Two sets of footsteps crunched on the ground around to the back of the van and with the electric system fried, the officer shook as he put the key in the door.
Another sickening thud, and Sam heard the man crumble to the ground.
Sam steadied himself, fists clenched.
He was born to survive.
The door swung open, and Etheridge, holding an assault rifle in one hand, pulled off the balaclava that had shielded his identity.
‘Hello, handsome.’ Etheridge smiled. ‘If you could see the look on your face.’
‘What the hell?’
‘I’ll explain on the way. Chop chop.’
Hesitantly, Sam stepped out the back of the van, looking around at the two unconscious officers. Etheridge shrugged, told Sam he felt bad about them both, and asked Sam to help him move them from harm’s way. After lining both men on the grassy hillock that ran alongside the road, Etheridge set off through the woodlands, followed by a guilt-ridden Sam.
He had made peace with going to prison.
To finally pay the price for his war on crime.
Etheridge’s response was simple.
‘The world needs you to keep fighting, Sam.’
After five minutes of jogging, Etheridge slowed the pace, his busted knee stiffening and he walked through the trees. Sam caught up to him, baffled by the rescue mission.
‘How the hell did you do all this?’
‘With this.’ Etheridge held up a small, black remote. ‘It’s like an EMP. Pretty good.’
Sam looked at him blankly, carefully stepping over a fallen branch.
‘An electro-magnetic pulse. Essentially, this button fried their electrical system. There’s no nuclear or radiation damage and it can only emit the pulse within a few feet. Worked though.’
Etheridge carried on walking, stepping through a large bush and onto a quaint village road, with no path for pedestrians and numerous cottages lining the road. His car was parked on a patch of grass and he tossed Sam the rifle.
‘It’s not loaded,’ Sam said, knowing from the weight.
‘Correct,’ Etheridge said, hopping into the driver’s seat.
‘What if they’d been armed?’
‘Then I’d have been up shit creek. Now get in.’
Sam cast one final glance back to the woods, tossing the idea of turning himself in over in his mind like a pancake. With a deep sigh, he pulled open the door and dropped into the passenger’s seat. As Etheridge started the engine, Sam turned and looked at his friend who had crossed too many lines to make his way back.
‘Why did you do this for me, Paul?’ Sam asked. Etheridge smiled, slid the car into the gear and pulled out onto the road.
‘It was the right thing to do.’
Epilogue
‘So where will you go?’
Sam placed his pint of Birra Moretti onto the coaster, and sat back in the uncomfortable, metal chair. Airport bars were guaranteed business, so they didn’t push the boat out on expensive furniture to lure the customers in. Etheridge sat opposite him, beer in hand and over his shoulder, Sam watched a stag party tucking into a row of tequila shots, the unfortunate stag dressed like a Disney princess he couldn’t name.
Etheridge shrugged, sipped his beer, and then looked up at the board.
‘Not sure, yet.’ He pushed out his bottom lip as he weighed up his options. ‘Greece could be nice?’
It had been a week since Etheridge had intercepted Sam’s transfer to prison and the two of them had become one of the Met Police’s top priority. Etheridge hadn’t taken them back to his house, despite the labyrinth of a paper trail he’d created to hide the fact he still lived there.
Someone was bound to pull all the information together and pull apart the ruse that he was living an easy life in Tenerife. Luckily, thanks to the vast wealth he’d accumulated, the two of them had stayed in a small flat he’d acquired as a renovation project a year ago. After Sam’s interjection into his life, the project had been put on hold, but two camp beds and microwave meals were more than enough for two former soldiers.
They had laid low, with Etheridge securing their fake passports and IDs, along with Sam’s plane ticket. Sam was travelling light, with nothing but his wallet, passport, and ticket.
‘Are you sure you’re okay with this?’ Sam asked, finishing another sip of the customary airport beer. ‘This is your whole life you’re throwing away.’
Etheridge downed the rest of his pint, before meeting Sam with an excited glint in his eye.
‘I told you, Sam. I had everything. Money. The mansion. The wife. But it was all…superficial. Joining your fight was the best thing that ever happened to me. But right now, considering how much we fucked the system, I kind of need to lie low for a while.’
‘Fair enough.’ Sam tipped his glass to Etheridge. ‘Thank you. You saved my life a few times over the past few months.’
‘Eh, I owed you one.’
It was true. Years ago, early in their military career, Etheridge had fallen down a rocky cliff face, breaking his leg and drawing the attention of the enemy. As the rescue mission began, Sam had eliminated the incoming squadron, saving Etheridge’s life.
‘How will I get hold of you?’ Sam laughed. ‘I’m not so good with the computers. I’m more of a punchy, shooty type.’
Etheridge chuckled as he stood, wrapping the straps of the backpack over his shoulders and then tightening the baseball cap to his shaved head.
‘You won’t be able to. Not for a while.’ Etheridge looked back up at the board. ‘I need to stay off the grid for a while. Don’t worry, I popped a bank card into your wallet. The pin is four four four four. Think you can remember that?’
Sam lifted his middle finger.
‘Why?’
‘Because you need to keep the fight going, Sam. Most of my money has been gifted to charity. Consider it a donation to your cause.’
Sam stood, overwhelmed by the belief Etheridge had shown in
