Free Java Spider by Geoffrey Archer

at the end of last week, but he failed to turn up in his constituency for weekend meetings. The News Channel along with other media was asked by 10 Downing Street not to report the matter because, they said, his absence was due to
personal
problems. Well, just a few minutes ago, we discovered the real reason. Mr Bowen has been taken prisoner. His kidnappers have sent us these pictures of him by satellite.’
    She heard the director cue the new tape.
    ‘As you can see, Mr Bowen has received facial injuries,’ she ad-libbed. ‘It appears he was forced to read this message from his captors.’
    She stopped talking to let Bowen’s words come through.
    ‘
Perfect
.’ Marples’ voice in her ear. ‘
We’ll come back to you out of the video for a comment on what you think it’s all about
.’
    Charlotte grimaced. What she knew about the human rights situation in Indonesia could be written on a postage stamp.
    ‘
Cue Charlotte
…’
    ‘As I said, the story has only
just
broken … We’ve no details yet as to how this happened … or where Mr Bowen’s being held …’ Her throat was beginning to dry. So was her mind. ‘But … British arms sales to Indonesia have provoked protests in this country and abroad for many years …’ she was floundering, ‘and last week demonstrators paraded outside Downing Street.’
    ‘
Wind up, Charlie
.’
    ‘We’ve no idea who’s responsible for the kidnap at this stage. It’s not clear the government knows either. A statement from the prime minister is expected soon. This is Charlotte Cavendish for the News Channel.’
    The last line had been a guess. No idea what the PM would do. She turned to the presenter, who linked into the next item – Hollywood Diary.
    She began to shake. The technician took her earpiece from her.
    ‘Terrific, doll,’ he mouthed.
    Back in the newsroom – pandemonium. Mandy had a phone to each ear, puffy face taut and bewildered.
    ‘PA missed the start of the tape,’ she yelled, spotting Tom Marples racing in from the control gallery. ‘When are we running it again?’
    ‘In ten minutes. On the half hour.’
    ‘They’re asking can we give them a transcript?’
    ‘Oh
yes
,’ Marples mocked. ‘This place is crawling with bloody typists looking for something to do.’ He swept an arm round the still largely empty newsroom.
    Charlie perched on his desk, scribbling notes.
    ‘We’ll do it as a sandwich again,’ he told her. ‘Top and tail in vision, but edit together the file footage and the kidnap stuff. Got time? Eight mins before you’re on air again.’
    ‘Can but try.’ She sprang to her feet.
    ‘Ad-lib the script again. You were brilliant.’
    She sprinted for the booth, hoping a video-editor would be waiting with the tapes.
    Jeremy was.
    ‘I thought you were doing the late shift today,’ she needled.
    ‘I am. But I knew you’d be here so I came in early.’
    His doe-like gaze made her shudder.
    ‘Fine. Have you got the tapes?’
    ‘Clip reel and the hostage stuff.’
    ‘Stick down fifteen seconds of Bowen in Jakarta, and about ten of him with his wife. There’s pics from the last election. Then the kidnap shots. The whole thing.’
    Jeremy started spooling. Charlotte grabbed the phone.
    ‘Mandy? Charlotte here. Who’ve you rung so far?’
    ‘No one. They’ve been ringing
us
. Foreign Office, police. The BBC, SKY and ITN. And Sankey on his car phone. He’s negotiating to let the opposition have the pics …’
    ‘But you’ve not rung the wife?’ Charlotte interrupted.
    ‘No.’
    ‘OK. I’ll do it.’ She rang off and scrabbled for the number, then dialled again.
    Engaged. ‘Damn!’ Should have rung her immediately. Not enough hands, that was the News Channel’s problem. She dialled again. Still busy.
    She logged on to the edit-booth terminal and checked the PA wires. Still in the ‘flash’ phase – one-liners updating the story as it unravelled.
    She checked her watch. On air in three minutes.
    ‘Three mins,