I sat back, trying to control my breathing. I’m sure there are plenty of people who would know just what their duty was and how best to do it, but I’m not one of them. I needed to think it through. I could barely stand for the pain in my side and I feared that if I moved my head too sharply I was going to vomit up the little liquid left in my system. I needed to know more before I could formulate a plan of action. First I needed to know whether I was safe. Were there more men like this about to stumble into the little byre? I dragged myself upright and slouched towards the opening of the barn. I poked my head out as if expecting a bullet. Instead I saw the cold, black vastness of a bare field, muddy patches here and there and thick with tangled grass in others. I took a few steps forward across muddy ground, stones and slime on my bare feet, then turned to look back at the barn. I recognized it at once. The holes in the roof formed a shape I recognized and knew from the road. It was the furthest outbuilding on the boundary of my home. I’d been inside with Stefan when I first moved north, turning my nose up at the smell and vaguely entertaining notions of bricking up the holes and stabling a couple of horses. Grief ensured I never came back. Not until now. Now, agonized and aching and slick with spilled blood, I realized I’d been captive in my own damn barn. And that meant I was only two fields away from the house where Walt and the silent killers had disappeared to and where Felicity and John waited for whatever hell was coming.

I turned around too quickly and almost stumbled over the object at my feet. It was a sniper rifle, propped up on a tripod, thick scope mounted atop the dull black metal of the lethal piece of weaponry.

Grunting with the effort, I bobbed down. Lay flat on the ground, mud soaking through my tattered clothes, and pressed my eye to the scope. There was nothing but blackness. I inched my fingertip along the sight, sliding the little metal disc to one side and staring out through the grainy green of the night-vision scope. I could see the rear courtyard of my house. Could make out the big black car slowly pulling in between the outbuildings, parking between a big expensive-looking machine and a battered little Vauxhall. I felt all the fight leach out of me for a moment as I realized what I was seeing. Felicity, I thought. John.