‘I apologise to everyone in this room that we live in a world where what I’ve done was necessary. But I do not regret, for one second, that I did.’
Sam’s words were met with an uneasy silence, as everyone returned their gaze to the judge who surprisingly, offered a warm smile.
‘Mr Pope, while your actions were indefensible, I do admit that your intentions were indeed noble. Before this, I also note that you served your country with dignity and valour. But as you said, you have pled guilty to a number of serious crimes and a lot of blood has been shed by your hand. It is with a modicum of regret, that I hereby sentence you to sixty-eight years at Her Majesty’s Prison Pentonville, with no chance of parole.’
Judge Barnes emphasised his point with a stern nod of his head.
‘This court is adjourned.’
The court officer demanded everyone rise as the judge exited through the door to his chamber, and all eyes turned to Sam as he was led towards the door. As he approached it, he stopped, as did the officers, as a peculiar sound filled the air.
Clapping.
Sam turned back to see Adrian Pearce on his feet, applauding. Despite the furious gaze of the Assistant Commissioner, another member of the public joined in, followed by another, and within moments, nearly the entire courtroom, along with a multitude of journalists, were clapping.
Sam felt a lump in his throat but refused to let himself break. The recognition of the public hit him like a hammer and he offered Pearce a final nod, threw one final, regrettable glance at Singh and ventured through the door where the thunderous sound of applause echoed down the corridors of the Crown Court.
Taken aback by the approval of the public, Sam blindly followed the officers through the building, ignoring the jibes of one of them and they stepped out into the spring sunshine at the back of the building.
The respectful sound of applause could still be faintly heard from the street and the thick, windowless, metal doors of the armoured van were thrown open. Two armed officers were sat in the back, ready to accompany Sam to his future residence.
Taking one final look at the city of London, Sam took a deep breath and stepped in.
With his sentencing complete and his freedom taken, Sam sat on the metal bench that ran the length of the van, pressed his head back against the metal, and shut his eyes, ready to face his impending incarceration.
The van pulled away in the opposite direction to Pentonville Prison.
Chapter Six
Ten Years Ago…
‘Fuckin, eh. Would you look at that?’
Mac stood, hands on his hips, letting out an impressed huff. Sam chuckled at his friend’s foul language, but he couldn’t help but agree. The sight of Big Ben, the historic clock that stood over three hundred feet tall, had been a landmark for the capital for over a hundred and fifty years. After six months on tour in Afghanistan, both Sam and Mac had been given a month to return to their families, before they would be required to return.
In those six months, their bond had grown.
Mac had matured into a hell of a spotter before Sam’s very eyes, fastidiously making notes on everything Sam said, hanging on his every word. While there were still improvements to be made, Sam knew that he’d found his perfect spotter.
In Sam, Mac had found the mentor he’d always yearned for, a man who was not only approachable and fun to be around, but whom had a wealth of knowledge and skill to back it up.
They had only had to fire once in those six months, with Sam almost causing Mac a mini-panic attack by refusing to pull the trigger on a high-profile target until Mac gave him the correct wind readings.
Sam had already calculated and lined up the perfect shot, but he harried the young man to make an assessment.
Sadly for Mac, it had been incorrect and once Sam had eliminated the target with a well-placed bullet to his temporal lobe, he made sure Mac was aware of it.
All the promise in the world, but Sam wouldn’t accept him as a sniper until he could spot.
Mac had beaten himself up about it for a while, but Sam was quick enough to rebuild his confidence and when Mac almost beat Sam in a friendly competition at target practice, he’d felt he’d re-established himself in Sam’s eyes.
Sam patted him on the back but told him to stay focused and to keep calm.
Panic will kill him before any bullet does.
When they were on the plane home, Sam was saddened to hear of Mac’s lack of plans. Estranged from his family and without a secure group of friends, Mac was planning on renting a room for a month back in Manchester and catching up on some TV. Sam knew all about Mac’s rough past, his brushes with the law, but he never held it against him. Everyone is born into a different situation and the fact Mac had risen to one of the most promising soldiers Sam had ever met was a testament to the man he was.
Sam had insisted he spend a week in London.
See the city.
Meet Lucy.
When Mac had seen Sam’s house, he’d let out a long whistle. A modest three-bedroomed house in Ruislip, but with Lucy’s keen eye for detail, along with their healthy combined income, she’d certainly added value to it. Mac was excited to meet Lucy, having heard Sam wax lyrical about her for six months.
She certainly was worth every word of praise.
Not only was she as kind and personable as Sam had described, she was absolutely stunning.
Another part of Sam’s life that Mac aspired for and the three of them had spent the evening sat out on the patio, with Lucy enthralling Mac with embarrassing stories of his mentor over drinks. Under the patio lights, they’d laughed until
