'You promised,' he hissed. 'You told her you'd take care of it,' he gasped, the air whooshing out between compressed lips. Spinning, he placed his forehead against the rough bark of the oak, pressing forward until the pain bloomed. Bursts of light fired off inside his head like tiny supernovas, every one a memory that brought heartache, anger and more pain. Shaun held on to the tree, as a man caught in a hurricane, desperate to avoid being sucked up into the nothingness. The vortex roared around his head trying to pull him free from the anchor of reality, and it was so tempting to let go and give it all up.
'But you promised,' he cried, before slumping to his knees, still clinging to the trunk; the whirlwind in his head slowly began to abate, until he could hear the sound of the branches overhead clattering together like dry bones shaken in a sack.
Shaun stayed on his knees like a man in deep prayer, until his legs throbbed with cramp and then he pushed himself slowly to his feet and grabbed the rucksack before moving away between the trees, a shadow blending with the darkness.
All the training came flooding back like a long-lost friend. For the first time in what felt like an age he felt strangely alive, on manoeuvres, on familiar ground, a man on a mission.
95
Robert yawned and rubbed at his eyes.
'Get up, Robert.'
'Five more minutes,' he felt surprisingly warm and snug curled tight to the base of the tree.
'Do you think they've been idle while you've been asleep,' the voice was full of disgust, like a pushy parent who finds their only child has been slacking with their chores.
'What?'
'Move now or they'll catch you,' the voice paused as if listening for something. 'They're coming.'
Robert sat up, for the first time ever he could detect a hint of fear in the voice and the sound of it loosened his bladder. Leaping to his feet, he looked around in desperation, he was lost, and they were closing in, creeping ever nearer, hunting him down.
'Which way?' he heard the quiver in his voice and despised himself for it.
'Run!' The voice bellowed and Robert dashed forward, his legs thrashing through the tall grass, arms dragging at thin air. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the heavy sound of a barking dog. The realisation of what it meant took his breath away and he stumbled to his knees.
'Oh sweet, Jesus, they're here!'
'Get up, you snivelling cunt!'
Robert scrambled back to his feet and set off again, bursting from the trees and onto the cinder path.
'Which way?' he could feel his bladder spasm and tried to hold it, when the animal roared again, Robert felt warm piss running down his leg.
'Left!'
He spun around and started to run.
'I said left, moron!'
Turning in confusion, Robert shook his head and set off running, his trainers squelching as he ploughed along the path. Everything felt disjointed, his arms and legs thrashed in confusion. It was as if he'd regressed to a child who'd only just learned the art of walking, his coordination in chaos.
'Listen to me Robert, take four of the tablets.'
'What?' he gasped.
'Take four,' the voiced urged.
Robert dipped a hand into his pocket and yanked out the box, pulling the sleeve free; he popped two and threw them into his mouth.
'Again!'
'Are you sure?'
'Do it!'
Robert nodded and swallowed the pills; his fingers scrabbled with the packet as he released two more. Chewing, he began to run again, and then the medication howled through his head in a hurricane blast. Miraculously his limbs began to feel as if they actually belonged to him; his legs began to take longer strides, the arms punching in perfect unison. He would have laughed aloud but his brain was moving too fast to allow something as trivial as laughter to interrupt its wonderful synchronicity. Trees flashed by in a blur of brown and green, the ground beneath his feet felt non-existent as if he were running on air.
'Turn right!'
Robert didn't hesitate, he cut right without missing a beat, his stride growing ever longer. Every breath seemed to fill him, making him feel lighter, if he could just push a little harder, concentrate a little more then he felt as if he could leave the earth and take to the skies.
Head down, he gritted his teeth and ploughed on.
Lasser allowed himself a tight smile as they ran – he could see Bannister starting to overheat in his fancy waterproofs.
Paul Currie was being dragged along by the dog, the big animal had its snout to the ground, head sweeping from side to side as it followed the scent. Everyone was keeping speech to a minimum as they fought for breath.
Lasser didn't think he'd ever been as wet. Suddenly the dog cut to the right and bulleted off down a steep embankment.
'Max!' Currie bellowed, then his feet shot from beneath him and he hit the ground hard, trying desperately to cling onto the leash. 'Bacon!' he screamed.
Immediately the dog stopped and sat, its sides heaving, tongue lolling. 'Daft bastard,' Currie bawled as he clambered to his feet.
Lasser grinned at him. 'I could just do a bacon butty, Paul, if you're offering?'
Bannister snatched the zip down on his jacket, his face glistening with a mixture of rainwater and sweat. 'Try and keep the animal under some sort of control will you, Paul?'
'Sorry, he's young and a bit keen.'
Of the three of them, Coyle looked the most relaxed; she smiled at Lasser as if they were jogging buddies out for a Sunday morning jaunt.
'Right, come on, we haven't got all day,' Bannister flapped a hand before dragging it across his face.
'Right, sir,' walking to the dog Currie ruffled its ears and pulled a small bag from his pocket. Lasser caught the faint whiff of smoked bacon, his stomach rumbled as he watched the dog demolish a rasher of streaky in a matter of seconds.
'Seek, lad,' Paul said.
As they set off along the waterlogged path, Lasser heaved in a lungful of dripping air. Every few steps one of his feet would sink ankle deep in mud, his clothes hung like wet washing, the whole thing was a total nightmare.
'Left!'
Robert was flying, he didn't need the voice giving him directions, it was as if he had inbuilt satnav.
Sprinting to the left, his eyes sprang open in surprise. In the distance, he could see a figure walking along the path; see the long, dark hair tied back in a ponytail. His runaway brain filled in the gaps, black coat, dark jeans, and green wellington boots. His lips drew back in a snarl of pleasure, his right hand dipped into the pocket of the flapping jacket and came out brandishing the thin knife.
Fifty yards and he thought he could detect the faint aroma of her scent, the smell of roses mixed with pussy juice, the erection in his trousers began to grow, all thoughts of being pursued vanished; there was only the solitary figure, only the fun to be had.
Thirty yards and he felt like screaming, he wanted her to turn, to see him bulleting towards her, to know she was seconds from death.
'Stop!'
Robert didn't hear the voice, the gears in his brain were clattering, the blood rising, new sap in old bones. All that mattered was getting to the girl.
'Robert, stop!' the voice hissed.
Twenty yards and he saw the umbrella pop up above her head.
Ten yards and the semen flooded up his cock before spurting into his filthy jeans, he grinned in ecstasy, his right hand drew back.
'Kill her and it's over!'
The words reared in his head, pulsating through his brain in flashing neon, like bare electrical wires touching, the crackle of fuses being blown.
'Touch her and you die!'
Robert staggered, arms fighting for balance, he was five yards behind, he could see her ears plugged with the small headphones. She was weak, vulnerable, gagging for it.
'Turn right!'
He could have cried, as he passed within four feet of her before veering off course and sprinting away.
Although he could never b
e sure, he thought he heard the voice inside breath a heavy sigh of relief.
96
Shaun waited behind the second line of trees, the rucksack by his side, eyes scanning the field, waiting for the last of the washed-out daylight to vanish. Already the back of the houses were becoming indistinct. There were twelve in all; one or two already had lights shining at the window. Sarah Palmer's house was lit up like a grotto. When he saw the shape appear at the bedroom window, he smiled and pulled out his mobile.
97
It felt as if they'd been running for an eternity, Lasser was just unsure which one of them was going to be the first to collapse under the strain. Glancing at Coyle, he was sickened to see her looking fresh as a daisy and Currie had the advantage of being dragged along by the German Shepherd. Bannister's face was puce, the Berghaus jacket thrown open, flapping as he ran, a perfect match for his mouth that gaped wide as he tried to draw breath.
Suddenly the dog skidded to a halt. Bannister threw Lasser a sour look before placing his hands onto his knees, bent double he tried to draw air into his punished lungs. Lasser felt like collapsing to his knees, gritting his teeth, he stayed upright and tried his best to appear nonchalant.
The dog began to sniff at the tall grass that bordered the path, steam rose from its pelt and then it bulleted to the left ploughing through the foliage. Coyle hitched up her belt and Lasser grabbed her sleeve, she turned and he saw the flash of anger light up her eyes.
'I'm not really into ladies first,' he said before following the dog and handler into the wet grass.
Thirty yards in they came across a patch of flattened grass around the base of a twisted elm, the dog snuffled at the ground, tail thrashing.
'Good lad,' the goodie bag made another appearance. Another rasher of bacon consumed in record time. 'He's been here,' Currie said confidently.
Bannister nodded, still too knackered to form any words.
'Max, seek.'
The dog licked its lips and set off again back through the trampled grass and onto the path; it barked once, paws digging in the dirt, keen to be off again.
Currie looked at the DCI who drew in a deep breath and nodded and then they were running again, the light beneath the trees had all but vanished, the shadows bleeding together until everything looked indistinct and grainy.
Lasser could feel his brain bouncing as his tired feet pounded the shale path; he was beyond exhausted, beyond cold, he felt like vomiting yet he stumbled on. When the cramps in his legs began to throb, he thought about stopping but pride wouldn't let him. He knew Bannister felt the same, like two boastful children each unwilling to admit defeat. The problem was that if they did come across Flynn hiding in the bushes then chances are he would probably slaughter them all, of course, they had the dog, but Lasser suddenly remembered the carcass of Connelly's pet and grimaced.
'Can we have a minute, sir?'
Lasser almost dropped to his knees in surprise. Susan Coyle was slowing down, and he could hear her ragged breathing like torn bellows trying to draw in air.
Bannister staggered to a halt. 'Thank Christ for that,' he gasped and spluttered a laugh. It was too dark to see his features but Lasser caught a flash of white teeth.
Currie reigned in the dog and told it to sit. For the best part of five minutes nobody spoke, four people gasping for breath, until amazingly their breathing began to synchronise and slow down. Occasionally someone would sigh in the dark as if they'd just finished a delicious meal or enjoyed a night of amazing sex. The dog broke wind and the air was suddenly filled with a foul stink.
'Jesus, Susan, you could have warned us,' Lasser said, wafting a hand under his nose.
'Piss off, sir,' Coyle said and giggled.
'Does any bugger have any idea where we are?' Bannister asked.
'Somewhere between purgatory and the pearly gates,' Lasser mumbled.
'You should get more exercise, Lasser, it's ridiculous, a man of your age not being able to keep up…'
'Hang on…'
'For God's sake, Sergeant, relax, you're not the only one capable of taking the piss.'
Despite the darkness, Lasser could feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment.
'Now, Currie, we need to take things slowly. I don't want you dashing ahead, it's too dark and I don't fancy this bastard flying out of the bushes and going berserk with a blade.'
'Understood.'
'Nice and steady, no heroics.'
'Got it.'
'Right, let's get going.'
They set off at a brisk walk that soon changed into a jog, after five minutes they were running. Here we go again; Lasser thought and opened the taps.
Robert didn't hesitate, as soon as he saw the stream he ploughed into the water and began to splash his way upstream. In places, it rose as high as his knees, then it would become shallow again and he would pick up speed. The rain intensified, running down his face in a torrent; when his foot slipped on a submerged rock, he plunged headfirst into the running water, breaking free with a gasp. Under normal circumstances, he would have complained, cried at the unfairness of it all, but the medication was still rampant in his system, driving him on.
Picking himself up he started to run again, flying through the water until he reached a bend and then he leapt up the short bank and carried on. Free of the stream his speed increased, branches lashed at his face and he ignored them. Brambles snatched at his ankles, he ripped his legs free and barrelled on. He felt unstoppable, unbreakable, the blood thundered through his veins, feeding the muscles, driving away any sense of pain or tiredness. Beneath the surge of adrenalin, he knew he was closing in, getting ever closer to his quarry.
Erin's face shone at the forefront of his mind, like a beacon drawing him, he could see her pointing the phone at him, threatening to call the police. Snarling, he dashed through the undergrowth and suddenly he could see flickering lights in the distance. Miraculously, the trees began to thin out until he found himself sprinting across open ground, the rain torrential; cooling, cleansing rain.
'Slow down, Robert, you've done well.'
It seemed an age since he'd heard the voice and it took him a few seconds to understand the meaning of the words.
'Have they gone?' he gasped.
'They can't harm you now but you need to slow down, you need to think.'
Robert began to ease back; it felt as if someone had flicked the power-off switch, like a chunk of intricate machinery that continues to whir and spin until gradually it slows down and stops. Standing in the centre of the field, he drew in a deep breath and awaited instruction.
'Sorry sir, he's lost it,' Currie sounded distraught; they could hear the stream rushing past, morphing with the sound of the rain hissing through the trees.
They huddled together on the bank, like victims of a calamitous shipwreck.
Lasser heard Bannister sigh. 'Right, it's decision time, the bastard either went left or right.'
'We could always split up,' Coyle asked eagerly.
'As much as I applaud your enthusiasm Coyle, I'm a firm believer in safety in numbers…'
'But…'
'No ''but''s we stick together; don't forget the type of man we're dealing with. You won't be able to rationalise with him, he'll come out with all guns blazing, and I don't fancy gasping out my last breath in this shithole.'
Lasser rubbed his aching legs, wincing when he came across a particularly tender spot, 'So, which way?'
Even though it was dark, Lasser knew Bannister would be frowning, the tip of his tongue protruding from between his lips in concentration. 'Left, we might as well go with the flow.' Then they heard a splash as Bannister landed in the water. 'Come on in people the waters lovely.'
Lasser sighed and moved forward.
98
Sarah looked out into the darkness, she could see her reflection in the glass her faced twisted with anguish, her eyes haunted. 'What makes you think he'll turn up here?' she whispered.
'He made the effort to try
and find your friend; he slaughtered her husband, why would he do that if he didn't feel he had an axe to grind.'
Sarah grimaced at the choice of words. 'But…'
'How many police are in the house with you?'
She rested her forehead against the glass. 'Two.'
'I take it they can't spare anymore?'
'That's what the one in charge said, according to him he has dozens of officers out there trying to find him.'
'Right, I want you to try and get some rest and I promise you have nothing to worry about.'
'But what about you?'
'What do you mean?' he sounded genuinely puzzled by the question.
'Well if he does turn up, what are you going to do?'
She heard a snap down the phone, like a brittle branch being broke in two. 'You know what I'm going to do.'
'But look what he did to Erin's husband, he…'
'I've no concerns about this man, I made you a promise, and I don't intend to break it.'
Sarah closed her eyes, she felt bewildered, this whole conversation was surreal.
'So what happens when it's all over, will I see you again?'
'And why would you want to do that?'
The directness of the question threw her and Sarah struggled to find an answer that didn't sound infantile. 'I just don't want you to get into any trouble, not on my behalf.'
'Did you give the police my name, Sarah?'
She chewed her lip; she could feel the lies mounting up, pressing down like a self-inflicted crown of thorns. 'No.'
'Why not.'
'Because I didn't want them out there looking for you.'
'Listen to me; I don't care if they know my name. Once this is over I want you to tell them…'
'I can't do that,' her voice rose in anguish and she suddenly snapped her head around, scared that either Erin or the police had heard her outburst.
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