First Response Read Online Free

Sally was a twenty-seven-year-old childcare professional, paid to take care of him and another dozen children of the rich and well connected. There was a waiting list to join the Little Kensington Nursery and it was able to pick and choose who it accepted. Sally just wished the owners had been a little more selective when it came to Max. His parents were go-getters in the City, the father a merchant banker, the mother in PR, but the high six-figure salaries meant they had little time for child-rearing and Max was an only child so had few, if any, social skills.
    Max had been biting for the past month, and they weren’t playful nips, either. He thought it was funny to fasten his teeth onto a girl’s arm and bite until he drew blood. Sally figured he’d either grow up to be a vampire or a serial killer. He had taken a particular liking to a sweet little girl called Henrietta, who wouldn’t say boo to a goose. He had already tried to bite her twice that morning and Sally was at her wits’ end. If Henrietta ended up with a bite mark, Sally would get the blame and she really didn’t need the grief. There were sixteen children in the class and two teachers. Sally and Laura had split the class into two and unfortunately she’d been stuck with Max. Punishing the child was out of the question, but there was no way of reasoning with him. His parents never said no to him, and at home he spent most of the time with his two Scandinavian au pairs, who catered to his every whim.
    ‘Right, let’s have story time,’ she said, clapping her hands. ‘Max, why don’t you choose the book?’ She pointed at the bookcase and nodded encouragingly. ‘Something with ponies, perhaps?’ Hopefully if she got him to participate, he’d forget about sinking his teeth into Henrietta’s arm.
    The door to the classroom opened and Sally frowned as she saw a tall, thin black man walk in. His head was shaved and he had sunken cheeks, one of which had a curved scar across it. Sally knew immediately he wasn’t a parent. London might have been one of the most ethnically mixed cities in the world, but the nursery wasn’t and the man certainly wasn’t related to the Chan boy or the Indian twins, who were the only non-white children on the premises. Sally’s first thought was that he was a beggar. His long coat looked cheap and he didn’t appear to have washed in a while. But it was his eyes that worried her most – they were wide and staring, almost fearful.
    ‘Can I help you?’ she asked. She looked at Laura, but Laura was busy organising a painting exercise and hadn’t noticed him.
    The man tried to smile but it was more like the grimace of an animal in pain. ‘I am sorry, madam,’ he mumbled. He wiped his face with the palm of his hand and Sally realised he was sweating. Maybe he was sick. He certainly appeared disoriented.
    ‘I think you might be in the wrong place,’ she said, pointing at the door. ‘This is a nursery school.’
    ‘I am sorry,’ he said again, but louder this time. He took two steps towards her and grabbed her hand. She yelped. Before she could say anything he had clamped something metallic around her wrist. She stared at it in horror, trying to comprehend why he had handcuffed himself to her.
    He stepped back and several feet of chain rattled from the pocket of his coat. He undid the buttons with shaking hands and Sally’s eyes widened with fear as she saw what lay beneath it.
    ‘
Allahu Akbar
,’ he mumbled. He closed his eyes, his lower lip trembling. ‘Do exactly as I say, or everyone will die.’ He nodded at Laura. ‘You, lock the door. And then get up against that wall with the children.’

LAMBETH CENTRAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMAND CENTRE (11.15 a.m.)
    The Lambeth Central Communications Command Centre was at 109 Lambeth Road, and the three numbers were posted in huge white letters to the left of the four-storey building, a stone’s throw from the south bank of the River Thames. Kamran had to show his