Trouseau sees his wife notice the empty blister pack that he tries to secrete into his pocket, and witnesses the flash of understanding in her eyes as she realises its possible implications.

  Had it not been his own heart he was worrying about, he would have enjoyed the irony of one of the hostages fearing for their life in a way the terrorists hadn’t anticipated.

  Chapter 15

  The cop who clambers up the stairs to Nathan’s control room looks as if he is carrying his own weight in stress. His face is set in the kind of grimace that inspires gargoyle sculptors, and there’s a stoop to his shoulders that speaks of a long-running injury or ailment he’s battling to work through.

  Nathan waits until the cop has got himself in the room and shut the door before speaking. The cop dusts snow from his coat as Nathan explains that he’s been trying to contact Steve for over an hour without response.

  ‘Could it be his radio isn’t charged, or that it’s broken?’

  ‘It could, but he has a backup.’ Nathan tries not to pull a face at the cop. The man is doing his job, but the way he is going over the basics makes him feel like he is being patronised. ‘And that wouldn’t explain why the phone lines are dead.’

  While waiting for the cops to respond, he and Olly Attwood had examined everything they knew about the communications up at RidgeTop. Rather than waste time answering the cop’s questions, he decides to lay out everything they’d been through.

  ‘We tried calling the landline, which is a system phone, and it’s dead. Next, we tried calling the cell phones of the RidgeTop manager and the other senior members of staff. All went straight to voicemail. When that didn’t work, we tried emailing the resort. All we got were bounce-backs, so we tried looking at their PCs remotely. We couldn’t connect to any of them.’ The cop isn’t responding to anything Nathan is saying, but the cableway operator can see the information is being taken in and analysed. ‘You’re probably thinking some kind of power failure accounts for the lack of communications, and you’d be right. Except we know there’s a backup generator. Like all the company’s mechanical equipment, it’s serviced and tested on a regular basis. Even if there was a power and generator failure, it wouldn’t account for the fact we can’t contact the manager on his cell. He has a company one that’s always in his pocket. If he was dealing with a customer, I’d be able to leave a message for him and he’d call back. We’ve left ten messages and had no response.’

  ‘What about the customers’ cell phones? Have you tried calling them?’

  Nathan tosses a look at his boss and gets a nod of confirmation that he can answer the question.

  ‘That was our next move. We tried five and got the same straight to voicemail message on all of them. Yes, they might have left them in their rooms, switched off, but we purposefully chose the younger customers as they’ll be more likely to have their phones with them so they can show social media what a great time they are having. Also, we’ve been monitoring incoming calls and emails along with our own social media feeds. We’ve heard nothing since seven thirty. Before that, we were tagged on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.’ Nathan shakes his head. ‘I don’t know what’s going on up there, but it’s like they went into lockdown. No matter what we’ve tried, we just can’t raise them.’

  The cop purses his lips and peers out of the window. Nathan follows his gaze and sees the same whiteout he’s been looking at all night.

  ‘What provisions do they have up there? Is there plenty of food and water for the number of people who are at the resort?’

  ‘There’s enough of both to last them several days.’

  ‘Then we’ll leave it until the storm passes tomorrow morning, unless someone at the resort can find a way to get in touch and lets us know there’s a problem we need to act upon.’

  Nathan disagrees with the cop’s plan of waiting as he is sure there is more to the lack of contact than a power outage or mechanical failure. However, unless he can find a way to persuade him, everything his gut is telling him is going to be ignored until morning.

  ‘Excuse me, officer, but would you look at this?’ Nathan holds up his cell phone for the cop to look at. ‘See how I’ve got five bars of signal, and the same for Wi-Fi?’

  ‘Yes. I’m very pleased for you, having such a great signal at work must be a great boost to your productivity.’

  Nathan ignores the cop’s sarcasm. ‘The signal for both resorts is beamed out from here. We know it’s working because we’ve not just checked it’s working, we’ve also rebooted our Wi-Fi booster. RidgeWay is further away from the cell mast, and our Wi-Fi system, than RidgeTop, and it’s working fine. Now I’m only a guy who works a cableway, whereas you’re a cop, but can you answer me something – why would the Wi-Fi signal be out when it’s not connected in any way and it’s transmitted from here?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s not what you’re thinking.’

  ‘How? How can you be sure?’ Nathan points out of the window at RidgeTop. ‘There’s over a hundred very wealthy people up there and they’re totally isolated. We have no way of communicating with them when it’s been proven that our systems are working. Does that not tell you something is going on up there that shouldn’t be?’

  The cop lifts a hand to stall Nathan. ‘Say you’re right, what do you expect me to do? You say the cableway won’t work because the gearing at the other end is locked in place, I don’t think we’ll find a helicopter pilot crazy enough to try and land on a mountaintop in the middle of a snowstorm, and you’d need to be a certifiable lunatic to try hiking up there. If you’ve got any bright ideas on what I should do, please, let me know what they are. If you’ve got nothing, don’t expect me to magic up a solution. The storm is due to blow over by morning, we can get a helicopter up there as soon as there’s visibility. If you manage to contact them, or they contact you, let me know, but until we know there’s definitely something wrong up there, we can’t do anything. And even then, we can’t get up there until this storm has passed.’

  Nathan turns away from the cop. He is disappointed with the man’s logic, but he can find no way past what he is saying.

  As Nathan slumps in his seat, the cop leaves and closes the door behind him.

  Nathan doesn’t even hear the door latch click home, as his mind has fast-forwarded to a possible way to get to the lodge. He would have shared it with the cop, but the man was too dismissive. Rather than have the cop around, should he be proven wrong, Nathan plans to check things out for himself.

  Chapter 16

  I scooch my backside back and forth and try to get comfortable. Sitting in one place for any length of time isn’t my thing, and I can feel my muscles stiffening and protesting at the lack of exercise.

  Across the crowd of people, I see a man crawling his way through the mixture of customers and staff. With nothing to do beyond worry, I watch him with interest.

  The man stops his crawl when he reaches the manager. Kirk Fleming looks at him, part fear and part empathy. I can’t hear what they are saying, but they become more animated as they talk then Fleming gives a nod.

  Whatever the man has asked of Fleming, it’s something that scares him. The manager shakes his head at him. A finger is jabbed in his chest and a look of fear encapsulates Fleming’s eyes.

  Fleming levers himself to his feet and steps between a group of hostages about to approach the nearest terrorist; he is holding his hands above his head and there’s a tentativeness to his movements, which is understandable given the circumstances.

  The terrorist aims his submachine gun, but I can see he’s curious, rather than worried that Fleming is going to attack him.

  ‘I’m sorry to bother you, but one of the ladies needs to use a restroom, and I’m sure there will be others who do too.’

  The terrorist stares at Fleming for a moment then tells him to return to his seat.

  As he picks his way back through the throng of bodies, Fleming tosses an ‘I tried’ look to the man who’d approached him. The woman beside the man looks at Fleming with fury. I guess her need is pressing and she doesn’t want the humiliation of soiling herself to add to what is already a stressful ordeal.

  From the corner of my eye I see the terrorist has relayed the request to Clipboard.

  It doesn’t take Clipboard long to reach a decision. He steps forward to address the group. ‘Ladies and gentlemen. It has been brought to our attention that some of you need to use the facilities. You will be taken in groups of four.’ He gives a vicious smile. ‘I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of the consequences of trying to escape, do I?’

  A sea of heads rotate left and right. Nobody except Sharon and me has escape plans on their mind.

  This is where our opportunity will arise, though there are a few points to consider: first of all, the terrorists will be alert for any attempt to escape or fight back at them; therefore, neither Sharon nor I must act until there has been a number of uneventful visits to the restroom. When the terrorists become bored escorting compliant prisoners it’ll be easier for us to get the jump on one of them.

  The second point is that while we may get the jump on a terrorist, he’ll be missed within a minute, two at most. This means we’ll have very little time to hide ourselves. Plus, if we use lethal force it sets a precedent for the terrorists’ retaliation.

  After being responsible for so many deaths in the past, there’s no way I want to get any more blood on my hands. Doubly so if it means I’m putting my own life in jeopardy. The counter-argument to this is that the terrorists haven’t hidden their faces, they haven’t even worried about taking our cell phones from us. In their position, I’d have claimed all the cells so nobody could take pictures. They haven’t, which reinforces the point they aren’t worried about being identified by any of the hostages. Had they been masked, I’d be a lot more reluctant to strike against them.

  If we don’t use lethal force on the terrorist we jump, we’ll either have to incapacitate him or take him with us. I’ve no problem with knocking someone unconscious, but there’s no way I want to deal with a reluctant prisoner while attempting to evade his comrades.

  It would be better all round if one of us could get away unnoticed to raise the alarm. I know if I can get in touch with either Alfonse or Chief Watson back in Casperton, they’ll take me seriously enough to send the cavalry. however, were I to dial 911 there is every chance my call would be dismissed as a prank.

  This begs the most important question of all: even if I can get word to the correct people, what can they do about it?

  By its very design, RidgeTop Resort is remote and inaccessible. There’s a chance a special forces team may be able to storm the place if given a few days to plan their assault. Even then, they’d only be able to get here via two methods: the cableway and a helicopter. I’ve already discounted both of these ideas as escape methods for the terrorists and the same reasoning applies to incoming forces.

  If this were a Hollywood movie, a team of Navy SEALs, led by a heroic character called Clint Squarejaw, or something equally ridiculous, would launch themselves from a plane and parachute their way through the snowstorm to unerringly land on the helipad. After that, it would be a case of Clint and his buddies out-shooting the bad guys before a final stand-off with Clint and the leader of the terrorists. A big fight would ensue, which Clint would win, despite being at some disadvantage, and then the erstwhile hero would make a couple of wisecracks and seduce the prettiest hostage.

  The problems with this are numerous: this isn’t Hollywood, it’s real life; I’m not Clint Squarejaw, and the terrorists appear to be the real deal. Every one of them will be a better shot than me, and they will all have been trained in hand-to-hand combat, whereas I’m unfamiliar with guns, a questionable shot, and the only fight training I’ve ever had was an afternoon spent in a back garden being shown the dirty tricks my grandfather had learned while battling on the infamous Clyde shipyards.

  If I’m going to act against these terrorists, I’m going to have to outwit, rather than outfight them.

  Chapter 17

  I’m still working out the details of what can be done when a boy in the crowd catches my eye. He’s around fourteen or fifteen and he’s sat beside a woman I assume is his mother. Both of them look scared, but I can see an inner strength that’s fortifying them against the horrors of the evening.

  The boy’s jaw is set and there’s a whisper of fine hair caressing his top lip. The mother is familiar to me from her habit of stationing herself at the bar so she can observe the whole room.

  She’s no bar-fly though, she’d have three, maybe four drinks per night. If my memory serves me right her name is Helen Prior, and the boy is called Daniel. I don’t know her story, or care too much if I’m honest, but more than once I’d spotted the collection of rings she wears on a thin, white-gold necklace. I clocked two wedding rings, an engagement ring, and what I presumed was an eternity ring.

  The presence of the rings tells me she still loves the person who put them on her finger and had worn the one she’d given in return. Whether they’re on the necklace because of divorce or bereavement is her business, and I only had a fleeting look at them. Their position said something, but I wasn’t listening, and I sure as hell didn’t want to get caught gawping at a customer’s chest.

  Daniel unwinds his mother’s arm from his shoulders and shuffles his way over to me.

  ‘Do you think we’re going to be okay?’

  I don’t know why he’s asking me this question; to get to me he’s passed three other guys, but to be fair to the kid, they’re all city types who probably think arguing over a restaurant bill is a manly way to act.

  ‘I’m sure we will be.’ I don’t like lying to anyone, let alone an impressionable youth, but there’s nothing to be gained, other than panic, by telling him what I really think. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll all be over soon.’

  He looks at me with the kind of wisdom that takes some people a lifetime to accrue. ‘When you make your move, watch out for the guy with the tattooed neck. He keeps looking your way.’

  It’s all I can do not to let my mouth hang open in amazement. In a flash, I wonder if I’m being so obvious with what I’ve been hoping was covert surveillance, that everyone in the room is aware of what I’m doing and is waiting for me to make my move.

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yeah. The others are watching the crowd in general, but he keeps glancing towards you.’

  ‘Thanks for the heads up.’ I need to know what else he’s spotted. He’s observant and has made the right connections. He didn’t have to come and warn me, but he did, which shows he’s got a good heart. ‘What else have you noticed?’

  ‘You’ve got at least one steak knife stashed and the lady behind you has one as well.’

  The fact that he’s spotted me and Sharon collecting potential weapons speaks well of his observation skills, and poorly of our attempts at subterfuge.

  I’m glad of his warning but it has cast doubt into my mind about the chances of either me or Sharon being able to get away and raise the alarm.

  Over Daniel’s shoulder I see his mother looking our way. She’s worried, and if I’ve been spotted by Tattoo Neck, she has good reason to worry about her son. If I do try anything and fail, the repercussions may fall on his shoulders as well as mine.

  It’s a responsibility I neither want nor am comfortable with. If I try something and I’m the one to suffer, it’s fair enough. However, if there’s a potential for backlash against others, I’ll have to do everything I can to make it appear as if I’m a lone wolf.

  I’m about to tell him to go back to his mother when a pair of gunshots ring out in quick succession.

  Chapter 18

  The gunshots were too close together to have been a warning: to me they sounded like an assassin’s double tap. As these thoughts are whirling through my head, the office door opens and the limp body of a woman is dragged into the corridor.

  The blood all over her chest tells me where the bullets have struck. The woman is lifeless and, from what I can see, if she’s not already dead she will be very soon.

  A scream erupts from the mouth of a woman being led along the corridor on her way back from the restrooms. She’s hustled away from the shot woman by Tattoo Neck and re-joins her companion.

  The significance of the woman’s death isn’t lost on any of the hostages. The mutilation of Debbie Boitoult, and the woman whose elbow was shot out, were indicators of the terrorists’ resolve, but the fact they had escalated to homicide indicates a raising of the stakes.

  Both of the women who received injuries have been swathed in bandages made from shirts. There will be a risk of infection to each of them, but, in the greater scheme of things, there are more pressing issues than infection.

  I watch as Hannah strides down the corridor from the office. Her face is grim, and she’s got her knife in her hand.

  ‘Listen up.’ Her tone is hard and there’s no doubting the fact that she’s pissed at the situation. ‘If you don’t want to suffer from the sudden onset of rigor mortis, you’d better do as we say. I need hardly add that non-compliance will not be tolerated.’

  Hannah nods at Clipboard, who calls out a name as she turns on her heel and returns to the office.

  There’s something amiss about what just happened. It all seems too calculated, rehearsed even. Hannah was too quick to come from the office, too erudite with her quip about rigor mortis.

  My first thought is that killing a hostage in this way was always in their plans; therefore, Hannah has had time to script what she’d say. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s cruel enough to have planned this, what bugs me is the why?

  A punishment has already been meted out; therefore, doing a second is overkill.

  The only explanation I can come up with for the homicide, is that the guy must have refused to cooperate, thereby gambling with his wife’s safety. It seems like a reasonable assumption until you factor in the knowledge that the terrorists were willing to maim before the guy and his wife entered the office.