It was the hostage situation I had been trying so hard to avoid.
Cursing Chief Inspector Quinn, I grunted my determination, thrust off the ground and started running.
Jane. The Final Fight. Saturday, December 24th 1640hrs
The upwelling of emotion when I first heard, and then saw, Tempest was a level of euphoria I worried I might never match.
Lost, defeated, and ready to die one moment. Jubilant, excited, and ready to fight the next. I was only just outside the front door of the house when I heard his voice come over the radio and at that point still looking for a way to get near to the Sandman.
The knife was in my hand and ready to go. No one had seen it. If I could get close, I would just lunge and stab. If they kept me away from him, I would first stab the two men holding me and then run at the one I wanted to kill.
Tempest’s appearance changed that plan in an instant. Suddenly I was imbued with a belief that we might win the day.
How many people had Tempest brought with him? However many it was, this was the best chance we were going to get.
Terrifying roars came from all over the place, dark figures rushing the Sandman’s acolytes. I twisted the knife around, bringing it out from its hiding place. I was going to stab the men holding me and anyone else I could get to. Anything I could do to help had to be the right thing to do.
Before I could do anything of the sort, a rough yank on my right arm pulled me off balance and the knife went flying away into the dark. The men holding me were running back to the house, hauling me along behind them. My feet were no longer under me and I could do nothing to arrest my motion.
Then the craziest thing happened. Lights came on in the woods.
Bright lights from torches so powerful it was painful to look at created shadows and silhouettes and a voice filled the night air.
I needed only a heartbeat to work out what I was hearing. The police were here – Tempest brought them with him!
Yet I was being dragged back inside the house and no one could get to me before they would have me inside.
I saw Tempest lose his footing and fall right in front of me. To his right, my left as I looked out, Big Ben had already grabbed Jan. Joy swept through me seeing his rescue.
I got a final look at Tempest’s face before the door slammed shut once more.
The Sandman was gasping great lungfuls of air, his breathing out of control as if terror had gripped him.
The woman slapped his face. Hard.
The noise was loud like a gunshot in the quiet of the house. The Sandman reeled back, stunned by the blow.
‘You miserable failure!’ the woman screeched.
She might have had more to say but the sound of a window smashing and something landing in the house stole the words away.
The monks were looking around in confusion, waiting for orders though surely they realised there was no way out of this situation now.
‘Quick, get her to the basement,’ the woman snapped, her eyes flaring with anger when the men holding me failed to move instantly.
Jolted into motion, they scooped me from the floor, but I thrashed against them. The knife was gone, but I wasn’t going back into that basement.
Throwing my weight against one then throwing my head backward as the other followed me, I caught him on the bridge of his nose with a reverse headbutt. There was no technique or finesse involved, this was adrenalin and lack of options.
The one I caught with my head fell away, clutching his face as blood exploded from his nose. The second one made a grab for me and was rewarded with a high kick to his midriff that took the wind from him.
Snarling like a caged animal, I went to spin around to face the next attack but found myself gripped tightly from behind before I could.
‘For goodness sake,’ growled the Sandman’s wife, her mouth right next to my ear. ‘It’s just one little girl.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ said Tempest, stepping into the hallway.
There was a cut to his head, a nasty one judging by the amount of blood coming down the side of his face.
He saw me looking and wafted a dismissive hand at his wound. ‘I should have maybe protected my head when I dove through the window.’ Turning serious, he asked. ‘Are you all right, Jane?’
In my girl voice I said. ‘I will be. Do you think I should tell them the truth?’
‘What truth?’ demanded the woman holding me. She was as tall as me, and surprisingly strong in a lean, wiry kind of way. However, pound for pound, men are always stronger.
I planted my feet and switched to my normal voice. ‘There’s something important you don’t know about me, sweetie.’
The woman gasped and her grip went slack. I drove backward off my feet jabbing my right elbow up and around. It would have been vastly easier without my hands tied together but the blow struck under her chin with enough force to send her crashing into the wall.
She struck it with her head, a whimper escaping her lips as she slid down the wall to slump on the floor.
‘Valerie!’ cried the Sandman, darting forward to rescue his wife with a panicked look on his face.
I stepped into his path, blocking his route. My breathing came heavy, but it was under control. To my left, Tempest was fighting the remaining acolytes and outside, the sound of the police putting down any last pockets of resistance filled me with the confidence I needed to finish the task.
‘What did
