‘Orchards,’ replied Jane. ‘That’s where we went to bless the apple trees. You escaped that, I seem to remember.’
‘Yeah.’
‘And where do the tracks lead to, I wonder?’ Jane was dragging a map across the screen on her phone. ‘That one goes off across the orchards to the canning plant,’ she said, pointing to the left fork. ‘And that one goes back to the road about half a mile further along. Wait a minute, what’s that?’
‘Switch it to satellite view.’
‘There’s another barn, in the trees, about five hundred yards down there, on the right.’
Dixon was already astride the gate. ‘Tell Watts and then wait here,’ he said, jumping down on the far side just as a muffled gunshot sent a flock of wood pigeons into the dawn sky.
Feeling his way in the darkness. Cole knew where the chair should be and had seconds to find it before the door to the cellar opened. His only chance was to be seated again before the light came on and hope his captor didn’t notice the broken glass.
Or the blood.
Legs cramping, but it was easing; tiptoeing forwards, feeling with his feet, his hands waving from side to side in front of him.
Whatever was going to happen would happen quickly now. He’d have to make his move before the cable ties lying on the ground gave him away. He’d never find those in the darkness.
Keep left a bit, away from the broken glass. He’d avoided treading on any up to now – or at least he thought he had – and now would not be a good time to start.
Then his left foot touched something on the floor in front of him, the sound of wood scraping on a concrete floor.
The chair.
He leaned forwards and picked it up, facing it in the direction he’d come from, back towards where Sarah was sitting.
Was dying.
Sitting down now, moving his legs into the same position they’d been in, or as near to it as he could get them, heels back to the chair legs, his muscles twitching, cramping again. Hands behind him, the shard of glass in his right.
Eyes closed, head bowed, just as the cellar door opened.
Footsteps on the stairs. Heavy; male, possibly. He’d soon find out.
The light came on.
Cole opened his eyes a fraction, hoping it was masked by the blood matted in his eyelashes; he listened to the footsteps moving across the concrete floor towards Sarah.
Tall, dark clothes, zombie mask.
The single light bulb above Sarah was covered in cobwebs and dust, much of the cellar still in darkness. He could hardly make out the broken glass himself, which might buy him a few seconds.
Cole was able to watch the figure cross the cellar, pausing to leave something leaning against the workbench as he went past, before standing behind Sarah, lifting her head and letting it fall back to her chest.
He turned his head, ever so slightly, spotting the shotgun, perhaps three paces to his right.
Moving before he had a chance to think it through, he lurched to his right, throwing the shard of glass at the man, who ducked behind Sarah. Cole was relieved his legs were taking his weight, moving where and when he asked them despite the pain and the cramping; hoping, praying it would last.
He snatched up the gun and turned to face his captor, flicking off the safety catch, trying to ignore the blood on his hands and arms.
‘Drop the knife!’
His captor was standing behind Sarah, her head pulled back in his left hand, a knife to her throat in his right. ‘Put down the gun or I kill the girl.’
Cole knew he was going to do that anyway. It was what he’d come back for – to finish the job. ‘She’s not a girl,’ he said, his voice tight. ‘She’s a police officer.’
It must be loaded. Cole was holding the stock tightly in his left hand, squeezing the blood out from between his fingers. ‘What the fuck is this all about anyway?’ he asked.
‘You don’t know?’
‘I just came with her,’ replied Cole.
His captor gave a sarcastic laugh. ‘Sixty million quid.’
‘And who’s this on the ground behind me?’
‘His name’s Sean Rodwell. He started the fire that killed my wife.’
Sean Rodwell was a familiar name, now Cole had started reading the intranet.
‘Drop the gun, or I kill the girl.’
‘You’re going to do it anyway,’ said Cole, oddly calm now.
Fuck that.
