hood. For the first time in weeks he could see clearly. The young man was kneeling in front of him wearing a bright yellow waterproof, the nose of a sub-machine-gun poking from it where it was, hanging by a strap around his neck. They stared at each other for a second. The young man was bright-eyed, fresh-faced, with curly orange hair. Hank’s face was pale and covered in a short beard, and his eyes were red.
‘You’re not supposed to do that, pal,’ the young man said and reached for the hood in Hank’s hands. Hank grabbed his wrist, twisted it harshly into a lock, bent the arm at the elbow with all his weight, and threw him forward until the man’s face slammed into the floor. Hank fell with him and twisted himself over so that he landed on top of the Irishman’s back, holding him firmly in an arm lock. The young man let out a heavy moan as Hank’s weight forced the air from his ribcage. The block of wood Hank had felt with his feet several times was inches away. He grabbed it awkwardly because of its rugged shape, raised it high and brought it down with every ounce of strength he could muster on to the back of the young man’s skull. The force of the blow not only tore open the flesh on the man’s head, it also broke his nose and jaw against the floor. But there was fight in the young man yet and he brought his free hand around and started to push himself up with it. He was having little success but Hank raised the chunk of timber again and brought it down with equal force.The young man shuddered under the blow but continued to push as if he suddenly knew his very life depended on this last great effort. Hank raised the wood and this time brought it down on to the man’s hand, cracking several bones in it. The young man wavered. Hank slammed him on the head again and the man started to sink. Another blow cracked his skull and took all the effort out his struggle. Seconds later he ceased to move.
Hank remained on top of him, breathing heavily, exhausted. Then as if a fire had ignited beneath him, he scrambled to his feet, the adrenalin dulling the aches in his joints and muscles. He went to the door, looked out, and darted back instantly. A man was heading down the corridor, rubbing the blade of a knife across the palm of his hand.
Hank grabbed up the block of wood and went to the side of the door. His foot hit something and it clanged noisily as it fell. It was a length of pipe. Hank quickly put down the wood, grabbed the pipe and raised it with both hands as the man stepped into the room. The man paused at the sight of his colleague lying still on the floor but that very second the pipe slammed on to his cranium so forcefully it nearly split his skull in two. Hank raised the pipe to smash him again but the man crumpled to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.
Hank dropped the pipe, grabbed the man’s SMG and unclipped it from its strap. He checked the corridor in both directions. It was clear. He looked over the weapon, unsure what type it was, not that it mattered. He identified the cocking lever and safety-catch. He pulled at the magazine, pushed in the release button and it popped from its housing. The magazine had bullets in it. He pushed the rounds in against the return spring.They didn’t travel more than a few inches, indicating it was full. He pulled the cocking lever back and tested the trigger. The mechanism worked and he knew all that he needed to fire it. He pushed the magazine into the weapon, pulled the cocking lever all the way back, where it clicked into position, and gripped it firmly in both hands. A touch of the trigger would release the breach block to pick up a bullet, shove it into the breach and at the same time fire it, then return to pick up the next bullet.
Hank held the gun up vertically by his head and checked the corridor once again.There was no sign of life. A combination of success and the weapon in his hand gave Hank a shot of confidence. Luck had indeed been on his side, so far. He was halfway home. But if these two were armed it was safe to assume others he might encounter would also be. He decided to spend a valuable moment or two to think whether there was a way of improving his chances of getting safely off the boat.
He pulled the older man away from the door and closed it.
First thing first was to disguise himself as one of them. It might only give him one second of an edge in an encounter, but that was better than nothing. He knelt by the young man, who was more his size, and rolled him over. There was a lot of blood on his face. His eyes were half open and it didn’t seem as if he was breathing. He’d killed him. Hank could hear the young man’s voice in his head. He’d been alive and talking only seconds before. It felt strange. Hank had never really considered them the enemy, least of all this young man, who was the only one who had tried to help him. And yet here they were, the young man Hank’s first confirmed kill. One thing was for sure: there was no giving up now. He’d killed one of theirs. Hank glanced at the older man who was not moving either. Perhaps two.
Hank put down the gun and started to take off the young man’s yellow coat.
Stratton backed into a space between two parked cars and turned off the lights and engine. It all went very quiet in contrast to the haste and roar of the last couple of hours. They were in a narrow residential street in south London, with small terraced houses tightly packed on either side.
‘First right,’ Aggy said, indicating ahead. ‘There are two new-looking three-storey apartment buildings about a hundred metres along from the corner. His is the second building.’
‘Let’s take a look,’ he said, and just as he was about to open his door his mobile phone vibrated in his pocket.‘Wait a sec,’ he said and reached for it, pushed a button and held it to his ear. ‘Yes.’
‘We can’t confirm that Lawton was in Paris on the twenty-third, ’ Sumners said. ‘But he did take three days’ leave then,
‘I’m around the corner from his flat, a couple hundred yards from Wandsworth Road and Queenstown Road. Where’s my backup?’
‘Bit of a problem, I’m afraid. A4 has two major ops going on. Everyone’s either up north or in bloody Cornwall. They’ve been called off and are on their way back but that could take a few hours. Meanwhile we’re trying to find anyone off duty to help you until the teams get here.’
Stratton went silent for a moment as he considered the options. Lawton could be home with the virus, or not, and then the possibilities were dark and endless.
‘I can have a police special weapons unit with you in five minutes,’ Sumners said, aware Stratton was holding it all together by himself.
Stratton considered the offer for a second or two. ‘No.’
‘I can’t keep the lid on this any longer, Stratton. It’s becoming too risky. I’m aware of the dangers of turning this over to the police too soon but they’re starting to be outweighed by the dangers we risk if we fail to corner these people right away.’
‘I understand. Let me find out if Lawton’s home and if he has it.’
‘How long do you think that will take?’
‘Give me twenty minutes.’
‘Twenty minutes then,’ Sumners said.
‘One more thing. How can I destroy it?’
‘What?’ Sumners said.
‘If I have to. Can it be flushed down the toilet for instance?’
‘I’m not an expert on that. I’ll have to find out.’ Stratton ended the call and put the phone back in his pocket. Aggy wondered what on earth that conversation was all about - if Lawton had what? Flush what down the toilet?
Stratton reached over to the back seat and pulled his bag on to his lap. He took out the three black hexagonal blocks and initiator Lieutenant Stewart had given him and put them on the dashboard while he searched for something else.Aggy, ever curious of technological things, picked up the initiator to examine it.
‘Easy with that,’ Stratton said as he searched. ‘Or those,’ indicating the black blocks, ‘will make a very nasty mess of this car, not to mention you and me.’
She put it back as Stratton found a small leather case with a zipper around three sides, put it in one of his pockets and the black blocks and initiator in another.
He opened his door and got out. She climbed out of her door and they both instinctively closed them quietly by pushing them shut one click. He went to the boot, opened it, and put his bag inside. Before closing it he took a look at her.
‘Does he know that jacket?’ he asked.
She thought a moment. ‘I can’t remember. I’ve worn it over the water. Maybe.’
Stratton dug into his bag and pulled out a tightly rolled piece of green and brown clothing. ‘Put that on,’ he said.
