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Rafferty nodded. ‘There’s no way he’s coming out of there,’ the DS said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. Traffic to the north and south had been diverted, the road closed. Red and white barriers had been erected across the thoroughfare. Uniformed policemen stood by them. At both, Talbot noticed, crowds had built up, maybe a hundred people on either side, anxious to see what was going on.

Morbid fuckers.

He even caught sight of a camera held in one set of eager hands.

‘Has anyone spoken to him yet?’ Talbot asked.

‘One of the uniformed men’ Rafferty replied.

‘And?’

‘He said he just wants to talk to the girl.’

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It suddenly seemed much colder inside the crypt.

‘What the hell is it?’ she murmured.

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Talbot looked incredulously at his companion.

‘He doesn’t want money, he doesn’t want a getaway car. He just wants to talk to her’ the DS said.

‘For fuck’s sake,’ sighed Talbot clambering out of the Escort. Rafferty followed him, watching as his superior brushed some dust from the sleeve of his jacket.

‘What do you want to do, Jim?’ the younger man asked.

‘Get inside there,’ Talbot answered, already taking a couple of paces towards the shop.

Rafferty joined him. ‘What about the girl?’ he asked anxiously.

‘If he’s already killed her then we may as well go in now. If he’s thinking of killing her it could take him all fucking day to make up his mind, but, if I’m right, then he doesn’t want to hurt her.’

‘What makes you so sure?’

‘Ever heard of a gut feeling, Bill?’

‘And what if you’re wrong, what if he does want to kill her?’

‘Have an ambulance crew standing by,’ Talbot said, indifferently.

He strode across the street, watched by the hordes of uniformed men and the curious crowd.

The man with the camera snapped off a couple of shots as the DI approached the door.

Rafferty scurried across to join him.

From either side, crouching low to the pavement, uniformed men edged nearer.

Talbot waved them back.

He banged hard on the door, leaning close to it, trying to see through the dirty glass.

The lights were off inside, it was difficult to make out shapes. All he could see clearly was a rack of basques hanging close to the entrance.

There was a counter to his right, glass topped and fronted. He could see a selection of vibrators inside.

Something moved towards the back of the shop.

He saw a figure move a couple of paces towards the door.

A young man, no more than twenty-five.

He was carrying a short-bladed knife in his right hand.

‘Fuck off!’ he screamed at Talbot.

‘Open the door or I’ll break it down,’ the DI said, impassively.

He watched as the man retreated a few feet then grabbed at something hidden by the counter. Talbot saw him drag a young woman into view.

About twenty-four, petite, pretty.

The man hauled her in front of him and pushed the knife to her face.

‘You try coming in and I’ll hurt her,’ shouted the man who was dressed in jeans and a black shirt.

Rafferty looked at his superior. ‘What do you reckon?’ he said.

Talbot shook his head. ‘Open the door now!’ he bellowed.

The young man looked at the girl, then at Talbot. ‘I’ll cut her,’ he called back, his voice cracking slightly. ‘I mean it.’

‘He’s scared shitless,’ Talbot said.

‘Be careful, Jim,’ Rafferty said, softly.

‘Keep them back,’ the DI told his companion, motioning towards the uniformed men near by. ‘I’ll sort it.’

Rafferty took a couple of paces back and barked something into the two-way radio he pulled from his jacket pocket.

Talbot kicked at the door, the glass rattling in its frame. He drove another powerful boot into it and it flew back on its hinges. The DI found himself standing inside the shop.

It smelled of cheap perfume and sweat.

Talbot looked at the girl’s face.

Apart from some puffiness around her eyes she looked unharmed. Her make-up was smudged and there were mascara stains on her cheeks but, as far as he could see, no wounds of any description.

‘Put down the knife,’ Talbot said.

‘You shouldn’t have done that’ said Black Shirt, through clenched teeth.

‘Just put it down before someone gets hurt,’ Talbot continued. He took a step forward.

‘Stay there,’ black shirt shouted.

Talbot moved forward more cautiously.

The knife blade was hovering close to the girl’s cheek.

‘Just let her walk away’ Talbot said, still taking slow deliberate steps towards Black Shirt and his hostage.

‘If you come one step closer I’ll stab her’ Black Shirt babbled, none too convincingly.

‘Go on, then.’

It was the girl’s turn to look surprised.

‘Go on then, you little prick’ snapped Talbot. ‘Kill her.’

Black Shirt was breathing rapidly now, perspiration had already beaded on his forehead.

‘You’re already looking at aggravated assault, possible ABH, maybe even kidnapping. You want to add murder to that list? Be my fucking guest.’ He moved closer, pushing aside a rail hung with silk knickers. ‘Go on, hard man, fucking cut her. Slice her up. Impress me.’

‘You’re fucking nuts’ Black Shirt blabbered.

‘Let her go’

‘He didn’t hurt me’ the girl said, seeing the DI drawing nearer.

‘Good. Then you ask him to let you go. Do you know him?’

She nodded.

Bingo.

‘Boyfriend?’ the DI continued, his progress even.

‘Look, things got out of hand’ said Black Shirt, uncertainly.

‘Let her go.’

The knife was lowered a fraction.

Talbot was about three feet from the couple now, his eyes fixed on the watery gaze of Black Shirt.

He could hear him breathing, smell his sweat.

‘Let her go.’

Two feet.

Black Shirt allowed the knife to waver a little lower but he kept his grip on the girl’s shoulder.

‘Come on, I’m not playing fucking games,’ hissed Talbot. ‘Let her go.’

Black Shirt looked at Talbot, then at his captive, and pulled his hand away.

She stepped away from him, leaning against the counter.

‘Drop the knife’ Talbot ordered.

Black Shirt stood motionless, the knife held before him now.

Talbot extended one hand, palm up. ‘Give me the knife.’

Black Shirt was shaking now, barely able to control his own breathing. He looked across at the girl who nodded almost imperceptibly.

‘The knife’ Talbot repeated.

Black Shirt reached out to hand over the blade.

Talbot gripped the proffered wrist, twisted and simultaneously wrenched the younger man towards him. In one swift movement, he drove his head forward, slamming his forehead into Black Shirt’s face.

The impact broke the younger man’s nose, blood bursting from it, spilling onto the floor, some of it spattering Talbot.

The girl shouted something and ran towards him.

Talbot felt a blow against his back.

‘You bastard,’ shouted the girl but Talbot merely pushed her away.

Rafferty came scurrying into the shop, four uniformed men behind him, one of them an ambulance man.

He saw the girl standing against the counter, saw Black Shirt crouching on the floor, blood gushing through his fingers as he clapped both hands to his face.

‘Get them out of here,’ Talbot instructed, turning towards the door. ‘And move that fucking crowd from the street, the show’s over.’