The Mammoth Book of Best British Crime 7 Part 18

"Yes, please," said Margaret. "And see if you can find some biscuits. I'm sure they keep some nice ones."

On television, they were valuing a Queen Anne table with very fine cabriolet legs.

Margaret sat down on the sofa with the toy gun in her lap. Bee took the armchair on the left hand side, after removing the antimaca.s.sar. She crumpled it up and threw it into the fireplace, where imitation coals sat ready to be ga.s.sed.

Apart from Roger's sniffles, everyone was quiet until Liz returned with the tea. There were mugs for the three hostage-takers, nothing for the family.

"So, Colin," said Bee, "why did you call your son 'Roger'? It's such a stupid name."

"We like it," said Colin.

"Which only proves how stupid it is," said Margaret. "Almost as bad as Colin. Who wants to be five and be called 'Roger'?"

Bee turned to the boy. "Let's ask Roger. Roger, do you like your name?"

Roger looked at his mother.

Margaret leaned across and pulled the tape off Roger's mouth.

"Do you like your name?" asked Liz, with a gentle tone.

Roger shook his head.

"Does that mean you like it or you don't like it?" asked Margaret.

"Don't like it," the boy said.

The three hostage-takers all laughed.

"You see," said Bee. "Even he hates it."

"So," asked Liz, "what would you like to be called?"

Roger looked down into his chest.

"Optimus Prime," he said.

"Right," said Margaret. "From now on, you're Optimus Prime. Which is going to sound pretty silly in twenty years' time but I don't think there's much reason to worry about that."

"Would you like some juice, Optimus Prime?" asked Liz.

He said, "Yes, please."

"Very polite," said Margaret. "That's good."

Liz went and got him a beaker full of orange. He drank it very quickly.

"Do you still wear a nappy, Optimus Prime?" Margaret asked.

"No," he said. "I'm a big boy."

"Then you must tell us if you need to go wee-wee," said Margaret. "Do you understand?"

"Okay," said Optimus Prime.

"Look," said Colin. "What is it exactly that you want? Perhaps we can sort it all out before the police get here?"

"What we want," said Margaret, "is for the police to get here. Now, please, don't speak again."

They watched the television for a while.

"Do you like this programme, Optimus Prime?" asked Margaret.

"No," he said, becoming more confident. "It's boring."

"What would you like?" Bee asked.

"Cartoons," he said.

Margaret pa.s.sed him the remote, which had been sitting on Colin's arm of the sofa.

"Choose something," she said.

Optimus Prime skipped through the channels until he came to a programme called "Robotboy".

"Ah, yes," said Margaret.

They watched it for ten minutes. Then Bee said, "Optimus Prime, do you have any guns?"

Optimus nodded.

"If we undo your legs, will you go with me and fetch them?"

"Yes," he said.

Liz came across and cut through the tape with the chunky scissors.

Bee took Optimus' hand and led him into the bedroom.

A few minutes later, they came back, arms full of imitation pistols, lasers and machine guns.

"Which is your favourite?" asked Margaret.

Optimus picked out a red and black laser.

"You keep that one, then."

"And I'll have this one," said Liz, choosing an old-fashioned looking revolver. It had cowboys on the handle and a wagon train running along the barrel.

"And can I have this one?" asked Bee, picking up a business-like automatic in black plastic.

"Yes," said Optimus. "As long as I can have them back."

"Of course you can have them back," said Margaret.

They sat down to watch the TV all much happier, now they were armed.

Colin had been looking at Margaret's gun. "That one's not real either, is it? You came in here and held us up with a toy!"

"Shut up or we tape your mouth up," Margaret said. "What do you think about that, Optimus Prime?"

The boy looked surly.

"Then he won't be able to tell you to go to bed," said Liz.

"Or tell you to do anything at all," said Bee.

Optimus Prime said, "I do anything I want all the time."

"I bet you do," said Margaret, and laughed. "But, shall we tape up your daddy's mouth? Just for a game."

"Okay," said Optimus Prime, with a sideways glance to see the effect of his words.

"Roger!" Colin shouted.

He struggled as Liz and Bee wound the camouflaged tape around his head. His face was pink by the time they finished. It became even more pink when Bee pinched his nostrils for half a minute, to check his mouth really was sealed. When she let go, he snorted raggedly.

"I need a wee," said Optimus Prime.

The hostage-takers looked at one another.

"I'll take him," said Margaret. She went and picked him up from the sofa. He put his arms around her neck. Colin flinched at this.

Margaret carried Optimus Prime through the kitchen and into the toilet; she knew where it was. She pulled the boy's pyjama bottoms down until they were around his knees, then lifted him on to the seat.

He put his finger on his w.i.l.l.y, to point it down, then peed almost immediately. They both listened to the small gush until it went quiet.

"Finished?" asked Margaret.

Optimus Prime nodded.

"You don't want a poo?"

"No," the boy said.

"Come on, then."

Margaret dried Optimus Prime's w.i.l.l.y with a sheet of toilet paper, then hiked his pyjamas up.

"All done," she said, carrying him back into the living room.

Just then, sirens came into earshot. They became louder quite gradually. And then blue lights flashed across the stripy wallpaper.

"At last," said Margaret.

But it took another ten minutes before the phone rang.

Bee picked it up.

"We are surrounded," she said, relaying the words to the other hostage-takers. "We can talk about this calmly. Whatever issues we have can be addressed. We can come outside with our hands above our heads. No, we're not going to do that," she said. "Where's our helicopter?" She listened. "That's not good enough. We wanted a helicopter. Half an hour? Okay, I want you to make helicopter noises. Yes, you heard me. Make helicopter noises, or we shoot the woman."

She held up the phone so the others could hear the chunka-chunka-chunka sound.

"Very good," said Bee. "But we want the real thing."

She put the phone down, then picked it up when it rang.

"What else do we want?"

Margaret and Liz nodded at her. The plan.

"We will exchange the woman for a policewoman. A straight swap. You have five minutes to decide."

She put the phone down.

It rang again two minutes later.

"We can have a policewoman," she said, after listening for a few seconds. "But they want the boy as well. No," she said, "that's not the deal. One for one." A pause. "Alright. They'll come out the front door."

Bee replaced the receiver.

Liz cut the tape off Numfon's ankles.

"Don't try to run," she said. "Not until the policewoman's inside."

Margaret took her into the hall, then slowly opened the door. She was disappointed to see so few police cars only three.

A WPC was standing beside the open pa.s.senger door of the nearest, her hands in the air.

"Come towards me," shouted Margaret, who could feel herself tickled by the sights of real guns.

The policewoman walked steadily forwards, until she was halfway.

"I want you here," said Margaret, pointing to the paving stones with the gun-barrel.

The WPC started moving again.

When she was close enough, Margaret pushed Numfon away and grabbed the WPC by the neck.