her head, she saw that C?dmon had got out on his side and was hunched on the ground, searching for Harliss’s weapon.
Just then, a salvo of bullets peppered the Range Rover.
Edie screamed, instinctively throwing herself to the ground. Peering under the vehicle, she saw Sanchez slam an ammunition clip into his weapon as he charged towards them. She also saw C?dmon grab Harliss by his shoulders, using the lifeless man as a shield.
Another
Edie slammed a balled fist into her mouth, hoping, praying that C?dmon –
Reaching her side of the Range Rover, C?dmon immediately released his hold on the bullet-riddled corpse, the human shield having no doubt saved his life. Crouched beside the bonnet, he began firing Harliss’s retrieved weapon.
‘Search his pockets for an ammo clip!’
Edie crawled over to the dead southerner. Forcing herself not to look at the nail file protruding from his eye socket, she shoved her hand into Harliss’s jacket pocket.
‘All I’ve got is the GPS receiver and a cigarette lighter!’ she hissed at C?dmon, frantically wondering how long he could keep Sanchez at bay. A quick peek over the bonnet verified that the other man had taken up a firing position behind the tumbled remnants of a brick wall.
‘Damn! I’m out of ammunition,’ C?dmon muttered, tossing the gun aside.
Suddenly catching a whiff of a very familiar scent, Edie glanced down to see liquid pooling at her feet. ‘Oh God! He hit the gas tank! We’ve got to get out of here!’
Snatching the GPS receiver and cigarette lighter out of her hand, C?dmon shoved them into his anorak pocket.
‘Keep low!’ he whispered, grabbing her elbow. ‘We don’t want Sanchez to know that we’re on the move. Hopefully, he’ll maintain his position long enough for us to escape.’
They’d gone no more than twenty yards when Sanchez resumed firing. Placing a hand on her shoulder, C?dmon shoved her to the ground.
‘On your belly,’ he ordered, flinging himself beside her.
Side by side, they lay hidden in the tall grass.
Every limb in her body shaking as though palsied, Edie watched as C?dmon removed the piece of duct tape that had been stuck over his mouth from his coat pocket. Along with Harliss’s silver cigarette lighter.
‘What are you planning to —’
‘Shhh!’
Terrified, Edie watched as C?dmon flicked on the lighter, the blue flame jauntily waving to and fro. He then wrapped the salvaged strip of duct tape around the lighter trigger so the flame wouldn’t go out. Edie noticed USMC engraved on the side of the lighter.
Putting a finger to his mouth, C?dmon wordlessly warned her to be silent, the admonition totally unnecessary, fear rendering her speechless.
Narrowing her gaze, she watched as Sanchez crept away from the wall. Bent at the waist, his gun held between his hands, he slowly approached the Range Rover.
Edie held her breath, suddenly realizing what C?dmon intended to do.
In no apparent hurry, C?dmon waited until Sanchez was within a few feet of the SUV. His expression steadfast, he then rose to his knees, cocked his arm back and hurled the lighter towards the Range Rover.
An instant later, a ball of fire engulfed the car.
Jubilant, Edie clutched C?dmon’s knees. ‘Oh God! Do you think we’re actually gonna get away?’
C?dmon smiled crookedly. ‘To paraphrase that American chap, we’re not done for until the fat lady sings.’
‘I’ve never been able to sit through a Wagner opera.’
‘Nor I. But on the off chance that Sanchez survived, we need to find safe haven.’
More concerned with speed than stealth, they hurried off through the dry stalks of winter grass.
72
They’d gone nearly a mile when they came upon an abandoned farmhouse. From its derelict appearance, the house had been vacated years before, there being more than a few missing panes of window glass.
‘Now what?’ Edie asked, glancing around the farmyard, seeing only a jumble of weeds and tall grass.
C?dmon surveyed the area. ‘Search the house for weapons. Knives, scissors, anything you can lay your hands on. I’ll search the outbuildings for a vehicle.’
‘You actually know how to hot-wire a car?’
‘In theory. Assuming I can find one.’
Rising on tiptoe, Edie leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, then, having her orders, rushed towards the front porch. The door being warped, it took some joggling of the knob and a very determined shoulder to coerce it open. Ignoring the dust mites, cobwebs and a heavy odour of mildew, she scanned the hall, her gaze alighting on a solitary golf club protruding from a tall metal milk jug. Thinking it as good a weapon as any, she grabbed the eight iron.
She then felt her way down the dark hallway, the light switch producing nothing but a dull click, and soon found herself in a primitive kitchen. The grimy window above the dry sink shed enough light for her see that vermin had had the run of the place. More than one cupboard door was ajar, containers of boxed food having been ripped open. A bag of sugar and a box of salt had been torn asunder on the kitchen counter.
She hurriedly began opening drawers, hoping to find a kitchen knife. To her dismay, the search turned up nothing more deadly than an ice-cream scoop and a rusty can opener.
Seeing an old-fashioned telephone mounted on the wall, she rushed over and grabbed the heavy handset.
As she hung up the phone, the floorboards near the doorway creaked.
‘You didn’t really think that someone would abandon the house but leave the phone connected?’
Hearing that accented voice, Edie spun on her heel, the golf club slipping through her fingers, clattering onto the wood floor.
Her heart caught in her throat.
Standing across from her, holding a gun aimed at her chest, was Sanchez. Not only were his face and clothes blackened with soot, but blood poured freely from a jagged wound on his cheek, the skin flayed in the car blast.
Edie stood unmoving. Like a frog in a warming cauldron.
‘Hope springs eternal,’ she told the unsmiling gunman, striving for a calm she didn’t feel. To keep her hands from shaking, she reached behind her, gripping the edge of the worktop.
‘Where’s your red-headed lover boy?’
‘We got separated after the blast,’ Edie lied, knowing Sanchez would be out for vengeance, eye for an eye taking on a whole new meaning.
The sound of a car door being slammed echoed across the farmyard.
Sanchez cocked his ear, then shrugged. ‘Can’t start a car with a dead battery. What a bitch, huh?’
As he spoke, Edie inched her hand towards the salt that she’d earlier seen on the counter. ‘Yeah, what a bitch,’ she retorted, tossing a handful of salt at the gaping wound on his face.
Sanchez bellowed loudly, his head and body twisting in different directions.
Pushing herself away from the counter, Edie charged down the hall towards the open front door.
No sooner did she clear the doorway than she ran headlong into C?dmon. In his right hand he held a small axe, in his left he had what looked like a long-handled garden rake.
