watching as Omar Adel Fathy's body was laid to rest with all the panoply that surrounded a police officer's funeral.
Lorimer gave no sign of having heard him and Solly patted his arm, seeing the way his friend looked out of his office window. It wasn't difficult to imagine what he was seeing. The sight of his fallen officer would be imprinted on Lorimer's brain for a long time to come, Solly knew. But there were things that still had to be done even though the Senior Investigating Officer might wish to forget about them entirely.
'May I talk to her, take Detective Sergeant Cameron with me, perhaps?' Solly asked.
Lorimer gave a great sigh then wiped a hand across his eyes as though to clear that unwelcome vision.
'It's totally out of the question, Solly. I can't authorise a civilian to undertake something like that.' He gave a faint smile. 'Even you.'
Solly nodded. That was what he had expected and, though his request was genuine, it had been phrased to elicit a particular response. To shake the man back to his responsibilities.
'I'll go down myself,' Lorimer said at last, straightening himself wearily from the window sill where he had been leaning. 'But I can let you sit in on the interview Even ask some questions if you like. It'll all be on record, anyway.' He shrugged. 'Come on, let's get this over with.'
Marianne held the polystyrene cup in her fists, feeling its warmth seep right through her bones.
She was alive. And for now that was all that seemed to matter.
Those moments when she had looked down at the greyness of the pavements way below, sick with fear, still remained, however.
The uniformed policewoman who had wrapped a blanket around her as they sat in the back of the car had held on to her shoulders, murmuring soothing words. Marianne had let the tears fall, then, too choked to utter a single word.
Now, though, her mind was full of questions. How had Amit got there? Who had been shot? (She had seen the stretcher and the shape of a body beneath that white sheet.) And was Billy safe?
Marianne had stopped considering her own fate. What would come to pass was surely something that she deserved, after all?