Janson’s heart beat in a powerful, slow rhythm. The prospect of confrontation did not fill him with anxiety, but with a strange sense of transport. The old woman might have been easy prey; whoever had done this to her would find that he was not. A convulsing feeling of rage ran through him, familiar and oddly comforting in its familiarity. It would find release.

The half-taunting words of Derek Collins returned to him: Violence is something you’re very, very, very good at, Janson … . You tell me you’re sickened by the killing. I’m going to tell you what you’ll discover one day for yourself: that’s the only way you’ll ever feel alive.

It felt true now. For years, he had run from his nature. He would not run from it today. As he surveyed the carnage, one thought ran through his mind like a saber. Those who had inflicted such suffering would themselves know suffering.

Where were they?

Close, very close. Because they were looking for him. They would be up the hill. Would Jessie make it to the Lancia in time?

Janson needed elevation if he was to get a proper view of the field of operation. The farmhouse, he saw, was built around a courtyard in the traditional L, with living and working areas under one roof. At right angles to the house was a big portico with a hayloft above and, adjoining it, horse stables. Now he ran into the courtyard and climbed a ladder to the tall hayloft opposite. A hinged door in the rough-planked roof allowed him to clamber to its highest point.

A quarter mile up the hill, he could see, a small party of armed men were making their way toward Jessie Kincaid. Their figures were difficult to make out in the dim light, but broken tree limbs and trampled grass showed their progress. Then Janson saw and heard the flutter of black birds, swooping from the nearby underbrush into the sky, with strident caws; something had disturbed them. A moment later he saw movement in the overgrown trees and bushes surrounding the old farmhouse, and he realized what it meant.

He had fallen into a trap!

The men had been counting on his overhearing the old woman’s screams. They had sought to lure him back to the old farmhouse.

They had him exactly where they wanted him—would do to him exactly what they wanted to! Adrenaline filled his veins, brought a terrible icy focus to his perception.