Quinn kicks the door as Archer batters it with the club. Two uniforms arrive with a battering ram and smash open the door with one hit. They crash through and Archer rushes inside to the three cabinets. Two have claimed their victims and the third waits to swallow Jamie. A makeshift studio with cameras and lights film the scene. There is no sign of anyone else. No indication the killer is here.

Archer drops the golf club. ‘Stay calm, Jamie. Don’t give up.’

She sees a stepladder lying on the floor behind the cabinets. Quinn has already spotted it. He grabs it and sets it up behind Jamie.

‘I need a knife,’ he calls. One of the officers gives him a small utility blade.

Quinn climbs up and begins to cut through the rope but Jamie is pale and weak and seems to be losing consciousness from the fumes of formaldehyde.

‘Stay awake, Jamie!’ cries Archer. To her relief Quinn cuts through the rope but he is unable to hold onto Jamie and he starts to slip into the vitrine.

‘No!’ cries Archer. Quinn struggles to grab him, but it’s too late.

Jamie’s eyes open and he peers at her through the yellow glow of the liquid.

With her heart in her mouth, Archer grabs the golf club and runs at the vitrine, swinging with all her strength. The glass cabinet shudders at the blow. She swings again and again and again, crying out in frustration until the toughened glass shatters and collapses. Jamie tumbles out, choking and coughing as he falls at her feet in a river of chemical fluid and shattered glass.

She crouches down beside him, easing him off the tiny shards that have cut into his skin. In the distance she hears the sound of a siren. She has never felt such relief.

Chapter 45

45

ARCHER TRAVELS TO THE HOSPITAL in the ambulance as the siren shrieks at the London traffic to move aside. Jamie is lying on the cot, trembling, eyes closed.

‘Where are we going?’ Archer asks the medic, a pot-bellied Welshman with thin mousy hair.

‘The Queen Elizabeth. We should be there in under ten minutes. Did you swallow any of the liquid?’ he asks Jamie.

Jamie shakes his head but begins to gag. The quick-thinking medic grabs a yellow plastic bin from under the cot and places it beside Jamie’s head.

‘Puke in here,’ he says, gently.

Jamie throws up into the bin. The sour reek of vomit and formaldehyde fills the small space.

Archer prays this journey will be over soon.

The medic wipes Jamie’s mouth. Jamie looks toward Archer. The whites of his eyes are blood red, giving him an unsettling demonic gaze.

A weak smile creases his face.

‘Rest your head back,’ says the medic. ‘I’m going pour some solution into your eyes so please just relax.’