Underground system.
Marie had done her bit, she’d hit the guy hard, though it appeared that she hadn’t hit him hard enough because she’d kept one eye on the rear-view mirror and had seen Lynch shoot him twice as he lay on the ground. There had been three more shots, but when she turned around she could see Lynch still standing there with his gun aimed at Cramer. Cramer didn’t appear to be dead, he was lying on top of the Oriental girl and staring up at Lynch. Cramer’s hand was inside his coat but it seemed to be frozen there. ‘Come on, Dermott,’ Marie hissed. ‘Come on.’
Cramer glared up at the man with the gun, his teeth bared like a cornered dog. His fingers were touching the butt of his Walther PPK but he knew it would be futile to pull out the weapon. He slowly withdrew his hand, his eyes fixed on his attacker. Why hadn’t the man fired? It didn’t make any sense. All he had to do was pull the trigger and it would all be over. He felt Su-ming struggle and he rolled off her. The barrel of the gun followed him like an accusing finger. In the distance he heard the Rover’s horn blare. The man ignored it. There was hatred in the man’s eyes, a burning contempt that suggested he was going to enjoy killing Cramer. A small part of Cramer was surprised by the man’s emotional intensity, because everything he’d read about the assassin suggested that he was a stone cold killer, a consummate professional.
Su-ming crawled away until her back was against the wall, her eyes wide with fear. ‘Don’t,’ she whispered, her hands covering her face. ‘Please don’t.’ Cramer wondered if she was pleading for her own life or for his, he had no way of telling which. Whatever, Cramer himself had no intention of begging for mercy.
‘Do it,’ Cramer growled.
‘No!’ shouted Su-ming.
Cramer rolled over, putting more distance between himself and Su-ming. He looked into the barrel of the gun. He imagined he could see the bullet there, the bullet that would shortly smash through his skull and blow his brains across the concrete. The cold, clinical part of his mind hoped that the blood wouldn’t spray across Su-ming’s silk suit. He forced himself to look away from the gun and into the eyes of the man who was about to end his life.
‘Do it!’ Cramer hissed. He pushed himself up off the ground and sat back on his heels. He glared at the man with the gun.
The man smiled cruelly. Cramer imagined he could see the knuckle of his trigger finger whiten as he increased the pressure. Cramer had an unexpected feeling of well-being, and he realised that he really wasn’t scared of death, that there were worse things than a shot to the head, and that the man with the gun was actually doing him a favour. Cramer smiled.
The man with the gun seemed confused, as if a smile was the last thing he expected to see on the face of his victim. Then the confusion vanished, leaving only hatred in his eyes. ‘This is for. .’ the man began, and then his face exploded outward in a mass of pink brain tissue and splinters of white bone. The bloody fragments splattered across Cramer, blinding him. He didn’t see the second shot or the third, but when he wiped the blood from his eyes he saw the man with the gun pitch forward and slam into the ground.
Allan had levered himself up on one elbow. His gun was in his left hand, shaking from the effort of shooting the man. The Glock tumbled from Allan’s hand as he fell back onto the pavement.
Marie Hennessy screamed as she saw Lynch pitch forward, blood streaming from his face. She threw the Rover into gear and stamped on the accelerator. She had no doubt that Lynch was dead; there had been hardly anything left of his face.
The barrier at the exit to the car park was down but Marie didn’t hesitate. The Rover crashed through the pole, which collapsed in a shriek of tearing metal. The steering wheel bucked and twisted as if it had a life of its own and Marie fought to control it. She wrenched it to the right and the rear wheels skidded on the tarmac. A black taxi with its hire light on was heading down the road towards her and she narrowly missed colliding with it. The Rover banged against the kerb and a hubcap was ripped off in a shower of sparks but Marie regained control and sped off down the road.
The white walls of an apartment block went by in a blur. She risked a quick look in her driving mirror and smiled grimly as she saw that there was no one following her. As her eyes flicked back to the road ahead of her, she noticed a man in a white turtleneck sweater and jeans standing by the roadside, a large automatic held in both hands. She saw the gun kick up and instantly her side window shattered. A piece of glass sliced through her cheek but she scarcely felt the pain. As she passed the man he fired again, and she heard a dull metallic thud as the bullet buried itself in the rear wing of the Rover.
Marie was hit by a wave of elation as she realised that she’d got away. The road ahead was deserted, if she could just make it to the tube station she’d be free and clear. She pressed the accelerator to the floor, but suddenly she heard another shot and then the car juddered and veered to the left. The steering wheel twisted out of her hands and the car hit the kerb. Marie realised with clinical detachment that the man in the sweater had hit one of her tyres. The Rover slammed into a street lamp and then began to skid sideways. The car tipped up and Marie’s head banged against the back of her seat, hard enough to stun her. She closed her eyes and almost passed out. Her stomach heaved as the car rolled and the top of her head slammed against the roof. The windows exploded and she was showered with broken glass and then she was thrown forward against the steering wheel, so hard that the breath was forced from her body. The car came to a halt, upside down, rocking from side to side. Marie could taste blood in her mouth and she realised she’d bitten her tongue. She coughed and spat to clear her throat, then gingerly moved her arms and legs. She was all right. She wasn’t even really hurt. She felt light-headed and giggled despite herself. She’d been shot at, she’d survived a car crash, it was as if the fates had decreed that she should emerge from the debacle relatively unscathed. She reached for the door handle and tried to open the door. It was jammed, the frame had been distorted by the crash. Marie wriggled around and managed to get hold of one of her shoes. She used it to smash away the remaining pieces of glass. All she had to do was to crawl out then she’d be able to run to the tube. She was going to be okay. That was when she smelled the petrol seeping out of the ruptured tank. There was a loud whooshing sound as the petrol ignited and Marie Hennessy began to scream as she realised just what a cruel sense of humour the fates truly had.
Cramer crawled over to Allan. Blood was oozing from the wound in his shoulder but it didn’t look fatal. He took off his overcoat, rolled it up and stuck it under Allan’s head. ‘Thanks, Mum,’ said Allan, his eyes still closed. For a wild moment Cramer thought Allan was delirious but then he opened his eyes and grinned up at him. ‘I got him, huh?’ asked Allan.
‘And some,’ said Cramer. ‘It’s his blood I’m wearing all over my face.’
‘Su-ming?’
‘She’s okay. Now lie still and shut up.’
‘Okay, but tell me one thing first.’
‘What?’
‘What happened to all our fucking training, Mike? You stood there like a rabbit caught in headlights.’
Cramer felt his cheeks redden. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘You froze.’
‘Yeah. I froze. I’m sorry.’
Su-ming came up behind Cramer. She took off her shirt and gave it to him. ‘Use this,’ she said.
Cramer used the silk shirt to stem the bleeding from Allan’s shoulder. It looked as if the bullet had gone straight through. ‘Can you move your fingers?’ Cramer asked. He watched Allan wiggle the fingers of his right hand. At least the nerves weren’t damaged.
‘Do you think I’ll be able to play the piano again?’ Allan asked. Cramer couldn’t help smiling.
‘Will he be all right?’ Su-ming asked.
‘He’ll be fine.’
‘Now it’s over?’
Cramer looked at the body of the killer, sprawled on the ground, the head surrounded by a halo of congealing blood. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It’s over.’ As he said the words he was aware of a nagging doubt at the back of his mind.
Cramer took off his tie and threw it onto a chair. He stared out through the picture window at the sprawling
