‘I assume you heard all that?’
‘I did.’ Etheridge stepped into the hallway and approached the coat rack. ‘You said we had until tomorrow, right?’
‘I’m sorry, it’s the best I can do.’
‘That means this evening, we can forget about the horrible reality of the situation?’ Etheridge smiled at her, lifting his own jacket from the hook and putting hers back.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘If we only have one night left before we have to go, probably not worth wasting it, eh?’ Etheridge flashed a glance up the stairs, where the hum of the power shower echoed lightly. ‘I need to run an errand. Keep an eye on him.’
Etheridge winked and Singh felt her knees wobble. Etheridge opened the front door and stepped out into the rain, mumbling something about the best Chinese takeaway in the country. But Singh wasn’t listening.
After taking a few deep breaths, she began to climb the stairs.
* * *
As the water crashed down over his short, brown hair, Sam closed his eyes. Having been afforded a meek, three-minute shower in Ashcroft every other day, the high pressure water felt amazing against his skin. As the droplets collided with his shoulder, he felt a burning sensation coming from his fresh stitches, but Sam ignored the pain.
With his head down and hands pressed against the expensive, herringbone tiles that adorned the bathroom wall, Sam took a moment to clear his thoughts.
Despite his persistence to the fight, Sam had been afraid.
Locked away in a secret prison, there had been every chance the plan wouldn’t have worked. Not because of Etheridge, who had proven beyond any shadow of a doubt that he was as integral to Sam’s fight as he himself was, but because of the danger he’d willingly put himself in.
There was no way of knowing how sadistic Deputy Warden Sharp was and Sam knew that walking out of that prison, alive and with his mission completed, was against the odds.
But somehow he’d done it.
He had survived.
But Singh’s words hung heavy in his mind.
Could he step away from his life now?
Sam had always justified his fight as one of necessity, that his quest started with innocent people dying at the hands of a power hungry criminal and a corrupt police organisation. Since then, he’d taken down sex traffickers and gone to war with a global terrorism unit, helmed by a man who had ruined his life.
Turned him into a weapon.
A weapon that Sam himself had turned back on those that deserved it.
But now, with the chance to disappear and to start somewhere else, could he step away?
Before he could contemplate any further, he heard the bathroom door opening and then quickly closing. Sam stayed in position, allowing the water to pound against his broken body. Through the muffled downpour, he heard the slight noise of clothes falling on the floor and then the door to the vast shower cubicle opening.
Singh stepped in, her hand gently sliding up Sam’s spine, carefully navigating the scars he’d received in the fight to save her life. With considerable effort, Sam pushed himself from the tiles and turned, struck by the incredible beauty of her naked body.
No words were spoken.
They weren’t needed.
Singh stepped forward, rested her hand against his solid stomach, and brought herself to him, their lips locking as the water crashed around them.
Months of unspoken feelings and knowing nods, along with death defying moments exploded and in the shower cubicle, with their bodies wrapped around each other, Sam and Singh disappeared into each other, knowing they would never get the opportunity to again.
* * *
With the sun disappearing behind the London skyline, Mac had driven carefully back into the capital, ensuring the doors were locked. He had no intention of hurting Lucy and had tried his best to calm the woman, who had cried since the moment they’d departed her street.
Undoubtedly concerned for her newborn child, Mac had forced himself to focus on the mission.
This wasn’t about her, or the kindness she’d shown him in years gone by.
This was about Sam.
The man who had left him to a fate worse than death.
The city was thick with traffic, every road gridlocked as an army of red busses and black cabs tried their best to weave through the narrow streets. On the parallel pavement, tourists and shoppers overran the shops, all of them scurrying around like it was their last day on earth. Mac remembered his trip to visit Sam many years ago, finding the experience overwhelming.
For those who were never brought up within London itself, the city was an intimidating place and as another pedestrian took a chance and darted through the traffic, Mac could understand why.
‘This city,’ he mumbled under his breath. Lucy didn’t respond, she just clasped her hands together and sobbed. At a snail’s pace, they made their way to Euston Road and as they drove past Great Portland Street Hospital, he could see on the satnav the blue dot marking the end of their journey.
He didn’t need the screen to tell him he’d arrived.
University College Hospital London, known as UCLH, towered high over the street, a magnificent structure of four floors, all of them lined with green windows. Opposite, Warren Street Station was a hub of activity, and Mac managed to navigate the hazardous one way system to bring the car to a stop on the street nearby. The double yellow lines indicated it was a no-parking area but with no intention of returning to the car, Mac stepped out with defiance. He hurried to the boot, opened it, and retrieved the bag, carefully looping the strap over the shoulder of his black jacket.
A few passers-by baulked at the scarring that ran down the side of his face, but with London such a vibrant place, most people didn’t even acknowledge him.
Besides, Mac humorously mused, he was walking into a hospital. Most people would think that was normal for a man of his appearance.
Mac opened the passenger door and squatted down, his eyes fixed on Lucy and his hand still tightly holding the gun. Lucy leant away in fear.
‘Come with me. Stay silent.’ He warned. ‘If you want to see your daughter again, do as I say.’
With tears streaming down her exquisite cheekbones, Lucy nodded and stepped out, the brisk wind and rain catching her off guard and she wrapped her arms around her body. Together, they marched back to the front of the hospital and ascended the six, wide steps that lead to the revolving main entrance.
The hospital was unlike anything Mac had ever seen, with a magnificent, triangular sculpture hanging over the entrance. As soon as they stepped in, the magnitude of the building hit them both. An expansive waiting area bled into a coffee shop and numerous corridors channelled off into a maze. The waiting area was almost full, with people of all ages and races scattered across the chairs, the inbuilt human nature to not sit next to a stranger clearly evident.
Nurses, doctors, orderlies, and cleaners scurried from door to door, disappearing into the labyrinth with a respectable calm.
No one had batted an eyelid at the two of them and Mac led Lucy to the large map on the wall, offering a layout of the hospital.
The Teenage and Young Adult ward was on the third floor.
The hospital was renowned for its treatments for cancer, working with a charity to help fund the necessary research to try to battle against one of life’s greatest enemies.
The specialist centre for the younger generation going through their own, painful hell was three floors up and as Mac pulled Lucy towards the lift, he felt a strong sense of guilt for using them as the target.
He had been through hell.
There was only one other person in the world he would wish it upon.
They entered the lift, with another visitor politely offering for them to enter first. Mac thanked the man, but as he tried to follow them in, Mac shoved him to the ground, sending the man sprawling causing a few people to turn their heads. The lift doors closed, with the shocked man cursing in the
ir direction, but Mac didn’t care.
He unzipped the bag and pulled out its contents, causing Lucy to heave in panic. Mac turned to her, unmoved by her fear.
‘Put this on.’
Moments later, they stepped out onto the third floor and followed the signs to the entrance of the ward. Mac had shed his coat, draping it over Lucy’s shoulders to conceal her and as they were buzzed through the door, Mac stepped into action.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, remain calm.’ All eyes fixed upon the scarred soldier as he strode into the middle of the corridor. Nurses and doctors poked their heads out from their patient rooms, many of them scowling at the interruption. ‘If you do as I say, we will get through this.’
As a doctor strode out of the nearest room towards them, Mac reached to the back of his jeans and pulled out his gun. A shriek of panic echoed around the ward and Mac fired a bullet into the air, bringing it all to an abrupt silence.
‘Lucy. Take off the coat.’
Weeping and shaking, Lucy obliged and as she did, the fear levels audibly rose. Strapped to her chest was a vest, lined with over ten blocks of C4 explosives, all of them wired to a metal control panel in the centre of the vest. The deadly bomb was linked to a switch which Mac confidently held up in his hand. Sobs of fear echoed throughout the ward and Mac demanded their attention. Turning to the receptionist, a young lady who was clutching the crucifix around her neck, he smiled.
‘Call reception. Have them evacuate the rest of the hospital. Tell them that this will all be over if the police can do one thing.’
The young lady took a deep breath, realising the safety of hundreds of people were at stake. Her Irish accent quivered as she spoke, betraying her show of bravery.
‘What do they need to do?’
Mac’s face contorted in a hateful sneer. His words rocked Lucy.
‘Bring me Sam Pope.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
A taste of normality would do neither of them any good.
After they’d finished making love, Singh had helped Sam to wash the fresh wounds on his body. The scars were a rich tapestry depicting the life he lived and she knew then that there was never going to be a them.
Sam was built for war.
He would never walk away from it.
After Singh had dried herself with one of the rich, cotton towels and left, Sam had turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. Wiping the steam from the mirror, he stared at himself, examining the cut that sliced through his eyebrow. It would leave a scar and he shrugged at the thought. It would just be another to add to the collection.
Scouring through Etheridge’s cabinet he found a razor and replaced the blade, before gliding it across his soapy face. Sam was very rarely clean shaven, but after a few weeks without any comforts, he appreciated the feel of the blade as it sliced through the thick bristles that had sprouted across his strong jaw.
They had run a pair of clippers over his brown hair before he entered The Grid and he didn’t stay long enough for the mandatory monthly trim. Thankfully, they’d shaved the sides shorter than the top, so while his hair wasn’t exactly stylish, it was neat. Flecks of grey had begun to pepper the hair around his ears, and he realised he was less than a year away from his fortieth birthday.
Apparently, life began then.
Sam was just fortunate to have made it to today.
Before he dried himself, he took a moment, contemplating the notion of a different path. There was a clear connection between himself and Singh, one that was beyond the physical. Despite the passionate sex they’d just had, they were kindred spirits, wrapped around each other like coiled snakes.
The only problem was, they were both poisonous and the chances of them fatally wounding the other was too high.
They both believed in a fair world.
They just stood on opposite sides of the line that cut through it.
Sam shook his head, knowing that he had one evening to enjoy before their paths would split, most likely forever.
As he stepped out of the bathroom, the fantastic aroma of food drew him down the stairs where Etheridge had decorated the kitchen counter with a selection of plastic boxes, each containing an assortment of Chinese food.
Sam stepped into the room, drawing a warm smile from Singh, along with a cheeky wink from Etheridge.
‘Nice shower?’ Etheridge asked, flashing a glance at the wet hair that cascaded down to Singh’s shoulder.
‘Don’t,’ Sam responded, failing to hide the smirk that cracked on his lips. Singh chuckled and soon, all three of them were laughing.
‘Dig in, buddy,’ Etheridge said. ‘I bet you can’t wait.’
‘I don’t know. The poorly cooked meat and veg of Ashcroft will take some beating.’
‘I still can’t believe you put yourself through that,’ Singh said, tipping a spoonful of noodles onto her plate.
‘Me neither,’ Sam said as he piled as much as he could onto his place, snapped his chopsticks open and begun to shovel the food in. The glorious tastes exploded in his mouth and he wolfed down the entire plate, much to the joy of Etheridge. No one spoke for five minutes, with each of them enjoying the flavoursome meal, as well as each other’s company. While the atmosphere was pleasant, there was a heartbreaking undercurrent as they knew it would be the only time this would be possible. Sensing the tension rising, Etheridge cracked open three beers, passed one each to Sam and Singh, and raised his bottle.
‘To our survival.’
All three of them raised their drinks and took a sip. Sam dropped his chopsticks on the sauce smeared plate and exhaled. A slight bit of indigestion hit and he excused himself from the kitchen, needing a hit of the brisk, evening air. As he stepped out onto the patio, Etheridge noticed Singh’s longing glance at his friend.
‘You know it can’t happen, right?’
‘I know.’ Singh sighed. ‘It was probably a mistake to go there.’
‘Not at all.’ Etheridge shook his head. ‘The world needs as much love and affection as it can get. But there is no way he’ll turn his back on his fight. It’s in his blood. In his bones. It’s who he is.’
‘I’ve thought about it, you know?’ Singh turned to Etheridge, trying hard not to show her pain. ‘Ever since Sam saved those girls last year. I thought about throwing it all away, joining him in his fight. I know what he does is wrong, but I believe in the reasons he does it. Ever since then, I’ve just felt...’
‘Restricted?’ Etheridge offered and Singh nodded. ‘Me too. After you saved my life and they repaired my knee, I gave up everything. Sold the business. Divorced Kayleigh. None of that mattered anymore. It’s what Sam does to you. He infects you with his mission until you can’t see another purpose. But, Singh, even if you tried to do that, there is no happy ending there. Not because he doesn’t care. But because there is only one place his path is leading him.’
At that moment, Singh felt her heart break. Throughout her life, she’d dedicated herself to her job. To rise through the ranks of the Metropolitan Police, to experience every part of the job, and then build the career she wanted. At no point, despite her strict Hindu parents’ wishes, had she ever considered settling down. Her sister, Priya, had given them the grandchildren they craved and settled down to a life of luxury, married to a successful lawyer.
But as she glanced at Sam, who stood looking out at the darkness, she saw her only desire for that life.
As Etheridge’s phone buzzed, Singh sighed, finished her beer and decided it would be best not to spend the night.
The quicker she cut the cord, the quicker she could heal.
The look on Etheridge’s face as he scanned his phone told her to wait and as his eyes widened, she called out to him.
‘What is it?’
‘Shit.’ Etheridge shot a worried glance in Sam’s direction. Sam, hearing the fear in the room, turned back in.
‘What’s going on?’ Sam asked, looking to Singh, who shrugged. Etheridge didn’t answer but rushe
d up the stairs as fast as his damaged leg could take him. The two of them followed and as they entered his control station, he pulled up the live feed from the BBC news website onto the screen.
A reporter stood in front of UCLH in Euston, with the rain pouring down. Wrapped in a thick jacket and her hair blowing, she spoke sternly into the camera.
‘The situation is a terrifying one for those inside the hospital and their friends and family. The terrorist has allowed the rest of the hospital to be evacuated but has kept the entire Teenage and Young Adult ward inside. With twenty-three patients, eight nurses, two doctors, and a receptionist trapped, the terrorist appears to have also brought in his own hostage. The following image was lifted from the security cameras only a few minutes ago.’
The image appeared on the screen, a grainy, grey image showing the back of a well-built man, who appeared to be holding a device in his hand. The reporter continued.
‘The terrorist has made only one demand, which has baffled the police who are trying, as we speak, to negotiate a peaceful outcome. The terrorist has requested that police bring Sam Pope, the recently incarcerated vigilante, to him otherwise he will detonate the bomb. We will have more information as we get it.’
Singh flashed a look at Etheridge, realising that they were the only two people who knew of Sam’s location. But Etheridge knew getting Sam to deal with the situation wasn’t going to be a problem.
Not when he saw the fury in Sam’s eyes as he scanned the grey, security image that Etheridge had taken a screen grab of and expanded on a wall mounted monitor.
On her knees, cowering beside the terrorist, was Lucy.
With a bomb strapped to her chest.
Sam was out the door within seconds.
* * *
With the road blocked off by the flashing blue lights of several police cars, Ashton watched as her driver was waved through the barricade, pondering her next move.
How the hell did things fall apart so quickly?
The Final Mile: A SAM POPE NOVEL Page 20
