‘I know it isn’t the fucking movies,’ Patrick interrupted. ‘In the movies, the kids always survive.’ It was his turn to appeal to the DCI. ‘We need to do something. I really think it’s a mistake to sit and . . .’

Fraser saved Suzanne from having to make a decision. He waved them over, clutching the phone to his ear with the other hand. He had the phone on speaker so they could all hear.

‘. . . let you tear apart my family.’ It was Koppler, his voice strained and angry.

‘Doctor,’ Fraser replied in a soothing voice. ‘No-one wants to do that. We want to make sure you’re all alright. Is there anything you need us to get for you?’

‘You know what I want.’

‘I meant any food, drinks, medical equipment?’ For a moment Patrick thought Fraser was going to offer to send in a carton of cigarettes.

‘No. All I need is to get my family out of here.’

‘We’re working on that, Dr Koppler, as hard as we can.’ He paused. ‘Would it be possible for me to talk to Sharon? I’d like to see how she’s doing.’

‘No! She’s very . . . fragile at the moment.’

In the man’s voice, beneath the veneer of arrogance, Patrick could detect fear. It was the voice of a man who was way out of his depth, who was probably wondering how the hell he had got himself into this situation.

There were several types of criminals. There were the career criminals, who knew exactly what they were doing. They might be street-level thugs, gang bosses or white collar fraudsters, but whatever level they were at, they were in this game and fully aware of the rules. Then there were the criminals who filled films and books and front pages: the psychopaths, the serials, the cold-blooded and the insane. They were the rarest type and the most slippery.

Finally, there were people like Koppler. People who, for whatever reason, be it circumstance, bad luck or love, found themselves breaking the law, doing stupid things. Whether it be the girl who stole much-needed cash from the till at work, or the guy who ruined his career by getting drunk and in a fight after a stressful day, or the professional who got drawn in to an insane plot, cooked up by two desperate people. Patrick was sure this was Koppler’s category. He had embarked on a journey with no comprehension of where it would lead, no idea that it would end in a house with two kidnapped children, surrounded by armed police. Koppler was not an idiot. He must know there was no way he and Sharon were getting safe passage out of here. He must know his career and reputation were destroyed, that he was going to spend the rest of his life in jail. The only alternative was death. And that was why Patrick was so scared about what was going to happen here.