her. A loud tut was heard.
Now the hostage was gone, Ashley wasn’t quite sure what would happen next. So she put her professional hat on and started the interview. ‘So, Mr… What should I call you?’ she asked the man.
‘You can call me Rick,’ he said. And then he pointed his gun in Ashley’s face. ‘Now, get in the restaurant.’
Ten
Gina should have known it would go this way. What else could possibly happen when they walked up to the gunman, aka Rick, and put themselves in his hands? Only this. She and Ashley had become his replacement hostages. Two for one, what a deal.
‘Sir, I was thinking we might do the interview here,’ Ashley tried.
‘No chance. There’s an armed unit behind you. The longer I stand out here, the bigger the chance they’re gonna take a shot. Now get in, or…’ He put his gun closer to Ashley’s face, and her pupils met in the centre, focused on the barrel of the weapon. ‘Right, OK, Rick. I think there might h-have been a b-bit of a mis-miscommunication here,’ she stuttered, cross-eyed on the gun, petrified. It was the first time during any of this that Ashley had looked genuinely afraid. Meanwhile, Gina had been about ready to poo into her jeans the whole time. It was nice not to be the only coward. ‘Because I was thinking we could just have a quick chat here and then go our separate ways?’ Ashley posited.
‘Ha ha,’ the man sneered. He switched his gun over to Gina, aiming at her down the lens. ‘Get in now, or I’ll shoot her. And her little camera too.’
‘OK, OK, OK,’ Ashley said, immediately backing down. ‘Don’t do that, OK? I’ll come in.’
‘I told you, it’s both of you. So follow me in right now.’
Gina dropped her camera from her shoulder, holding it down by her side. It had felt like it offered protection, separating her from all this. But this was no movie. It was happening; they were going in.
‘I’m, I’m sorry,’ Ashley whispered to her.
Gina shook her head, somewhat forgiving. This part had not actually been Ashley’s fault; Gina had made this decision. She hadn’t wanted to see that woman killed, and she’d walked up here semi-willingly. ‘It’ll be OK,’ she lied. Ashley looked at her disbelievingly.
Rick began to back into the restaurant through the double doors, his head ducked low, his gun switching back and forth between Gina and Ashley. The two women took baby steps toward him.
‘Sir!’ called DI Conway through her too-loud megaphone. ‘What are you doing?’
Rick ignored her. Gina and Ashley, eyes locked on Rick’s gun, kept shuffling until they had passed the threshold of the door. They heard it swing shut behind them, and they were in the semi-darkness of the pizza restaurant, alone with Rick and his gun.
‘Get over there,’ Rick instructed them, gesturing to the side of the door. They moved quickly back, and Gina got a better look at where she was. It was a scruffy place in need of a serious repaint of its red and white interior. Chipped Formica tables were bolted to the scuffed floor.
Rick scuttled over to the entrance door, locking it shut with a dead bolt, being careful to keep the blinds down over the glass. Once that was done, he breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Whoo! That was a bit nuts, wasn’t it?’ he said with a nervous laugh.
Gina and Ashley didn’t say anything.
Rick gestured towards a set of doors behind the counter. ‘The kitchen’s back there.’
‘Is it?’ Ashley said, confused. ‘Are you telling me you’re hungry?’
‘I don’t want you to make me a fucking sandwich, that’s where I’m keeping the hostages,’ he snapped. ‘Actually, a sandwich isn’t the worst idea,’ he conceded. ‘Come on. You can get settled while I make a ham and cheese,’ he told her, adding as an afterthought, ‘I don’t expect you to cook for me just because I’m a man. Fuckin’ feminist, I am.’
They walked into the kitchen, Rick behind Gina and Ashley. In the large industrial steel kitchen, there was a gaggle of people sitting nervously on the floor. Amongst them were some kitchen staff in whites, along with one waiter in a jazzy waistcoat. The rest were obviously patrons, including a middle-aged guy with what looked to be his teenage daughter. There were three women in office-wear huddled together, one of them wearing a giant badge that declared it was her birthday. There were also two young guys with heavy bro vibes sat