The man reeled back and Gary went for him again, his thick arms pumping like pistons as he pummelled him in the face, the neck, the chest. The man fell back and raised his arm.
‘No!’ shouted Kevin, but his voice was drowned out by the firing of the gun. A single shot to the head and Gary collapsed in a heap among the broken whisky bottles.
Damn, that had been bloody stupid. Gary had never been the sharpest knife in the block. But desperate men do desperate things. He hoped no one else would do anything desperate.
He stood motionless, wanting to raise his hands in the air, but too afraid to let go of the crate he was carrying. One wrong move now and it would be curtains for him too. ‘Don’t shoot,’ he begged. ‘Don’t shoot, or there’ll be no one to carry the rest of the crates.’ It sounded like a pretty lame reason once he’d said it out loud, but he couldn’t think of a better one right now. He held his breath.
Zoran barked out some command in Serbian, and Kevin shut his eyes and held his breath, waiting for the shot to come. It didn’t. He opened his eyes again and breathed out. The man who had fired the shot kicked Gary’s lifeless body with the toe of his boot. ‘He’s dead,’ he said to Kevin, his face hard. ‘Carry on loading.’
Chapter Eighty-One
King’s College Hospital, Lambeth, South London, wolf moon
The clouds were thinning rapidly as Adam began his final ascent to the helipad on the hospital’s rooftop. This last part of the climb was easier, as he was able to grab hold of the metal pipework that snaked up the side of the structure. The greatest risk was that he might be spotted before he could position the explosives and set the detonator.
According to Snakebite’s intel the pad should have been clear of soldiers by now, but instead he could hear men shouting to each other overhead. That didn’t matter. He had to complete the mission regardless. In fact, if they were preparing the helicopter for another patrol, it was even more vital to detonate the bomb before it took off.
He hauled himself quickly up the rickety pipework and reached the top of the landing pad. Peering over the edge he was greeted by a bustle of activity. The soldiers seemed to be readying the Lynx for flight. The attack helicopter stood in the middle of the pad, measuring perhaps fifty feet in length. Soldiers were completing the refuelling, and others were conducting last-minute checks. The two-man crew were already in position in the cockpit, and as Adam watched, the third crew member, the gunner, climbed up behind the pilot and co-pilot and positioned himself by the door-mounted heavy machine gun. The twin turboshafts of the helicopter spluttered into life and its rotor blades began to slowly turn.
Holding on tightly to the metal frame of the helipad with one hand, Adam swung the heavy rucksack from his shoulders and attached his home-made bomb to the main supporting structure of the pad. This was the first bomb he had ever made, and it was as-yet untested, but he was pretty confident it would work.
It has to.
Too much was at stake for it to fail.
He carefully connected the detonator wires to the device, checking they were secure, and began the downward climb, spooling out the wire from its coil as he went. It was a long way down, but climbing down was easier than ascending, and he no longer had the weight of the bomb on his back to worry about.
The milky form of the moon peeked through the clouds, growing brighter with every passing minute.
It mustn’t come out from behind the clouds. Not yet.
He dropped from the helipad and moved to the concrete ledge that overhung the rooftop. The sight of the ground a hundred feet below him gave him a moment of vertigo, but he closed his eyes to block out the view and backed himself carefully to the edge of the roof so he couldn’t see the drop.
Don’t look up. Don’t look down. Just focus.
It was the same when he raced at the athletics track. Worrying about times and performance and personal bests was a certain way to lose a race. You had to clear all conscious thought from your mind. He could do that. He knew how.
He gingerly lowered himself down from the rooftop until he was hanging by his fingertips from the concrete lip. He let go.
No past. No future. Just the drop.
A moment later his feet hit the ledge below and he landed like a cat.
One floor down. Seven more to go.
The wire uncoiled down the building as he jumped from floor to floor. He was halfway down when his foot missed the ledge.
His left leg shot out into space and he crashed onto the concrete lip, landing painfully on his right knee. He scrabbled for purchase, scraping his palm against the rough concrete. He almost dropped the detonator coil, but his quick reactions kept disaster at bay. He crouched on the narrow ledge, breathing heavily.
He wiped his forehead with his free hand. The air temperature was below freezing, but his hand came away damp with sweat.
Clear the mind. Breathe. Think of nothing.
His old coach, Brian Wooley, had taught him that trick. Poor old Brian. The coach hadn’t been entirely useless. It was a shame that Adam had killed him. But Brian should have known better than to rouse Adam’s anger.
Clear the mind. Breathe. Think of nothing.
Down the side of the building he came, dropping from ledge to ledge, until at last he reached the ground.
When he landed, Warg Daddy reached out a meaty palm and gave him a hearty slap on the back. ‘You did it,’ he said, and Adam could have sworn that the Leader of the Pack had admiration in his voice.
‘Well done, Adam,’ said Snakebite, taking the coil of detonator wire from him.
While Adam had been putting his gymnastic skills to good use, the Wolf Brothers had been busy, priming the other bombs around the base of the building. Now they were all ready to detonate.
They had to be quick. The next foot patrol would be along shortly, and high above, the sound of the helicopter had grown to an intensity that indicated it was just about ready to take off. They had only seconds to spare.
Snakebite pushed the button on the detonator box. For a second there was silence. Then a huge explosion ripped through the night. A red fireball ignited in the sky, followed quickly by a second thunderous explosion as the freshly-refuelled Lynx went up in a ball of yellow flames. Even at ground level they felt the wave of heat from the rooftop inferno.
The sound of tearing metal followed as the helipad tipped sideways, its support struts twisting and buckling under their own weight. Broken girders and pipes began to fall from on high, and then the twisted wreck of the helicopter itself toppled over the edge of the building and plummeted to the ground on the far side of the hospital.
Simultaneously, Snakebite detonated the incendiary bombs that the Brothers had placed around the edges of the hospital, and a great curtain of flame roared up the sides of the building, engulfing it in fire, shattering glass windows and sending tongues of orange flames deep inside.
The plan had worked, just as Snakebite had promised. They had done the very last thing the soldiers were expecting. Instead of entering the building to free the prisoners, they had set the hospital itself ablaze. Now all they had to do was wait.
Above them the moon emerged at last from behind its silvery veil and Adam felt its cold light caressing his face. After the tension of the climb, the moonlight brought a soothing calm. Hair began to sprout from his skin as the change came once more. It had been a month and he had almost forgotten the delicious agony of becoming a wolf.
Chapter Eighty-Two
High Street, Brixton Hill, South London, wolf moon
The sound of the single gunshot echoed loudly around the High Street. The body of the butcher lay dead in the middle of the street, a bullet wound to his head. Curtains twitched in the windows of nearby houses but no one dared step outside.
‘Shit,’ said Dean, raising his rifle to fire.
Liz grabbed at the barrel of his gun. ‘No!’ she hissed. ‘My dad’s right in the firing line.’ The man who’d killed the butcher had lowered his gun again. T
he men exchanged words and her father began moving forward again, the wooden crate in his arms. The immediate danger had passed, but if Dean started shooting, her father’s chances of getting out alive were minimal.
‘How are we going to do it then?’ asked Dean. ‘They’re likely to kill him when they’re done, just like they killed his friend.’
Dean had a point, but opening fire now wasn’t the answer. ‘We can’t just go in all guns blazing,’ she said.
‘What then?’
‘We’ll negotiate.’ She stood up, making herself visible over the top of the wall. She wished now she’d had the foresight to put on a bullet-proof vest. ‘Drop your guns!’ she shouted, trying to sound a lot more confident than she felt. ‘You are surrounded by armed police officers.’ She held the Glock out in front of her.
The three armed men looked in her direction and dropped back cautiously, taking cover around the side of the delivery van.
‘It’s working,’ said Liz. ‘Show them the assault rifle.’
Dean got to his feet too and pointed the G36 in the men’s direction.
‘Drop your weapons!’ he shouted.
The men stood still, watching and waiting. They didn’t seem frightened, just wary. One of them, a tall broad-chested man with thick grey hair walked calmly over to Kevin and held a gun to his temple. ‘All right,’ he called back in a heavy Eastern European accent. ‘Show yourselves, then.’
Dean cursed. ‘They’re calling our bluff,’ he said. ‘They’ve guessed it’s just the two of us.’
‘They can’t know for certain,’ said Liz. ‘They’re just trying their luck.’ She shouted again to the armed men. ‘Drop your weapons and release your prisoner! You are surrounded by firearms officers.’
The tall man dragged Kevin into the middle of the street and stood behind him, the gun at his head. ‘It’s difficult to surround someone when there are just two of you,’ he called. ‘Now drop your weapons and put your hands in the air, unless you want this one to die too.’ He shook Kevin by the arm.
‘What now?’ whispered Dean.
‘We have no choice. Do as he says.’ Liz bent down and carefully placed the Glock on the ground in front of her. She stood again, raising her hands above her head. ‘Do it!’ she said to Dean.
She could tell he hated it, but he obeyed her command, putting the rifle down and holding his hands high.
‘That’s good,’ called the man who held the gun to Kevin’s head. ‘Now stand back away from your weapons.’
The other two men came over and grabbed the guns. The barrel of a handgun jabbed Liz in the small of her back. ‘Move it,’ said the man who had taken her Glock. She started walking over to the van. Dean and the other man followed close behind.
‘Sit down there,’ said the tall man, pointing to a spot on the pavement near the van. ‘Don’t move and don’t talk. You can watch while we finish loading.’ He released her father from his grasp. ‘That means you, Kevin,’ he said. ‘Load the last of the crates. And don’t try any funny business. You saw what happened to Gary.’
‘Okay, Zoran,’ said Kevin. ‘Just one more crate to go. Then you’ll have cleaned me out completely.’ He shot Liz an exasperated look.
‘That’s how I like things,’ said Zoran. ‘No loose ends to trip me up.’ He reached out an arm to stop Kevin, grabbing hold of him and turning him to face Liz. ‘Talking of loose ends, do you know this woman?’ He pointed at Liz with the gun.
‘No,’ said Kevin. ‘Never seen her before.’
Liz turned away, but Zoran had seen the way Kevin had looked at her. The man scanned Kevin’s face closely. ‘I think you two do know each other,’ he said eventually. ‘In fact, I think I can see a family resemblance. Who is she? Your daughter?’
‘What?’ said Kevin, doing his best to look surprised. ‘Come on, my daughter, a copper? How likely is that?’
Zoran smiled. ‘That would be funny,’ he agreed. ‘So if she’s not your daughter, you won’t mind if I shoot her?’ He trained his gun on Liz.
‘No! Don’t shoot her!’ said Kevin. ‘All right, all right, I admit it. She’s my daughter. But what difference does that make?’
‘Oh, it makes a big difference,’ said Zoran. ‘Like I told you, I hate loose ends. And there’s no end looser than an armed copper with a personal grudge against me. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep very easily knowing she might be coming after me. What do you think?’
‘No,’ begged Kevin. ‘You mustn’t harm her. Please, I swear on my life she won’t come after you. You mustn’t do anything to hurt her.’
Zoran turned to his two compatriots. ‘What do you think, boys? Shall we let the nice police officers go home? Or would you sleep easier knowing they were safely out of harm’s way?’
The two men said nothing in reply. They knew a rhetorical question when they heard one. The thin man raised his gun and pointed it at Liz.
‘Kill her,’ ordered Zoran. ‘Kill them both.’
Chapter Eighty-Three
Brixton Village, South London, wolf moon
James had hidden himself in the shrubbery at the front of the house to wait. He’d watched the front door open, spilling warm light into the darkness. Melanie had stood in the light, talking to a man inside the house. James couldn’t see the man, but Melanie had spoken to him like a long-lost friend or a lover. A few seconds later she was inside and the door had closed behind her, swallowing the light.
James waited patiently outside.
A thin layer of snow dusted the garden. It had stopped falling now, but dark snow clouds still drifted heavily overhead. It was already past moonrise. He wondered if the wolf moon would put in an appearance tonight. He could feel its gentle pull even behind the curtain of clouds. It tugged insistently at every nerve ending, drawing him with a power he could not resist.
He hadn’t made a decision to come out tonight. The decision had been taken for him, as if forces larger than himself were at work. Whether it was the moon, or God, or fate, he couldn’t say. And if the clouds cleared before he returned home, he would change. He had no choice in the matter.
But he still had one choice. Whether to kill, or not.
‘I won’t,’ he whispered. For a moment it seemed as if Samuel’s ghost crouched beside him, a swirling translucent form in the darkness. Or it might have been his breath in the freezing night air. ‘I won’t kill,’ he said. ‘I promise not to. Whatever happens, I will shed no blood tonight.’
He didn’t want to think about the consequences of not hunting. How long could he survive without feeding, without the sweet taste of meat and the trickle of hot blood between his lips? Already he had grown weak and tired. A whole month had passed since he had last tasted flesh. Could he endure a second month? A third? There was no way of knowing. He needed to take things one step at a time. And for now that meant helping Melanie to rescue Ben.
A shout came from the basement room of the house. A man bellowed in anger, followed by a scream. James jumped to his feet and rushed to the front door. ‘Melanie?’ he called, banging his fist against the wood. ‘Melanie, are you there?’
‘No,’ said a cold voice from behind him. ‘But I am. Don’t say you’ve forgotten me already, James. I haven’t forgotten you. I never will.’
He froze and turned. At the iron gate stood a young woman dressed in jeans, her face shadowed by a hooded jacket. From within the shadows her eyes shone blue and cold.
‘Leanna.’ He had hoped never to hear her icy voice again, had fooled himself that he was free of her. ‘What are you doing here?’
She opened the gate and stepped onto the short path that led up to the house. The wrought metal gate slammed shut behind her. ‘Believe it or not, I’m here for you, James,’ she said. ‘One of my watchers spotted you nearby, so I waited for you to return, and followed you and your pretty friend right here. Are you really so surprised to see me? I thought you might have guessed.’
The Wolf Brother. James had been right to fear him when he�
�d seen him watching outside his parents’ house. But he hadn’t thought Leanna would follow him tonight. He’d been stupid. He should have known that she would never let him go that easily. ‘What do you want from me?’ he asked her.
‘Oh, just one thing,’ she said. ‘Vengeance.’ She threw back her hood, and thick blonde hair tumbled over her crystal eyes. She brushed the hair aside. One side of her face was hideously burned and blistered. She turned it toward him so he could see.
James recoiled at the sight of her.
Leanna turned her cold gaze on him, blue eyes flashing angrily. The skin around her right eye was red and cracked, like a lava flow from a volcano. ‘Horrifies you, does it?’ she snarled. ‘Think how I must feel, seeing this every day in the mirror. The only thing that makes it tolerable is knowing that one day the person who did this to me will suffer far worse than she could possibly imagine.’ She smiled. ‘But first I’ll take my revenge on you. You’re a traitor, James. A traitor to me, and to your species. And it’s time for you to pay the price.’
‘I’m no traitor,’ said James defiantly.
Leanna’s eyes narrowed and seemed to become even chillier, if that was possible. ‘You took the side of humans against wolves,’ she accused.
‘They were just kids, like me,’ said James. ‘They didn’t deserve to die. I did the right thing. I would do it again.’
‘They were prey,’ she said flatly. ‘Nothing more.’ She began to walk up the path toward him.
She meant to kill him, that was plain enough.
He could fight her, but he was so tired of fighting, tired of praying to a silent God and groping in the dark for guidance. He could offer himself to her instead. It would be easier than struggling on, pointlessly, day after day, growing ever weaker. It would be easier than battling against the wolf blood that surged inside him even now, lusting for blood, always lusting after human blood. And he could be with Samuel again, now and forever.
Lycanthropic (Book 2): Wolf Moon (The Rise of the Werewolves) Page 31
