“If he’s quick,” said Edward.

Over the radio waves. Reaching maybe a hundred miles. Many of them over the sea. John leaned into Penny’s microphone and said: “This is a message to Emma Heron from your husband, John. If you can hear this, please ring KKRC—”

“No, not KKRC,” said Penny. “Now isn’t a good time.”

“Oh, no, ring home. Leave a message for me at home.”

139

Emma was miles in the air. The radio waves caught up with the plane but bounced back off it.

Emma felt stifled with heat and lack of air but as the plane soared, her eyes caught sight of the lights of the city and her mind told her that it was a magnificent view and she must have been half asleep not to have noticed it before. And there were other views like this to be seen. And sounds to be heard, and smells to be smelled.

She wondered if she should tell Graham Johansson to take a look out the window too.

138

KKRC was getting so many calls that the police had told them to shut down the phone lines.

“Can we keep this one?” asked a call screener. “She says she’s the hostage-taker’s analyst, a Miss Clara Redlake.”

The ex-government agent nodded.

Clara was put on hold with Sam. All other calls were directed somewhere else.

137

Penny flicked the wrong button. The KKRC jingle blared out.

“KKRC is Your Station twenty-four seven, it’s Penny Looooock.”

“What the hell is that?” said Edward.

“Sorry, pressed the wrong button.”

“No one press anything.”

136

The negotiator spoke in Penny’s ear.

“We have a caller here who claims Dr. Frankburg here is a fake.”

“Hmmm.”

“I think we should put him on as it might be a good idea for the hostage taker to feel his ally is undermined.”

Penny didn’t think that was such a good idea at all. “Hmm mmm hmm?”

“I don’t recognize that, Ms. Lock.”

“Mm mm.”

“Are you saying no?”

“Hmmm.”

There was a pause.

“What are you singing, Penny?” asked Edward.

“Um . . .”

“You should sing something you know the words to.”

A few clicks were heard. Then Sam’s powerful Welsh voice boomed into the studio.

“Hello?”

Everyone jumped.

“Hello?”

“Who the hell is this?” said my brother.

Penny recovered. “This is just a caller, Edward. This is a phone-in. There must be some calls getting through.”

“Hello?” said Sam Thorn.

135

The real Frankburg wished Sam would stop saying hello. Made him sound stupid.

134

Clara Redlake, driving with the phone clamped to her ear and the radio blasting, heard the powerful Welsh voice surging through the airwaves. “Ataboy,” she said. Those British lozenges must be pretty damn good.

133