BooksBarbecue
Back The Game
Chapters (68)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. NOW
  4. One
  5. BEFORE
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. NOW
  26. Twenty-One
  27. BEFORE
  28. Twenty-Two
  29. Twenty-Three
  30. Twenty-Four
  31. Twenty-Five
  32. Twenty-Six
  33. Twenty-Seven
  34. Twenty-Eight
  35. Twenty-Nine
  36. Thirty
  37. Thirty-One
  38. Thirty-Two
  39. Thirty-three
  40. Thirty-Four
  41. Thirty-Five
  42. Thirty-Six
  43. Thirty-Seven
  44. Thirty-Eight
  45. NOW
  46. Thirty-Nine
  47. BEFORE
  48. Forty
  49. Forty-One
  50. Forty-Two
  51. Forty-three
  52. Forty-Four
  53. Forty-Five
  54. Forty-Six
  55. Forty-Seven
  56. Forty-Eight
  57. Forty-Nine
  58. Fifty
  59. Fifty-One
  60. NOW
  61. Fifty-Two
  62. Fifty-Three
  63. Fifty-Four
  64. Fifty-Five
  65. AFTER
  66. Fifty-Six
  67. Acknowledgements
  68. About the Author

He straightened up, moving the phone in his hand to the wall nearest to him. He didn’t want to see by the light of the torch on his phone; he would have to get too close for that, he thought. He didn’t want to disturb the scene any more than he already had.

A dirty white light switch was on the brick. Mark moved his sleeve down his hand and carefully pressed it. A noise came from overhead, a few clinks and flashes of dim light, then a small strip of fluorescent illuminated the garage.

She was at the far wall.

She had been discarded, it seemed. Dragged along the floor, then placed against the wall. Her head lolled forwards, her hair covering her face. Her trousers had been torn apart, barely holding on to her hips, even as she was lying on them.

She wasn’t long-haired.

She wasn’t tall.

She wasn’t Natasha.

The flash of relief was replaced quickly with shame. It still meant there was someone else dead in the garage and the likelihood was that it was Holly Edwards. He realised he didn’t know anything about her. Who she was, where she came from. All he knew was what John Redwood had told him and he didn’t want to take his word on anything.

He didn’t know what to do next. Natasha was still missing and whoever had killed Holly Edwards knew he was there.

Had known he was coming.

He turned around quickly, expecting a shadow to be standing in the opening, but it was as he’d left it. The phone in his hand started buzzing again.

Mark lifted it to his ear, not having to look at the caller ID to know who was ringing him.

The robotic voice came over the speaker, into his ear.

‘YOU’RE GOING TO PLAY A GAME.’

Fifty-One

‘Where is she?’

Mark spat the words down the phone, but the voice remained robotic, emotionless.

‘YOU’RE GOING TO PLAY THE GAME. PLAY OUR GAME OR NATASHA DIES. IT’S THAT SIMPLE. I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT.’

‘Talk to me properly,’ Mark said, walking towards the doorway and stepping back out into the road. ‘Come out and face me.’

There was only static on the line, the call still open but no response coming back.

‘Where are you?’

‘WE ARE EVERYWHERE, MARK. YOU WANTED TO KNOW WHAT THE GAME WAS AND NOW YOU HAVE YOUR CHANCE. ONLY YOUR GAME WILL BE DIFFERENT.’

‘How?’ Mark said, looking all around him, hoping to see a glint of something in his surroundings. A movement, a figure. Anything that would give him a chance.

‘YOU ARE GOING TO GIVE YOUR LIFE FOR HERS. IT IS VERY SIMPLE.’

Mark shook his head. ‘I don’t believe you. Show me her first.’