My eyes began to bulge from my head and I heard myself croak. When my vision started to go I knew I was dying. But a little voice in my head wouldn’t let me go that easily. I am Glen Savage. I survived Tumbledown and I’d been the hardest kick-ass sergeant in the entire regiment. No fucking brickie was going to kill me. I had to live. For Aelish. The last two words echoed through my head and I discovered that all the time he was killing me my hands had been scrabbling on the ground around me looking for . . . a rock. A piece of abbey masonry that had been left lying among the ruins. A piece of stone only about the size of a cricket ball, but big enough. My left hand closed around it and with the last of my strength I swung it at Sandy Armstrong’s skull. His features disappeared in a mask of blood as the jagged edge caught him on the right side of the brow and tore across his forehead, scoring bone and ripping the skin to his hairline. He shrieked and went over backwards, all his weight lifting off me. I knew I should follow him, but somehow I couldn’t get my body to agree. I lay there revelling stupidly in my survival even though my brain screamed at me to get up and kill him before he came back and killed me. By the time I struggled to my knees he had disappeared into the depths of the abbey ruins.
Of course, I followed him. Don’t ask me why. I had what I’d come for. Gurya Ali was safe, sitting groggily in the rain with her head hanging and her long hair over her face like a black curtain. Maybe it was because I was in shock. Maybe it was the thought of leaving a man like Sandy Armstrong to go free to kill again. Maybe it’s because I’m Glen Savage and I had a job to finish.
I picked up the knife and walked into the darkness.
The abbey offered no shelter against the rain and the bare walls multiplied the sound of the storm. Each thunderclap felt as if it would bring the whole thing down on top of me. It also meant that Sandy Armstrong could get within a foot of me and I’d never hear him.
So I couldn’t have heard the piece of masonry that fell from above, I must have sensed it. It made me look upwards where I saw a dark blur slowly ascending a buttress towards the top of what had once been the abbey tower.
‘Sandy.’ I tried to shout, but it came out as a tortured croak. ‘Sandy. It’s over. There’s nothing else you can do.’
I don’t know if he didn’t listen to me or if he couldn’t hear, but he kept up his steady progress without looking back. Fuck it. I reached for a carved lintel and began to pull myself upwards into the rain. The storm had made the stone slick as polished marble, but fortunately there were hand and footholds aplenty. The only real danger was if Sandy Armstrong fell and took me with him. When I reached the top he was standing on the far side of the ruins staring down into the dark well between us.
‘It’s finished, Sandy,’ I repeated. ‘There’s nowhere else to go. When I start climbing down, follow me.’
He raised his head with a puzzled look and reached into the neck of his overall. ‘It’s only just beginning,’ he shouted. As he said it, he threw something into the void and before I could react he allowed himself to slowly topple forward into the darkness.
When I looked down I saw a pale shape in the form of a cross.
By the time I reached Gurya Ali they’d switched on all the lights and Melrose Abbey was lit up like Heathrow Airport. Blue flashes from about a dozen police cars bounced off every building in sight and it looked like a crowd had gathered beyond the abbey wall.
Wearily, I picked Gurya up and held her to me for a moment before carrying her in my arms towards the main gate. Just as I reached it, the gate opened and a flood of police rushed in, led by Superintendent Dorward. They should have been here twenty minutes earlier, but you can’t have everything. All of them stared at me, and one tried to take Gurya from me, but I just ignored him.
‘He’s back there,’ I said. ‘I don’t think he’s going to be any trouble.’
As I continued my walk across the wet grass the cameras started to flash and I said a prayer of thanks to Willie Dewar who had managed to get half a dozen local freelancers down to the abbey on a hunch. I knew the picture of me carrying Gurya would make every front page in Britain tomorrow.
Suddenly Assad Ali was in front of me, his face a mask of concern. His number was the second I’d called. We looked at each other for a moment before I passed Gurya gently into his arms and he nodded as the cameras started their light show all over again. He’d hate me for it when he worked out how I’d gambled with his daughter’s life, but he’d pay the fifty grand we’d originally agreed and the retainer from the point he’d sacked me.
I’d won. Gurya Ali was alive. Shoaz Ahmad would get his heart back. Aelish would have her chance to live.
But at what cost?
People betray each other for lots of reasons: for money, for principle, for politics. I’d betrayed Aelish for love. She would never forgive me for putting Gurya Ali’s life on the line to save hers, but we’d still be together. Andthat’s all that matters.
Isn’t it?
Table of Contents
Also by Douglas Jackson
Introducing Glen Savage: the last resort after all the other last resorts have struck out
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8Tuesday, 5 June 2007
CHAPTER 9Friday, 8 June 2007
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13Saturday, 9 June 2007
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15Sunday, 10 June 2007
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18Monday, 11 June 2007
CHAPTER 19Tuesday, 12 June 2007
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22Friday, 15 June 2007
CHAPTER 23Wednesday, 20 June 2007
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25Thursday, 21 June 2007
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30Friday, 22 June 2007
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
War Games Page 26
