‘Lower your weapons,’ Stout commanded, jogging the final few steps to the woman, who was shaking with fear. ‘Are you okay?’
‘He has a bomb. He has a bomb,’ she repeated, as an officer brought a foil blanket which Stout wrapped around the woman.
‘What happened up there?’ Stout asked, glaring over his shoulder as Ashton joined him.
‘He shot that man. He was only trying to help.’
Ashton shook her head.
‘We need to send in the team, sir,’ she demanded impatiently. ‘Before this gets out of hand.’
‘Thank you, Deputy. But I am in control of this situation.’
Ashton gestured to the crumpled remains of Whitlock, which was already covered with a sheet as EMTs carefully loaded the dead officer onto a stretcher.
‘None of us are.’ Ashton’s cruel words were even more evidence that she was looking after herself. The last twelve hours had devastated her career, but she saw a clear opportunity to at least salvage her own reputation by attacking Stout’s. Before the irate Commissioner could respond, a voice cut in.
‘Let me go in.’
The two most senior figures in the Met Police turned, their eyes wide with shock as Sam walked towards them, having been guided through the cordon by DI Singh. Behind them, a group of officers had followed, watching on in awe at Sam’s arrival.
‘Officers. Arrest this man,’ Ashton snapped, her face twisted in a bitter scowl.
‘Stop.’ Stout held his hand up to the officers and turned to Ashton. ‘Take a walk.’
Sam met Ashton’s glare without emotion, and she marched off into the rain, her hands shaking with fury. Stout watched her for a few moments, shelving their issues for later, before he turned back to Sam. Stout was impressed.
‘Well, you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?’
‘Sir, there are innocent people in there. He has my ex-wife. They have nothing to do with this.’ Sam looked up at the shattered window. ‘This is my fight. So, let me go in.’
Stout took a deep breath, his hands firmly on his hips as he contemplated the next move. He looked at Singh, who nodded her approval, as if underlining that Stout could trust Sam. The commissioner didn’t doubt it. Although he was a huge advocate for removing Sam’s one-man war on crime from the streets of his city, he never doubted that Sam held the nobility of a soldier.
He was fast running out of options and Stout knew it.
The terrorist wanted Sam Pope.
And here he was, willing to go in.
‘Fine. But I need you to get those children out of there, do you understand?’ Stout commanded. ‘We know he’s armed, and we know there is a bomb.’
‘Anything else?’ Sam asked, not taking his eyes off the window.
‘The trigger.’ The young receptionist peeked over her blanket, nervous as all eyes fell on her. ‘He said it was a dead trigger. His thumb was on it.’
‘Jesus,’ Stout exclaimed.
‘What’s wrong?’ Singh asked, worried.
‘It’s a dead man’s switch,’ Sam interjected before Stout could. ‘If he takes his thumb off of it, then the whole hospital will come down.’
‘Sam…’ Singh began, but she knew it was pointless. The man had Lucy in the firing line. Even if the ARU targeted their guns at him, it wouldn’t stop Sam from trying to get to her.
‘Good luck,’ Stout said, before giving the order to the ARU to let Sam through. ‘They’ll be right behind you.’
‘Keep them a floor below,’ Sam demanded. ‘He wants just me. Let’s give him that.’
Stout nodded and stepped to the side; his attention pulled away by a frantic analyst who had raced towards them. Sam gave Singh a final look before he stepped forward towards the building, only halting when he heard the devastating words from the analyst.
They had discovered the man’s identity.
Sam’s wild suspicions about his attacker in Rome came true.
The man holding the hospital hostage. Who had strapped a bomb to his ex-wife?
His name was Matthew McLaughlin.
Mac.
Sam raced towards the doors of the hospital, ready confront a ghost from his haunted past.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
TEN YEARS AGO…
The relentless heat of the sun bore down on the Afghanistan terrain like it held a grudge and Sam could feel the sweat dripping down the back of his shirt.
It had been two weeks since he’d been rescued by Theo and Marsden, their helicopter landing just outside of the war zone Sam had created.
A mission gone wrong.
Horribly wrong.
What should have been a simple elimination soon became a fight for survival, as a missile had sent Sam sprawling down the cliff face. The fact that he’d survived had been a miracle, and the sacrifice of a local doctor had been what had kept him alive. The doctor, Farhad Nabizada, had kept Sam alive, treating his wounds from the explosion, and eventually giving his own life to protect Sam and his children.
Tamir and Masood.
A local Taliban recruitment operation had laid siege to the doctor’s home, then murdered the loving father in cold blood in front of his children.
Sam had avenged him, slaying the entire regiment.
He had asked Marsden, his commanding officer, to help find the children, but they’d vanished. Lost in the abyss of war.
But now, as Sam trudged across the stony cliff face from which he tumbled, he was searching for someone else.
Mac.
Mac was gone.
‘Come on, Sam.’
Theo Walker, Sam’s best friend and one of the finest medics in the team, rested his hand on Sam’s shoulder in comfort. Sam stepped away, walking slowly to the scorched earth where the missile impacted.
‘I can’t leave him,’ Sam stated, scanning the endless horizon in hope.
‘We’ve been searching for days.’ Theo sighed. ‘Marsden has sent two choppers to find him. He’s gone, Sam. Wallace has already confirmed it.’
Sam felt his fingers tighten into a fist and his arm shook with rage. He had promised Mac he would keep him alive and he’d failed. Despite everything Sam went through in the small village of Chikari below the cliff, he’d not been able to keep his promise.
Sam was built to survive.
Mac, sadly, had not.
‘What if he is still out
