The must-read new blockbuster thriller

by Tony Kent

  ‘You’re looking a little beaten up, Michael.’

  The sarcasm in Haversume’s voice was intentional as he came to a halt, ten yards from where Michael Devlin stood. He placed a hand on Harry’s small, shivering shoulder as he spoke. A reminder of the power he held.

  ‘I do hope we can settle this without the need for any more bloodshed.’

  ‘You started the violence, Tony,’ Michael replied. His attitude was defiant. ‘You’re the animal here.’

  ‘I think Sergeant Best would disagree. What you left of him was hardly the work of a civilised man.’

  ‘He didn’t leave me a choice. But you didn’t have to do any of this. You’re a murdering piece of opportunistic shit.’

  ‘Opportunistic?’ Haversume was annoyed. Michael’s choice of words had stung. ‘Have you any idea how much planning goes into bringing down a government? Any idea at all?’

  ‘A great deal, I’d imagine. But then you had plenty of time on your hands to plan it, didn’t you? What with only being a backbencher.’

  Haversume saw the comment for what it was. An attempt to goad him. It would not work.

  ‘I don’t have time for silly games, boy. Just tell me where the recording is.’

  ‘The others first.’

  Michael indicated beyond Sarah and Harry. Towards the cabin.

  ‘The deal was everyone.’

  ‘I don’t have time for more demands, Michael.’ Haversume’s patience was wearing thin. ‘Give me the recording now or people die.’

  ‘You want it, you’ll do as I ask. Once I know the other three are here and that they’re OK. Then we’ll talk about the recording.’

  ‘You truly are an intolerable nuisance, Michael.’

  Haversume was unsure if he should be angry or amused; Michael Devlin really had proved himself an absurdly determined irritant. He turned to face Sarah, forced down her gag and stabbed a finger in Michael’s direction.

  ‘Tell him.’

  He grabbed her by the back of her neck and forced her forwards.

  ‘I said, “tell him”!’

  ‘They’re in there, Michael,’ Sarah spluttered. ‘They’re safe, they’re not hurt.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Haversume spat the words as he threw Sarah aside. She stumbled heavily to the floor, the binding around her wrists preventing her from cushioning her fall.

  Haversume turned back to Michael.

  ‘Now where’s the recording?’

  ‘It’s here.’

  ‘I want to see it. Now.’

  Michael hesitated. Haversume thought he knew why. The recording was the endgame. Once revealed, Michael’s hand was played and what would follow would be out of his control.

  It was understandable that Michael would want more time, but Haversume would not allow it. He trained his gun on Harry as a final threat.

  ‘OK, Tony.’ Michael raised his open hands in response. ‘I have it here. Take the gun away from the boy.’

  Michael reached into his jacket pocket. He moved slowly. With so many armed men around him, a devastating domino effect would begin if his movement caused a shot. Care was needed, and it was with care that Michael now revealed Mullen’s recording device.

  Michael held the device in his right fist. Still avoiding sudden movements, Michael slowly put out his arm, opened his hand and held it out for Haversume to see.

  ‘This is it. This is what Mullen had.’

  ‘Play it.’

  ‘I’m not your butler, Tony. Play it yourself.’

  Michael threw the device to Haversume, who caught it in mid-air.

  A single glance at the device brought a smile to Haversume’s face. He recognised the technology, and it told him two things. First, Michael had not been bluffing. This equipment could reverse the effect of the voice modulator. Whoever was responsible for handing this over to Mullen was going to answer to him once all this was done.

  And the second thing? Well, that would depend . . .

  Haversume turned the device over and looked closely at its underside.

  His smile widened.

  ‘You haven’t even listened to this.’

  The words were not a question. And they made the colour drain from Michael’s face.

  ‘What? Of course I’ve listened—’

  ‘Don’t bother lying to me, Michael.’ Haversume’s smile lingered as he held up the device. ‘This is military hardware. It’s designed to be totally secure. There’s only one way to make it work and you haven’t done it. I can tell from the device. But, more importantly, if you haven’t heard what’s on this then you can’t have re-recorded it, either. Which means this is the only copy. I imagine that was another lie you were going to tell me, wasn’t it, Michael?’

  Haversume made no effort to keep the triumph from his voice. He had won. He had the device in his hand, and the only threat Michael could have made – that there were copies of the recordings, ready to be delivered in the event of their deaths – was gone.

  It left Haversume with no need to wait.

  He raised his right hand high above his head, opening and closing his fist. A very obvious prearranged signal.

  But a signal that achieved nothing. No bullet. No gunshot.

  Haversume’s confidence wavered. Joshua should have fired.

  It made him freeze.

  Luckily for Haversume, he did not seem to be alone. For some reason Michael and Liam seemed rooted to the spot. It left all of their followers without leadership. Without direction.

  Twenty armed men, facing each other in the clearing. All needed to know their next move. Needed to know if they were to fight or to flee. Needed someone to make a decision.

  In the hills above them, someone did.

  EIGHTY-THREE

  Haversume’s raised arm movement could not have been clearer. It was a signal, and that signal could only mean one thing.

  Michael had known that the moment would come. He had thought he was prepared for it. But to stand and watch the signal that could end his life? To be so utterly helpless in that moment? So totally reliant on Dempsey’s success? He had not been prepared for that, and so he had not known how to react when instant death did not come.

  The sound of shots rang out from the hillside, breaking everyone’s reverie. There was no stopping what would happen now.

  With Sarah and Harry so exposed, Michael’s instincts kicked in.

  He broke into a sprint. Haversume was just ten yards away. Clearly he hadn’t anticipated Michael’s charge. He started to raise his pistol, but had no time to use it.

  Michael’s punch was thrown as he still ran. His movement made the blow clumsy, but his momentum made it powerful. It landed on Haversume’s jaw before he could pull the trigger and sent him stumbling to the floor.

  There was no time to follow up on the blow. Michael scooped Harry into his arms, grabbed Sarah and hauled them both into the nearby foliage.

  From behind the cover of an oversized tree trunk Michael turned and looked back into the clearing. And he was not happy with what he saw.

  Both groups had fallen back to their own vehicles for cover. From there they were firing wildly in each other’s direction, each bullet having just the barest chance of hitting its target. What they had hoped would be a quickly won battle was already becoming a hopelessly entrenched war. One from which Haversume could easily escape.

  Michael would not allow that to happen.

  He turned back to Sarah and Harry and took a moment to free them from their restraints. He then carefully removed Harry’s gag, before finally turning back to Sarah. There was no time for Michael to explain what was happening around them. No chance to reassure them. If they were to survive then Liam would need every one of his men. Including Michael.

  ‘Stay here and stay down.’

  It was all that Michael could say.

  Without another word he pulled the 9mm Smith & Wesson M&P he had been given by Liam and moved back through the surrounding undergrowth until
he was level with the three off-road vehicles. A group of Haversume’s men were behind the first, safe from the guns of Liam’s men. But not safe from Michael. To them he was invisible.

  From here Michael could break the deadlock.

  He tightened his grip on his weapon as he moved the final few yards, to where he would have the clearest shot. Just the wrong side of the undergrowth, the spot left Michael more exposed than was ideal. But one final look back towards Sarah and Harry justified the risk.

  It was their safety that most motivated him as he pulled the trigger.

  One man went down from Michael’s first shot. A stream of blood seeped from the open wound on the man’s neck. He fired four more shots in quick succession, taking out a second man and causing a third to dive for cover.

  It was an effective attack, but a hazardous one. With his attention on his own targets, there was no way Michael could have noticed as one of Haversume’s men emerged from behind a second vehicle and opened fire.

  In Michael’s career he had heard pain described in many ways. Particularly the pain of a gunshot. He had heard recollections of a burning bite. And of a strange feeling where the victim’s strength has been sapped, with their energy and even their ability to think clearly drained away. These sensations were exactly what Michael felt now as a single bullet passed through his shoulder and forced him to drop to his knees.

  He looked up, his mind already hazy from the effect of the bullet. The shooter he had not spotted was now striding towards him, his weapon raised. No doubt ready to deliver a final barrage of lead.

  But before he could do so a bullet burst through the skull of Michael’s would-be killer. Michael saw two more bullets take the lives of two more of Haversume’s men, and realised they were coming from the hillside, not the clearing.

  Joe Dempsey.

  Dempsey’s lethal, long-distant shots were devastating Haversume’s men. They had abandoned the cover of their vehicles, which had proved useless as protection against the trained sniper. This had in turn made them easy prey for Liam’s people, and so what had been a battle was fast becoming a massacre.

  The clearing was a vision of hell. Michael saw that as he turned a full 360. All around it were bodies, cut down with bloody abandon. Horrific sights that Michael hardly registered. His focus was both absolute and elsewhere, looking for one man and one man only.

  And then, through the smoke and the gore and the darkness, Michael found him.

  Haversume was crouched behind the five-foot stump of what must have once been a vast Irish oak. He seemed to be paying no attention at all to the death of his men, concentrating only on keeping his body behind the oak, out of the line of fire.

  The sight released even more of Michael’s adrenaline, sending renewed energy surging through his veins. It dulled the pain of his open wound.

  He would not let Haversume escape unscathed.

  Michael ignored the danger that was all around him. The lessening but still heavy gunfire. He strode through it, his Smith & Wesson aimed ahead of him and his finger repeatedly squeezing its trigger.

  Four times Michael fired before Haversume knew he was there. Each bullet had dug into the trunk behind which Haversume had hidden; the most effective shield the clearing had to offer.

  The fourth shot had come close, thudding to a halt just inches from Haversume’s head. But it had also caught his attention. Peering around the trunk, Haversume saw Michael’s approach.

  Michael would never know what cold mental calculation compelled Haversume to do what he did next, but he would always regret it nonetheless. Because Haversume did not choose to fire from his hiding place. And nor did he choose to wait until Michael was close, to allow for a better shot.

  What he chose to do was run. Full sprint, in the direction of the cabin.

  Haversume took off with a speed Michael had not anticipated, firing behind himself as he did so. Bullet after bullet, all fired over his shoulder at a rate that denied him any accuracy but which nevertheless forced Michael to dive for cover, stopping him from firing back.

  He forced himself back to his feet, ignoring the pain from his wound, in time to see Haversume enter the cabin and close its door behind him. Where the rest of the Lawrence family still were.

  Michael ran towards the cabin. Haversume would not hurt anyone else he cared about.

  Liam spotted his blood-soaked brother through the gun smoke.

  Luck had drawn Liam’s gaze to Michael’s lumbering, injured figure as he slowly rose from the floor in the distance. At the same moment – in the same line of sight – he caught a glimpse of Haversume, gun in hand, as he entered the cabin.

  Instinctively, Liam followed after his brother, knowing the danger he was about to step into. Liam ignored the final shots being exchanged around him, got to his feet and left the safe cover the cars had provided. As he ran he could feel the heat of bullets as they passed him. He was now a moving target, drawing fire as his steps turned into a sprint.

  Liam moved faster than he had in twenty years, driven by the need to catch Michael before he could reach the cabin door. For an instant Liam thought he might fail. That he might lack the legs to cover the distance. But as Michael stumbled on the cabin’s first step he felt a final rush of adrenaline and found one more gear.

  There was no hesitation. Michael reached the cabin first. Dazed, exhausted and losing blood fast, he pushed open the unsecured door without a thought to his own safety.

  Liam was not so naive.

  EIGHTY-FOUR

  Michael’s eyes had no time to adjust to the cabin’s darkness before he was pushed to the floor by an impact from behind. A shot rang out. His first thought was that he had been hit a second time. Mentally examining himself for the wound, Michael stopped when he registered that the impact that had taken him down had come not from the front. It had come from behind.

  The realisation increased his panic. Terrified, he forced himself to look towards the doorway.

  ‘Get up, Michael.’

  Haversume might as well have not spoken. His words had no effect on Michael, whose eyes were fixed in horror on Liam, motionless on the cabin floor.

  ‘I said, get up!’

  This time Haversume shouted. Every last vestige of the calm, sophisticated conspirator had been abandoned. He manhandled Claire ahead of himself at gunpoint, pushing his one remaining advantage.

  None of which registered with Michael.

  It was several seconds before he could move. His body refused to obey the orders it received from his brain. Shock had shut him down. The paralysis did not last, but it was not external stimulus that broke it. It was the need to reach his brother.

  Michael dragged his own failing body to Liam’s side and carefully rolled him onto his back.

  Blood was seeping from a single hole in Liam’s chest, with a deep red pool of it now on the floor where he had lain. Michael refused to acknowledge either thing. All that mattered was that Liam was alive.

  ‘Michael, I have Claire.’

  Haversume’s voice was now desperate. Almost pleading for a response.

  He did not get one.

  ‘Liam, you’re gonna be OK.’

  Michael ignored Haversume’s interruptions. His only thought was his brother.

  ‘Don’t worry. You’re gonna be OK.’

  ‘No, Mikey. No I’m not.’

  Liam’s words were strained. Almost not there. They were pushed out between irregular, painful breaths. And yet they were more realistic than any Michael could muster.

  ‘I’m finished.’

  ‘No. No, Liam, you’re not. You’re going to be fine.’

  Michael spoke through a mask of tears. Common sense was beginning to defeat his refusal to accept the inevitable.

  ‘You get up now. Get up.’

  Liam smiled and slowly lifted his hand to his brother’s face. He gently wiped the tears from Michael’s cheek. It said what neither brother could. And it used up the very last of Liam’s strength.

/>   Michael felt his brother’s callused hand against his skin and it blocked out the rest of the world. He did not notice that the gunfire outside had died. That the cabin entrance was beginning to fill with Liam’s men. That none of them – not even the immediately devastated O’Neil – could bring themselves to come closer. Michael noticed none of this. All that mattered was the dying body he held in his arms.

  His rational mind told him they had little time. But, for all his eloquence, he did not have the words.

  ‘Liam, I, I.’ Michael had no idea of what he was trying to say. ‘Liam.’

  Unable to say what he wanted his brother to know, Michael joined him in silence. He was content just to feel the heat of Liam’s hand on his face. But even that comfort could not last; Liam’s arm was weakening, his hand beginning to falter. Michael took it in his own palm and pressed it to his cheek, where tears streamed through Liam’s fingers as the light disappeared from his eyes.

  As he felt the final strength disappear from Liam’s hand, Michael pulled his brother’s heavy body towards him and hugged it with all of his own. An embrace he wanted to last for ever.

  For Haversume this seemed to be a step too far. Gripping Claire more forcefully by the nape of her neck, he turned his gun on Michael.

  When he spoke it was with a voice that could no longer be ignored.

  ‘Enough is enough,’ he shouted, his self-control gone. ‘Get to your feet and tell these fuckers to get out of my way before I put a bullet in her head. Pull yourself together and do as I say. Now!’

  Michael looked up, almost quizzically, as if seeing the scene around him for the very first time. He registered Haversume’s threat, and then noticed what was left of Liam’s men crowded around the cabin door.

  It made Haversume’s demand clear.

  With Liam’s body still warm in his arms Michael could no longer feel the anger – the passion – that had been driving him on. What was left was an empty shell with nothing left to fight for.