‘Yes.’
The convoy left. The lights still flaring. She prayed they wouldn’t try anything clever. An ambush or a roadblock. That they would trust what she had said and let her keep her promise.
‘OK,’ she told Stone. ‘Let’s try that again.’
He nodded curtly. ‘I need your gun.’
He hesitated for a moment then passed it to her. It was heavy She wrapped it and put it safely away. Then, her muscles throbbing with tension, she used the ice-scraper to clear the remaining glass from the windscreen, pushing it onto the bonnet.
She felt a surge of self-pity. She wanted to be home and safe and warm, not here with some lunatic who would shoot her as soon as look at her. Just do the job, she told herself. Get on with it. She had to stay strong, and practical and level-headed.
Her limbs juddering, she started the car. Haltingly she drove, concentrating fiercely and shivering in cold rain that spattered on her face. Other drivers slowed, seeing the damage. Twice she stalled, cursing as she fired the ignition again, her fingers feeling swollen and clumsy
Stone said nothing. Did nothing.
They were all waiting outside the station: Richard, Butchers, DCs and loads of uniforms. She’d no doubt there were marksmen somewhere but at least they’d had the wits to keep them out of view.
‘I’m going to get out first and then I want you to get out slowly,’ Janine told Stone.
‘I need to cuff you,’ she said, when he complied. ‘They won’t let us in unless you’re in restraints.’
He looked at her, still distrustful. Then he relented, held out his hands. She put on the flexicuffs, clumsily, hampered by the way her own hands were still quivering.
At that point a number of uniformed officers walked forward to escort Lee Stone into the building. Richard approached Janine. He studied her for a long moment, unsmiling, his eyes guileless. She matched his stare. Then he gave a tiny smile, closed his eyes in relief. ‘Where’s the gun?’
‘Glove compartment, in the nappy sack.’
Richard began to speak, no doubt about to make a quip.
‘Don’t,’ she said. She wasn’t ready yet. She needed to get into the building and find somewhere to collapse.
As soon as Stone had been taken away, Janine fled to the toilets. She sat down in one of the stalls and put her head in her hands. The shaking grew stronger; it felt as though there was a boulder in her throat, lead in her belly. She could smell the stink of cordite on her clothes, and her own fear. A wave of rage sluiced through her, impotent, blazing rage. She balled her fists and banged at her own knees, cursing repeatedly. Slagging off Stone, the job, the world that had placed her in such danger.
