“Yes. I’ve been here some time. I’ve been holed up in the fucking basement while your boss did exactly as he wanted with me.”
Hobson pulled out a chair and sat down.
“So, I’m going to sit here and wait for him, and you can keep me amused. And you’d better hope that he comes back soon, because my patience is running out!”
“We can’t have that, can we, Mr Hobson?” said a voice from behind.
Chapter Fifty-six
“He said what?”
“He said they were being held at gunpoint.”
“Where?” Gardener asked.
“At his home,” replied Cragg.
Gardener and Reilly had tried the Foundation once more after leaving Fitz at the mortuary. Before returning to the police station in Bramfield, Gardener had made a quick call to the Sinclair residence, which had once again gone unanswered. Now he had Maurice Cragg telling him that Sinclair had called them to say they were being held at gunpoint in his own home.
“How do you have the time to make a phone call to the police if someone has a gun on you?” Gardener asked Cragg, glancing at Sean Reilly, who had brought the car to a halt in a lay-by.
“He said he’d just returned home from an important meeting, sir. When he opened the front door, he could hear raised voices. One was his housekeeper, and the other a male with a deep voice that he didn’t recognize. So he sneaked down the passage and glanced around the doorframe in the kitchen. His housekeeper was sitting at the table, held at gunpoint.”
“We’re on our way. And Maurice, call for an armed response unit and have them meet us there as soon as possible.”
“Will do, sir.”
Gardener thought he had finished his conversation with Cragg when the desk sergeant suddenly shouted down the phone, “Please be careful, Mr Gardener.”
Gardener turned to Reilly. “That was Cragg. You’ve probably guessed by now that Sinclair is at home. He’s walked in on his housekeeper and an unidentified male. Looks like a hostage situation.”
“Do we know who’s holding the gun and why?” replied Reilly.
“Cragg hasn’t said so.”
“I wonder if it’s Hobson.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
“And where are they?”
“In the kitchen, apparently.”
Reilly checked his rear-view mirror, then turned the car around.
Gardener glanced at his watch. They were five minutes away from Sinclair’s place. It had been yet another long, demanding day, that was now nowhere near over. Finding Sinclair at his house and arresting him would have been too much to ask. Walking into
an explosive situation like the one that was developing wasn’t something you would like at the beginning of the day, never mind the end.
Reilly had decided to park the car approximately a hundred yards from the house.
“Not much point in letting everyone know we’re here.”
“Good thinking, Sean.”
“That’s why you’re still alive,” replied the Irishman. “I’m like your presidential bodyguard. You know, the man who takes the bullet.”
“In that case, you can go in first.”