‘I do not want you to be killed,’ Andrei said, a sudden confidence taking over him. ‘But my men do.’
Singh glanced over her shoulder and felt her heart drop. Behind her, four men approached, their rifles trained on her chest. They walked with the practiced symmetry of an elite military squad and Singh realised she was out of options. As they approached, Andrei pulled out a gold-plated Bowing knife, tossing it up and down in his hand, feeling its weight. It had been cleaned since he’d murdered Peterson with it, and now the shiny blade shimmered under the floodlights.
‘You kill me, and you’ll have the entire Met after you,’ Singh said defiantly. ‘You don’t just kill a detective and get away with it.’
‘I don’t want to kill you,’ Andrei said, a cruel grin across his face. ‘But after you join me on my trip home and I’m finished with you, you will wish that I had.’
Singh felt her heart race, the claustrophobic feel of her captors closing in caused her hand to shake. She was outnumbered, outgunned, and had no way out. The man would take her, do god knows what to her and then probably sell her into the same deplorable life as the teenage girls behind the metal door.
Singh knew she was screwed, but she refused to lower her weapon, even as Andrei approached.
Behind her, the men stopped, the four of them fanning out to cover her from all angles, all of them ready to unload an automatic burst that would wipe her out.
Andrei’s eyes twinkled with a demonic delight as he stepped nearer, his hand gripping the knife tightly.
Singh felt her finger twitch on the trigger.
Amara Singh didn’t fail.
A booming gunshot shook across the port like a roar of thunder and then one of the armed men behind her flew across the ground, his skull exploding by the velocity of the bullet that had been sent crashing through him. Andrei startled, hopping back a couple of steps before he angrily screamed something in his native tongue.
All three men turned their guns to the shadows of the port, the rain and darkness shielding their attacker.
They scanned helplessly.
Another explosion echoed through the air and another one of the armed guards fell backwards, the top of his skull instantly turned to paint.
As Andrei panicked, the timer behind him beeped and the lock of the metal crate swung open with a mighty clunk.
At the top of the abandoned tower that overlooked the port, Sam expelled a considerable amount of effort to pull the chamber back, exposing the empty shell casing of the bullet he had just fired.
With one eye planted against the scope, he watched as Singh chased Andrei towards the opening crate, as the two other men nervously aimed their guns in different directions.
He reloaded.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Every gunshot sent a shiver racing down Aaron Hill’s spine, as he sat in the passenger seat of DI Singh’s car. Every time one of the blasts echoed through the air, it hit him like a gut punch. Every shot sent a fresh memory to the forefront of his mind as he recounted how far his life had unravelled.
Bang.
The intense panic when he realised his daughter had been taken.
Bang.
Stupidly buying a gun and staggering drunk into a criminal hot spot.
Bang.
A gun being pointed at his head by Elmore Riggs, followed swiftly by the man’s head exploding.
Bang.
Sam Pope saving his life.
Bang.
Stupidly pointing a gun at Sam and trying to force him to kill a teenage kid.
Every gunshot was like a reminder and Aaron felt sick. Somewhere in the vast, metal maze before them, his daughter was waiting. He couldn’t bring himself to imagine the state she was in. Had they beaten her? Or worse? All he wanted, was to wrap his arms around his daughter once again. Nothing else mattered anymore and although he felt guilty for giving Sam up to the police, he knew he had stacked the deck in Jasmine’s favour. He watched as the armed police regrouped and entered, their rifles flashing like cameras as they unloaded rounds of bullets into the unseen enemy.
Aaron felt himself shaking, knowing that he was sitting on his arse doing nothing.
Sam Pope had fought and killed to find his daughter.
DI Singh had potentially thrown her career away to make sure she was brought back safely.
Sitting still wasn’t enough.
Aaron threw open the car door and stepped out into the torrential rain. Glancing up and down the road, he didn’t care who had seen him. He ran to the fence and began to climb, reciting his daughter’s name as he battled the slippery metal structure and his chronic fear of heights. As he made his way across the metal crate, he took deep breaths as he lowered himself down and dropped to the wet concrete below.
The gunshots would guide him and as he wandered further into the dark, deadly war zone in search of his daughter, he realised just how far he would go for her. With careful steps, he continued onwards into the dark.
The final henchman spun in the air, the left side of his chest ripped open by the velocity of Sam Pope’s final shot. The man fell face down, dead as a door nail and the pool of blood quickly seeping outwards like an unstoppable wave. It quickly joined the puddle forming around the head of the third guard, which Sam had eviscerated with pinpoint accuracy.
Singh had heard the final two shots but not seen the impact, knowing full well that survival was unlikely.
Sam Pope didn’t miss.
That much was clear.
Her heart pounded against her chest and her lungs burned as she sprinted to the large, dark opening of the crate, her gun raised in front of her. Andrei had reached the threshold a few moments before, allowing the darkness to envelope him. From the horrifying blackness, Singh heard the terrified screams of the teenage girls and stopped in her tracks.
The vulgar smell of a weeks’ worth of waste filtered
