‘So you’re the one making the deals now.’

‘First you drop the pistol, Hacker. Let it go.’

Then another voice from the darkness, deep and gruff, said, ‘No, mate. You hang onto that. You might need it in a minute.’

In the peripheral glow of the weapon light Ben saw the large figure of a man step from the shadows. Then the man’s own light was shining in Ben’s face, making him blink. The deep voice rumbled, ‘Well, Major. Looks like we gotcha in a clinch now, ain’t we?’ To Hacker he said, ‘Didn’t think I was gonna leave you all alone in the shit, did you, mate?’

Ben knew he could get one, but he couldn’t get them both. ‘Shoot me, he dies.’

The deep voice laughed. ‘By the look of the poor sod, you’d be doing him a favour. He’s fucked anyway, just like he said. And so are you, pal. Now why don’t you drop the shooter, and let’s talk.’

Ben didn’t move. He kept his gun on Hacker. Blood was dripping from Hacker’s side and he was swaying on his feet. Ben said, ‘Talk about what?’

‘Talk about how your uncle Mikey’s gonna get his hands on that nice big pile of gold I heard someone mention earlier. Why else would I really want to hang around in this bloody mess?’

Uncle Mikey. This would be Creece, Ben thought. He said, ‘You want the gold, you’re going to have to get yourself a shovel and dig for it.’

‘Cut the crap. I know you know. And now it’s mine. So let’s deal. You give me the gold, you go free. How’s that for a bargain?’

‘Shoot him,’ Hacker croaked.

The big guy chuckled. ‘What, and let him kill me old pal?’

‘He’s not that fast,’ Hacker mumbled.

‘Nobody wants to die here,’ Creece said. ‘And nobody has to.’

Then a fourth voice said, ‘Wrong.’

And Creece let out a sharp wail. His weapon light wobbled and fell. As though in slow motion, Ben simultaneously saw Hacker’s pistol begin to move. The finger on the trigger. The sights lining up in his direction. Ben fired. Hacker’s head snapped back as the high-velocity rifle bullet hit him square in the middle of the forehead. He collapsed in a dead heap.

Ben whirled around to shine his beam at Creece. Creece was on his knees, his mouth wide open in a red scream. Both hands clawing at something shiny and silvery that weirdly protruded from his stomach and glittered in the light. Ben blinked, realising in that surreal instant what he was seeing. It was the tip and first six inches of a broadsword blade that had penetrated Creece’s body back to front. Ben raised the light and saw a familiar figure standing there behind Creece, still clutching the sword’s hilt with both hands.

‘Grace?’