DI Jack Frost 02 - A Touch of Frost

police, sir.”
    “I quite agree,” said the Chief Constable, nodding.
    “All the way,” echoed Mullett, feeling rather left out of things.

    Frost crouched in the darkened room and wished the gash on his wrist would stop its sticky trickle. It felt as if gallons of blood were pumping out and it reminded him of the way ancient Romans committed suicide. His knee felt wet, sticky, and gritty from embedded chunks of glass. All in all he had made rather a mess of his spectacular entrance.
    A door faced him. He limped over to it and cautiously pushed it open. He could make out carpeted stairs leading to the upper rooms. Good. The carpet should deaden the sound of his approach. His impromptu plan was to creep into the room, get behind Stan, and throw him to the ground so he couldn’t use the shotgun. He fought several different versions of this encounter in his mind, but somehow they all seemed to end up with Stan on top of him and the shotgun barrel rammed halfway up his nose. But this was no time for pessimism.
    He padded to the foot of the stairs and listened. All seemed quiet above. He tried the first stair, carefully placing his foot well to one side to avoid any creaking. Then the other foot. A splash of blood plopped to the stair carpet, marking his progress. He paused and listened. Nothing!
    The next stair, then the next. His approach was absolutely soundless. The SAS couldn’t have done it any better.
    He raised his head for the final stair and his heart suddenly stopped. The terrified face of a woman was staring at him. An arm encircled her neck. Jammed under her chin, the barrel of a shotgun. Behind her, a twitching Stanley Eustace, his finger quivering on the trigger.
    “Shit!” said Frost. “I didn’t think you could hear me.”
    “One move out of turn, Mr. Frost,” said Stan, ‘and I’m pulling this trigger.” And he pushed the barrel even more tightly under the woman’s chin. “Now, come up!” Frost had never seen the man as uptight as this before. He was a hairbreadth from breaking point.
    “All right, I’m coming,” said Frost. “Don’t do anything daft.”
    Pulling the woman back, Stanley led Frost into the bedroom. On chairs against the wall were two terrified young boys.
    Eustace took the gun from the woman’s throat and pushed her away from him. “Go and sit down with your kids - and not a move, do you hear? Not a move and not a word.” He swung the gun around to cover Frost.
    “Sadie sent me,” said Frost. “She said you’d be pleased to see me. I wouldn’t have come had I known it would be like this.”
    “I want a car,” said Eustace. “A getaway car. And they’ve got to promise not to come after me.”
    “Sadie said if I came up here, you’d let the hostages go,” said Frost.
    “No. I need them!” His finger kept touching the trigger then moving off.
    “You don’t need them, Stanley. If you want a hostage, you’ve got me. Besides, you haven’t the slightest intention of harming them, and those kids ought to be in bed.”

    Allen put down the phone. “Eustace says he’s letting the woman and the kids go, but Frost remains.”
    “That’s excellent news,” said Mullett.
    “Is it?” muttered Allen. “All we’ve done is swap one set of hostages for another. We’re back to where we started.”
    “Jack Frost will get Stanley to come out, don’t you worry,” chimed Sadie. “He won’t let you bastards kill him.”
    PC Collier, watching the garden, called out excitedly to Allen. “The hostages are coming out now, sir.”

    Frost was reaching for his cigarettes. “Stan, if I take out a fag, will you promise not to blow my head off.”
    The gun moved with Frost’s hand as it dived into his pocket. The gunman shook his head when the packet was offered to him. “Given it up.”
    Frost clicked his lighter. “Wish I could, Stanley.” He sucked on the cigarette and let the smoke fill his lungs, then slowly exhaled. “You’ve got to give yourself up some time, Stan. Why not now?”
    “I want a car, petrol . . .”
    Frost waved his hand impatiently. “You know bloody well they’re not going to give it to you. They’ve got the press and the TV cameras out there, all waiting for the happy ending - with the crook losing and the police coming out on top. Mr. Mullett’s hoping for a different happy ending - you blowing my brains out. But there’s no way they’re going to let you get into a motor and drive away.”
    The man’s entire body started to