Resuming her course, the sound of her breathing hung in the air around her with every footstep, every broken twig, magnified by the oppressive surroundings. The path cut sharply to her left as Janssen said it would and she found herself slowing. Telling herself she was merely being cautious the truth was she was frightened. Her heart rate was increasing as she approached an unknown threat. The sound of the nearby sea crashing against the base of the cliff face could be heard even if the edge was invisible through the fog. She was near. The path wound along the cliff top, sixty feet above the boiling sea below thundering against the rocks. Not far now. If Janssen was right, she was within shouting distance.
Stopping to listen, she focussed on a point somewhere in the gloom ahead. There was nothing beyond the sound of the waves along with that of her heart hammering inside her chest. Edging forward, she maintained her vigilance straining to hear any telltale noises in front of her. Voices carried, muffled and inconsistent. How many she couldn’t tell but thought it likely to be no more than two. For a second she thought Janssen may well have come across Mark and they were talking but as she approached, two figures grew out of the darkness. Neither of them was Tom Janssen.
As she inched closer, stooping low and careful to avoid stepping on anything to give away her presence, she saw details emerge as the shapes took form. One figure stood upright, straight backed extending an arm towards the second figure who was cowering nearby. Only it wasn’t an extended arm, it was a double-barrelled shotgun pointed directly at the second person who was shuffling backwards precariously towards the cliff edge. Whether he was aware of that was unclear. He had both hands held out before him in supplication, turning his face away from the weapon aimed at him.
She looked for Janssen. Where could he be? Would he risk making a move on the gunman or would he double back and bring in the armed unit? She was in no position to do so. The two men locked in their deadly stand-off were between her and the armed unit. If she made a phone call it would give her presence away. Stepping away and making the call from a position of safety would no doubt be too late. This was going to play out in the coming seconds. She cursed her indecision. The figure holding the gun stepped forward encouraging the other to back further away. The ground beneath his feet shifted as part of it gave way under his weight toppling to the sea below. Suddenly realising his position, he yelped and begged. “Please… don’t…” Tamara was thrown. She knew that voice. It was Mark’s.
Another figure loomed out of the darkness, tall and imposing. “Don’t worry, Mark. It’ll all be over soon enough.” The gunman turned on the newcomer. It was Janssen striding forward. “You’ll not be needing the gun anymore.” His voice was calm, authoritarian. Tamara realised then that Mark must have lured his intended victim to this place and either failed to go through with his plan or was overpowered and disarmed. That made sense. The weapon was now trained on Janssen who halted his approach. The gun was not lowered. Perhaps Tom had miscalculated, assuming the intended victim was keeping the gun raised in self-defence but now, now he was pointing it at him. Unless that was the intention all along, to protect Mark. Damn him for putting himself in danger!
Mark rose tentatively, taking a step away from the edge. The gunman turned his head in his direction. The gun moved slightly towards Mark. Was he considering which target was the greatest threat, Mark McCall or Tom Janssen? The gunman’s moment of hesitation must have been what Janssen was looking for as he surged forward. The man brought the shotgun to bear just as Janssen engaged him, thrusting the barrels up and away from him as the weapon discharged. The flash lit the pair up momentarily and the thundering boom drowned out the crash of the water below. Instinctively through fear, Mark stepped back, losing his footing and teetered on the edge of the cliff. Throwing himself forward as the soft earth of the cliff edge fell away beneath his feet, a primeval scream followed as he reached out, clutching at anything that might prevent him from falling.
Tamara ran forward, hurling herself at Mark and grasping for his flailing arms, the material of his coat, anything that would stop him slipping over the edge. He looked into her eyes and she saw abject terror in his, a fleeting glimpse into the mind of a young man who believed he was about to die. She lurched forwards towards the edge as his momentum pulled her off balance. She lay flat on her front, both hands clamped firmly on Mark’s. The sound of the sea crashing against the cliff face was ever present as her hold on him grew ever more precarious as they slipped further towards the drop. She redoubled her efforts, managing to take a better hold and arrest his descent. He was panicking and scrabbling around in desperation. “I’ve got you, Mark, and I won’t let go.” She tried to sound confident, as authoritarian as Janssen had been but she could see in his eyes a lack of belief.
Glancing to her left she saw the two figures grappling a
