‘Whatever it is we can fix it,’ said Nick, sounding as scared as Chandler felt. ‘We’ll get the inspector and the others and find this guy. It’s not your fault he escaped. We all did our best.’

By now Nick was standing over him. Chandler waited for it; the supportive hand gently rested on his shoulder.

Springing to his feet Chandler grabbed the hand and twisted it behind the young man’s back, forcing Nick’s face down on to the hard plastic table as he cried out in pain.

‘I’m sorry, Nick.’

Bending him over and using his arm like a rudder, he steered his young colleague towards the cells, depositing him into the middle one. Two cells occupied, one to go.

‘Sarge . . . Chandler . . . don’t do this,’ pleaded Nick.

‘They’re going to fire you if you don’t let us out. Throw you in a prison like this one,’ echoed Flo from the far cell.

Chandler ignored their pleas, returning to the office and Heath who was screeching for help as he crawled towards the front door, dragging the unconscious Roper with him.

As Chandler caught up he stopped crawling and assumed a defensive stance. ‘What is it you want?’ he begged. ‘Are you working with him?’

The accusation caused Chandler’s temper to flare. Frustration at being unable to explain that he hadn’t gone crazy. That there was a plan.

‘No, I’m not working with him.’

‘Then what the fuck is this?’

Chandler unlocked the cuff from Roper’s limp wrist and attached it to the pipes on the wall, securing Heath inside the office.

‘You wanted to leave the cell, didn’t you?’

‘Not like this. I wanted to be released, not taken hostage by a different psycho.’

Grabbing Roper by the arms, Chandler dragged the unconscious officer across the floor before dumping him into the final cell. He left to another chorus of pleas from Nick not to do anything stupid.

Too late.

As Chandler left the cells and approached the frightened man rattling the cuffs in vain, something occurred to him. Gabriel had known of him and Mitch – and from what he had hinted at over the phone, of their search on the Hill all those years ago. But how could he have known those details? Who the hell could have told him? One of his colleagues who was in the force back then? One of the crazy mercenaries they’d pissed off? The family?

The family. The collective noun, impersonal.

Chandler tried to recall their names. They didn’t come back immediately which filled him with shame.