aiming at the sound: deflection shooting. Slowly his night vision returned. The tall one was where he’d fallen, face down, the rain pelting his back. Otherwise, the courtyard was empty.
2
2.7 Seconds of Nothing
Clay scanned the open ground beyond the wall. Nothing. Had he hit the other guy? The way he’d spun and fallen, Clay guessed yes. But he couldn’t be sure. Unarmed, the guy would try to run, if he could. But did he have a backup weapon? He might be hiding on the cliff side of the cottage, hurt, bleeding, waiting for Clay to come to him; or perhaps he was moving around the building now, trying to flank him.
The clouds had thickened, and the world was every shade of black, liquid and heavy, screaming out its anger at these desecrations, this waste. Clay leaned into the wind, almost blind, soaked. The cliff edge was a pace away. Waves exploded against the rock below sending chutes of sea spray hurtling up towards him, the foam black like the sky, the salt coating his lips, stinging his eyes. He turned and crouched, tried to cover his eyes, peered along the cliff edge. Nothing. Just the dark outline of the cambered roof, the low front wall built into the cliffside. Clay knew he had to move fast. By daylight, his chances of getting clear would fall away rapidly. Any hope he might have had of getting some information out of his would-be assassins was gone. At this point it was about one thing: survival.
Clay sprinted back to the courtyard and knelt beside the corpse. The rain had washed the bullet wound clean, sluiced the blood away over the gravel. He pushed the Glock into his waistband, flipped the MP5’s strap over the dead man’s head and pushed him over onto his back. The man’s eyes were open but his nose and teeth were smashed. Pieces of gravel pushed into the skin, the mouth, pierced through the bottom lip. It would have hurt like hell if he’d been able to feel anything when he hit the ground.
Clay grabbed the machine pistol, checked the action and flipped off the safety. The other man’s handgun was there in the gravel too. Clay picked it up, thrust it into his jacket pocket and sprinted towards the back of the cottage. Rounding the corner at a crouch, he moved along the landward wall. Here he was in the lee of the wind, shielded from the rain. At the far corner he paused, took a deep breath, raised the MP5 and rested the forestock on his stump. This was the fourth side of the building, the only place he hadn’t checked. If the guy was still close, this is where he’d be. Clay breathed out and pivoted around the corner, swinging the MP5 around and down the line of the wall, into the full fury of the wind.
No one. Just the slate and the dark grass grown up around the stone foundations, and beyond, the dark, godless anger of the storm. Clay looked out across the rain-swept gorseland. If the man had fled out there, Clay would never find him. He moved along the wall towards the cliff and peered over the edge. It was forty metres straight down (d), with only a narrow, slippery ledge of slate and an involuntary seconds of nothing but gravity (g) and empty space to the shingle below.
The man had disappeared. Perhaps he’d fallen off the cliff and been dragged out to sea, taken by the storm. Or, with his friend down, he’d panicked and run. If so, he was probably making his way back to wherever they’d left the car. The nearest paved road was about three kilometres inland, paralleling the coast. Either way, Clay could be sure of one thing: word would be out fast, and they’d be closing in.
It was time to go, time to get back to Rania, find her and disappear for good. Keep that promise he’d made to her, to himself. Maybe change the trajectory of his life, find some of those things he’d been looking for, atone for the wrongs, one more just done.
Clay let the MP5 hang on its strap, turned back and made his way to the courtyard. He’d grab a few things from inside then sprint to the road. If he could find the car, he’d take that. If he couldn’t, he’d go overland on foot.
The men had left the cottage door open and the swirling wind had carried rain and