Eddie turned his head slightly, glancing back and down at Harhund’s gun arm. The pistol had drifted fractionally from its original position; it was still pointed at his back, but now more to the side than directly at his spine—

He threw himself backwards, twisting and sweeping his right arm to drive the gun away from him as he collided with the Norwegian. Harhund pulled the trigger as he hit the cabin wall. The gun fired – the sound deafening in the confined space, as powerful and disorienting as a stun grenade.

Eddie staggered, but was first to recover. For once, his partial hearing loss – the result of far too many close encounters with gunfire and explosions – worked in his favour. The other men took a second longer to regain their senses—

That was enough.

He whirled and smashed his left elbow into Wintz’s cheekbone, knocking the mercenary down into the corner, then spun back to drive his other elbow into Harhund’s stomach. The Scandinavian let out a breathless gasp as he doubled over. Eddie tore the gun from his hand. He belatedly realised that one of the guards had fallen, hit by the bullet. Another round took a second man down in a grisly explosion of blood across the metal wall. Miller screamed at the noise of the shot mere inches from his head.

The doors opened. His own ears still ringing, Eddie snatched the pouch from the reeling businessman’s hands, then threw him against the remaining guards and stabbed at the control panel as he barged out. The doors rumbled shut behind him. A mechanical whine came from beyond them as the elevator started to ascend, taking his captors with it.

Panting from the sudden burst of violence, he turned – to see Nina.

Any relief vanished when he realised she was not alone. An old woman in a wheelchair was beside her – and behind his wife stood a tall, supercilious-looking man. ‘Mr Chase,’ said the woman. ‘Good afternoon. Now, drop your gun. My butler has one of his own pressed into your wife’s back.’

Eddie didn’t move, assessing his chances of taking down Nina’s captor. Slim; the butler was using her as a shield. ‘Who are you?’ he said instead, stalling for time.

‘Eleanor Miller,’ came the reply, faintly affronted that he didn’t know.

‘Oh, Donny Dipshit’s mum.’

A purse-lipped smile. ‘He’s been called many things, sometimes by me, but that’s a new one.’ Her eyes went to the pouch. ‘Mr Chase, there’s no need for violence – well, further violence. I only want the key. Perhaps Professor Wilde could explain?’ She turned to Nina.

‘Perhaps I could say hi to my husband first?’ Nina fired back. ‘Eddie, are you okay?’