Agent of the State Read Online Free Page A

‘Anything happening?’
    Number One nodded at the phone. ‘We’ve established contact three times. Guy on the left of the board slammed the phone down eleven minutes ago and we’re waiting for him to get back.’
    ‘Any demands?’
    ‘Breakfast is as far as they’ve got. They’ll probably want a car to the airport by this afternoon. But they’re going to prison or the mortuary.’ He was a young man trying to sound tough. The Lodge had sent a novice to bargain for Melanie’s life, and this made Kerr angry.
    ‘Are they all together in one space?’ he asked.
    ‘Snipers have a sighting in the front room.’
    ‘So, how soon will you raise them again?’
    Junior glanced at his mate. ‘We’re giving them time to reflect.’
    ‘Reflect?’
    ‘Consider their options.’ Number Two was obviously the strategic thinker. In his early forties, he was wearing some sort of club tie over a white, short-sleeved shirt, his arms a mass of freckles and ginger hairs. His suit jacket hung neatly on an old wire hanger, like he was in for the duration. ‘No rush. We let them sweat for a bit. I sent out for some hot grub but the perps get nothing till they accept “Merlin”. That’s our code for . . .’
    ‘The field phone. I know.’ Kerr’s eyes darted back to the whiteboard. Underneath it a black attaché case held the instrument. Deployment of the phone into the stronghold was always an early objective in siege negotiation. It allowed secure, unbroken communication.
    ‘That’s our current negotiating position.’ He spoke like a salesman, and Kerr suppressed another surge of anger.
    ‘What about release of the hostage? Doesn’t that come first?’
    ‘Negotiators negotiate,’ he said. ‘We don’t make the decisions. It takes as long as it takes.’ Number Two was now playing the old sweat, veteran of a thousand sieges. Kerr wanted to punch his fat ginger face.
    Instead, he took a deep breath and gestured to Melanie’s non-person blank on the board. ‘Why the question-mark?’
    ‘We’re not sure about her.’
    ‘Sorry?’
    ‘She may be an accomplice.’
    Kerr froze. Why had no one told them Melanie was one of the good guys? ‘Have they let you speak to her?’
    ‘They may be using her to up the stakes,’ Number Two said, ignoring the question. ‘It’s been done before. Until they’re bundled up on the pavement we treat everyone as potential hostiles.’
    On the whiteboard Kerr took the felt tip and underlined ‘RAPE’. ‘Doesn’t this bother you?’ he asked, struggling to keep his voice low.
    ‘They’ve made no threats like that.’
    ‘But you should be negotiating her release – you know, in exchange for scrambled eggs on toast.’
    Number Two paused for a moment to stare up at Kerr. ‘Tell that to the co-ordinator,’ he said, then turned away. ‘You shouldn’t be in the cell.’
    Kerr was staring at the wall again, memorising the room plan, calculating distances from the front door. ‘Ground floor, yeah?’
    But then the phone rang again and they were making secret signs at each other, John Kerr forgotten.

Four
    Thursday, 13 September, 07.47, the stronghold
    Through the glass double doors Kerr saw a PC arriving with breakfast on a tray: three Styrofoam takeaway boxes and cups from a local café. From that moment he acted through instinct. ‘Cheers,’ he said, holding the door open to take the tray from him, ‘perfect timing.’ He checked the contents: black coffee, congealed scrambled egg with sausage and bacon.
    He exited the school and turned left towards the stronghold three doors away. There was the same unnatural quiet, but the whole street seemed to stiffen around him. Then the air was crackling with urgent walkie-talkie voices and he knew they were all talking about him. Snipers were visible now, a sprinkling of black spikes pointing at him as the uniforms tried to work out what was happening. Shadows were making frantic signs from the undergrowth, but he kept walking.
    By the