Ethan lay fast asleep beside his mother. He looked so peaceful that Scope wondered whether he should wake him or not. But if Ethan woke up and saw Scope gone, that would panic him even more.
He checked Abby’s breathing and pulse, wondering if she’d gone into some kind of coma, then put a hand on Ethan’s shoulder and roused him.
Ethan looked up at Scope groggily, and smiled. ‘I was asleep.’
Scope smiled back, suddenly seeing an image of Mary Ann as a young girl, with her button nose and curly blonde hair. Remembering those days when she was little and he’d put her to bed with a story. ‘I’m going downstairs to get the insulin. I know where it is now.’
‘Is Mom OK? It’s getting late, isn’t it?’ He sat up and put a hand on her shoulder.
‘She’s asleep, and she needs it soon. That’s why I’m going to get it.’
‘What if something happens to you?’
‘It won’t.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I’m a soldier. And I’ve been a soldier a long time. I’m good at what I do. Nothing will happen to me.’
Ethan looked relieved. ‘Good.’
‘When I come back, it’ll be like the last time I left the room. I’ll knock on the door five times: bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. Nice and slow. That’ll tell you it’s me. Then I’m going to let myself in, and I’ll put my arm round the door first, very slowly, so again you know who it is. In the meantime, you do like I told you. Anyone knocks on the door that doesn’t use the code, ignore them and don’t say a word, even if they beg to come in. Do you understand?’
He nodded. ‘What if they force their way in, like before?’
‘I’m pretty sure they won’t, but if anyone does, hide behind the bed. But I won’t be long. I promise.’
Ethan looked scared but determined. ‘Do you promise you’ll be back?’
‘Yeah,’ said Scope, meaning it. ‘I promise.’
Sixty-six
THE SHUFFLING SOUND was coming from beyond one of the doors.
Cat stopped and listened.
The sound came again, followed by a low moan. Someone was still alive.
She smiled and moved through the gloom of the hotel’s main ground floor kitchen, keeping her gun hidden under her jacket, and out of sight, just in case it was a trap. The smell of spent explosives and smoke was strong in her nostrils. Combined with the stench of corpses, it reminded her all too vividly of times gone by.
Stepping over the body of a young man with curly hair and a beard, she looked through the window to the rear courtyard, being careful to stay well back, but couldn’t see anyone. However, whether they were planning an imminent assault or not, there would be Special Forces spotters round here somewhere, and she hoped it was one of them who’d blown himself up, although somehow she doubted it. If he had, he wouldn’t still be here.
The moaning grew louder as she opened the door, and stepped into a narrow corridor that led through to the delivery entrance.
A badly burned man was lying on his back on the floor, his clothes in shreds and his face blackened. Beyond him was what was left of the fire door, little more than a shredded piece of wood hanging off one of its hinges. It was obvious that he’d been trying to leave the hotel and been caught in one of Fox’s booby-traps. A cold wind blew through the gap in the door, and Cat scanned the courtyard through it. It still looked empty, but she felt exposed and uneasy standing so close to the outside world.
The man had heard her approach, and with a huge effort he managed to lift one of his arms a few inches. ‘Help me,’ he whispered, his voice a hoarse rattle.
Removing the gun from where she’d hidden it, Cat stopped next to him and pointed it at his head.
The stench of burnt flesh coming off him was intense, and there was a huge hole in his stomach that was exposing intestines. But his eyes were bright and alert, and they moved round wildly as he saw the gun. ‘Don’t shoot me,’ he whispered weakly. ‘I’ve got children.’
Cat stared down at him dispassionately. Then, without a word, or even a change in expression, she pulled the trigger, the bullet passing directly through one eye.
Having found no one else in the kitchen, Cat crept back, listening out just in case there was anyone else for her to deal with. But the silence was perfect and total.
And then, as she opened the door leading back into the main part of the hotel, she saw the man on the other side of the lobby, beyond the central staircase, heading towards the reception counter. Even though he had his back to her, and the lighting was fairly dim, she could see that he was holding a gun. She could also see that he was dressed in a suit, which meant he wasn’t one of their group.
Which could only mean one thing: this was the man who’d murdered her brother.
A burst of intense rage shot through her veins and she raised her gun once again, aiming down the sights towards the back of his head, following him as he walked, and wondering why he wasn’t trying to break out of the main doors. Then she lowered it. He was at least thirty yards away – too far to guarantee a direct hit. And anyway, a bullet in the back was far too easy a death for a man like him.
No, this one was going to die slowly, and at her pleasure.
Sixty-seven
SCOPE WAS TEN feet from the reception area when he heard a door close behind him.
He swung round fast, conscious of the fact that he was away from immediate cover, automatically crouching down and holding the pistol two-handed in a classic shooting position, and saw a young woman standing at the other end of the lobby. Her hands were thrust high in the air and she looked scared stiff.
‘Please,’ she said in a loud whisper. ‘You’re not one of the gunmen, are you?’
Scope let her come towards him. She was young. Late twenties, thirty at most, very attractive, and would have looked faintly vampish in her black dress and stockings if it wasn’t for the bomber jacket she was wearing over the top.
‘Stop right there,’ he said when she was ten feet away. ‘Where have you come from?’
‘I was hiding in the kitchen,’ she answered, still keeping her hands firmly in the air. ‘I heard a noise in the lobby, looked round from behind the door, and saw you. Are you a police officer?’
Scope shook his head, beginning to relax, although he still pointed the gun at her. ‘I’m not, but my advice is get out now.’ He motioned towards the hotel’s front doors. ‘Quickly.’
‘I can’t,’ she whispered. ‘The doors are locked, and I think they may have booby-trapped them. Look.’
He looked back quickly and, in the reflected light of the emergency vehicles beyond the entrance, saw a holdall tucked away next to the leftmost door. It had two command wires attached that ran across the floor and up the main staircase. ‘Then you need to get back to your hiding place. It’ll be safer there.’
‘I can’t stay in the kitchen. There are bodies everywhere. Can’t I come with you?’
Having someone else to look after was the last thing Scope needed, but it seemed he had little choice. ‘OK,’ he sighed. ‘Follow me.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘I’ve got someone upstairs who needs insulin urgently. I’m looking for the room where they’re storing it.’ He went over and opened the door next to the reception area. ‘Are you coming?’
She nodded, dropped her arms by her side, and followed him inside as he walked through a corridor that ran past the reception bay and into a small foyer with doors going off on three sides. The nearest one had a sign on it identifying it as the medical room. There was no key in the door, but luckily it was unlocked. He stepped inside, flicking on the lights and glancing back briefly to check that the girl was still following him. She gave him a small smile and, in spite of himself, his eyes drifted down towards her ring finger. There was nothing there, and for an