‘Still the same, last I heard. I’m so sorry.’

‘Fuckers. They’re gonnae pay for what they’ve done. Stuart, his cop pals, the lot o’ them.’

‘You’ve done enough, Boonzie. Let me take it from here.’

‘Oh, aye? And tell me why would I dae that?’

Ben sensed the warning in his friend’s voice, but he pressed on anyway. ‘Because Mirella told me you were sick. At times during these last two days I was pretty sure I was looking for a dead man. Now you’re alive, I need you to stay that way. For her, and for me. Okay?’

Boonzie glowered at Ben. The twinkle in his eye had chilled to the dangerous glow that had cowed many a bigger, brawnier SAS soldier in its day. ‘Haud yer wheesht. Sick, my arse. Takes more’n a wee bit of a dodgy ticker tae bring doon auld Boonzie McCulloch. Them fuckers have it comin’ and I mean tae be there when it happens.’ He raised a finger and pointed it at Ben like a gun. ‘An’ dinnae even think o’ tryin’ tae stop me, laddie. Or—’

‘That’s what I thought you’d say.’ Ben took one of the captured pistols from his belt and held it out it to him. Boonzie eagerly grabbed it, handling the weapon as though he’d been born with it in his hand. Ben had sometimes wondered if that might be the case. He said, ‘Remember how to use one of these things?’

‘Aye, an’ I can still show you a thing or two.’

‘Then we need to get moving,’ Ben told him. ‘Because Grace is running scared somewhere inside that castle with Stuart and Hacker. Ten more of their people could be arriving any time. I’ve got to go and find her before they do, or they’re going to kill her.’

‘So what’s yer plan, laddie?’

‘Just like always,’ Ben said. ‘We go in, shoot the bad guys, get out and go home.’

‘Aye, not a bad idea. But I’ve got a better one. I wiz workin’ on it when you turned up.’

‘What?’

Boonzie gave a sly chuckle. He picked up the lantern, stood and beckoned for Ben to follow him. ‘Come an’ see what I found, laddie. I think ye’ll find it interesting.’

Chapter 56

Carl Hacker swore as he made his way from the basement floors of the castle, not just because everything was coming apart at the seams. Ben Hope’s last shot had punched a 9mm hollowpoint deep into the meat of his left shoulder and done massive damage in there. Bones were shattered and nerves were shredded. His arm dangled limp and unresponsive. His whole left side was still numb, though when the pain kicked in it would be murderous. His shirt and jacket were soaked with blood and he was leaving a thick trail of red splashes behind him. Sweat poured from his brow into his eyes.