Boxing Day afternoon
Jessica Lovage-Martin cleared her throat, while gripping her furry microphone, the air still thick with acrid smoke. Dave the cameraman and Pat the producer/director from the Brighton studios had only just arrived and she needed to do an overdue update report for the evening news. She had been off-air for over an hour and a half, after the batteries in her MacBook had died and sending reports by Skype was no longer possible. Jessica had squeezed in a couple of verbal-only reports before her mobile phone also died, the studio no doubt still showing her dramatic footage from her arrival around four or five hours ago. To be honest, she didn't know how long she had been there, it was almost dark now and she had lost all track of time.
She had already identified the best vantage point, to get the burned out shell of the ancient barn in the frame, with teams of firemen in their reflective clothing standing out in the gathering gloom of the mid-winter late afternoon, as they continued damping down smouldering thatch, raking straw away from thick wooden beams. There was also some frenzied activity by the fireman and other volunteers at the far end of the barn, where they were clearing parts of a collapsed wall, brick by brick along a chain of firefighters. She presently had two witnesses lined up for interviewing, the only ones she was able to agree with to talk to her at this juncture.
She glanced at her notes on the iPad Pat had supplied her with before starting but knew that, once she began, Pat the producer/director had a copy of the same notes and would remind her through her earpiece if she strayed off track. While Dave was still sorting his equipment out and establishing his live feed back to the studio, Jessica thought back to when she arrived on scene.
The flames were fiercely reaching into the heavens then, with six fire engines crowded into and blocking the tiny lane and the Medcalf residence and their crews striving to prevent the fire spreading. She stopped 30 yards down the lane, grabbed her laptop, grateful that she'd had it plugged in on charge during the long journey from the north. No one stopped her as she made her way to the back of the house and set up the MacBook on a pile of tarpaulin covered timber, with its internal camera pointing at the burning barn and the fire crews tackling it. She managed to pick up a decent unprotected wifi signal from the isolated farmhouse and used that connection to contact the newsroom through Skype. To say the newsroom guys were delighted with her feed, was an understatement.
Jessica was able to show Councillor Medcalf's head wound being stitched up and steadfastly refusing to go off to hospital, until they rescued "Marina and Barbara". Sir Philip Sands, so recently portrayed in opposition to Medcalf, was shown collapsing, both with grief at the loss of his wife and the effects of smoke inhalation, and consequently being comforted by the injured, equally bereft Medcalf. One of the abductors was taken away by stretcher to a waiting ambulance, apparently with serious burns.
Jessica and Pat the producer/director deduced that "Barbara" was Lady Barbara Sands, but no-one knew who "Marina" was. Dave the cameraman suggested that, as this was a stable, maybe "Marina" was a mare.
Many of the various emergency crews had recognised Jessica as a regular local outside broadcaster, as they took periods of relief and had cheerfully stood to answer questions in front of her tiny camera lens, so Jessica was able to keep the regional news and even, at regular intervals on the hour, the nationwide 24-hours news channel audience up to date. Through Jessica's earpiece, Pat the producer/director advised her that Dave the cameraman was now ready and the live feed from the Studio to broadcast.
Dave switched on the camera lights and the producer/director called, "five, four," then silently showed three fingers, two fingers, one, none and Jessica confidently began her latest update on her exclusive scoop.
"This is Jessica Lovage-Martin reporting for BBC News South, from a burnt out barn in Lindon, West Sussex, the home of Councillor Daniel Medcalf, where the drama you can see behind me originally began to unfold, at first light this morning. Eight people, we understand, mostly family and friends of the Medcalfs, were taken hostage, gagged and restrained by nylon ropes, in this ancient barn behind me, where three horses were also kept. The horses were released early on when the abductors first took possession of the barn. The Medcalf family were brought to the barn, which was set alight, while most were still in the barn, in an apparently deliberate act of attempted murder. Four of the kidnappers, mostly young students it seems, are currently held in custody, one of them a much older man, possibly the ring leader of the group, has been taken to hospital with serious burns and is reportedly in a critical but stable condition. He has been formerly identified as James Johnson, a convicted serial rapist of mostly young girls, released from Ford Open Prison just under six months ago, who police sources understand he held grudges against members of the Medcalf family. Also, one of the released hostages has been taken to hospital with undisclosed injuries, but possibly only as a precautionary measure. Two people, both women, are believed to be missing, possibly buried under the rubble of a collapsed wall. One of the kidnappers, a woman, is also missing and may have made a clean getaway. Two bodies, believed to be members of the abductors, have been removed from the wreckage, but not yet formerly identified.
"Now, I have with me, Mister Paul Hammond, who is the farm manager here. He was one of the first victims of this kidnapping and therefore involved in this act of arson and worse almost from the beginning."
The witness was pushed into the lit area where the camera was focused. He had a thick white bandage wrapped around his head. Hammond, blinked in the lights and stood next to the reporter, while Jessica turned to face him.
"Mr Hammond, can you tell us what happened to you early this morning?"
"Well, I were doin' me mornin' rounds when I saw two intruders wearing ski masks, releasing the horses by the stables. As I challenged them, some bugger -er, sorry, one of the kidnappers, slugged me from behind."
"So what did you see when you regained consciousness?"
"I found I were in one of the empty stalls, about second or third stall in from the north wall. I were tied up and gagged. They used them nylon cable ties on my wrists and ankles, so it were futile struggling, no way you could bite through them, me hands behind my back. I were lying on the floor, alongside Miss Ginny, who were also bound with ties and gagged with white cloth, like cut from an old shirt. She were sitting up, waiting for me to wake up."
"That is Dr Virginia Medcalf," Jessica turned to the camera and repeated what Pat the producer/director, in timely fashion, had dictated into her ear, "the daughter of the celebrated Dr Penny Medcalf-Josephs, the cancer specialist who so tragically died of cancer two years ago."
"Aye, Miss Ginny were expected home for the holidays."
"So what happened next?"
"Well, there were a different guy to the first two people I saw, who were standing guarding us. He were wearing one of those SandRock Construction hi-viz jackets, one that looked like it weren't 'is because it were miles too big for 'im. Not sure how long I were out for, an' when I did come to, Miss Ginny 'n' me couldn't talk because of the gags. I think we was left for mebbee another 20 minutes or so, and then more chaps, one of them, a heavy-set bloke, who was also wearing a slightly better-fittin' SandRock jacket, dragged in Giles, who's Miss Ginny's boyfriend — he's another doctor — plus Miss Sophie — Miss Ginny's sister — and a woman guest, what I'd never seen before. Finally, this thin weedy old chap, the only one not wearing a ski mask, dragged poor Mr Medcalf in along the floor. He were clearly unconscious an' bleeding badly from a head wound, much worse than the little bump I got."
