Broken Arrow

racing down the corridor. 'You have to come quickly — bring your medical stuff. Someone's been injured at The Britannia.'

'Injured?' asked Mary.

'Stabbed. You have to come quick, Robert said-'

'Hold on, Robert?' Mary looked at him, then back at Adele, who was still smirking in spite of the news. 'He's back? But-'

The man pleaded with her to come with him, saying that there wasn't time, so Mary did. But before she'd got out of earshot, she heard Adele reiterate: 'No, maybe you don't really know him at all.'

CHAPTER EIGHT

He felt like Jonah in the belly of the beast.

Tanek sat in one of the cargo bays, working away on his secret project. He'd been labouring on this since they set off across the Baltic. It was important that he got it right. The various parts were all laid out in front of him on the table, which at the moment was vibrating slightly. Tanek reached for one of the pieces of wood and his sandpaper, running the rough side across the face with a sweeping motion. Every curve, every inch would be lovingly crafted, just like the last one.

He recalled the man who'd taught him how to build this particular piece of weaponry — a man skilled in the ancient arts of combat and defence. His name had been Liao and he'd been good to Tanek, offered him a place to stay when he'd had none, a stranger in their land. Liao had been an expert in all kinds of weapons, though the modern ones didn't interest him as much as those from the past.

'You can learn much from studying history, my friend,' he'd told Tanek in one of their late night drinking sessions. They were words that another man would echo years later. Both were dead now. The Frenchman, De Falaise, who Tanek followed without question, had been killed by The Hooded Man. Tanek had not been present at his execution, but he'd felt the man's passing.

Liao, who had looked so similar to The Tsar's twins he could have been their father, had died at Tanek's hands long before that. Once he'd learnt everything he could from the man, and it had been time to move on, Tanek had simply snapped his neck, leaving Liao for his wife and children to find. He'd had no qualms about doing it, the man had been of no more use to him. And to Tanek, a quick death was a merciful one — better that than to be tortured at his hands.

Oddly enough, he'd never foreseen a time when he would have done something like that to De Falaise. He felt The Frenchman would always have something to teach him, only disclosing his nuggets of genius tantalisingly slowly. Before they met, in that Turkish tavern when De Falaise had saved his life — something that didn't always guarantee the same in return from Tanek — he thought he knew everything about warfare, about killing. Listening to De Falaise, he realised he knew nothing at all. Not really. He also knew nothing about ambition. De Falaise's plans saw him one day stretching his hand out to rule the entire world.

With Tanek by his side.

So much for that plan. But The Tsar, oh The Tsar… Now he'd done what De Falaise had only dreamed about. Become the ruler of his country with a force under his command that made their army look like the bunch of disorganised yobs they'd been. Apart from some of the more seasoned veterans, like him, they'd been kids with toy guns and tanks. When it came right down to it they were no match for Hood's sheer deviousness. While De Falaise and his men had been up front about their business in Nottingham, their enemies had chosen to sneak in and attack.

However, it had worked. And one thing Tanek knew about De Falaise was that if something worked, you adopted it yourself. It was the tactic he'd been advised to use to get to The Tsar: hide in plain sight. If you want to reach the very heart of your opponent's camp, let them think they've captured you, let them escort you into the belly of the beast.

The tipping of the floor reminded Tanek that he was inside an altogether different belly now. Of a Zubr class military hovercraft to be precise: one of a fleet The Tsar had dispatched for this trek across the sea. Tanek finished sanding and placed the part down on the table, picking up a rectangular box. He began to sand this also.

Anyway, just like Hood, he'd been delivered unto his target. The only difference was that this time he'd come to talk, not kill. Luckily, his reputation preceded him.

'The giant Tanek, De Falaise's right hand man. I heard you were both dead,' The Tsar said to him after they'd retreated to a more private place, his luxury suite at the Marriott Grand. And after Tanek had been offered use of the facilities, including a working shower — something he hadn't seen since well before the virus struck.

Tanek had sat in a plush chair, eyeing up the twins that flanked The Tsar, swords resting on their arms. But, more importantly, The Tsar's second: Bohuslav. He was potentially trouble. 'De Falaise is. I was,' he replied, his face stern.

The Tsar's words transported him to the final moments on those gallows, fighting the man with the staff; the infuriating child Mark (oh, how he savoured the memories of torturing the boy, wishing he had the opportunity again, wishing he could go further this time… payback for ramming that knife into Tanek's foot); and finally the man with the shotgun who'd blasted him and sent him toppling backwards. In the confusion that had followed, as De Falaise had escaped in the armoured truck — driving into the platform and unwittingly giving Tanek the opportunity to crawl away once he was on the ground — he'd made good his own escape.

Tanek had staggered to his feet, stumbling towards the buckled side gates as best he could. The chest wound from the shotgun was stinging, but not instantly fatal, and with a painful summoning of strength, he'd made it out into the street. One of Hood's men spotted him and tried to take him down, but Tanek — as weak as he was — still managed to knock him to the ground and stamp on his skull.

He'd lurched from the scene, making for one of the narrow streets adjoining, flinging himself forward; onwards ever onwards — away from the castle. How he'd made it to the outlying regions of Nottingham, he still wasn't sure, exhaustion and blood loss taking their toll. Tanek had passed out by the side of a country lane, in a ditch in the middle of nowhere. The world around him started to fade. Then all he knew was darkness. He was surely dead — had been from the moment the man shot him. He was just too stubborn to lie down and let nature take its course.

But somehow he wasn't in that ditch anymore. He was in a forest. All the colour had bleached out of the scene. Greens and browns replaced by greys and blacks. Tanek approached one of the trees — apparently able to move quite freely now, his wounds gone. He touched the bark, and where it came away the wood was bleeding, red and moist. In the clearing beyond he saw an indistinct figure — the more he concentrated the more it came into focus. It was his superior, the Sheriff, except he had no eyes and didn't appear to be able to speak, though his mouth was opening and closing. Tanek walked towards him, and as he did so the forest caught on fire. The blind De Falaise held out a hand as if pleading for help. Tanek's pace picked up, running through the flames towards him. The injured Frenchman was mouthing the words, 'Help me.' Tanek ran and ran, towards the figure, fighting back the fire until-

He woke up panting. For long seconds he blinked, looking up at the ceiling. How? he wondered. How could he be awake when he'd died back there in the ditch? It didn't make any sense. And how could he be here? Tanek was in bed, covers pulled over him. When he moved, the pain in his chest and foot returned, proving that this was no longer the dreamscape. That he actually was still alive. Lifting the covers, he was suddenly aware of his nakedness — save for the bandages around his chest. And, yes, when he wiggled his foot there was one around that too.

All became clear when an overweight, middle-aged woman with a tight home perm — wearing a hideous floral dress — came into the room to check on him. 'Ah, you're awake at last,' she said, 'that's a good sign. I thought you were going to sleep away the rest of the year.'

Tanek sat up slowly, looking at the woman sideways.

'Don't try moving just yet, your body's still recovering,' she told him, sitting down on the end of the bed. 'It's just lucky that William found you when he did. If we hadn't got you back to the cottage, Heaven knows what might have happened.'

William? A husband? A son, or maybe a brother? More than that, a threat!