grip.
Penrose howled with savage laughter. ‘ Now who’s going to die? Not me! Not Penrose Lucas!’ His teeth bared in hatred, he advanced towards Ben.
Ben struggled to get up, but his body wasn’t obeying the commands of his brain. Penrose stepped closer and leaned over him. He was just three feet away. The gun was trained on Ben’s head. And he couldn’t miss this time.
Ben kicked out with his legs, sliding himself across the floor. Something hard nudged against the back of his head and he realised that it was the sword blade planted into the floorboards.
‘You thought you could outsmart me,’ Penrose laughed. ‘Now you’ll rot with all the others.’
Ben’s strength was ebbing fast. In desperation he grasped the bronze sword hilt with both hands and tugged with all his might. He felt the tip of the blade pluck out of the floor.
Penrose’s fingertip whitened against the Beretta’s trigger.
Ben swept the sword up over his head and let go.
The pistol boomed.
The shot ploughed into the floor two feet from Ben’s head. A burbling scream burst from Penrose’s lips and he reeled backwards. He dropped his gun and his hands went to his throat, clawing at the bronze hilt that was protruding grotesquely at an angle from the soft flesh above his breast-bone. Three feet of blade stuck out of the back of his neck. Blood gushed from his throat and down his front.
Ben wobbled to his feet, fighting to remain upright. His left arm wouldn’t work properly. He staggered towards Penrose. With his good hand he grasped the slippery, bloody sword hilt, wrenched it out and swung it hard, edgeways. The sickle-shaped blade hummed through the air and slashed Penrose’s throat to his spine, almost severing his head.
Penrose’s knees buckled. He hit the floor in a bloody sprawl.
Ben swayed on his unsteady legs. The second bullet had broken his ribs and passed right through, but the first was still lodged in his shoulder and a lot of the blood on the floor was his own. He could feel the darkness rising, but he wasn’t going to let it. Not yet. He steadied himself against the wall and headed for the door.
As he staggered out of the villa, the flames were leaping from the windows and curling up the walls. The blaze lit up the night sky.
Ben took one last look at the burning house, then turned away.
It was time for him to go and get his son.
