Anna swallowed hard as an icy dread formed in her throat. There were too many unanswered questions at this stage. Too much they didn’t know. It might have appeared to the onlookers that they had the situation under control but that was far from the truth.
‘There’s more info on the woman who’s been beaten up,’ Walker said, as he stepped up beside her while holding his phone against his ear. ‘Her name’s Tasha Norris and one of the gunman smashed her over the head with the butt of his pistol. She’s unconscious and in a bad way apparently.’
All the more reason to go in, Anna thought. She turned back to Fuller and saw that he’d been handed a megaphone.
‘I just heard from our guys around the back,’ he told her. ‘The garden’s empty but the rear door is wide open. Nobody is visible, though.’
He raised the megaphone to his mouth and faced the nursery. As he spoke through it, his voice drowned out all other sound.
‘This building is surrounded by armed police,’ he said. ‘I urge everyone inside to drop your weapons and leave through the front door with your arms in the air, otherwise we will be forced to enter the building.’
There was no response, and the silence that followed screamed in Anna’s ears.
‘We have no choice now but to go in,’ she said after about twenty seconds.
That was Fuller’s cue to mobilise his team. He waved his hand and gave instructions through his headset microphone.
His officers responded by rushing through the open gate and across the forecourt. Anna watched from beyond the wall. As always, she was impressed by their slick professionalism and the fact that they were prepared to put their own lives on the line. The raw tension in the air was palpable and Anna found herself holding her breath as she waited for something to happen.
Thankfully the team encountered no resistance as they approached the building. They paused only briefly before stepping through the open door. The absence of gunfire prompted Anna to follow them, and Walker and several uniforms were close behind.
She heard shouting from inside as she got close to the entrance and assumed it was Fuller’s men announcing their presence.
She stayed outside until the all-clear was given after less than a minute. Her internal dialogue was on prayer mode as she stepped inside: Please, God, let the children be unharmed …
Passing through the doorway, she noticed the security camera above it and the password-protected panel on the wall. She logged the information in her brain to consider later when it came to determining how the men had got into the building.
A short corridor led to a door giving access to a large, brightly coloured playroom. It was crammed with toys, miniature vehicles, a playhouse and several tables cluttered with crayons, drawing paper and books.
But Anna’s attention was seized by loud cries coming from one of the four other rooms that led off the playroom.
‘It must be the storeroom,’ Fuller said, pointing to the closed door. ‘We can’t find the key so we’re gonna have to break it open.’
One of his men was telling those inside to calm down and step away from the door. The same officer then used his boot to kick at it three times before it gave way.
There was a light on inside the storeroom and it revealed a sight that made every muscle in Anna’s body go stiff.
A woman was lying on the floor with the back of her head resting in a small pool of her own blood. Two other women were kneeling beside her and a third was standing over them with a mobile phone in her hand.
‘Tasha needs to get to a hospital,’ one of them cried out. ‘We can’t wake her up.’
The distraught women all appeared to be in their twenties or early thirties and were casually dressed in matching blue T-shirts and jeans. Their eyes were cloudy with fear and their faces awash with tears.
‘Stay calm and step out,’ Anna said, keeping her voice low so as not to inflame an already stressful situation. ‘We’ll call the paramedics.’
The women quickly exited the room, and Anna half expected them to break down in floods of tears. But instead all three dashed across the playroom to one of the other doors that had a sign on it which read: Quiet Room.
The first to reach it peered inside and then let out an anguished cry that sent a bolt of ice down Anna’s spine.
‘Oh my God,’ the woman screamed. ‘They’re gone.’
Anna stepped forward and looked into the room, which contained a sofa, a few chairs and a low table.
One of the other women turned to the nearest uniformed officer and said, ‘Have you searched the rest of the building? Are the children here?’
The officer shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not.’
The woman’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Those men must have taken them,’ she said, her voice cracking with emotion. ‘They’ve been abducted.’
Anna closed her eyes, steadied her breathing. That word: abducted. As always, it stirred up painful memories and caused an ache to swell in her chest. She shook her head, swallowed hard, and realised that this case was going to be an emotional rollercoaster.
Ruth Brady checked her watch and saw that she had time for one more cup of coffee. She didn’t have to be at the restaurant until midday and it would only take her roughly forty-five minutes to get there.
She put the kettle on and as it started to boil she decided to phone her husband to let him know about her change of plan.
She went back into the living room, fished her mobile from her handbag, and speed-dialled Ethan’s number. While she waited for him to answer she stepped over to the window and looked out on a lovely bright morning. Their two-storey town house was in the heart of Bermondsey and overlooked a busy main road. But rush hour was over and the traffic was moving freely.
When Ethan didn’t answer she assumed that he must be in a meeting, so she tapped out a short text message.
Had to drop Liam off at the nursery after all. Will explain why later. Will you be able to pick him up at 4pm if I’m not back in time? Xx
She hadn’t planned on taking Liam to the nursery today. Ethan had bought them tickets for the Shrek Adventure attraction in central London. He’d had to pull out himself but had insisted that she should go and treat their son to a fun day out.
And she’d intended to do just that until she got the call from Howard Browning, the editor of a new London-based magazine. Browning had invited her to a meeting at a restaurant close to his office across the Thames in Wapping. He wanted to talk about some feature ideas Ruth had submitted. As a freelance journalist keen to increase the income from her work, it was too good an opportunity for her to pass up.
Ethan earned a good salary as a computer programmer, but living in London was expensive. There was the usual mortgage and bills, but council tax and parking fees were extortionate in comparison to other parts of the country. Plus there were the costs associated with Liam’s condition, a condition that blighted his life and theirs.
She still turned cold whenever she thought back to how the hospital consultant broke the news to them shortly after their son was born three years ago.
‘I’m sorry to have to tell