Through the goggles the room was a dark and confusing jumble of shapes. Miriam saw two luminous green shadows moving around her—Brill and Olga. One of them gave her a thumbs-up, while the other of them raised something gun-shaped. “On my mark. I’m going to open the door. Three, two, one, mark.” Miriam unlocked the door and shoved it open. Smoke billowed out, and a coughing figure stumbled into the darkened hall. Olga’s arm rose and fell, resulting in a groan and a crash. “I’m in.” Miriam stepped over the prone figure and into the smoke-filled room. It was chilly inside, and her feet crackled on broken glass. Bastards, she thought angrily. Something vague and greenish glowed in the smoke at the far corner, caught between the grand piano and the curtains. “Drop your gun and lie down!” Miriam shouted, then ducked.

Bang-bang: The thud of bullets hitting masonry behind her was unmistakable. Miriam spat, then knelt and aimed deliberately at the shooter. Can I do this—rage filled her. You tried to kill my mother! She pulled the trigger. There was a cry, and the green patch stretched up then collapsed. She froze, about to shoot again, then straightened up.

“Stop! Police!” Whistles shrilled in the garden. “Attention. Zone three breach.”

“That’s the south wall! What the fuck?” Miriam whispered. She keyed her walkie-talkie. “Status!”

“One down.” Brill, panting heavily. “Olga’s got the guy in the hall on the floor. They tried to shoot me.”

“Listen.” Whistles loud in the garden, flashlight beams just visible through the smoke. “Into the hall! Brill, can you drag the fucker? Get him upright? You take him and I’ll carry Olga.”

The sound of breaking glass came from the kitchen. Miriam darted back through the doorway and nearly ran straight into Olga.

“Quick!” Olga cried. “I can’t do it, my head’s still splitting. You’d better—”

“Shut the fuck up.” Miriam pushed her goggles up, grabbed Olga around the waist, and mashed a hand against the light switch. She fumbled with her left sleeve, saw the blurry outline clearly for a moment, tried to focus on it, and tightened her grip on Olga painfully. “Brill?”

“Do it!” Brill’s voice was edgy with tension and fear. More police whistles then a cry and more gunshots, muffled by the wall.

Miriam tensed and lifted, felt Olga grab her shoulders, and stared at her wrist. Her knees began to buckle under the weight: Can’t keep this up for long, she thought desperately. There was a splintering sound behind her, and the endless knotwork snake that ate its own tail coiling in the darkness as it reached out to bite her between the eyes. She fell forward into snow and darkness, Olga a dead weight in her arms.

Facing The Music