Faik drifted away, the pain still gnawing at him and a high-pitched wail almost deafening him. He was back in the basement, watching the traitor Izady fall to the floor as though he'd been poleaxed. The wail Faik heard came from his own mouth, as he took the bullet in his hand and then the blow to his head. The face, the devil's face beneath the beard, was all he saw before he was sent into the dark abyss.
When he woke the next time, it was to the sound of whispered words in Kurdish. The doctor's mouth was close to his ear, telling him that he'd be all right, and that he'd cut his bonds.
Faik opened his eyes and blinked. He wasn't dreaming.
The doctor stepped back and shook his head at the Shadow. 'He's very weak. Another session with the Wolf- man will kill him.'
'So?' the Turk said with a twisted smile.
The doctor put his left hand into his pocket. 'Look at these wounds,' he said, pointing to Faik's thighs. He waited for the Shadow to approach.
'What about them?'
'They are the work of a pig.'
The Turk's eyes widened and he turned toward the doctor. 'What did you-'
The needle of the syringe punctured his chest near the heart. The doctor pushed the plunger down and stepped back. The Shadow stumbled forward, one hand scrabbling at the syringe and the other stretched out. Then he collapsed to the floor.
'What.?' Faik said.
'I've been waiting to do that for years,' the doctor said, lifting the young man up by the shoulders. 'Don't worry, he'll wake up soon.'
'But…but the Shadows will hunt you down.'
'Swing your legs around.' The doctor smiled at Faik. 'That's it. They can try, but I think the King's men will protect me if I deliver you to them.' He shrugged. 'Besides, the last hold the Turks had over me was my father in Istanbul. He died yesterday.'
Faik was breathing deeply, trying to summon the strength to stand up. 'I'm.I'm sorry.'
'Don't be. He was old and he wanted to join my mother. Now, let's get you walking. I don't think I can carry you.'
The young man managed to stand, his injured thighs making him wince. 'Where.where are we?'
'At a Shadow safe house in Hackney. My car's outside. Where shall I take you?'
'My father's house, off Green Lanes.'
They moved to the door, the doctor's arm around Faik's back. The room was on the first floor. The young man almost fainted as they went down the stairs, but his savior kept talking to him, encouraging him and praising his bravery. Then they were at the front door.
'Is there.anyone outside?' Faik asked, gasping for breath.
The doctor smiled. 'I hope not. There isn't usually. The lads across the road play at being hard men, but we'll be in the car before they do anything.' He put his hand on the lock. 'Ready? Here we go.'
He opened the door quickly and helped Faik out. The sun wasn't very bright, but it made the young man blink. They got down the steps to the pavement and moved toward a green Opel Astra. The doctor opened the front passenger door and helped Faik in.
'Doctor!' came a shout.
Faik turned and saw the Wolfman running down the street toward the vehicle. 'Get in,' he said in Kurdish. 'Get in!'
The doctor remained standing. 'No, I'm not going to let this animal hurt you anymore.' He fumbled in his pocket.
'Hands where I can see them!' the Wolfman said. He was pointing a silver pistol at the doctor, who reluctantly complied.
Faik lowered his head, vaguely aware that a veiled figure in a burqa and chador was approaching the car. He was desperate, he wanted to get out of the car to face the Wolfman and finish things, but he couldn't, he was too exhausted, too feeble to help the doctor-
The three rapid spits and the slap of bullets hitting flesh at close range made him look up. He had heard that sound before. He looked around and saw the Wolfman lying prone on the pavement with his arms flung out. Blood was emerging from holes in his shirt.
'Don't follow me,' came a voice that Faik recognized.
He saw the figure in the black robe and headdress bend to scoop up the Wolfman's pistol. 'Get in the car, Doctor,' he said. The young men on the other side of the road were beginning to gather, staring at them. The killer had already disappeared around the street corner.
The doctor opened the driver's door and got in quickly. He started the engine and pulled out. Faik turned his head and saw a cluster of people around the dead Shadow.
'Who was that?' the doctor said breathlessly.
'Don't ask me,' Faik said, twitching his head. He wasn't going to admit that he recognized the killer's voice- not to the doctor and not to any of the King's men. He had no idea why his life had been spared in the basement and then saved on the street, but he had a nasty feeling that he'd have to repay the debt.
In the meantime, he just wanted to eat and sleep. Then he saw again the face of the man who had killed Izady and the Wolfman-an inhuman, devilish face.
Faik Jabar suddenly realized that he was nothing more than a pawn in a world full of pain and betrayal. He let out a sob for his lost innocence, and then another as the doctor, who had risked his life for him, gently squeezed his arm.
The Soul Collector was in the back of her van, holding a torch over the notes she'd made. Over the previous twelve hours, she had staked out the homes of the SAS men known as Rommel and Geronimo. Although the men were no longer in the regiment, they still lived close to its base at Hereford-Rommel in the town itself and his comrade in a village ten minutes' drive to the east. Geronimo didn't have kids, so she would have to take his wife. She seemed to be the lazy type, who rose late and sat around the house drinking numerous cups of coffee. Like many middle-aged women who were losing their looks, she seemed to be locked in a world of her own- in the six hours the Collector watched her, she never once spoke on the telephone. As for Rommel, he had two girls under five and a boy who was in the second year of primary school. His wife looked exhausted and incapable of putting up much of a struggle.
The woman turned a page and studied the timeline she had constructed. She was sure that the ex-SAS men would have set up a reporting system with their families-they would be aware of potential reprisals by Irish paramilitaries and foreign agents. That meant she had to snatch her targets as quickly as possible. Rommel's and Geron- imo's people didn't present a problem as they were close together. But she then had to get to Wolfe's house in Warwickshire, a drive of at least an hour, before the alarm was raised. With the men far away, she was sure that would be long enough.
Sara turned off the torch and smiled as she stretched out on the sleeping bag. Her knee banged against the steel box that contained her gear.
She had everything she needed to kill, maim and incapacitate. Which of the three she used would depend on the circumstances. She was prepared for anything. Thirteen I was about five minutes' walk from my flat when I realized that Karen would be going crazy. I'd changed the SIM card in my phone and only Andy knew the new number. I stopped at a public phone and called her office number. I got her secretary, so I hung up and tried her cell phone.
'Matt!' she said. 'Where the bloody hell have you been?'
'Pardon?' I asked, playing the innocent.
'Don't mess me around. I've been ringing you for hours.' She paused. 'Where are you?'
Something about the way she asked the question made me suspicious. 'Em, around and about. Hang on, I'll call you back.' I broke the connection, retrieved my phone card from the machine and walked back toward Fulham Broadway Station. I had the distinct feeling that Karen's interest in my location wasn't casual. There was a good chance she'd been told to bring me in-technically, to protect me, but really to make sure I couldn't take unilateral action against Sara. One thing I wasn't going to be doing was calling her back. Not only could she put a trace on the phone-I wasn't going to make that mistake again after Safet Shkrelli-but she might manage to talk me into seeing
