Blackout - By Tom Barber Page 0,96

acknowledged and separated, the three of them moving off in separate directions into the dark and silent Hall, their faces smeared with dark camo paint, dressed in black, brutal silenced sub-machine guns in their shoulders.

Alone, Wulf stood still for a moment, his eyes closed, tuning his senses, listening. Then he began to creep along the lower corridor, his dark boots printing mud on the floor. He felt his heart-rate rise with anticipation. Cobb was here somewhere. The last one of the group who had haunted his dreams every night for fifteen years in that prison. The last of the group whose intended death had given him a reason to stay alive. The men who had murdered his family, who had taken everything he had ever loved from him. Ten of them were now gone. And with this last execution, revenge and justice would be complete. He could die fulfilled and at peace.

Wulf moved through an open door silently and entered a long and quiet kitchen, the MP5 SD3 locked into his shoulder, a huge dark figure, an apparition, something out of a nightmare. Pots and pans hung from hooks along a long steel sink and table, gleaming silver in the fading moonlight from the windows and reflecting a distortion of the large black figure. He figured Cobb would be armed and his family may be here with him, but that would only sweeten the deal. Wulf would take his family just as he took his. An eye for an eye. A family for a family. Blood for blood. He felt his anticipation and excitement rise, but took a deep breath, gently loosening his grip on his silenced MP5.

The Hall was silent.

But it wasn't empty.

Cobb was here somewhere.

Wulf had been waiting fifteen years for this night.

With the MP5 SD3 as steady as a rock in his shoulder and his vision as clear as day through the goggles, the Albanian Special Forces commander moved off into the dark house, hunting his prey.

TWENTY NINE

In the drawing room, Fox had remained with Cobb and his family, his MP5 clutched in his hands. The power-cut meant they didn't have time to get to the cellar, the access to which was the other side of the house. Cobb had whispered that the fuse box was down there, so once the power went out they knew the Panthers would be coming in from that side. Porter and Chalky had left them in the Drawing Room, moving off into the large dark Hall, playing the deadliest possible game of hide and seek. Huddled behind a chaise-longue, Cobb's wife had her hands over her two boys’ mouths, who were crouched shivering in their pyjamas, terrified. Fox stood in front of the chaise-longue protectively, his MP5 locked and loaded, Jackson’s blood still on his overalls, Cobb beside him with the Glock, both men staring at the two separate doors that led into the room.

The Hall beyond was eerily silent. The only sound they could hear was the rain tapping against the glass. They waited, knowing there were other men in the house, hunting them, coming to kill them.

Outside the main door, there was a sudden noise. Very faint, but audible. There was a muffled whimper from one of the boys behind them in response.

Fox looked at Cobb, who nodded.

The ARU officer rose and crept towards the door slowly, his MP5 in his shoulder.

To his left, the curtains were open.

The moonlight illuminated the room with its cold light, breaking through the grey clouds as the falling rain continued to drum against the windows.

Suddenly, there was a smash, thud and a tinkle of glass.

Fox fell to the floor, as the two boys gave muffled yelps under their mother's palms. Cobb dropped down too, his eyes raking the windows. Fox had dropped his MP5 and was clutching his leg, blood already pooling on the floor around him, a bullet deep in his left thigh.

Cobb belly-crawled along the floor to the wounded officer, his pistol in his hand. Fox's eyes were wide with shock and pain. Cobb could feel the warm blood on his stomach as he lay by the man. He pulled off his tie and wrapped a tight tourniquet around Fox's leg as best he could. Then he grabbed his officer's hand and dragged him back across the ground, making sure to stay low and out of view of the rifleman outside who had taken the shot

Upstairs, Spider was creeping along the corridor, his footfalls silent on the carpeted floor. He had