have run surveillance operations. Tosser.'
I deserved that for not keeping in touch. I could have texted her, but that would have done her no good if anyone in the Met had found out we were communicating.
I stood up.
'Where are you going?' she said, getting up and trying to block the door.
'Don't, Karen. You have to let me go. There are things you can't do. Ultimately, I'm the one Sara wants. You asked how we can catch her. I'm the answer to that. When she runs out of money, she'll come after me pronto. All I have to do is let her know where I'll be.'
'Are you out of your mind?' she said, pounding her hands on my chest. 'Can't you understand? I don't want anything to happen to you.'
I put my arms around her. She resisted at first, but eventually she acquiesced. 'I didn't say anything about letting Sara hurt me,' I said. 'What do you think I am? Some kind of hero?'
She laughed softly. 'No. Some kind of man.' She pulled away and looked at me. 'A brave but headstrong one. If you get yourself killed, I'll.' She let out a frustrated moan. 'I'll move into your flat and throw all your CDs into the river.'
'That's it then,' I said, kissing her on the lips. 'It's been nice knowing you.' I turned away and headed for the front door.
She caught up with me as I was unfastening the chain. She held me close and kissed me. 'Don't do anything that makes me cut you loose,' she said softly. It was still a definite order.
I nodded, but didn't make a verbal commitment. Nailing Sara and the people she probably had working for her couldn't be done by observing the law. That way lay death, which wasn't in my diary for this or any other year soon.
I returned her kisses, then slipped into the early morning gloom.
The man in the white mask breathed in the smoke from the paltry offering. He patted the mandrill's head and then turned to the kneeling supplicant.
'Faustus, what else did you take from your victim that we can dedicate to the Lord Beneath the Earth?'
The naked man smiled. 'Before I killed him, I made him transfer a million pounds to the account in Venezuela. The money will soon be at your disposal, Mephis- topheles.'
'Untraceable?'
'You can be sure of that.'
'Very good, Faustus.' The masked man leaned closer. 'You are doing well. We must consider who will be the next sacrifice.'
The supplicant extended a hand toward Mephis- topheles' robes, but withdrew it when Beelzebub bared his fangs then snapped them shut.
'Be careful, my Faustus. You know how protective my familiar is.'
'My apologies,' the naked man said, lowering his head. 'I wished to ask if you would permit me to decide on the identity of the next victim.'
The man in the mask stepped back and looked around the large subterranean chamber. 'Do you have someone in mind?' He raised his hand. 'Don't tell me. Only make sure that the tribute to the Lord Beneath is substantial, Faustus.'
It was cold, but the supplicant did not shiver. He was possessed by a fire that burned through his veins and made him more powerful than any man. Twenty-Three The Soul Collector was in position near the rendezvous point. She had been in the hide for four hours. She assumed the former SAS men had returned to their homes from Aberdeen as soon as they had been told about their missing family members. The details did not concern her. She had watched the television news the night before and in the morning. There had been no mention of the story. She knew that was because the men were intending to act themselves. She kept them on tenterhooks till midday.
At that time, the woman had called the man known as Wolfe-the lawyer she'd used to employ the trio had given her the number. She'd disguised herself on the only occasion she met the solicitor and the only address he had for her was in Madagascar, so the targets had no means of tracking her. But now there was no longer any need for self- effacement.
'This is Sara Robbins,' she said, when he answered breathlessly. 'The White Devil's sister.'
'You have the three of them?' Wolfe said after a pause.
'I do.'
'Where are they?'
'This is not going to be a conversation. Don't speak until I tell you to. Listen and do exactly what I say or Amanda Mary and the others will experience agonizing deaths.' She stopped to test him. The former Special Forces man knew the meaning of discipline; he did not speak. 'Good. Amanda Mary, Josh and Alison are perfectly well. I have no interest in harming them. That does not apply to you and your men. I'm going to give you a map reference. The three of you will go there together at exactly six o'clock this evening. Don't worry, I'll give you a chance to defend yourselves. Bring all the weapons you want, but the three of you must stay close together and you must be unaccompanied. If anyone else comes, you can be sure you'll never find your loved ones. Do you understand?'
'Yes.'
'I'm now terminating this call. I'll text you the map reference and send you some photographs to keep you honest, as the saying goes.'
The Soul Collector broke the connection, then sent the location and three photographs. There was one of each of the hostages, bound and gagged, in their coffins. She was sure they'd get the message about how serious she was.
The woman looked around the clearing in the New Forest, near the south coast. It was half an hour's fast walk from the nearest road and even during daylight hours, there had been few people around. Certainly none had seen her setting up her equipment and constructing her hide. She was equipped with night-vision gear, as well as black combat fatigues and helmet. By her side on the groundsheet were her laptop and auxiliary weapons- silenced Ruger Standard pistol, sheathed combat knife and six fragmentation grenades. A modified Walther WA2000 sniper's rifle, the short stock against her right shoulder, was her main weapon, and her H amp;K pistol was in her belt.
The fact that she didn't hear or see them coming didn't surprise her. She knew they would come well- equipped, and not just with weapons. They didn't have night-vision gear, but they made it to the center of the clearing by crawling from three different points. When it was exactly six o'clock, one of the men stood up.
The Soul Collector had rigged up a speaker on the opposite side of the clearing. She spoke into the microphone on her cheek.
'Stand up, all three of you,' she ordered. 'If you want to see your loved ones alive.'
The other two men slowly rose from the grass.
Now she needed all the marksmanship skills she had learned. She had to take the three of them out in rapid succession. She could see their shapes clearly enough, she had practiced the shots hundreds of time. She aimed at the back of the man on the left's thigh-she was sure they would be wearing upper-body armor.
She fired once; twice; and thrice. The men grabbed their legs, their gasps audible, then they crashed to the ground. The specially made compound in the darts was both fast- acting tranquilizer and muscle relaxant. The beauty of it- a very expensive beauty-was that the victims would remain conscious and able to feel pain, but unable to speak or move.
The woman collected her auxiliary weapons and walked slowly to the three men. She removed the men's Uzi machine-pistols, semiautomatics and knives. Then she turned them all on their backs and looked into their glazed eyes.
'It's time for you to pay for what you did to my brother,' she said. Bending forward, she spat in each of their faces. 'Yes, I know I said you'd get a chance to defend yourselves and to save your people.' She laughed. 'I lied. They'll take days to die.' She squatted next to one of them and stripped off his balaclava. 'Wolfe. Also known as Sergeant Norman Lashton. You were the man in charge. I'm going to execute your men in the same way you killed my brother.'
The Soul Collector stood up quickly and fired three shots into the heads of Rommel and Geronimo from point-
