back as if he’d been whipped. There was also a nasty gunshot wound on one shoulder but it didn’t look fatal. The man’s right hand was holding a compact black handgun, his finger still on the trigger. Howard took a pen from his inside jacket pocket and used it to pry the gun from his fingers. He rolled the man over and winced as he saw more wounds on the man’s chest. His right nipple was missing, a red, crusty scab in its place, and it looked as if a strip of flesh had been ripped out, exposing the muscle underneath. “Hell, what happened to you?” Howard said under his breath. The man’s eyebrows and chest hair were singed from the flames and his cheeks and nose were red as if he’d been under a sunlamp for too long. Howard bent down and put his ear close to the man’s mouth. He couldn’t hear anything above the crash of falling timbers and crackling wood, but he felt the man’s breath on his cheek.
Clutesi ran over, followed by two men in blue overalls and body armour. Clutesi knelt down beside Howard. “He dead?” asked Clutesi.
Howard shook his head. “Not yet,” he said.
One of the men in overalls introduced himself as the commander of the SWAT team, Scott Dunning. Howard asked him to arrange an ambulance.
“You’d be better off using the chopper, airlift him to Shock-trauma in the city,” said Dunning. “It’ll take the bird ten minutes but it’s almost an hour by road.”
“Good idea,” said Howard. He patted Clutesi on the back. “Don, you go with him. I’ll check here. When you get to the hospital, call Ed, let him know what’s happening.”
The commander called over two of his men and had them pull out a stretcher to carry the injured man to the JetRanger. As the helicopter turbine roared and it lifted into the air, Dunning and Howard surveyed the burning building. “Not really much need for a SWAT team, is there?” observed Dunning tersely. His men were standing beside their vehicles, the flames throwing long flickering shadows behind them.
“Not unless you’ve got a fire engine with you,” said Howard.
“Afraid not, not today,” said the SWAT commander.
“Fire Department’s on their way,” said Howard. “We called them from the chopper.”
One of the members of the SWAT team, a young man with a rifle and telescopic sight, wandered over the lawn towards the house. “Tom, stay by the vans until the lab tech boys get here,” Dunning shouted. The man waved and went back to the van. “He’s new,” explained Dunning. “He’s a crack shot but a menace around a crime scene.”
Howard nodded. He walked slowly around the area where the body had been lying, looking at the grass. He was trying to work out where the man had been shot. The shoulder wound was from the front, so his first thought was that he’d been shot as he’d left the house, by someone outside. He shone the flashlight on the grass, looking for footprints. He saw a few drops of blood where the man’s feet had been and he began working his way back to the house, sweeping the flashlight beam from side to side. He found several more spots of blood and revised his first impression. The man had been shot in the house and had been running away before he’d passed out, either from loss of blood or the effects of the smoke.
Someone was shouting and he looked to his left. The young SWAT sniper was pointing towards the house and yelling. Howard shaded his eyes with his hand and squinted in the direction he was pointing. There was something lying on the ground, close to the door. Howard went closer but the heat drove him back. It looked like another body. He went over to the sniper and borrowed his rifle. He shouldered the weapon and looked through the telescopic sight. It took him a while to centre the cross-hairs. Through the scope he saw the man’s sweatshirt burst into flame and his skin bubble and crack. There was nothing they could do — the SWAT team had protection against bullets, not fire, and until the fire engines arrived they could only stand and watch.
The motel could be seen from the road; a red neon sign over the main entrance indicated that there were vacancies. The building was U-shaped, with the two wings pointing away from the road, either side of a car park and swimming pool. Lou Schoelen parked his car outside the entrance and went inside to arrange his room. Carlos stopped his car some distance from the motel and watched, checking that no-one else had tailed the sniper. After a few minutes, Schoelen appeared, swinging a key. He got back into his car and drove slowly around to the parking area. Carlos followed him and pulled in next to him.
Hennessy and Bailey climbed out of the back of the car, and walked quickly with Schoelen to the ground-floor room, carrying their bags. Carlos took his cases from the trunk and went after them. As he reached the door, which Schoelen was holding open for him, Lovell walked up. “Hi, guys. What’s up?”
“Inside,” said Carlos.
When they were all gathered in the room, Schoelen hung the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the handle and closed it. “You were followed, Lou,” Carlos said quietly. “You were followed all the way from the house.”
Schoelen’s mouth dropped in disbelief. “Are you sure?” he asked.
Carlos sneered but didn’t reply.
“What happened?” asked Mary.
“I took care of it,” said Carlos. Bailey went into the bathroom, ripped the protective plastic covering off a glass and poured himself a drink. His hands were shaking.
“Do you know who it was?” Lovell asked.
Carlos shook his head. “I said I took care of it, I didn’t say I stopped for a chat,” he said.
“A friend of Cramer’s?” asked Bailey.
“A friend wouldn’t have left him in our care for so long,” said Carlos. “Whoever it was, he was alone.”
“Maybe he was waiting for back-up,” said Lovell, and Carlos nodded.
“Possible,” agreed Carlos.
“That’s it then,” said Bailey. “It’s over. It’s f-f-finished.”
Carlos’s eyes hardened as he looked at Bailey. “It’s not finished,” he said coldly. “I said I took care of it.” He looked at Mary and she nodded, acknowledging that Bailey was her problem and that she’d handle him.
“You’re missing something,” said Lovell. “Without Rashid. .”
“Without Rashid we can still go ahead,” interrupted Carlos. “I will take her place.”
Lovell and Schoelen looked at each other, astonished. “How?” said Schoelen. “We don’t have time to rehearse again.”
“I have used Dina’s gun before, in the Lebanon. I have a tendency to aim a little high, but other than that I will have no problem using the scope as she has set it. I can compensate for the very slight difference in our eyes.”
“You’ve been a sniper?” asked Lovell.
“I have killed with a rifle,” said Carlos.
Lovell shrugged. “Okay, okay,” he said. “So what do we do now?”
“You and Lou take your room, Mary and Matthew can have this one. I’ll arrange a room for myself. We all meet here tomorrow morning at ten for a final run through.”
If Schoelen and Lovell were surprised at the suggestion that Bailey and Hennessy should share a room, they didn’t show it. They took their bags outside and Carlos closed the door behind them. There were two double beds in the room and Bailey had slumped down onto one, his head in his hands. “I’ll go and fix up a room,” Carlos said to Mary. “Will you be okay?” She nodded. “I’ll leave the rifle here,” he said, picking up his bag. As he left the room he saw Hennessy put a hand on Bailey’s head and ruffle his hair.
Lovell was waiting for him outside. “I don’t like the way Bailey is shaping up,” he said.
“Neither do I,” said Carlos. “But we need him.”
“He’s cracking up already,” said Lovell. “I’ve seen guys like him before, in combat. They talk a good war, but when the bullets fly they shit themselves and hide under the bed. I don’t think he’s going to cut it tomorrow.”
“He’s tougher than he looks,” said Carlos. “They don’t tolerate wimps in the IRA. He’s just on edge because we’ve been waiting so long, that’s all. Mary will straighten him out.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
Carlos smiled. “Then I will.”
Cole Howard stood watching the fire fighters coil up their hoses and restack their equipment on the engines. What remained of the wooden house hissed and smoked in the moonlight. There was a surprising amount of the building still standing, but it was clear that what remained would have to be demolished. Much of the rear of the house had fallen in and the roof had collapsed. A stone chimney at the side of the house was still in one piece and smoke was feathering from the top as if a fire was burning in the grate below.
One of the fire engines drove off, the faces of fire fighters inside streaked with soot and sweat. The SWAT
