‘You’re welcome by the way,’ Etheridge interrupted with a wry smile. Singh turned to him, her eyes watering with concern.
‘I just don’t know what’s going on.’
Etheridge placed his drink down and took two steps towards the detective and placed a caring hand on her shoulder.
He offered her a warm smile.
‘Like I said before, Amara. There is always a plan.’
Chapter Twenty
THREE WEEKS AGO…
‘What choice do I have?’
Sam stood in Etheridge’s office, the walls lined with screens offering a selection of security footage, spreadsheets, and nondescript coding. Moments before, Sam had discovered the horrifying truth of his past. Project Hailstorm had hung over him like a dark cloud and his mind had tried to piece together the fragments of the fateful night when he’d nearly been killed.
Shot twice and left for dead in the wastelands of Afghanistan, Sam had soon discovered that the bullets were from Wallace’s gun. His commanding officer had left him to die as Sam had stumbled upon the truth. Their target was not a known terrorist, but in fact a young man trying to protect his family. A man who had discovered the reality of Wallace’s operation and in doing so, had marked himself for death.
The files they’d trawled through painted a bleak picture.
Project Hailstorm had been brought together by Wallace, recruiting the very best soldiers to eliminate what Sam thought were wanted criminals.
They were never briefed.
They were given a name and a location, and they would eliminate the target.
In effect, they’d been a hit squad, spilling the blood of anyone who dared step in the way of Wallace’s domination.
Blackridge had been the afterbirth, born out of Wallace’s decision to shut down the project and Sam was shipped back to the UK on death’s door. Lucy had lovingly stayed by his side and they’d started a family, one which had cruelly been ripped away from them.
But after dealing with the truth and accepting the blood on his hands, Sam turned back to the task at hand. He was in possession of a USB stick that incriminated Wallace and every other high-ranking official who had links to the project. Carl Marsden, Sam’s mentor and friend, had been killed for it.
He had been willing to die for it.
Sam wasn’t going to let that be for nothing.
He had to fight for something.
Etheridge took a sip of his coffee and let out a deep sigh.
‘Going after Wallace, not much of a choice.’
Sam grunted, the stakes had been changed. Moments before, they’d received a call from Wallace himself, boasting about how he’d abducted DI Amara Singh and he now held the winning hand. He demanded Sam hand over the files and himself, otherwise the young detective would die.
Both Etheridge and Sam knew it wasn’t a bluff, nor was it the truth.
There was no way Singh would be left alive.
Wallace would bury her with Sam and there would be no enquiry. The man wielded unprecedented power and the only option they had was to fight back. Sam had stormed out of the house, barking orders at Etheridge to feed him the information he needed to locate his guns and to cut Wallace’s motorcade off. Etheridge had managed to pull Sam back into the house to discuss strategy.
Sam was a fighter.
But Etheridge, while not as skilled with a gun, had the brain to formulate a plan.
They had five hours until Wallace’s motorcade would pass London Bridge, which gave Etheridge minutes to relay his thinking to Sam. With the sand falling in their hourglass, Etheridge had begged Sam for five minutes to run him through it.
Now, relaying the consequences to him, Etheridge was impressed with how little fear it held to him.
‘And you can make this happen?’ Sam asked, turning away from the whiteboard where Etheridge had collated his information. ‘Isn’t Ashcroft the most secure prison in the world?’
‘It might be, but there is something you should know.’
‘What’s that?’
Etheridge smiled.
‘I built their system for them.’
Sam’s eyes lit up.
While he’d been recuperating in Italy after his attack from the mysterious man in black, Etheridge had gotten to work. Sam had been impressed by his newfound focus, stripping away his body fat and giving up his life of luxury. By building an intricate web of lies, Etheridge had convinced the world he’d retired to Tenerife, selling off his company and living a comfortable life under the exotic sun.
But he hadn’t.
He had been working.
After Sam had taken down the High Rises and raged war with the Kovalenkos, Etheridge dug deeper into the records. After quickly finding a link between them, he followed the trail back to Harry Chapman, the notorious crime boss who had been arrested over a decade ago. Now situated behind the secure walls of Ashcroft, he was untouchable. With his resources limitless, Chapman had assumed control of the facility, paying off the guards and still running his empire from the inside.
The only piece of information not on the board was the one bit that would bring it all down.
The final domino that would send it crumbling.
His drug lab.
Despite Etheridge’s skills, there had been no hint of a location, not enough for him to take to the police. There were numerous possible locations, which Sam could investigate himself.
But taking down Wallace meant it was a one-way mission and they’d spoken about the outcome being Sam being carted away in cuffs.
Sam knew it was the only outcome and if he could save Singh’s life, if she was still alive, then he could clear her name and also be put on the road to Chapman.
Two birds with one stone.
‘You do know that once you’re in there, I can’t literally open doors for you,’ Etheridge warned. ‘It would raise alarm bells and they would shut it down and you’ll be in there forever.’
‘I know,’ Sam said, not wavering his eyes from the board.
‘Ashcroft has the worst of the worst in its
